Class Favorite (21 page)

“Hi, Rosemary. What's up, Kayla?” I said confidently as I approached them, telling myself I had every right to talk to them. Maybe they should have intimidated me—they were
it
, after all—but for some reason, they didn't. At least, I didn't let
them. I'd always felt that Rosemary had this very open, real quality about her. Kind of like Haden Prescott: how, even if you'd never spoken to her, you could tell she was just as sweet in real life as she was in interviews and movies.

Rosemary stopped talking, and Kayla cut her eyes at me.

“Hey,” I said again, with a push of determination.

“What's up, Sally?” Kayla said, eyeing me.

“Sara,” I breezily corrected. “Not much. Just about to head into the barfeteria. Meat loaf today?”

“Not sure,” Rosemary said as Kayla flipped her thick hair back and shifted in her strappy sandals. “I never buy.” She held up a gingham cloth bag cinched closed with a pink satin ribbon.

“Oh, cool. Good choice,” I blabbed. Conversation wasn't exactly flowing, but I wasn't leaving until it was dead in the water.

“Actually,” Kayla began, “we were talking about you earlier.”

“Oh. Really?” My mind zipped. Was it already around school that Jason Andersen and Sara Thurman recently had had a library date? Or that he had
personally
invited me to his party and we were now practically a couple? Maybe they were talking about putting me on the Class Favorite ballot because I was so
worthy
. . . .

“Was it really you who blew up The Ball?” Kayla asked.

Kerplunk
went my heart.

“Uh . . . well, yeah.”
Maintain calm, maintain calm
. I told myself that any publicity was good publicity.

“Oh, my God,” Kayla shrieked. “That night was so insane. I can't believe it! And it was
you
?”

I meekly shrugged my shoulders.

“Geez, Kay.” Rosemary looked at me and rolled her eyes. “Calm down.”

Kayla's wide eyes were filled with excitement. “That was only the single greatest event of the entire year. It was,” she concluded, “beyond hilarious.”

“Oh . . . really?”

“We were just saying how embarrassed we would have been if it were us,” Rosemary said. “But you seem to, I don't know, sort of take it all in stride. You don't let much bother you, do you?”

“Uh . . . I don't know,” I said.

“It's just that, you're always getting yourself into these crazy situations, but you never seem to lose it. You laughed off Mrs. Everly's matching outfit, you were in total control during the whole locker thing”—I cringed—“and now The Ball. I mean, if it were me, I would have transferred schools a long time ago.”

“I would have left the school
district
,” Kayla added.

Then they both started laughing. But you know what? It wasn't one of those laughing-at-you laughs; it was a laughing-with-you laugh. Even though I wasn't laughing, yet.

I said, “Yeah, so how about that announcement from Mr. Moran?”

“I couldn't believe it,” Kayla said. “That was the longest three minutes of my life.”

“Of
your
life?” I asked. “How do you think it was for me? At one point, I actually thought time wasn't moving at all.”

“Oh, you poor thing!” Rosemary said. “We all felt so sorry for you after that stupid thing. I mean, could Mr. Moran have been any more over the top?”

“With the way things have been going for me,” I said, “I think three minutes is right on par. Lately it's like I've been a complete glutton for punishment.”

Rosemary laughed. “More like addicted to it,” she said.

I'd had a library date with Jason, he'd invited me to his party, he talked to me in the halls, and now I stood with Rosemary and Kayla, talking and laughing. I was so close to my goal that I knew Jason's party would be the final performance I needed to get these people to nominate me.

 

Our school loves to keep the classrooms so ice cold that I always think I'm one degree away from hypothermia. I used to think they kept rooms like this because Texas is so hot, but Elisabeth once told me they do it to keep us from falling asleep in class. Which didn't make much sense when you consider that sometimes people freeze to death because they fall asleep in the snow, but whatever.

I sat in algebra shivering, goose bumps covering my entire
body. I kept my arms folded safely across the front of my thin T-shirt.

“Thurman!” Shiner whispered from across the aisle. Since the night of the exploding Ball, we'd picked up the habit of giving shy hellos and smiles to each other in the halls. I had realized that Shiner had never done anything to me—just like Ellen had said, back on Valentine's Day. And since he'd been so nice to me at the game and after I blew up The Ball, I made sure to always give him the benefit of the doubt.

“What?”

“How'd you do on the exam?”

I shrugged. “Don't know yet.”

Mrs. Everly was passing back the exam she had given us a couple of days earlier. That normally would have been cause to freak out in a huge way, but I had actually felt pretty good about it, thanks to Jason's help and the extra studying I did (academics, No. 6).

“What'd you get?” I asked Shiner.

“Seventy-six.”

A true miracle for Shiner Camry. Last semester I would have assumed he had cheated, but that day, I was really proud of him. “Way to go,” I said.

I looked at Jason, sitting across the room, talking quietly with Richie Adams. We'd played it casual since the library
sorta-date. Sometimes he walked with me out of English before he made his way across the courtyard. Aside from that, we hadn't talked much, and I worried that I was taking a backward step in my goal. I needed him to notice me—I needed them all to notice me. Jason sat with Richie, Rosemary, and the others at lunch, and I still sat with Kirstie, who kept threatening to invite Jason over to our table, saying I'd never get nominated if I didn't make a bold move, and soon.

“And I don't mean by exploding things,” she had said. “Just remind yourself that you're a perfect match for a guy like Jason, and he'd be lucky to get a girl like you.”

