Emmalee (12 page)

           
Okay, so I admit it.  I totally thought the way he was
acting was completely hilarious.  That is, until I walked into
History and overheard him mocking Hannah.  Even I didn’t
think Elton Bloomfield was that harsh.  And then to realize that
the rest of the class was egging him on was mortifying.  One
look at Hannah’s face and I nearly decked the guy again. 
But, I knew she would kill me if I did.  So instead, I took a
deep breath and pasted on my Bradford smile.  Everyone paused in
their laughter and stared at me.  That smile really was a killer
smile. 
That’s right.  And don’t you forget
who really owns this school.  If you want to be popular, you
stay on my good side.
 

           
“Oh!  There you are Hannah!  I just got your text.” 
It was no trouble at all to walk past my usual seat and sit up front
in the empty one next to her.  In fact, it felt liberating. 
With that one small act, no one would dare insult her again. 
Somewhat mollified—I would’ve rather blackened Elton’s
other eye—I smiled down into Hannah’s relieved face. 
I knew she would never mention it and I vowed right then to pretend I
had no idea what had just happened. 

           
“I hope you don’t mind if I sit here.”

           
“Mind?”  She rolled her eyes.  “Why
haven’t you earlier?”

           
I stared at her baffled.  And then it dawned on me why I
hadn’t.  I had stayed next to Elton to hear all of the
flattering remarks he had made about her.  I couldn’t tell
her that.  “Uh…”

           
“Miss Bradford, are you and Hannah through with your
discussion?” asked Ms. Ingle clearly miffed.  She had her
arms folded and was tapping a high heeled toe against the carpet.

           
“Uh, yeah, sorry.”  I smiled again. 

           
Ms. Ingle took two purposeful strides up to my desk and asked, “So,
Emmalee, are you planning on making the front row a permanent spot?”

           
My smile grew.  “Well, yeah, actually.  That is, if
you don’t mind?”  I could feel the whole classroom
staring at the back of my head.  I sat up a little straighter
and announced loudly, “Hannah and I have been working together
on our reports and stuff.  It would make it a lot easier and way
more fun if we were together.”

           
“Would it?”  Ms.  Ingle raised an eyebrow and
contemplated what I had told her.  She glanced slightly in
Hannah’s direction and then to the back of the room where Elton
was sitting, before flicking her gaze around to the rest of the
students.  She smirked and her eyes sparkled when they came to
rest on me again. 

           
She knows what I am doing! 

           
“Hmm… Yes, I can see why it would be much more
entertaining to be up front here with Hannah Smith.”  Ms.
Ingle gave me a short quick grin and glanced around the room again
before adding, “You are more than welcome to stay here.”

“Thank you!” I gushed.

           
Ms. Ingle’s eyes snapped back toward mine, as if to say—‘Don’t
overdo it.’

           
Of course not.
  I smiled. 
Maybe Ms. Ingle is
more human than I thought?

           
After Monday, Hannah didn’t seem to have any more problems from
Elton.  And as far as school went it just basically whizzed by
in a sort of blur.  There was a short uncomfortable moment for
me—about two weeks later--when everyone I knew was invited to
Cassidy Hart’s themed Halloween party and I wasn’t. 
Not that I would’ve gone had they thought to invite me, I just
found it odd that they didn’t. 

           
It wasn’t even that big of deal when I went with Hannah to find
the perfect costume.  I guess this year they were doing a Mafia
theme.  And Hannah wanted to find a stunning forties type dress
and hat. 
Okay, so how lame are Halloween parties anyway? 
Especially ones where you dress up? 
Can we say grade
school anyone? 
Except, that’s what I don’t
get.  Why do I care?  Why is it totally wiggin’ on me
that I haven’t been invited?  I abhor dressing up in
costumes.
 
That is, at least I think I do.

           
“Hey!  Emma!  You’ve gotta check out this one!”

           
I looked across the shabby thrift store to where Hannah had insisted
that we shop in first.  She was holding up a dark purple satiny
dress.  “Wow.  That would work.  It’s even
got shoulder pads.”

