It's a Mall World After All (12 page)

I wondered how serious he was with Olivia, and if he would look at her the same way he looked at me at Candice's party.

Thursday morning at breakfast I grumbled to my family that I had yet to receive any snowflakes from the seniors who said they'd make them for me, and I was bound to be up half the night cutting them out.

Dad spread butter on his bagel. "You don't need snowflakes for your dance. Just tell everyone it's a California winter, so you're decorating with tourists."

"Find the people who said they'd help and remind them," Mom said. "You need to study for your midterms, not make decorations."

Julianne spooned cereal into her mouth. "I'll help you make snowflakes. What color do you want them to be?"

"White," I said, and figured that anyone who had to ask was not going to be a lot of help.

After breakfast I rounded up every pair of scissors in the house, took them to school, and had Brianna hand them out. I figured people would actually make snowflakes if she asked, since she's Miss Socialite and has no visible chips on her shoulders. And of course, everyone made them for her. What started as a bit of surreptitious snipping turned into a fad by second period, and then a political statement at lunchtime. Half the senior class cut up old homework assignments and made them into snowflakes. I had unknowingly touched a nerve, a massive longing of the student body to purge their notebooks and cut holes into the things our teachers had forced us to study.

Brianna gave me so many snowflakes, I couldn't fit any more of them on my locker shelf. I had to stack the rest in Ms. Ellis's science classroom.

I didn't bring them home with me. What was the point when I'd just have to haul them back to school on Friday to decorate the gymnasium?

This turned out to be a good thing, since at dinnertime Julianne and Evelynn dumped an armful of paper snowflakes on the table.

"We didn't want you to have to cut them all by yourself," Evelynn told me.

"I made the pink ones," Julianne added, "because I wanted them to be snowflakes you see during the sunset."

Mom laughed. "I didn't have time to make you any snowflakes, but I didn't want you to miss studying, so I called a friend of mine who works at Party City and asked if they could donate anything. I've got a box of streamers in my car."

Dad sifted through the paper, moving it off the table and onto the countertop. "I'm surrounded by flakes."

I picked up a few that had fluttered onto the ground and put them on the counter. "No, you're surrounded by very nice people."

So then I added more streamers, which connected from the ceiling to the opposite side of the room, where the deejay would be. We still had a ton of streamers left, so I added some more for balance, until Wesley looked at me and said, "I thought it was a winter theme. Why are you making the room look like some sort of huge Maypole?"

My mom makes decorating look so easy.

I went back to taping snowflakes on the wall. After putting up approximately two million, my arms ached, and then I ran out of tape. I still had snowflakes left over, and it was a shame to throw them away, since I'd insisted people make them for me. Plus, I had the irrational fear that everyone was going to walk around the gym looking for the snowflakes they made, and they'd be all ticked off if they found them in the garbage can. I laid the last few dozen across the tablecloth on the refreshment table.

After a quick dinner at home, I went to the bakery to pick up the cookies. Preeth was in charge of the drinks, which I was glad of while I was lugging boxes of cookies into the gymnasium—because I couldn't have carried them and gallons of hot spiced apple cider—but which I became less glad of when I saw her. She'd brought glass pitchers instead of insulated thermoses.

"You were supposed to heat up the cider at your house and bring it to school in the thermoses," I said as I brought in the last batch of cookies.

She shrugged and heaved a gallon jug of cider onto the table. "I decided it would be easier to use the microwaves in the school kitchen."

I picked up a gallon of cider, walked to the cafeteria, and tried the kitchen doors even though I knew they were locked. Ms. Ellis had told us during the first planning meeting that the school was very particular about who they let have access to the kitchen. Only the cafeteria ladies held the keys, and rumor was, you had to fight them gladiator-style in order to be considered a worthy key recipient.

I walked back to the gymnasium, hurrying so quickly the cider swished back and forth. "The kitchen is locked," I told Preeth.

She looked from me to the cider. "We can always serve it cold, then."

"We could if we had ice." I checked my watch. Six-fifty. "Where is Ms. Ellis?"

Preeth nodded toward the deejay. "She and her fiance are looking at the music selection."

Over by the deejay, a tall, thin man draped his arms around Ms. Ellis's shoulders. He whispered something into her ear, and she laughed. I doubted this was a good time to request that she run to the store and buy ice for us.