“A perfect match? How do you figure?”

“Please!” she huffed. “He used to be just like you are now, and so he can probably empathize with your current situation.”

“You mean feel sorry for me?”

“And,”
she continued, “you're very pretty
and
you never, ever give up.”

“That last one I'll agree with.”
For better or worse
, I silently added.

I snapped back to attention when I realized that Richie saw me looking at Jason. I quickly darted my eyes away. Right then, Mrs. Everly placed my quiz facedown on my desk, which could only mean one thing: a failing grade.

 

“Sara! Wait up!”

Jason limped as fast as his walking cast would let him through the doors of algebra. I stopped in the middle of the crowded hall to wait for him, happy little butterflies zipping around my stomach—he hadn't forgotten about me after all.

“Hey,” I said.

“So, how'd you do?”

“You first. What'd you get?”

“Ninety-six.”

“Dang! Really?” I asked, happy he did so well.

“Okay, now you.”

I pulled my crinkled quiz out of my bag and held it up for his inspection.

“Ninety-two? Hey, nice job, Thurman.”

“Only the best I've done all semester,” I said proudly as we headed down the hallway together past kids slamming their blue lockers shut.

“We make a pretty good team,” he said, nudging me with his shoulder. I smiled and tucked my chin to my chest. “I go this way,” he said, nodding in the opposite direction. “Will you be at basketball practice today?”

“Yeah. The guys are running court sprints,” I said. “I gotta write the times.”

“I'll be there, sitting on the bench. Maybe I can help you with the times.”

I smiled at the image of Jason and me working together on stats. Between algebra, stats, and the upcoming party, we might be nominated Best Twosome in addition to Class Favorites.

“Cool,” I said before watching him walk away.

 

After school I sat on a bench outside the gym to change into my tennis shoes. As I stuffed my Mary Janes into my messenger bag, I saw Arlene and Ellen Spitz coming toward me, chatting away like best buds. Arlene wore dark blue jeans and a top I knew she got in San Antonio two summers ago. It was white with embroidered flowers around the neckline. It was her favorite spring blouse even though it was girlie. I watched, feeling a new level of guilt and sadness at the way things had turned out for us.

I quickly jammed my books and folders into my bag. “Hey, Arlene,” I called. I knew this would be hard, but I had to do it. I started to think that if I'd just spoken to her right when I'd felt that something wasn't right, then none of this would have happened. “Can I talk to you?”

Arlene told Ellen that she'd see her later, and Ellen gave me a look before she walked off that was a little like one of those given by publicists you see on red carpet events, ferociously protecting their star. I didn't like it.

“What?” Her curtness shouldn't have surprised me, but it did. I knew clearing the air with Arlene would be one of the
hardest things I'd ever done, but I also knew that continuing to do nothing at all was even worse. Still, it was hard to know where to start.

Of course, being me, I said the absolute worst thing.

“Why do you hang with Ellen Spitz? She's kind of a hick.”

Arlene's mouth dropped a little. “I hang out with her because she's
nice
.”

I shook my head, angry at myself for saying that. The truth was, I was still jealous of Ellen—jealous that she was Arlene's best friend and I wasn't. Even though I had Kirstie as a friend, I guess I just felt territorial of Arlene “Look, Arlene, I didn't mean—”

“You know, Sara,” Arlene interrupted, her tone surprisingly firm. “You think you're so great now that you're hanging out with Jason Andersen and that Kirstie girl. I hang out with Ellen because she's a good friend. She believes me when I tell her something.”

“I know,” I said, incredibly flustered. “You're right.” I wasn't used to fighting with Arlene, and it looked like this could turn into our second fight since we had become friends. I didn't want that. I wasn't sure how to handle it, and I started to forget why I'd called her over in the first place. To ask her if she was the culprit of my locker? To tell her I was sorry I'd let things get so far gone? Or to say that, even if she had leaked word
about the roses, that I forgave her? “Listen, I don't want to fight with you. I'm—”

“Do you ever think things through,” she interrupted, “or do you always have to assume the worst? Like about the roses?”

“Look, all I know is,” I said, feeling defensive, “you were the only one who knew who had sent them to me, and then suddenly the whole school knew.”

“You know, Sara.” Arlene shook her head. “Maybe all this started for you on the day your mom sent you those roses, but think real hard about what else happened that day.”

When I realized she wasn't going to tell me, I snapped,
“What?”

“Your new best friend Kirstie Luegner came to Bowie. Did you even read the e-mail I sent you? She was the only other person in the office that day. Have you even questioned if she was the one who spread the word?”

“Yeah, for your information, I did think about that,” I said. “I know she didn't do it. I think you're just mad that Kirstie and I became friends and you weren't in on it. You've never liked her, and for no good reason.”

“Maybe I have a reason.” Arlene glared at me a moment, her face pale. When I didn't say anything, she said, “So I guess that's it, then. I guess we're really not friends anymore. Thanks for being so mature, Sara.”

She stormed down the sidewalk, past the trees, until I couldn't see her anymore, and I knew that she was crying before she started running.

I wanted to cry too. I didn't know why this had to happen to us, especially since we'd been friends for so long. Was it some sort of woman's intuition that told me she was guilty? I didn't like how she was accusing Kirstie, who had never done anything to her. Why would Kirstie, the new girl, want to do that to someone she had just met? It all seemed so impossible.

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