Larry was parked at the curb when eight rolled around that night. The only light when I opened the door came from his phone. Sighing, I reached up and turned the overhead light back on. He only turned it off so people wouldn't see inside his car at night, but I hated the darkness.

"Guess who came in today," I said as I buckled in.

"Willy Wonka? Dude is in serious need of a barber." He pulled onto the road and began heading home.

"Nope. Maria."

He looked over at me so quickly I worried he'd given himself whiplash for a moment. Headlights lit up his face and I saw he was still staring at me. I looked at the road and he was drifting into the next lane. "What did she say? Did she say anything about me?"

I pointed at the road. "Drive!" He glanced up and narrowly missed the oncoming car. My hand flew to my chest, covering my racing heart. "I can't tell you anything if you kill me, you idiot!" I took a couple of deep breaths before speaking again. "It was an appointment she'd made a while back. I forgot to text you because Kenny and I were talking."

"Who's Kenny? Her boyfriend?"

"No! He works with me. As far as I know he's not seeing anyone."

"How would you know that?"

"I just do."

"That's not something you can just know!"

"Then how do you know Maria's seeing someone?"

"I don't, which is part of why it's frustrating me."

"Well, Kenny's not her boyfriend, if she even has one."

"You didn't ask?"

"No! How could I ask without being weird?"

"Easy!"

"Oh, yeah? The only way I could not sound weird is by making you sound desperate."

"You wouldn't have!"

"Oh, really? You sound pretty desperate to me."

"I'm not desperate!"

"Sure you aren't. I could have told her, 'Hey, my brother is in love with you. Are you single? He may ask you out.' Yeah, you don't sound weird at all."

"You could've put it better than that! Wait. You didn't actually say that did you?"

"What? No! I never asked her anything."

"Good."

"I did mention you, though."

"What did you say?"

"Something about how you thought I knew her because I know Mario."

Larry groaned. "You really said that?"

"More or less."

"If you said more, I have to know what it was."

"What if I said less?"

"I'm going to kill you in your sleep tonight."

"I didn't say anything else! All I said was to that effect."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"Did she say anything about me?"

I sighed. "No, she didn't. I did ask if she remembered you, I think."

"You did say more! What did she tell you?"

"I don't remember."

"Wait – did she not remember me, or do you not remember what she said?"

"What do you think?"

"She forgot me. I knew it."

"Ugh." I pinched the bridge of my nose. Sometimes he gave me a headache. "Get a grip, man. She says you sounded familiar, so she'll probably be up all night, trying to get herself remember you."

Larry was silent. We managed to get the rest of the way home in that silence. It was almost unsettling after the rapid back-and-forth a moment ago. I was glad when we pulled in the drive. It meant I would spend the rest of my night in peace.

---

"So I was thinking that, since you're working at a salon, you could do my hair," Susan said Friday. I sat between George and Mario, as usual. It seemed like this would be our permanent arrangement. "We could try to style it like Taylor Swift did on that one awards show a couple of years ago."

I shook my head with a sigh. Didn't she remember I was busy tonight? "I can't. I'm doing makeup tonight for the play opening at the Dairy Arts Center."

Her eyes widened. "What? You never mentioned this before!"

I raised one eyebrow at her, thinking. Maybe I hadn't. "Well, I'm mentioning it now. Sorry, Sue, but it just wouldn't be possible."

Mario glanced at me. "Actually, the play will be over before ten. Technically you could still hang out afterwards."

I frowned, but then smiled. "Sue, would you like to see a band play live?"

She leaned forward. "Tell me more. Who is it?"

"Kenny – one of the stylists I work with – has a band and he invited me to come check them out."

George gave me a sidelong look, matching the look Mario gave me. I fought rolling my eyes. "What's the band's name?" Susan asked.

"I don't know, actually. He's kind of shy, I think, and he scurried away before I could ask."

"Scurried, huh?" Mario said, amused. "I'd like to see that."

This time, I rolled my eyes and nudged him with my elbow. "Oh, hush. I meant he left the front desk."

George put down his fork and looked at me. "Why was he up there?"

"He was fishing for information for one of the girls. They're the kind that would do that. At least one of them is the kind that wants to be in everyone's business, trust me."

He looked at me a moment longer before going back to eating. "Okay." We were going to have to talk about trust soon, it looked like. More specifically, about me trusting him and him distrusting me. I was beginning to worry. He didn't have much reason at all to be that suspicious.

"We can hang out tomorrow, George, if you want to," I told him sweetly.

He frowned briefly but nodded. "That would be nice."

I glanced at Susan. "Do you want to come to see the band?"