I glanced at my watch again, as though it might change its mind and give me a few more minutes. "Maybe we can catch someone who's on their way here and ask them to bring some."

While I grabbed my phone from my purse Harris wandered up to the table. He picked up a cookie and chomped on it while he looked around. "By the way, what's with all the streamers?"

"They're decorations."

"Oh." He tilted his head up, considering them. "It's sort of like being in a circus tent."

I shot him a dark look and punched in Brianna's number on my cell phone. He quickly added, "Not that a circus tent is a bad thing. I mean, no one pays all that much attention to the decorations anyway." His eyes narrowed as he surveyed the room. "And what are those pink blobs on the wall by the DJ ?"

"They're snowflakes my little sister made. She likes pink."

He nodded. "Oh. Well, we can just tell people those are the snowflakes tainted with industrial pollution." Harris picked up another cookie and popped it into his mouth, probably as an excuse to stop talking to me.

I turned away from him when Brianna picked up her phone with a "Hello?"

"Hi, Bri, can you do me a favor?" As I spoke, I ripped open a package of napkins and set them on the table.

"Sure. What do you need?"

"Ice for the cider. Can you stop by a convenience store and pick some up?"

"Oh." A pause. "Bryant and I aren't actually going to the dance."

Several napkins fluttered to the floor, and I bent down to pick them up. "What do you mean you're not going to the dance?"

"Bryant decided he wanted to go to a movie instead."

"A movie?" I stacked more napkins into a crooked paper tower. "You can go to a movie anytime. This is the Winter Wonderland dance. You made snowflakes for this."

"I know. He doesn't feel like dancing."

"Tell him we have both reindeer sugar cookies and double chocolate chip cookies." I'd ordered the reindeer cookies to match the theme, and the double chocolate chip because I was not about to watch Olivia and Colton dancing together unless I had chocolate. "Tell Bryant I'll save a chocolate chip one for him." I cast a glance at Harris. "Well, if you hurry anyway."

"Sorry, Charlotte, we're about to go into the theater. I have to hang up now. Bye."

I held the phone in my hand, completely forgetting about the ice. Bryant just decided he didn't want to go to the dance? Why? I could think of only one reason, and that was because he didn't want Olivia to see him with Brianna.

I hated having these suspicions, but they didn't seem to want to go away.

Next I called Kelly and Wesley. They didn't pick up. Aleeta was en route, but didn't have any money on her. It was nearly seven o'clock, and the deejay played the first song. People wandered into the gym in a steady stream, although none of them seemed to be dying of thirst just yet.

I dug through my purse for my car keys so I could get the ice, then looked up to see Colton and Olivia walking toward the refreshment table.

eleven

O
livia wore a silky red blouse and a pair of jeans, which even though they were made out of the same denim that mine had been constructed from looked ritzier. Maybe because she wore red high heels with them. Maybe because the expression on her face, the elevation of her chin, and the swing of her hips all made her look like a runway model coming down the catwalk.

Colton turned his attention to the spread of food. "Hi, guys. Got everything set up?"

"Just about," I said.

Olivia looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "You're in charge of refreshments? That's ironic."

As far as I knew, Olivia had no idea who I was, let alone whether I had any refreshment committee skills. I'd only seen her at the mall, and she hadn't seen me there at all.

I looked from her to Colton, and then back to her. "Oh? Why is that?"

She shrugged and a smile slid across her face. "Aren't you the one who had some refreshment problems at Candice's party?"

My cheeks suddenly felt warm, but I tried to keep my composure. I'd forgotten she'd gone to that party. "Yeah, that was me." And then because Preeth and Harris both turned to stare at me, I added, "I ran into a waiter and made him spill a tray of food."

"Not just spill—I think they're still cleaning watermelon fragments off of the walls. But that's not what I was talking about." Olivia forced another laugh and tossed her long red hair off her shoulder. "I meant when you ate part of the table centerpiece."

Harris puffed out an amused chortle. "Charlotte, you ate a centerpiece?"

"They were cherry tomatoes," I said. "I didn't realize they were there as decorations." Olivia leaned closer to me in a confiding manner. "See those strings of popcorn on the Christmas tree? They're off-limits."

Harris and Preeth both laughed at this, but I couldn't muster more than a smile. Harris elbowed me. "Hey, now I know why you wanted paper decorations. They're less tempting, eh?"

