"I'm going to ask Kim out," Cal said.

"Don't ask Kim out," Park practically pleaded.

"Why not?" They were sitting in the library and Park had yet to choose a poem so Cal had taken the opportunity to change the subject. Besides, Cal had her a poem. It was about a girl named Julia whose clothes were liquid. Cal thought it was brilliant, Park thought it was stupid.

"Because she's Kim," Park said. "You can't ask her out. Look at her."

Kim was sitting a table over with two other preppy girls.

Cal nodded. "Look at her, she's a Betty."

"Jesus," Park grimaced. "You sound so stupid."

"What? That's a thing. A Betty is a thing."

"But you got it from Thrasher or something, right?"

"That's how people learn new words, Park" -she tapped the book of poetry in front of the boy- "reading."

"You're trying too hard."

"Well, I have to don't I?" Cal asked, reaching down to her backpack for the Slim Jim sitting in the pocket.

Park knew Cal hadn't meant to make it sound so melodramatic because they had had this conversation before. Any conversation about Cal they had had before. And Park didn't feel like pointing this out.

Instead Park studied his friend. He didn't think Cal had to try at all. She was good-looking, with smooth, tan skin and dark features. Her hair was deep brown and cut short, she always combed it back and let a few strands fall in front of her eyes. She wore clean button up shirts and vests or suspenders all the time with slacks and either Vans or a pair of Chuck Taylors. Park would never lie and say Cal wasn't good-looking just because she's gay, Cal was definitely good-looking. So Park didn't understand why Cal had to try so hard.

Oh, wait. Homophobia. That's why Cal tried so hard. It was also why Cal had such a hard time putting herself out there. If she ever did go after a girl she was in to it could always come back and bite her in a severe way, which had happened a few times before. But it wasn't like it was a big secret to the students at North, or to the teachers, or anyone really, that Cal was gay. It wasn't like she ran down the halls carrying a rainbow flag every time she switched classes but it was so blatantly clear with the way she acted and checked out every girl that came her way.

"This is my year," Cal said. "I'm getting a girlfriend."

"But probably not Kim."

"Why not Kim? You think I need to aim lower?"

Park looked up at her, noticed the pieces of Slim Jim caught in the girls teeth, "Aim elsewhere."

"Screw that," Cal said, crumpling up the Slim Jim wrapper and reaching for another one. "I'm starting at the top. And I'm getting you a girl, too."

"Thanks, but no thanks," Park said.

"Double-dating," Cal said.

"No."

"In the Impala."

"Don't get your hopes up." Park opened a book of war poetry and immediately closed it.

Cal jutted his chin out to a corner of the library, "Now there's a girl who might want a piece of you. Looks like somebody's got jungle fever."

"That isn't even the right kind of racist." Park said, looking up. Cal was nodding toward the far corner of the library where the new girl was sitting there. Staring right at them.

"She's kind of big," Cal said, "but the Impala is a spacious automobile."

"She's not looking at me. She's just staring, she does that. Watch." Park waved at her, but she didn't blink.

"Do you know her?" Cal asked.

"No," Park said quickly. "She's on my bus. She's weird."

"Jungle fever is a thing," Cal said.

"For black people. If you like black people. And it's not a compliment, I don't think."

"Your people come from the jungle," Cal said, pointing in Park's face. "Apocalypse Now, anyone?"

"You should ask Kim out," Park said. "That's a really good idea."

Cal clapped once, a wide smile on her face. "Yeah? It is a good idea, isn't it?"