Liars and Losers Like Us(5)
After a half hour and a couple pages of poetry terms and recommended reading, Mr. N. tells us to watch ourselves and that he’ll be right back with our court list. He then gives Shandy a wink and tells her if anyone gets out of line she has permission to use her cell phone to call the police.
Sean turns and faces me. “Did you understand any of that poetry stuff? I have to ace these next assignments to get my grade back up. I bombed the last few essays.”
Our eyes meet for a second and I have to look away because I am gone. Laser beams just shot through my body. Well, not actual lasers but close. It’s a wave of heat that knocks me slightly off-kilter. I look down at my desk, searching my notes for the answer to his question, mainly so he can’t see my face getting hot.
“Umm, well, alliteration is actually, um, it says that … or maybe if you start right here with the free-writing stuff you can …” I stop, realizing I can’t even hear myself. My heart is on a treadmill right now.
Sean squints and cocks his head to the side.
“I’m sorry,” I crinkle my lips together. “Um. I’m not making any sense. Sorry. Do you want my notes?”
“Sure. You mind if I copy?”
“No problem.” I tear out two pages, push them into his hands and he turns back in his seat. My chest caves with the pressure of a highly anxious swoon and I’m grateful for the break from his piercing eyes.
Nord walks back into class, waving a piece of paper as if it’s a winning lottery ticket. He says to make sure we bring our first poem in on Monday—no rules except it has to mention or be inspired by an animal.
“Is a chupacabra considered an animal?” Justin asks without raising his hand.
“You bet,” answers Nord as Shandy turns and casts Justin the kind of look I usually save for the d-baggy guys who catcall girls in the hallway.
“Without further ado,” Mr. N. continues, “here are the results you’ve all been waiting for, with bated breath and wild anticipation, please do not fall off the edge of your seats. In no particular order, Brian Wang, Todd White, Justin Conner, Sean Mills, Chris Monroe, Molly Chapman, Kallie Vate, Laura Rose, Jane Hulmes, and Maisey Morgan.”
Even though the names came out fast, a lot happens. Shandy scribbles the names into her notebook just as fast as they fly out of Nord’s mouth. Justin gives himself a high five and does one of those chicken neck, arm flapping, booty shaking football-end-zone victory dances. He ends it on bended knee, head down into his elbow and says, “Thank you little eight-pound six-ounce newborn baby Jesus.”
Kallie’s got the biggest smile anyone could have while trying to keep their mouth shut. If she was any happier, she’d be wiping away tears. She slides her hands into her bag and starts rummaging around rhythmically. Definitely texting Todd the news.
Maisey barely responds to her name. Slinking lower into her chair, her head hangs over her desk, as she scribbles indifferently into her notebook while the class half-asses an attempt at subtlety. Over half the class fake coughs, giggles, and snorts into their hands and the crooks of their elbows.
Over the roar, Justin says, “You were robbed—Mouse stole your spot!”
I roll my eyes, lean over, and squeeze Kallie’s hand. “I’m so excited for you.” The little pit that sinks to the bottom of my stomach surprises me. I’m not sure if it’s because I don’t want anyone to think I care or because I actually do.
Sean spins around with a grin and fist pounds Justin. His eyes hit mine, cranking the heat in my face but dissipating the pit in my stomach. “Too bad you’re not on the court,” he says. “It would’ve been fun.”
“It’s gonna be rough, but I think I’ll make it,” I say, sounding way cooler than I feel.
Sean shakes his head and laughs. “Well, hey, I didn’t finish copying these notes so maybe I could keep them and give them back to you this weekend? Here’s my number.” Sean doesn’t really let me answer before he starts writing his phone number on my black and white comp book.
“Okay, yeah, no problem.” I can barely pull my eyes away from his number as the bell rings.
Everyone rushes into the hall to join everyone else in a feast of gossip, disbelief, and high fives over underclassmen regarding the nominations. Todd, in a pink bow tie, cuts between Kallie and me belting his arm around her waist.
“Babe, this dress should be illegal. If I don’t get locked up for being your accomplice, we’re going to rock the Prom as King and Queen.”
I smile, letting them walk off into their own world, as if I have a choice. My eyes skim the crowd for Sean but he’s lost in the sea of everyone rushing to get their weekend started.
When I turn the corner, a loud voice bellows toward me, “Mousey Morgan, will you go to Prom with me?”
I turn and Maisey slams into me and my armful of books.
“Sorry,” she mumbles to my forearm, then tucks a clump of copper hair behind her ear, lowers her gaze even farther and rushes past me. Her shoulders hunch beneath her backpack as she ducks beneath the laughs and through the bodies mazed before her.
I frown as she disappears into the crowd until I catch a glimpse of Chip Ryan, my ex-boyfriend pushing his way toward me from the left. His shaggy hair swings over one eye while the other meets my eyes for barely a millisecond. I do the same thing I’ve been doing all year. Look away and try to stop my breath from catching in my throat. I push through the same path Maisey blazed. The Maisey Mouse song rings out at least twice among the Prom gossip and Friday night plan snippets before I’m hitting the double doors to the parking lot.