Class Favorite (29 page)

Arlene wiped tears from her cheeks. “I didn't mean to make you feel left out. We still did the movie thing.”

“I know,” I said. “But that's not the same thing as hanging out every weekend. Look, I'm so
so
sorry about everything that's happened. I swear on everything that is good and holy that I will never treat you like that again. You're the only friend I ever want to have. Can we please be friends again?”

Arlene wiped her nose on the back of her hand, then wiped her hand on her jeans. A smile emerged on her tear-stained face, and for the first time since I'd told her my parents were getting a divorce, Arlene and I hugged. As we squeezed each other tight, she whispered, “
Best
friends.”

23

Will They Remember You When You're Gone?

What yearbook award best describes you?

a) Most Popular—everyone knew me, I knew everyone, but my circle of friends was tight (i.e., elite).

b) Most Congenial—everyone knew me, I knew everyone, and we all loved one another.

c) Newcomer Award—even though you've been at this school for four years.

 

After all that, I wasn't only nominated—I won.

This is what it had all come down to—this day. Being in that room full of winners, and actually being one of them, felt a little surreal. I simply couldn't believe I was there. I'd always wondered what it was like, all those accomplished people gathered together for the yearbook photos a couple of weeks
before the end of school, and now I knew. For all of Bowie eternity, I would be seen as one of
those
people. And I really liked that—I deserved to be proud of myself.

There were no cheese-and-cracker platters like I had imagined, no Cokes or bottled water on any tables, but the scene was still amazing. Everyone was crammed into the library, where we were photographed against the same blue backdrop they'd used for our class pictures. While I waited for my turn, I found myself hovering somewhere between the winners of the Most Versatile Award and the John Philip Sousa Award for music, feeling awkward and nervous about having to smile in front of all these people. I was waiting for them to turn to me and yell, “Just joking!” and laugh me out of the school.

“Hey, Thurman.”

Shiner stood beside me, wearing a blue blazer that was a little short in the sleeves, with a striped tie that hung too low over his belt. He stood really straight with his shoulders all squared and a pretty satisfied grin on his face.

“You look nice,” I said, looking down at his duds, and I meant it. I eyed his jeans and ratty sneakers with the blazer and tie.

He shrugged. “Only the waist up, right?”

“Good point. I got this,” I said, and I pulled on the new necklace I got from my dad when he returned from New Mexico. It was a tiny turquoise butterfly on a silver chain, and
I loved it. Finally, I thought, something that lets me know that he doesn't think I'm a kid anymore.

“That's nice,” Shiner said of my necklace.

When Mrs. Waxman called Shiner, he stepped up to the stage with Ellen Spitz for the One to Watch Awards.

“Scoot closer, Jimmy!” Mrs. Waxman commanded. “She's not going to bite you!”

Ellen blushed as bright as her ruffled blouse—she was Westernless, for once—and somebody called out, “She might, if you ask her nice!”

I felt so proud to see Shiner standing up there, finally being recognized. He deserved it more than anyone.

“They'd make a cute couple, wouldn't they?”

I turned to see Jason standing beside me. He looked almost like a grown man in his dark blue suit and bright red tie. He even had polished dress shoes on. He put his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. My dad used to do that.

Jason and I hadn't exactly become Bowie's new power couple like I had hoped. We talked a lot at school, walked the halls together a couple of times a day, and he sometimes stopped by my locker in the mornings. My heart raced every time I heard his voice on the phone, which I did, several times a week. Everything was great . . . except we hadn't actually gone out yet. I really liked him and wondered if I should ask him out, but I wasn't surprised that the year was ending and
we weren't an official couple. It had all been a fantasy, anyway.

“So, well, congratulations,” he said.

“Yeah, thanks. You too.”

We silently watched as the seventh-grade Class Favorites took their places in front of the camera, the guy resting his hands on the girl's waist.

Even though I still felt butterflies around him, I'd long since decided to stop trying too hard and to just
be
. “Tell me, Andersen. You're totally jealous of my award, aren't you? Come on, you can admit it.”

“You're crazy,” Jason said, smiling. “It's cool you're here, Sara. And not just because of the award.”

I smiled and tucked my hair behind my ear.

“Let's go!” Mrs. Waxman called. “Eighth-grade Class Favorites, step on up!”

“Smile pretty,” I said as Jason turned to take the mini-stage. I stood content as Jason and Rosemary Vickers had their Class Favorite pictures taken, just like they deserved.

 

I shouldn't have been surprised when the yearbooks came out and I saw my picture. My left eye was half-closed, and it barely looked like I was smiling.

“I told that photographer guy I wasn't ready yet,” I said to Arlene, Ellen, and Kirstie, cringing at my image forever emblazoned in Bowie's pages.