"Well, I have to do what I can to keep my weight down," I said.

Olivia picked up one of the snowflakes from the table and held it up. "Is that what this is? A decoration?"

"It's a snowflake," I said.

"Oh, right. I can see that now." She tossed it back on the table. "Ars
gratia artis."

"You speak French?" Harris asked in awe—like producing a phrase from another country was some exotic accomplishment and not something we all did every day in our foreign language classes.

"Yes, I speak French," Olivia said. "But that was Latin."

"Latin . . .," Harris murmured.

I folded my arms and staunchly refused to be impressed, because hey, no one speaks Latin anymore. It's only used to describe medical conditions, to say the occasional Mass, and apparently to impress smart guys.

"I speak Spanish," I said to no one in particular. "Fluently."

Colton picked up a couple of the chocolate chip cookies and held one out for Olivia. "Do you want something to eat?"

"Too messy." She waved off his hand and picked up a sugar cookie instead. "With my luck, I'd get chocolate chips on my shirt. And you know how awful it is to get chocolate out of silk."

No, actually I didn't.

Olivia giggled as she nibbled on the edge of her cookie. "It's a Juicy."

Harris looked at her blankly. "Your cookie is juicy?"

"No. The shirt." She tossed her hair off her shoulders so we could get a better look at her blouse. "It's a Juicy Couture."

Preeth nodded. "Oh, you mean it's one of those brands with a silly name like Guess."

"It's not at all like Guess." Olivia took another bite of her cookie. "You can get Guess anywhere."

Colton picked up the pitcher. "Do you want something to drink, Olivia?" He poured juice into a Styrofoam cup without waiting for her answer. "Have some hot apple cider."

"Um . . .," I said.

"Be careful," Colton added. "You might need to blow on it."

"Actually . . .," I said.

Olivia picked up the cup and took a sip. She didn't spit it out, although her facial expression indicated she wanted to.

After she managed to swallow, she put the cup down on the table and looked at me. "That isn't hot. It's room temperature."

Colton had poured a glass for himself, and now he held it to his lips, sampling it like he was determining whether it had been a good year for apples. "Why isn't this hot?"

I opened my mouth to answer him, to explain I was on my way to get ice, but somehow looking at Olivia—who in the two minutes she'd been here had managed to insult me, the decorations, the food, and our knowledge of high-end designer brands—I just couldn't give her one more thing to be disdainful about. "We haven't had a chance to heat it up yet," I said.

Colton replaced his cup on the table. "Well, you should hurry. People are starting to come."

"We're working on it right now," I said.

The deejay put on a slow song, and Olivia took hold of Colton's elbow and leaned in close to him. "This is one of my favorite songs. Let's dance."

"Sure." Colton shot me a look. "I'll be back to check on you later. I mean, you know, the refreshments." Then he turned and let Olivia pull him out on the dance floor.

I picked up a chocolate chip cookie and bit off a piece. "Did either of you like Olivia?"

"Total snob," Preeth said.

"Yeah, but she's hot," Harris added.

Preeth glared at him. I smacked him in the shoulder. "Okay, your opinion doesn't count, Harris. Preeth and I didn't like her, and so we're not about to give her another reason to look down on us."

Harris cocked his head. "How does serving cold cider give her a reason to look down on us?"

"You're a guy. You wouldn't understand. The point is, we're serving the cider hot."

Preeth fingered the handle on one of the pitchers. "You just said we couldn't get into kitchen."

"True. But we're all National Honor Society members, so between the three of us, we ought to be able to figure out a way to heat liquid."

"Right." Harris nodded slowly. "Anyone got a bunch of magnifying glasses, flint, or a particle accelerator?"

"How about a cup warmer?" Preeth said. "Ms. Ellis has one of those in her class room."

I shook my head. "It would take forever to warm an entire pitcher."

"A Bunsen burner would do it fast enough," Harris said. "And there are plenty of those in the science room."

I considered the idea as I looked down at the refreshment table. "I think the room is still unlocked from when I got all the snowflakes out. We could heat up the pitchers there, then bring them back here. Well, if they didn't get too hot." I suddenly imagined myself rushing through the hallways carrying a heated glass pitcher while I tried not to spill scalding water on myself or the school floor.

Perhaps Harris had a similar visual because he said, "It would be easier to heat them up here."

