Liars and Losers Like Us(4)
I meet Kallie at the locker we share on the west end first thing in the morning. She’s dressed in her Friday best. Her tall military-style boots look shined, like her jet-black hair, waving like a waterfall onto a drop-dead maybe-a-little-too-hot-for-school black and red striped dress.
“Me-yow. You didn’t tell me we were going all out today,” I say.
“Dressed to impress, girl! I’ve got to be ready in case I’m not in. Todd needs to know that I’m hot—Prom Queen or not.”
“Well, I’m dressed for my special occasion too. School.”
“You look cute no matter what you wear. Besides, you did get dressed up. You matched your shoes to your shirt and they’re not mismatched today.”
I squint, looking down at my tight yellow Elvis T-shirt, black jeans, and two yellow sneakers. “You’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Maybe you were thinking that since you’re almost a legal adult, you should stop wearing two different shoe colors on Fridays?”
“Nope, that’s not it. It was definitely a mistake. Too much of your Baby Promma Drama on my mind.”
“Yeah right. I think you’re trying to sex it up since you-know-who was practically all over you in class yesterday.”
The warning bell rings, leaving me just enough time to squeeze Kallie’s hand and beg her not to make a big deal out of it in class.
“Of course not, I’m cool. I got your back.”
We jog down the hall together and I tell her if I don’t catch her in-between classes, I’ll see her in last period where we’ll await her fate and my demise.
During Business Math, I chastise myself for getting so wrapped up in things that shouldn’t matter. Like how Dad used to get all worked up over a hall light being left on. I feel like an idiot for worrying about these nominations when I want to be the kind of girl who’s above all this stuff. But here I am worried about Kallie getting in, who she would or wouldn’t be in with, and of course I’m worried about myself. Sure, I’ve daydreamed about the high I’d be on if by some apocalyptic miracle I’m nominated, but I know it’s highly unlikely. The other stupid thought churning through my head is how to act when my name is not announced. It’s like the MTV or Academy Awards when the camera cuts to the losers. All those awkward stretched smiles accompanied by courtesy hand clapping. I’ll have to pretend my ass off that it doesn’t matter and I forgot I was a contender anyway. All day I imagine different scenarios and practice my nonchalant look.
As the bell rings to start Language Arts, Mr. Norderick almost closes the door on my sneaker. “Just in time Ms. Hughes, just in time.”
I do a quick sweep of the class to check for Kallie and Sean. Score. I walk over to the seat with Kallie’s notebook on it. She whisper mumbles something to me about thanking God and moral support.
“Seat’s taken,” says Justin in a southern drawl. I can’t place it but I know it’s another cheesy movie line. I roll my eyes and face forward.
Justin flicks my hair with a pencil. “Your hair smells so good today Jennaaay, like a box of chocolates.” Oh. Forrest Gump. He really needs to start watching some movies from this century.
Kallie leans into the aisle. “Dude, if you can smell her hair from your desk, I’m filing a restraining order.”
“Another thing, Justin, I forgot to give you the memo. My name’s Bree and Jenny’s dead. Your horrible old movie quotes have pushed her into an early grave.”
“Actually,” says Justin, “she died of AIDS, which is still a serious problem facing the youth of today.”
“You,” says Kallie, “are the serious problem facing the youth of today.”
Kallie and I stifle our laughs as Mr. N. clears his throat and starts talking about a new series on poetry, with weekly assignments.
Kallie’s foot taps her desk leg. I know she isn’t listening to any of this. She’s probably wondering when Nord’s going to hurry and announce the court names.
Looking ahead, I stare at Sean’s ears, which offer me the perfect distraction. The sun peeks in through the window shades, a ray hitting his shoulder. I take a deep breath in, and get a whiff of Sean’s foresty cologne and wonder if he’ll be at any of the parties by the docks at Lake Crystal this summer. Maybe he’d be leaning against a tree jamming on the same guitar he played during the Homecoming Pep Rally. My teeth gnaw the inside of my bottom lip as I copy poetry notes and conjure up my image of Sean outside of school. With his shirt off. I wonder if it’s weird for him to be playing the guitar with no shirt, and if I should ditch the half-nudity for a white T-shirt or his football jersey, but realize it’s my daydream. So no-shirt Sean stays. With the image of him in blue trunks, hanging low on his hips, his muscles suntanned and sweaty, I make a vow. If there are parties at the lake this summer, I, Bree Hughes, solemnly swear—
“Excuse me?” Shandy Kissass’s screechy voice pulls me back into class. I straighten my back against my chair. Shandy waves as if Mr. N. can’t see her right there in the front row.
“Mr. Norderick? Are you announcing Prom Court today?”
“Yes, Ms. Silvers, I’ll be announcing the names for your little Prom contest, after I finish the lesson and assignments for today.”
Shandy slouches back in her seat. Staring at Sean’s neck, I want to dive back into my daydream, or reach out, run my hand straight up the back of his neck, and feel his hair in-between my fingers. Instead, I quietly tap my pencil’s eraser against the desk, trying to drum a beat slower than my heart, which has picked up the pace. I’m not sure if it’s because the nominations will be announced soon or that I still have a vision of swim-trunks Sean in my head.