Side Effects May Vary

“What do you think?”

“Okay,” he said. “Let me play devil’s advocate for a sec. Were you guys even dating? It’s not like she cheated on you.”

“Well, no. Not technically, but she knew how I felt and I’m pretty sure she felt the same.”

“Did she say so?”

She said she’d miss me most, but now she wasn’t going anywhere. I wished I could take back my “I love you” from the night of her birthday, but even that wouldn’t make me mean it any less. “I don’t know. I guess not.”

Dennis took a sip of his beer and shrugged his shoulders like I should say, Oh yeah, thanks, man, for solving that dilemma for me.

“I kind of feel like you need to move on, ya know? Maybe date around or something.”

I shrugged. He was right, though. I had to force myself to get over her, because it wasn’t the type of thing that would happen on its own.

“I took the SAT,” he said, changing the subject. “Did I tell you that?”

I shook my head.

“Freaking bombed it. Well, according to my parents’ standards. They’re making me take three-hour-long SAT classes every Saturday morning starting the week after spring break.”

“Blows.” I hadn’t even thought about the SAT, but I guess I’d have to take it. I didn’t know what exactly I wanted to do in college, but isn’t that half of it, figuring shit out?

I don’t know. I’d told Alice I was done, but I still couldn’t figure out how to remove her from the equation of my life. I wanted to be over her. And I wanted to make decisions that didn’t involve her.

“Dennis?” called Debora from in front of the shed.

“Hide the beer,” he whispered.

“Uh. Okay.” I chugged my can and shoved the unopened cans up my T-shirt.

“What are you guys doing back here?” asked Debora, peeking around the corner.

“Talking,” I said just as Dennis said, “None of your business.”

She took a few steps closer and crossed her arms over her chest. “Mom wants to know if you did your homework.”

“Geez. Of course I did.”

Debora tapped her foot against the dirt.

“Fine,” he said. “I didn’t. Tell her I’ll be inside in a sec.”

Debora turned to walk back to the house. “You guys smell like cheap beer.”

I laughed and let the cans roll out of my shirt and into my lap.

“Don’t tell Mom!” called Dennis in a loud whisper.

We chugged the last few cans, and Dennis threw the empties over the fence into the neighbor’s yard. We chewed half a pack of gum and called it a successful night.

Inside, Mrs. Yates cornered Dennis in the kitchen, so I snuck out through the front door.

I walked through the living room where Debora sat on the couch with one foot tucked beneath her, reading a thick biography of Hillary Clinton. “Light reading?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said, holding up the book.

I never saw Debora in anything that didn’t look like she’d walked out of a J. Crew ad, but tonight she wore a regular sweatshirt and jeans. Everything about her always looked severely precise, but under the warm light of the reading lamp, the angle of her jaw wasn’t so sharp and I could see the little baby hairs at her temples curling in a little.

“You want to go out? Maybe, like, next week?” The words were out of my mouth before I could do anything about them.

She popped up from the couch. “Okay,” she said and bit her lips, like she was trying to hide a smile. “Yeah, next week sounds good. Call me.”

“I can talk to you at school,” I offered.

“Oh, yeah. Okay, talk to you at school.”

“At school,” I repeated.

Letting myself out the front door, I walked out to my car parked on the street. Debora was cute and smart and I was willing to give this a try. I had to try something. If I couldn’t stop loving Alice, I could at least learn how to live without her.

Harvey. Now.

So, Debora, you’re doing Model Arab League this year?” I asked.

“Yes. This year I’ll be acting as head delegate.” Debora folded her napkin in her lap for what felt like the millionth time.

“Oh. So, like, you guys pick a country? Is it like Model United Nations?”

“Sort of,” she said. “But it’s more than picking a country. This year we’ve made quite the strategic move and have decided to represent the country of Djibouti. It’s a little risky, but I believe it will pay off.”

“I see.” I nodded. I’d taken Debora to Prespa’s. It wasn’t very busy, but you wouldn’t know that from the sound of Debora’s voice. Her voice was loud—I sank down in the booth a little—the kind of loud you are when you’re trying to have a conversation in a crowded room. But I’d worn a shirt with buttons and cleaned the pile of soda cans out of my backseat, so this was definitely a date. My first real date.

“Last year we were the delegation representing the United Arab Emirates, which was such an amateur move. I mean, everyone goes for U.A.E.,” she said as she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “It’s almost as predictable as being the United States at Model United Nations.” She laughed. “But, you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, totally.” Nope, no idea at all.