She made a face. "Not really."

"Oh." Frowned down at my lunch. "Maybe I could come hang out tomorrow night."

She smiled and bounced a little in her seat. "Sounds good. In the morning, too?"

I glanced at George. He shrugged and I nodded. "Sure, but just the morning." Susan squealed a little and went back to her food. Now that everyone had planned out the next day for me, I went back to worrying about that night. It wasn't a stretch to say I was completely worried about how well I was going to do. I worried that everyone I did up would look horrible with no time to redo. More than that, I worried about whether I'd be fired at the end of the night. I was part of the team that was representing the salon, after all.

The bell rang a short time later and Mario walked with me from the cafeteria. "So, seeing a band after the play, huh?" he asked nonchalantly.

The gears in my mind were screaming. I was still wrapped up in thinking about the play and doing makeup. It took a moment to switch over to the concert. I shrugged after a moment. "Haven't decided yet," I mumbled. There were reasons I should and shouldn't go to it, but I honestly hadn't given the band enough thought to make a decision. I'd been thinking about other things.

He shoved his hands in his pockets as we walked quietly to our locker. I opened the door and took out our books, handing Mario his and holding mine. Once we were ready to head to class, he reached over an took my books, piling them on top of his. "If you go, I'll go with you," he said, breaking the comfortable silence we had going. "You know, keep an eye on you."

I looked at him, irritated. "I'm not in need of a babysitter. I can also carry my own books."

He frowned as he handed them back. "I was just being nice. If you go to see that band alone, you'll just make me and George worry about you. It's not always the best people that go to those, oh, how do I say it? I've been speaking English most of my life and yet . . . Ah, hidden concerts. They attract a lot of different people."

I knew he was right, but I also knew Kenny. I'd be okay if I went alone since he'd be there. They wouldn't attract a crowd so big he'd lose me. Right? "I'm not going with you. George might read into it and think we purposely went behind his back." I bit my lip, regretting my words. One day I'd figure out how to word things better.

"Ah, old Jorge."

"Jorge?"

"George in Spanish." Mario tipped his head back as we headed to class. "Well, I don't blame him, really. It would be very easy to mistake it. People don't understand we can just be friends."

"Exactly! The girls I work with think we're dating or something. They sent Kenny to find out. I don't know why him, but probably because he was the one that wanted to know the least."

"Or maybe they pegged you as a flirt," he suggested, one eyebrow raised.

I gasped and punched his arm playfully. "I am not! Take it back." He just laughed. I shoved him lightly with my shoulder. "I said, take it back!"

The light shove made him bump, laughing, into a locker. "Okay, okay! I take it back!" He held up his hands. By now, there were students watching us. I felt a blush coming on when Mario nodded down the hallway and resumed walking. He kept focused straight ahead, his pace faster than before. When we stopped outside the room, he turned to me, smiling. "Sorry."

"For what?"

He shrugged. "You don't really like people looking at you, do you?"

"Well, not unless I invite them to."

"What do you mean?"

I glanced around, unable to not notice the lingering looks were getting. "I mean, I'm fine with my friends looking at me, and I was fine when I was in those plays way back when. Those are times I 'invite' people to look at me. If that guy over there-" I pointed to some kid opening his locker nearby that happened to be one of the few people not paying us any mind "-started staring at me for no reason, or if he saw us together and for that reason stared, I'd hate that. That's not a time I'm inviting someone to focus on me. I can't sit in the middle of a restaurant, either."

Mario raised an eyebrow again. "Really."

I nodded. "I keep thinking everyone's looking at me."

"Well, they kind of are. Me, I don't really care. I pretty much-" He closed his mouth and walked in the classroom, leaving his thought unfinished. I followed him in hopes he would explain. Instead, he just sat at his desk and faced forward. When I sat next to him, he was laser-focused on the front of the room, as if the whiteboard held the answer to everything in life. I even had to look to see what fascinated him.

The teacher was at his desk, flipping through what I assumed was the homework we'd turned in last time, now graded. Today's was in a disorganized stack on the corner of his desk. Was the messy pile bothering Mario suddenly?

The bell rang. "Okay, class, there were some things you missed. We're going to start going over them briefly before we get into today's material." Mario slid out a tablet with a stylus attached to the case. He turned the screen on and began taking notes.

I noticed during class that he took better notes than he usually did.

Not that I watched him or anything.

I mean, algebra II wasn't my best subject. I had to pay attention so I could at least not fail.

Oh, who am I kidding? The only notes I took consisted of the way Mario's hair fell across his forehead as he took amazing notes that I borrowed after class.