“It's still pretty cool,” Ellen said.

Beneath my picture read:

“Courage is grace under pressure.”

—Ernest Hemingway (1899–1961)

Courage Award

Sara Thurman

 

I was really proud of my award. Like most things that had happened this semester, I totally didn't see it coming. When I didn't get nominated for Class Favorite, I realized I wasn't the least bit bummed. The whole thing had been superficial and immature. The Courage Award, on the other hand, made me realize that people saw something in me that I didn't see in myself. Somehow, I had become—or maybe had always been—someone who took things in stride. That's a good thing, because life moves and changes pretty fast sometimes, and even though I can't control that, I know I can control how I react to it.

As for Kirstie—yeah, I did forgive her. And even though what she did to me was horrible, and she should have been the one to come to me, I decided to go to her. After all the avoiding I had done with Arlene, I decided that, if I thought the friendship was worth it, I should make the first move. And I believed Kirstie was worth it.

“I just want you to know,” I told her before science class the week after Jason's party, “that I get why you did it. You did a horrible thing—the meanest thing anyone has ever done to me—but I understand.”

Kirstie looked beaten and tired. Her black hair was dull, and her green eyes didn't seem so bright. “What do you mean? What I did was inexcusable—”

“It was,” I insisted. “But I understand the desperation you felt. It's like how desperate I was to make people like me. Or did you forget about the list of Class Favorite qualities I used to carry around with me?”

She smiled. “I didn't forget. Look, I'm not proud of what I did.”

“I'm not proud of what I did either. But I know you're sorry, and I want you to know that you have a real friend in me. You don't have to force our friendship. It was always there.”

Kind of like my courage, I had thought, hidden beneath all my insecurities.

As Arlene, Ellen, Kirstie, and I stood huddled around our yearbooks, someone called out my name. We all turned in unison to see Jason approaching us.

“Hey,” I said, a smile spreading across my face.

“Look,” Jason began, his eyes glued to the floor. “I was wondering . . .”

Thankfully, Arlene, Ellen, and Kirstie stepped off to the side, but they didn't go far. I knew they were straining to hear every word.

“I was wondering,” he said again. “I've got a kite competition coming up. It's this Saturday afternoon, and I thought we could go get a pizza or something after. It's not a big deal—I probably won't even place.” He hooked his backpack up on his shoulder, looking nervously around him. “Anyway, I was just wondering if you wanted to go? With me. If you want. I mean, it'll be no big deal.”

I looked at Arlene, who was eyeing me. This Saturday was our Razzie night, and Jason just had to pick this weekend to finally ask me out. Just my luck.

“That sounds awesome,” I said, “but the thing is . . .” I had this knotted mess in the pit of my stomach, even though I knew what I wanted to say. “Well, the thing is, I kinda already have plans.” I spoke quickly to keep him planted beside me. “Is there another competition coming up? Or maybe we could just go one afternoon. I could do it if it were any other Saturday. Really. I mean it, Jason.”

He looked back at me, and I smiled.

“I'll hold you to it,” he said. “The old-timers at the VFW are dying to meet you.”

“Dying—don't say that!” I said. But what I was really thinking was,
He's been talking about me!

Jason laughed and said, “You're so crazy,” which made me beam.

After he walked away, Arlene punched me in the arm and shrieked, “Are you crazy?! What were you thinking? Why would you turn him down?”

“Because,” I said, enjoying the sight of her mouth gaping open, and still a little shaky myself, “the only place I want to be Saturday night is with all my friends, watching one Razzie movie and one Oscar winner. It's gonna be great.”

As we pushed through the front doors of the school, my stomach finally settled down. I thought of Jason and the date I knew we'd have and of Saturday night with Arlene, finally having our cherished little ritual again with the added bonus of having new recruits Ellen and Kirstie. I also knew that, for me, there was lots more to come. All I had to do was relax and act normal.

Like myself.

Which Yearbook Award Will YOU Receive? Take This Quiz to Find Out!

Chapter 1

Does Your Crush Know You Exist?

You're walking—okay, drooling—along behind your crush when he unknowingly drops a pen from his backpack. You hurry to pick it up; when you give it to him, he says:

a) nothing, just accepts the pen and keeps walking.

b) “Thanks,” and smiles at you before moving on.

c) “Thanks. How'd you do on that geometry quiz last week?”

Chapter 2

Are You the Keeper of Secrets or the Disher of Gossip?

You've stepped out of your sociology class to go to the bathroom. On the way back, you hear Angie Slater whispering into her cell phone, saying, “I can't believe Joann got suspended for plagiarism.” You:

a) discreetly walk away, but decide to tell
only
your best friend, and
only
after making her swear not to tell another single living soul.