You'll Be the Death of Me

by Karen M. McManus

get a blank look in return, of course, because he was too busy staring into Ms. Jamison’s eyes. I could’ve tap-danced past them in a clown costume and he wouldn’t have noticed.

“What did the note say?” I ask instead. “Huh?” “You said you left a note, with the Sugar Babies? What did it say?” “Oh. I asked if you wanted to get king-sized ones at the Infinity War premiere.” He’d asked me out. In such an impossibly cute way that I want to bang my head against the window.

Mateo comes up to us with his McDonald’s bag in one hand, and something that’s small and yellow in the other. “Better late than never,” he says, holding it out to Ivy. It’s a pack of Sugar Babies, and she practically melts into the ground as she takes it.

Ivy is glaring at me; I’m making too much noise. I’m also about to get a bunch more questions I can’t answer, so I quickly add, “I need to throw up. I’ll call you back.” Then I hang up and silence my phone. “I’m as screwed as you are,” I tell Ivy.