Leah on the offbeat

For the readers who knew something was up, even when I didn’t

It’s either that, or she’s on a date. It’s not even funny, having a mom who gets more action than I do.

Hard to know what she means by that. Maybe it’s a secret diss. Like, why are you even here, Leah? Or maybe: I didn’t even notice you, you’re so irrelevant. But maybe I’m overthinking this. I’ve been known to do that when it comes to Abby.

And of course, Garrett, who ordered scattered, smothered, and covered waffles with sausage and hash browns, leaves literally a dollar. I don’t get that. Leave a fucking real tip. I throw an extra couple of dollars down myself to make up for it.

one thing, I can’t stand people who are that pretty. She’s got these Disney eyes and dark brown skin and wavy dark hair and actual cheekbones. And she has the opposite of a resting bitch face. Basically, Abby is human candy corn. She’s fine in small doses—but too much, and you’ll puke from the sweetness.

should say, for the record, that having a mother who’s hotter than you sucks balls.

I can’t fuck your life, I’m monogamously fucking my own life.

Morgan likes dubbed anime, which is basically blasphemy, and Anna once described Chiba Mamoru as “barely attractive.” But other times, it’s as if we read each other’s minds.

Imagine going about your day knowing someone’s carrying you in their mind. That has to be the best part of being in love—the feeling of having a home in someone else’s brain.

Me too! I start to type. But it reads a little too much like OMG GARRETT I LOVE YOU PLS KISS ME. So I delete it

If I were, I’d be dead. RIP Leah Burke. She died of acute awkwardosis.

mean, I’ve never been rejected from a school. But I know what it’s like to not be good enough, in some bone-deep fundamental way

Alice Spier is exactly who I want to be when I’m in college. She is nerd-cute perfection—effortlessly smart, hipster glasses, and zero tolerance for Simon and Nora’s bullshit. I may have had a low-key crush on her in sixth grade, until I fell hard for her adorable dumbass little brother.

Then I turn back to Anna’s text. I guess I’m kind of at a loss. Like, I don’t want to be a negligent friend, but I don’t know how to help Morgan if I can’t even talk to her. I think I hate the concept of needing space. What it really means is that the person’s mad at you, or hates you, or doesn’t give a shit about you. They just don’t want to admit it. Like my dad. That’s just how he put it. He needed space from my mom. And now here we are, almost seven years later, at a steakhouse with fucking Wells.

mean, parents sometimes date people. I know this. Moms are technically human beings, and human beings are allowed to have romantic lives

I dress myself carefully, like I’m going into battle. I feel stronger when I look cute. I zip into my universe dress—the greatest thrift store find of my entire life. It’s cotton, blue and black, sprinkled with stars and galaxies across my chest. My boobs are literally out of this world. Then I muss up my hair so it’s just a little wavy and spend twenty minutes giving myself flawless winged eyeliner. It makes my eyes look super green in a way that almost catches me off guard

She’s leaning against the bathtub now, back straight, pretzeled legs.

He said drinking lets you say and do things without filtering or overthinking. But I don’t get how that’s a good thing.

Abby releases me and twines both of her hands through Garrett’s, peering up at him with doe eyes. “Garrett, sweetie,” she says, “I will never, ever do that.” Then she tugs her hands away and pats him firmly on his bicep. “In front of you,” she adds quietly, nudging him toward the bathroom.

I have nothing close to prom-appropriate. I’ve skipped every single dance since we grew out of bar mitzvahs. Which was clearly the right decision, because these dresses are trash, and prom is stupid anyway.

When she and Abby see each other, they shriek and hug in the doorway, even though I’m pretty sure they’ve met literally once. Honestly, how well can you know your cousin’s girlfriend’s friend’s sister? But it’s Abby, so who knows.

“Okay, but you know the drill. Dental dam! Condom!” Mom’s golden rule. Not super relevant, considering I get no action. And even if I did, it sure as hell wouldn’t be on this trip. Not in Caitlin’s apartment, and definitely not in front of Abby. I can’t imagine bringing a girl home. Abby wouldn’t even know what was happening. I’m 99 percent sure she thinks I’m straight. Even Simon thinks I’m straight.

I give up. I set my phone down and dig around for my sketchpad and pencils instead. I need to get into my zone. That happens sometimes when I’m drawing. It’s like the world stops existing. Everything disappears, except the point of my pencil. I can never quite explain it to people. Sometimes there’s a picture in my head, and all I have to do is translate it into curves and shading. But sometimes I don’t know what I’m drawing until I draw it.

“I’m serious. You could do commissions or something. People would totally pay for your stuff.”

Abby says yes, and I guess that sort of bugs me. Sometimes I think I’m the only person in the world who doesn’t drink.

“I dare you to kiss me,” she says.

It’s just that every time I try to type something, my brain shuts down completely. I can’t even type “hello” to this girl without bursting into flames.

I’m pretty sure this is the kind of crush you can die from.

Because Abby kissed me. Because she may not be straight. Which means I had to update every single one of my daydreams to reflect this. We’re talking about a massive overhaul, Garrett. I don’t think you realize how many Abby-related fantasies live in this brain.

So, that’s a thing that’s happening. I’m wearing combat boots to prom.

Like, I’m pretty sure my academic career is over, and God help me on the AP exams, because how are you supposed to think about calculus WHEN ABBY SUSO IS YOUR GIRLFRIEND?