The other boys joke about many things--most of them impossible to repeat in polite conversation--but they don't pay attention to girls the Myer does. It's why Adam knows the other boy will be the first in their group to lose the abstract 'it', probably even to get married. Occasionally, he feels a flicker of jealousy at the thought.
"You really need to start hanging out with a higher caliber crowd," Adam snorts in response, although it's hard to find a more exclusive group than the lunch table pals who sit with Myer these days. He tells himself he only cares because Delilah is there all the time, looking pretty and untouchable in her uniform. At her side, Jessica Byrnes is too loud and too quick to judge--which is probably why Myer likes her in the first place--and Adam doesn't spare her much thought.
He likes that she's nice to him when they work together on a project, whether Myer is tuned in or busy thinking Highly Important Thoughts, but they rarely even exchange glances outside of class. Myer must know as much because the retort lacks any sense of threat.
Adam watches him tread carefully up the long driveway and can't quite help thinking of soldiers in a minefield. What must it be like, living in a place this big, this empty? Granted, Myer has a younger brother and his mother is home a lot, so maybe it's noisier than Adam can imagine. Maybe his house was noisy, too, back before he got sick and his mom got--
But there's no sense dwelling on any of that. Adam has a test on Friday, a winter formal in a month and at least twelve hours to daydream about Delilah Westbrook and Leonardo Dicaprio. For now, life is as good as it gets for the kid who was supposed to die.