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soon with her new boyfriend and probably wouldn’t have time for friends, anyway, so what was the point?
    “I got all A’s so far,” I said, changing the subject.
    “Nerd,” Braden accused, still without taking his eyes off of the game.
    “I’m not a nerd,” I protested for the second time within hours.
    Braden snickered. “Yeah, right. You make straight A’s without studying, you wear those Clark Kent glasses when you read, and you’ve started dressing like one of those male models in the magazines. What are they called? GQ , or Cosmo . Some shit.”
    “ Cosmo is a women’s magazine, hon,” Miranda corrected.
    “Whatever,” Braden said. “He knows what I mean. Jamie, you need to stick to the basketball shorts and snapbacks. That’s what the chicks dig. I’ll bet that’s why Miranda broke it off with you. Matt Foster doesn’t try to be GQ. He dresses like a jock.”
    “I dress like a jock a lot of the time,” I pointed out indignantly. “And my body is way hotter than Matt Foster’s.”
    That claim actually got Braden to look up from the game long enough to give me an amused look. “The shirts you wear are too tight. Guys need breathing room. And those skinny little pants you wear when we go out are ridiculous.” He elbowed Trey like he’d just made the joke of the century.
    “You’re just jealous, Braden. I look damn good in tight t-shirts and Clark Kent glasses.” Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Miranda nodding in agreement. “Besides, we’ve got to start growing up at some point, man. You think you’re going to wear snapbacks and basketball shorts to your first job? I guess that would be okay if you’re a pro ball player, but that won’t fly in the real world.” I looked to Miranda and then Trey for backup, but they were no help. “Trey, I’m not a nerd, am I?”
    Trey laughed. “What’s so bad about that? I’m a nerd, and proud of it.”
    “You got that right.” Braden piped up. “College is for partying, man. You’re gonna be forty years old looking back on this time wishing you’d sowed your wild oats like me.”
    “Yeah, you think so?” Trey asked him. “I’m okay with that, because when I’m looking back, I’ll be sitting in a nice house counting my money. Meanwhile, you’ll be crying in your beer in some one-room hovel wishing you’d done your homework and taken life seriously.”
    Braden waved him away, obviously not buying into Trey’s vision of the future. “My daddy’s got money, man.”
    The room was thick with Miranda’s sudden disdain for the turn the conversation had taken. “Sowing your wild oats, huh?” She asked her boyfriend pointedly.
    “Figure of speech, babe,” Braden said. Then he let loose with a barrage of virtual gunfire on the video game, jumping to a standing position and pounding frantically on the buttons on his controller. “Motherfucker shot me! Did you see that? We’ve got to get better internet, because this shit is lagging. No way he could have gotten me. Did you guys see that?”
    Trey threw up his hands. “Thanks, man. Nice going. You just got me killed.”
    Miranda rolled her eyes at me. “I guess this is what they mean by sowing oats? Wearing a hole in the sofa playing video games?”
    “Hey, it’s better than going out and banging other chicks,” I pointed out. Miranda didn’t seem too thrilled that I had put that particular thought into words, and I didn’t relish exploring the idea further with her. “Give me that controller,” I told Braden. “Let the master take over. I’ll prove to you there’s no lag.”
    “It’s your funeral.” He handed me the controller and headed off to the kitchen. “Anybody want a sandwich?”
    Trey raised his hand like he was in class. “I’ll take a PB&J.”
    “Let me rephrase that,” Braden said. “Anybody named Miranda want a sandwich?”
    Miranda got up and followed him into the kitchen, leaving me and Trey to battle bad guys on the game. I needed some