“No,” I answered flatly, then backpedaled when I saw the distress on his face. “Well, I mean, do you think so?”
Kevin kicked a rock without enthusiasm.
“Maybe. It’s just, I dunno, a baby sort of thing. We did it when we were kids, we’re in middle school now.” He shrugged a little, then looked back up at me. “Jeff Porter has a mustache.”
“Jeff Porter eats shit,” I spat, angrier than I meant to be, but it made Kevin laugh so that was good. I was still trying to figure out what was happening here.
“Sure, you’re right about that,” he said, grinning. “I just mean things are changing, you know? Things are gonna be different and we gotta be ready. If the other guys find out we’re still having sleepovers, they’re gonna say–” Kevin stopped abruptly. That look was back on his face. I didn’t like it.
