then I saw that video this morning." He put the roll down. "I've known Madison since kindergarten. I know what she's like. I've known for a long time. I've watched her do stuff like this to other girls for three years, and I never said anything, because it was easier not to, and because our parents are friends, and because I told myself it wasn't my business." He shook his head. "I'm done with that. That's all. I'm sitting here because I want to sit here. And because I'm done."
Alana looked at him for a long moment.
"Okay," she said.
"Okay?"
"Okay," she said again. "Thank you."
Jake looked down at his tray. The tips of his ears had gone slightly red.
"You're welcome," he said.
That was when Madison Cross arrived.
Alana saw her coming across the cafeteria a long way off. It was hard not to. She moved through the room the way she moved through the hallways, at the head of a small loose formation, Britney Walsh at her left shoulder, Kelsey Tran at her right with her phone, two or three other varsity girls behind, and the noise of the cafeteria seemed to drop a little wherever she passed, like grass flattening under wind. She had changed since the morning. She was wearing her cheer uniform now, navy and gold, with WESTFIELD across the chest in gold script and a big gold bow in her hair, because it was game day, and all the cheerleaders wore their uniforms to school on game days, and the football players wore their jerseys. She looked beautiful. She looked like the girl on every poster on the wall of the gym. She was smiling.
She did not look at Alana at all. She stopped at the end of the table, beside Jake, and put one hand lightly on his shoulder, the way you put a hand on something that belongs to you.
"Jake," she said. "Babe. What are you doing over here? We're sitting by the windows. Come on. Tyler saved you a seat."
Jake did not look up from his tray.
"I'm good here," he said.
There was a small pause.
"You're good here," repeated Madison, pleasantly. Her hand stayed on his shoulder. "By the trash cans."
"Yep."
"Jake." Madison laughed, a light little laugh, and glanced back at the girls behind her as if to share the joke. "Come on. Don't be weird. It's game day. Everybody's waiting. My mom wants a picture of us before the game for the booster newsletter. Homecoming king and queen nominees, remember? We have to be at the field by five." She squeezed his shoulder. "Come sit with your team."
Jake put his fork down. Then he reached up, slowly, and took Madison's hand off his shoulder, and set it gently down in the air beside her, the way you might move a branch out of your way on a trail. Not rough. Not anything you could call rough. Just final.
"I'm sitting with my friend," he said. "We broke up a year and a half ago, Madison. I'm not your babe. I'm not going to be in your mom's newsletter. And I'm not going to be homecoming king with you, because I took my name off the ballot last week, and I told your mom so, and I told you so, and you didn't listen, because you never listen." He picked his fork back up. "I'll see you at the field. Have a good game."
The silence around the table was enormous.
Alana kept her eyes on her tray. She did not look up. She did not need to. She could feel it anyway, radiating off the girl at the end of the table like heat off a car hood in July. The girls behind Madison had gone completely still. Kelsey's phone had dipped. Somewhere at a nearby table someone said, very softly, oh my God.
And then Madison laughed again. The same light, silvery laugh. A little higher, this time.
"Okay," she said. "Wow. Okay. Whatever you want, Jake." She looked, for the first time, at Alana. It was a brief look. A flick of the gray-blue eyes, from the crutches to the cold spaghetti to Alana's face, and away again. But Alana saw what was in it. She had seen it in the hallway that morning, for one second. It was back now, and it was bigger, and it had something else mixed in with it. "Enjoy your charity lunch."
And she turned on her heel, the gold bow swinging, and walked away across the cafeteria with her formation behind her, and the noise of the room rose up again in her wake like water closing over a stone.
Jake let out a long breath.
"Well," he said. "That's going to be a thing."
"You didn't have to do that."
"Yeah, I did." He picked up his chocolate milk and drank half of it in one go. "That's been coming for a long time. You just happened to be here when it came." He set the carton down. "Sorry if it makes things worse for you."