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

starting to feel weird leaving school before six. Matt keeps saying he’s happy to drive me home, but I turn him down. I just can’t stomach the idea of riding with Matt and Andy right now—not when I feel this edgy and guilty and strange. So I hit up my brother, figuring I can always catch the late bus if he doesn’t answer. But to my amazement, he texts me back instantly. No prob, on our way.

He shows up five minutes later with Noah, who immediately hops out to offer me the passenger seat. “Little Garfield, your chariot awaits.”

“You know, you don’t have to switch—”

But then Ryan rolls down the back window, and out pops Camilla’s giant floofy head.

“Actually, yeah, you take the back,” I say, practically dive-bombing the passenger seat. Within minutes, Noah’s got Charles perched on his shoulder and Camilla sprawled in his lap, both of them determinedly licking either side of his face. “Okay. Wow. Yup. Thank you.” He twists his face away from Camilla.

I grin. “You okay?”

“Good. Great. Never been better.”

I turn back to Ryan. “Thanks for picking me up.”

“Sure—worked out great. We were just heading to Dad’s house.”

“Okay. Camilla. Blech. That’s my mouth.”

I glance up at the rearview. “Getting some action, Noah?”

“Don’t be jealous, Little G.”

“Jealous of you or the dogs?”

“Well, this just got weird,” says Ryan.

“Don’t look at me. I’m not the one getting to first base with Camilla.”

Noah sighs. “And second base.”

“Wow.” I twist around in my seat. “If you and Camilla need some privacy, let us know. Wouldn’t want to block any touchdowns.”

“Okay, first of all, gross,” says Noah. “Second of all, please tell me you know touchdowns aren’t what comes after second base.”

I wave my hand dismissively. “Obviously. You’ve got to get through third base and fourth base first—”

“KATE. NO. That’s not—”

“But if you get to fifth base, that’s, what, a three-point touchdown? So by now, the point guard’s pretty much begging you to join the MLB—”

“Kate?” Noah says. “You’re a disaster.”

“Says the guy making out with a Labrador retriever.”

“And a dachshund,” chimes Ryan, and we exchange a quick fist-bump.

Noah splutters. “Whose side are you on?”

“Oh, he’s definitely on my team,” I say. “He plays quarterback and outfield—”

“Okay, you know what, hot shot? Your reign of ignorance is over.” Noah leans forward, reaching past Camilla to rest his hand on my seat. “You’re going to the game. This Friday—” I open my mouth to protest, but he cuts me off, grinning. “Nope, this is happening. Just you wait, Little G. You’re gonna know so much about football.”

“Yeah, no. I’m not going.” I shrug. “No way in hell.”

Scene 53

“So, why are we going to a fuckball game?” Raina asks on Friday, peering up from my bed.

We’re at Dad’s house—just the girls, since Andy’s got a voice lesson. But even Andy keeps sneaking texts in. Outfit updates please!!

Funny how Andy’s squad FOMO flares up right when Matt’s heading out of town. According to Andy, Matt’s visiting his dad in Alabama. Not gonna lie, the thought of Andy being so casually, intimately looped into Matt’s plans stings a little. Maybe more than a little.

“So how did Noah Kaplan talk you into this?” asks Raina.

“He didn’t,” I say loftily. “I decided completely independently of Noah. I don’t even know if he’s going to be there.”

“Of course he’ll be there. Fuckboys always go to fuckball games.” Raina leans flat on her back, resting my teddy bear Ember on her stomach.

“Okay.” Brandie emerges from my closet, holding my brown ankle boots in one hand, and an armload of my shortest skirts in the other. “So, Kate, for you, I’m thinking skirt, boots, tights, and a jacket?”

“No shirt?” Raina asks. “Nude on top?”

“And a shirt,” Brandie says. She starts laying clothes out on the edge of my bed. “All right, what about this combination with your jean jacket?”

Raina sits up halfway, surveys the outfit, and then collapses back down again, raising two thumbs. “I dig it.”

“Put it on so I can take pictures,” says Brandie. “Andy needs to approve this.”

“He did not say that. Approve my outfit?” I snatch Ember away from Raina. “No. Text him right now and tell him we are not acting out some Gay Best Friend teen movie nonsense.”

“Okay, but he’s gay . . . and he’s our best friend,” Brandie says.

“He’s our best friend who’s gay, not our Gay Best Friend. And we don’t do outfit approval.” I give Ember an emphatic head squish.

“Hey, you know what else we don’t do?” Raina counters. “Sports games.”

“I know! I know. But don’t you think it could be interesting?” I say. “Anthropologically speaking.”

Brandie laughs. “So it’s research?”

“Roswell Hill High School football,” says Raina. “A groundbreaking exploration of fuckboys in their natural habitat.”

“We should take field notes,” I say. “Oh my God. I should put a bodycam on Ryan tomorrow—I think Chris Wrigley’s having a keg party. With two kegs. Imagine that cursed footage.”

“I just love how up-to-date you are,” says Raina. “Queen of the f-boy party scene.”

Brandie plops down beside me. “Speaking of tomorrow. Are you around, like, morning-ish? I was thinking maybe we could run through ‘Normandy’ before next week.”

Raina bites back a smile. “Y’all are so cute, planning a rehearsal for your rehearsal.”

“Works for me,” I say. “Hey, are you guys getting dressed or what?”

Brandie and Raina have their own duffel bags of clothes, which is how we generally handle group fashion consultations. We’re not the kind of friends who share clothes. For one thing, our shapes are all totally different. Raina’s drapey tank tops would be corsets on me, and, like, bras on Brandie. And we have totally different aesthetics. Raina’s so minimalistic and casual, and Brandie basically lives in boho sundresses. As for me, I’m wearing a flippy blue skater skirt, black tights, brown ankle boots, and a gray sweater cropped right at the waist of my skirt. If I were an f-girl, or even Raina, I’d be all in with that crop top. But since I’m me, I’ve got a white T-shirt