Tightrope

Let's Hope You Don't Try To Dry Hump Us

"You forgot to wake me up."

Jonah looked as if he'd been recently exhumed. His eyes were half-lidded, as if he was exhausted, and his hair was tousled; not in a cute, effortlessly fabulous way, but in a rumpled I-just-woke-up kind of way.

"What do you mean?" I replied, as the canteen lady handed me my chocolate chip muffin. If there was one thing our school did well, it was make good chocolate chip muffins. 50% muffin, 50% chocolate chip. "Thank you," I told her, before turning to Jonah.

"I sent you a text, remember? 'Hey, Lena, my mum will kill me if I'm not on time, and also get your chef to make me a lunch'."

I did remember that, actually. The normalcy amongst the frustration of hundreds of text messages about my compromising position with Hartley. Jonah was nothing if not consistent. Well, consistent and lazy. "Oh, shit, sorry Jay," I said. "I totally blanked. With the whole Jace extravaganza, everything has been pretty hectic."

Jonah looked displeased. Clearly, excuses were not going to fly with Jonah today. "Well," he said mournfully. "I hope you know that I'm taking your muffin."

I gave my muffin a longing, melancholy look. "That's only fair."

With a parting look of sadness, I surrendered my snack. Jonah seemed to be satisfied with this, because he immediately pulled off a piece of muffin and devoured it.

"And you will be waking me up tomorrow," Jonah said. "And this time, at 6, because my mother hates me, and thinks it's the only way I'll get to school on time."

"It is the only way you'll get to school on time. But I'm not even awake at 6, let alone coming to wake you up."

"Maybe you should've considered that before being a bad friend," said Jonah. Then the edge of his mouth twitched upwards. "Although, I know it must be hard to remember your poor oldest friend Jonah when you're busy trying to resist the passion of your love for Hartley."

I liked Jonah better when he was too concerned about free snacks to jump on the Lena and Hartley train.

"I hate everyone," I said matter-of-factly.

"Let's hope you don't try to dry hump us too, then," said Jonah drily. "Given that seems to be your new hobby with those you hate."

I snorted a laugh.

Alex, Chance and Cady were already sitting at Woody Boy when we arrived, chattering enthusiastically. Well, Alex and Chance were. Cady was never enthusiastic.

"Oh, hey," said Cady as we approached. "Are you still high?"

Jonah fell into the seat next to her, and immediately lay down, resting the muffin on his stomach. His head lay comfortably in Cady's lap, and she poked his nose experimentally. It didn't rouse him into action. All he did was mutter, "I'm not high."

"Okay, Jonah the Stoner," said Alex. "But we were talking about Lena."

"I was never high, also," I said grumpily.

"So you just voluntarily, without the influence of substances, decided to both get under Jace Hartley and be nice to him?" Chance asked dubiously.

"It was a tackle," I insisted.

"Tackles are romantic," he argued. "Your bodies all pressed together, you know? Hatred and passion and..." I looked at him with obvious disgust, and he held his hands up defensively. "I'm just saying, it can be raunchy."

"If tackles are romantic, then I think you might have a chance with Jace. He tackles blokes on the football field all the time."

Cady smirked. "When Jace tackles blokes on the football field, it does not look like that picture."