           
“I know!  And check out the pencil skirt on this dress! 
It’s like perfect!”  She brought the dress in front
of her and beamed down at it, before asking, “Oh, so have you
found any great costume jewelry that’ll work yet?”

           
“Hmm…”  I glanced back at the glass-topped
cabinet and eyed the sparkly multi-colored faux gems all around. 
“There’s a few things that could work.”  And
then I saw it.  “Wait!  There’s an awesome—like
really cool—purple and turquoise butterfly pin thingy.”

           
“Really?  A brooch?” she called back.

           
“Yeah!”  I waved my hand, beckoning her over to the
case.  “Come here and look!  Seriously, bring the
dress too.”

           
She was over quicker than I realized.

           
“Miss?” I asked the clerk at the adjoining counter as
Hannah leaned over my arm to get a better view.  “Can we
see this brooch?  The butterfly one?”

           
“Sure.”  The cashier smiled and walked over to
unlock the cabinet.

           
“Ooh!” Hannah gasped.  It looked even prettier out
from under the grubby glass. 

           
“It’s perfect, isn’t it?”

           
Hannah took it from the woman and quickly set it against her dress. 
“Look!  Right here, on the hip.  That would be
amazing wouldn’t it?”

           
“Yeah!”  I smiled at how well it looked above the
soft ruffles that flirted out below it.  “Look at how well
it matches the dress.  It looks like it was made for it.”

“I know!  I love it!”
Hannah giggled.  “Holy cow, I’m going to be a total
knockout at the party!”

           
“Yeah, you’re gonna look amazing.”

           
“Too bad you aren’t coming.  You’ve got to see
the other dress I found over there.  I think it would look
marvelous on you.”

           
“What?  Are you kidding?”

           
“No.  Come on, I’ll show you.”

           
I followed Hannah back to the tall circular rack that held the
vintage—mostly 1980’s-90’s gowns. 
Yuck!

           
“Here it is!”

           
In shock I stared at the shimmering pale gold gown that she pulled
out.  It was total forties, but elegant lounge singer type
forties.  It was awesome.  “Wow!  That is
pretty.”

           
“Yeah, I thought it would go perfect with your blonde hair.”

           
Dang!  It probably would.
  “Oh.” 
Okay, so now I really wish I had been invited.  What’s
the deal anyway?  I invited them to my movie-thingy. 
Sheez!  Even though, I would probably say no, they could’ve
at least been nice. 
I touched the smooth satin of the
dress with my index finger. 
Maybe dressing up wouldn’t
be that bad after all.

           
A couple of days later I regretted even more not getting invited when
Chase came over to ask what something on his invitation meant. 
Good grief!  He got invited too?

           
“So do you have any idea what this is about?” He grinned
boyishly at me across the countertop while a stirred up Mom’s
to die for chocolate chip cookies.  “I mean, I don’t
have to dress up do I?”

           
“You?  Worried about dressing up?” I smirked as I
gave the wooden spoon a final churn around the bowl.  “I
thought you liked costumes.”

           
Chase rolled his eyes.  “Only if they’re armor.”

           
I laughed and shook my head, before I ducked down to pull out a
couple of my mother’s stoneware cookie sheets.

           
“No honestly, do I have to wear some nineteen forties mafia
outfit?” Chase asked.

           
“Yeah, I think so.  That’s what Hannah’s
doing.”

           
“Wait, where’s your invite?  What does it say? 
Maybe yours clarifies a bit more.”

           
 I stood up and placed the heavy stones on the counter. 
Not ready to answer him, I walked over to the silverware drawer and
pulled out two spoons.  When I came back I handed one to Chase. 
“Here, make yourself useful.”

           
“You sure?” he grinned.  “I’m not
the best cook, you know?  I mean, I’ve been known to have
a whole batch of cookies disappear right in front of me—even
before they make it into the oven.”

           
“Disappear?  What are you—?”

           
Chase’s spoon—fully loaded—plopped into his mouth. 
“Hmm… Your mom always did have the best recipes.”

I put my hands on my hips. 
“Chase Anderson, you are
not
going to devour all of
that cookie dough!”

