Kate in Waiting by Becky Albertalli (ereader with android txt) 📕

comedy. Guess it’s one of those things where you had to be there. Of course, Ryan doesn’t even bother feigning interest—he’s just scrolling through his phone.

Meanwhile, Ellen and Mom are basically just complaining about Matt’s dad. “He wanted to get him a BB gun. Can you believe it? Matthew was six. I said, ‘Absolutely not. Not in my house.’”

“Oh my God. Yes. No, of course. It just makes me so angry. And those hyperrealistic toy weapons. Hate them. Oh, and paintball!” Mom’s in full rant mode now, about the eighth-grade paintball trip the athletic association sponsors every February. “It’s so dangerous. I always tell Ryan and Kate no. Absolutely never. Not at home. Not at camp—”

“Oh, that’s right!” Ellen turns toward me in her chair. “Matthew tells me you guys all worked together at camp this summer. What a neat coincidence!”

“I know.” I smile, but my eyes flick back to the boys. Anderson’s telling some story, tapping his fingertip to his palm. Ryan’s staring into space. But Matt’s hanging on every word.

“Well your mom and I loved doing the plays at camp. And you know, we grew up together around here, too. Different schools, but we were in a few shows together at the rec center.”

Out of nowhere, Andy and Matt burst out laughing. So fantastic. So glad they’re having such a fantastic fucking time together.

But oof. I don’t like this feeling. I don’t know where that little voice in my head is coming from. It doesn’t even make sense for me to be jealous—I’m the one who invited Anderson. This morning! Literally today! And in what universe would I ever prefer his absence to his presence? I mean, it’s Anderson. So maybe I should stop beaming stink eye down the table with my mind and step up to the plate.

“Hey, do you guys want to—”

A burst of laughter from Andy and Matt. My words disappear.

“You don’t even know.” Anderson shakes his head. “And he had this whole thing with Lansing. You should have seen his face when Kate thought Detroit was the capital—”

“Wait.” I lean in. “Are you talking about Alexander from camp—”

“Remember how you couldn’t call him Alex? Had to be Alexander,” Andy says.

“Oh, but I liked that,” I say. “It was sweet.”

“He was insanely hot, though,” Andy says. “I’d wife that, for sure.”

And there it is—that tiny indentation in Andy’s cheeks. The Dimple of Self-Consciousness. I know this moment. It took me a few years to recognize it in the wild, but this is Andy coming out. He glances sideways, and I can almost feel him holding his breath, waiting for Matt to react.

“I mean, you’d have to move to Lansing if you wifed that,” Matt says. “No question.”

Andy grins. “I hear Lansing’s pretty amazing.”

“According to Alexander,” I say.

“We both know you googled the shit out of that town,” Andy says. He turns to Matt. “For the record, Kate had just as big of a crush on that dude as I did.”

And of course—of course—Andy’s words land smack-dab in the center of one of those random conversational pauses.

Mom turns to Andy, openly delighted. “Kate had a crush?”

I shoot Andy my most violent death glare.

He bites his lip. “Um, it wasn’t really—”

“You know what?” I stand abruptly. “I need . . . something.”

“I’ll come with you.” Andy practically leaps out of his chair. “Be right back,” he calls over his shoulder, already well on his way to my bedroom.

I shut the door behind us. “What was that?”

“Katy, I’m sorry! She was having her own conversation over there. I didn’t think—”

“You realize she’s going to remember this forever, right? I’ll be hearing about Alexander from Michigan for the rest of my life.” I sink onto the edge of my bed.

“Do you think maybe you’re overreacting? Just a little?” He settles in beside me, hooking his arm around my back.

“No!” I lean my head on his shoulder and sigh. “Shut up. I just don’t like people knowing about my crushes. You know that. Come on, that’s privileged information.”

“Katy, it’s a two-year-old crush.”

“Yeah, well, the Code of Secrecy has no statute of limitations—”

“Technically, it’s not a code violation unless I tell Alexander.”

I glare at him.

“I still think that dude was gay,” Andy says. “Remember when he touched my hair?”

“Didn’t you say that was some racist microagressive bullshit—”

“Oh, it one hundred percent was.” He pats the top of his Afro and sends a side-eye out into the universe. “But the way he did it so tenderly? I was like, sir, you’re gay—”

“What? No. He was bi. He had that girlfriend!”

“In Lansing,” says Andy. “His fake-ass girlfriend from fake-ass Lansing—”

“Excuse me—”

“EXCUSE ME, LANSING, MICHIGAN, IS REAL, AND IT’S THE CAPITAL.”

I crack a smile.

He hugs me sideways. “I love your face, Katypie.”

“I love your stupid face, too.” I roll my eyes. “Come on, let’s go see if dessert’s ready.”

Scene 13

Saturday’s weather is pure liquid nonsense. I’m admittedly kind of a brat about rain. It’s essential, and that’s fine. I support its existence. I just don’t get why rain has to be so rude. It doesn’t care about your plans, your hair, anything. Rain just slides right in, like some ecological fuckboy in your DMs. No permission asked or granted, leaving you no choice but to roll with it.

Which is why today is a don’t-leave-the-house day. A pajama day. An official squad homework accountability day. Andy’s off doing audition prep with his voice teacher, but the girls are here, and Brandie’s even doing real work. She’s sprawled on my bed, thumbing through a massive paperback—Les Misérables in its original French. Brandie’s in her own league when it comes to languages. She’s always been fluent in English and Spanish, and even though she didn’t start French until middle school, she’s fluent in that now, too. She’s too advanced even for AP, so now she’s taking an independent study in French literature. But Madame Blanche lets her pick her own books, so Brandie can pick stuff she actually likes. You’d think other teachers could be that thoughtful, but