Ace of Spades Sneak Peek(8)
“Just surprised, that’s all,” he says, which I get. I’m surprised too. I feel like such a hypocrite. Telling Jamie not to stereotype even though a part of me questions whether me being so shocked by Devon is because he’s Black and kissing Scotty.
People finish packing up, eyes still glued to their screens. I’m the senior Science Rep, so I help the science technicians make sure all the equipment is returned safely and secured. It’s not glamorous, but I’ll do anything to make my Yale application the best. It just means I won’t be walking to class with Jamie today.
“I’ll see you at lunch?” I ask.
He nods, kissing my forehead. “Lola’s.”
His kiss is deliberate.
Jamie pulls away and looks down at me, and we stare at each other for a brief moment. I smile, then look away first.
“See you,” he tells me.
“See you,” I say.
I watch him as he leaves the classroom. My head still warm where his mouth touched it, heart still beating erratically—his gaze that told me everything I needed to know.
I’ve got Jamie right where I want him.
We’ve been playing this game for years, but I think today’s the day Jamie finally folds.
* * *
It’s the period before Lola’s and I’m in my English class. I can’t concentrate on anything but the prospect of finally being Jamie Fitzjohn’s girlfriend.
I’ve waited a long time—three years to be exact—for Jamie to see me as more than just his best friend. I’ve watched girls fawn all over him, and I’ve listened to him drone on about his hypothetical perfect girlfriend, waiting for the moment he turns my way and realizes that his perfect girl could be me. And it’s been frustrating; I’m not usually afraid of making the first move when it comes to the guys I date, but with Jamie it feels different.
Most boys are so predictable. I see right through them: their wants, desires, what makes them tick. My first boyfriend was a guy named Georgie Westerfield. He was the usual type girls like: tall, blond, and the great-great-great-grandson of the guy who owns Westerfield Socks—so in short, swimming in billions of dollars. Most importantly for me as a freshman, though, was that he was a junior and every girl wanted him. Being Georgie’s girlfriend got me noticed, took me from being the invisible, unimportant, miserable girl I was in middle school. When I joined Niveus, I knew I wanted to make myself everything that I hadn’t been. And being Georgie’s girlfriend not only made me someone people wanted to know, but someone they wanted to be.
I discovered it wasn’t hard to get close to Georgie; one, Jamie was his friend and mentee through football, and two, Georgie liked that I was “different”—meaning, since I’m Black, it made him look cool. I ignored that, as I knew there was only so long I could fake being into someone like Georgie, and so I got to be Chiamaka, the girl who got the guy everyone wanted, and then the first to break his heart and move on to dating the next golden boy of Niveus.
I always study them before I strike. Their social currency. Each boy, bringing something new. Georgie got me noticed and Scotty, the boy next door with ins to so many social circles, made me more likable. Jamie is the only guy I’ve actually liked as a friend, the only one I didn’t secretly hate. The only one who feels long-term. It’s hard to read someone like Jamie, though. We may be best friends, but I swear … most days I have no idea what that boy is thinking. Which is why I decided to wait, let him make the first move.
And like always, my plan worked.
Finally, at the start of last year—junior year—when I was still “seeing” Scotty but desperately wanting Jamie to see me, he did. He’d thrown what was meant to be the party of the year. We’d both gotten really drunk, so drunk I don’t remember much of that night. But I do remember how Jamie finally looked at me and saw us as something more than platonic. He’d smiled down at me, tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear, and asked if I wanted to go upstairs.
And I said yes. He told me to meet him in his bedroom, and while that night we only made out, it was the catalyst for what happened the rest of the year: Jamie sneaking kisses, whispering things in my ear, asking me to come over …
I’m not naive enough to think hooking up with someone means they like you. Things are just different between Jamie and me. I catch him looking at me sometimes, trying to rile me up on purpose, smiling widely whenever he succeeds. He makes me laugh … looks at me like I’m special.
I’ve spent the past three years building myself up to be the most popular girl at school, the girl who has it all, wanting to secure the perfect ending to my time at Niveus. And now that I’m Senior Head Prefect, all I need are the final pieces: the Snowflake Crown, a Yale acceptance letter, and Jamie.
I feel a nudge from Ava, who I share English class with. Sometimes we poke fun at the conspiracies our teacher, Mrs. Hawthorne, comes up with. Like the time she told us F. Scott Fitzgerald was really the reincarnation of William Shakespeare. To which Ava said, “And I’m the reincarnation of Jane Austen’s asshole.” I laughed so hard Mrs. Hawthorne threatened to separate us. I admit, class is more entertaining with Ava around.
Perhaps if hierarchies weren’t so important and people weren’t constantly trying to take me down, maybe I’d be more trusting of people, and Ava and I would be more than just two girls using each other to survive high school. But the reality is, Niveus will always be Niveus. Besides, I didn’t invent this twisted system that pits us against each other and makes us do crappy things for status—but I do know how to play it.