           
“Okay.”  He mischievously smiled as he dipped his
spoon in for another chunk.  “I promise I won’t eat
it
all
.”

           
“Eww!  That’s totally double dipping!” 
Ugh!
  I could hear Chase chuckling to himself as I
stomped over to the cabinet and pulled down a small dessert plate. 
“Here.”  I hurried back and removed the contaminated
portion with my spoon and set it on the plate.  “This is
yours, okay?  Sheez!  Can you promise to behave yourself
now?”

           
Chase grinned and nodded, pretending to act humble, while he dug into
his plate for another bite.  “Thanks.”

           
“Guys!  Are you all like this?” I asked as I put
dough on the first stone.  “Because if you are, I don’t
think I want a boyfriend after all.”

           
Chase shrugged while fishing for a chocolate chip on his plate. 
“Yeah, as far as I know, all guys are like this.” 
He plopped the tiny chocolate piece in his mouth and grinned again.

           
Exasperated, I sighed and went to work loading up as much of the
dough as I could, before Chase finished his off.

           
He watched me for a minute and then asked, “So what does your
invite say?”

           
For crying out loud, are we back to that again?

           
 
I worked intently on finishing up the row as I answered
matter of factly, “I didn’t get one.”

           
He stopped.  I know he did because I heard the spoon clatter on
the countertop.  “What do you mean?” he cautiously
asked.

           
I shrugged and continued to focus on dropping small spoonfuls of
dough onto the sheet.  “That I didn’t get invited.”

           
“Yeah, but why?” he persisted.

           
Inwardly I took a deep breath and waited until I had finished the
whole stone.  I looked up as I switched the empty stone in front
of me and answered, “I don’t know.  Maybe Cassidy
knew I would tell her no, so she didn’t bother inviting me.”

           
Chase snorted. “That’s crazy.  Like you wouldn’t
go to her party.  You love parties, of course you’d go.”

           
I looked up at him and raised an eyebrow, before I dipped my spoon in
the bowl and collected another spoonful of cookie dough.

           
“Emma, you’re kidding, aren’t you?”

           
“What makes you think I’m kidding?” I answered the
bowl as I collected another chunk of dough.  “Why would I
go to a costume party just because Cassidy has invited me?”

           
“Because you’re nice.”

           
Nice?
  “What does that mean?” I glanced up
and my gaze collided with his.

           
For a moment he stared right at me.  I couldn’t move while
his eyes searched through mine behind the layers of hurt I had hidden
beneath them.  Slowly, he looked down and released me.  I
watched the corner of his mouth droop slightly and his brows furrow. 

I cleared my throat and quickly
plopped another load of cookie dough onto his plate.  “Here. 
I better give you this before you try and steal some more.”

           
Chase looked over at it and grinned slightly.  “Thanks.” 
He cut out another spoonful and licked it clean.

           
After filling up the second cookie sheet without another word from
him, I realized he must be contemplating something. 
But
what?
  I carried the stones one at a time and set them in
the oven, before starting the timer.  Another couple of minutes
saw the counter cleaned off and the dishes in the sink so I could
clean them later.  When I was done, I walked back over to the
counter and leaned on it and watched Chase savor the last bite of
cookie dough.  I couldn’t stand it anymore.  “Okay,
so tell me what you’re thinking.  You’re driving me
crazy.”

           
“I am?” he devilishly asked.

           
I picked up the plate and took the empty spoon from his hand. 
“Yes!” 

           
As I was walking over to the sink, I got my answer and I wasn’t
sure I wanted to hear it.  

Chapter 12

“Stop, drop, and roll, baby.
You are on fire.”

           
“I’ve been thinking you should get to know Cassidy
better.”

           
What?
  I flipped around.  “Cassidy?”

           
“Yeah.  Why not?”

           
I walked up to the counter.  “You want me to get to know
Cassidy Hart better?  Why?”

           
“I think if you thought about it, you two would be really good
friends.”

           
“Me and Cassidy?  Are you crazy?  No way.”

           
Chase had the audacity to smile, like he thought it was funny. 
“I think you two would get along great.”