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BRAM POV

"Jacques? You're Jacques?" I ask. My eyes widen. Cute Simon, with his disheveled blonde hair, and Harry Potter glasses, is Jacques? The kid who I've had a crush on since sophomore year is actually Jacques? I mean, I always kind of suspected it, since Simon writes just like he speaks, but I thought it was just me bending reality to make it more likable. Simon is staring at me weirdly, so I quickly cover up my mistake. "Jacques? Why Jacques? Doesn't it mean Jacob or something in French?" I ask quickly. No matter how much I like Simon, I don't think I'm ready for him to find out. I mean, I haven't even come out to my friends yet. I don't think I could just randomly come to school one day with a new boyfriend. And what if he doesn't even want to be my boyfriend? What if I misread the emails, and he doesn't even feel the way I do?

Simon looks at me with a question in his eyes before shaking his head, as if to clear his thoughts. For a second, I think he looks relieved. Is he relieved that I'm not Blue? "Oh, Alice just calls me that because in French, Jacques a dit means Simon says, and well, since my name is Simon, well, yeah."

I nod my head. Ah, so that's why he calls himself Jacques. "Have you ever been to France?" I ask him, trying to change the subject quickly without making it seem like I'm desperate to change the subject.

"Oh, yeah," Simon says (Get it?) "We were in France a few summers ago. It was the summer after Alice graduated. Right, Alice?"

"Yeah. I remember that." she says, "Anyway guys, Mom is calling us, so we should better head to the dining room before she starts to freak out that dinner is growing cold." Alice turns around and starts walking down the hallway, and we follow.


Dinner is already on the table when we arrive. Everything smells delicious too. Simon and I sit down, and in the process, our shoulders brush. I JUST BRUSHED SHOULDERS WITH MY CURSH! Inside I am blushing so hard, I surprised I'm not turning red yet. I'm not sure how I'll survive the day, let alone the whole Winter Break if things like this keep happening. I sincerely hope that Simon stops being so cute, but that's basically like telling your heart to stop beating. It's just not possible.

Mr. Spier asks me something, but I don't quite catch it. "What was that again?"

"I was just wondering if your name is short for something." he says again.

You wouldn't believe how many people ask me this. "Yes. It's actually short for Abraham."

"So your first name is also the first name of a president." Nora says. I think that that's the first time I've heard Nora speak since I've been here.

"Yeah."

"Wait, so your name is actually Abraham Greenfeld?" Simon asks.

I roll my eyes at him. "No. Just because Bram is short for Abraham doesn't make it my name," I say in deadpan. Though we all know that Leah is the master of the deadpan, I believe I'm also pretty good at it. An expert. Highly skilled.

Simon shrugs his shoulders. "Hey, I was just wondering!"

Alice laughs. "We all know little Simon isn't the sharpest knife in the drawer." she says, as she tousles Simon's hair.

"Hey!"

"We all know it's true, Simon. Don't deny it."

Simon glares at Alice. "Urg. I hate you."

Pretty soon, everyone has finished dinner.

"Dinner was delicious," I say, and Mrs. Spier smiles at me.

"Thank you Bram. If only my children could be as polite as you are."

Simon rolls his eyes. "Mo-om!"

"Don't Mo-om me Simon. It wouldn't hurt you to compliment your mom's cooking skills once in a while."

"Fine. Dinner was great. There. Is that better?"

"Yes. Now do that every time, and life will be perfect."

Simon rolls his eyes again. "Can we be excused?"

"Sure."

Simon stands up and I follow him. We put our plates in the sink, and then we go back upstairs to his room. Once there, Simon sits down on the bed, the only clean thing in the room. Suddenly he springs back up, and rushes downstairs. I hear his footsteps going down the stairs. Not knowing what to do, I go to Simon's bed, and sit on it, waiting quietly until he returns.

Soon enough, I hear Simon coming back up the stairs. A few seconds after that, Simon bursts into the room, holding a bag of Reese's.

He throws the bag at me, and I catch it. Thank you soccer reflexes! I tear the bag open, and grab a handful, before placing the bag right next to me. Simon comes over and sits beside me on the bed. He too reaches into the bag, grabbing multiple Reese's. Then, he leans back and closes his eyes as if too savor the taste of the Reese's.

"I'm guessing you like Reese's?" I ask Simon.

He glances up at me. "Oh, yeah. I love Reese's."

"Yeah," I reply, "I think Reese's are my favorite type of food."

Simon sits back up quickly. "No way! Oreos are by far the superior food! Saying that Reese's are the best is like saying that Harry Potter sucks! It's just wrong!"

I laugh. Simon and his Oreos. Wow... "Oreos are great and everything, but Reese's are amazing! The chocolate and peanut butter make it delicious."

"But Oreos have so many more flavors!"

"Yeah, that's true, but as someone once said, Reese's are better than sex." As soon as I say this, I realize my mistake. And Simon realizes what I've said too. Because he was the one who wrote that same sentence to Blue.

Oh shit.