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Seriously, she really does not dress like this at school. I’m having a very hard time not staring at her ass.
    “What do you want to drink?” I ask, rooting through one of the coolers. The ice makes my hands cold. “There’s soda, beer…that’s it.”
    “I’ll take a beer,” she says, sounding unsure. I twist the top off a Corona and hand it to her. She takes a sip.
    “So,” I say. The music is kind of loud, and I suddenly realize I’m going to now have to be witty and charming so that Courtney looks like she’s having a good time, therefore making Madison think I’m flirting with her.
    “So,” she says. She fiddles with the rim of her beer and looks down at her shoes. Great. So outgoing, this girl.
    “Have you started the math assignment yet?” I ask her, figuring it’s a safe subject.
    “Yeah, I’m actually done with it,” she says. I raise my eyebrows and she rushes on. “Just because that’s the one grade I’m worried about.”
    “Really?” I frown. “How come?”
    “Calculus is tripping me up for some reason,” she says. “So I try to get my stuff done early, and then I have my friend Lloyd look it over. He’s this total math genius.”
    “Sounds like it, with a name like Lloyd.” I snort. I’m not trying to be mean, just funny, but she looks hurt. “Whoa,” I say. “Just kidding.”
    “It’s okay,” she says, looking away. I catch the look on her face, though, which makes me think she’s probably sleeping with him. Or wishes she were. “Anyway,” she goes on, “I have to keep my math grade up, so I make sure I get the assignments done early so that my friend has time to look them over.”
    “What’s the big deal?” I ask. “Are you wait-listed or something?” Everyone knows the grades we’re getting now really have no effect on what happens to us. By now, college applications are finished and sent, and you’re either in or you’re not. It’s a wonder anyone goes to class. I take another sip of my beer and try to pretend I don’t notice Madison watching me.
    “No,” she says. “I’m going to Boston University.”
    “No shit,” I say. “Me, too.” Suddenly I have an awful thought. “Are they checking grades for our senior year?”
    “I don’t know,” she says. “I’m just nervous because of that whole thing with the kid from UNC.” I give her a blank look. She sighs. “That kid from UNC, you didn’t hear about this? He got accepted and then totally blew off all his classes. They withdrew his acceptance since his grades had taken such a turn for the worse.”
    “I’m sure they were just trying to make an example of him,” I say. “I mean, seriously. They’re not going to kick you out of BU just because your math grade is bad.” I’m not sure if it’s true or not, but she strikes me as being the type to worry about every little thing. And I can’t have her getting upset. I need to look happy and like I’m this close to getting into her pants, which will therefore make me that much closer to my main goal, which is Madison.
    “Anyway,” I say, deciding it’s time to start making my move. “You’re way too cute. All you’d have to do is send them a picture, and I’m sure they wouldn’t care if you failed calc.” She blushes and I reach out and touch her arm. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Madison set her drink down and start approaching us. Yes. Mission accomplished.
    Before she gets there, though, a guy wearing a striped polo shirt—does anyone really wear polo shirts anymore?—approaches Courtney.
    “Hey,” he says, touching her elbow. “What’s goin’ on?”
    “Hey, Lloyd,” she says, her face lighting up. Ah, the infamous Lloyd. He looks like he’d be good in math. But what is he doing here? I mean, besides the obvious partying. Madison picks her drink back up and pretends not to be looking at me. Shit.
    “Who’s this?” Lloyd asks, sizing me up.
    “This is Jordan,” Courtney says. “He’s in my math class.”