"Except Bunsen burners work on natural gas, and we don't have any of that down here," Preeth said.

Harris shrugged. "I've got a propane tank out in my dad's truck. He uses it for welding, but I don't think he'd mind if we borrowed it."

"Do you know how to use it?" I asked.

Harris gave a small laugh. "I use it all the time when we're camping. It shouldn't be hard to rig something up." He took a set of keys from his pocket and jingled them in his hand. "I'll go get the tank while you guys grab a couple of Bunsen burners." He walked away from us, still jingling his keys. Preeth turned to me. "You stay here and man the table. I'll get the Bunsen burners."

It did occur to me after she left that we should have gotten Ms. Ellis's okay on this venture—only I knew Ms. Ellis wouldn't okay it. I mean, this was the woman who didn't want any decorations that could be thrown by teenage boys. She wasn't going to let us have anything in the room that had flames shooting out of it.

I glanced at the dance floor. Ms. Ellis was obliviously dancing with her fiance. Oblivion is a good mental state to keep teachers in. Hopefully, she wouldn't notice the Bunsen burners at the refreshment table—or if she did, it would be after we'd heated the cider.

I ate a cookie and then another one while simultaneously tracking Olivia and Colton dance across the room. They looked like every other couple out on the dance floor, but I watched Colton intently anyway, as though I could determine how much he cared for her by the position of his elbows.

After a few minutes Harris came back and then Preeth. They set up the makeshift cider heater behind the refreshment table so it wasn't visible unless you leaned over the table to look for it. While we waited for the pitchers to heat up, I handed out cookies to everyone who walked up. I explained about the cider, always checking to see if Colton and Olivia were on their way back.

With my luck they wouldn't return. They'd never know we were able to pull off a decent holiday drink, and therefore I'd continue to remain the girl who wasn't competent enough to serve food.

Colton moved easily on the dance floor, as confident there as he was in an NHS meeting or wrestling match. Olivia, however, didn't dance well. She hardly put any effort into it, like she was just too cool to be enthusiastic.

Why did he even like her? Well, I mean besides the fact that she'd never pushed him in a pool, or anything.

A guy named Josiah from my calculus class walked up to the table. I handed him a cookie, then made a bit of small talk—stalling—while I waited for the cider. After a minute I figured he was probably really thirsty and just too polite to demand a drink, so I made my standard disclaimer about the temperature of the cider and asked if he wanted some anyway.

"Oh, I'm fine," he said, looking out at the dance floor and not at me. "I don't know why I'm here anyway. Some friends said I should come with them; but of course, they're all out dancing, and I have nothing to do."

Which is an example of how smart people can really be stupid sometimes. "It's a dance," I said.

He gave me a look that indicated he was also pondering that smart people can really be stupid. I clarified my statement. "You're not supposed to just hang out with your friends. The whole point of coming is that you ask girls to dance."

I had known before that Josiah was shy, but I hadn't realized how shy until now.

"Nope, sorry. Maybe in a few more minutes. Do you want to dance with me in the meantime?"

"Oh." He blushed, but didn't flee. "All right." And it was as easy as that. The guy who was too shy to dance and the girl who wouldn't be asked to dance because she'd offended all of the guys in her school had solved their problems. Well, at least for one song anyway.

I left my post at the table, assuring Preeth and Harris I'd come back in a while to relieve them so they could dance, which neither of them seemed very enthusiastic about doing. I figured this meant I didn't need to hurry back. After I danced with Josiah, I noticed some guys from NHS standing around talking, which they totally shouldn't have been doing, since NHS sponsored the event and did they not see all the girls flanking the sides of the gym? So then I had to go and ask each one of them to dance so I could give them a pep talk about the merits of socializing.

Which also gave me a better view of Olivia and Colton, even though I was not staring at them. Well, at least not all of the time.

Her stunning lack of rhythm did not improve.

After about half an hour the two of them walked back over to the refreshment table and got drinks. I watched them, happy to know Olivia could no longer complain about the cider's temperature.

Some other guys came up to the table and seemed to know Olivia because they all started talking and she kept smiling at them. As the minutes went by, I wondered if Colton would get jealous, but he talked with the guys too, and didn't seem bothered by the situation.

The song ended, and I wandered over to the refreshment table. I looked at Preeth and Harris so I didn't have to look at Colton.