My Senior Year of Awesome (15 page)

***

After the morning’s events, I seriously consider coming down with a case of the flu before last period. But I refuse to act like a coward. At some point, I need to face Andy. And Dominic, too.

I wait in the hallway. When the bell rings, I blow into the room, heading directly to my seat.

“Hey, Sis,” Dominic says. I guess the alcohol in his body hadn’t caused him to black out the closet escapade. Glancing over at Andy, then back to me, Dom coughs out a harsh laugh. He must also remember what happened in his front yard right before planting his face in the hedge.

“Hey, Dom,” I say, opening my binder and holding it upright. After a minute of silence, I peek around my makeshift shield to spy on Andy, and find him twirling a pencil between his fingers, staring off into the stratosphere. When he flicks a glance my way, I force a friendly, please don’t be mad at me, smile. His blue eyes bore into me until I shift my gaze back to my notes.

“What’s up his ass?” Dominic asks. “Dude, did Sadie hold out on you too?”

“Oh, no, I got plenty,” Andy says. “Way more than I wanted.”

Dominic bursts into knee-slapping laughter, along with everyone else seated in a four lab table radius.

“Did I miss something?” Dr. Brownstein says, turning his attention away from the
SMART
Board.

“You missed an epic weekend, Dr. B.,” says Dom.

“Did you blow something up, Mr. Altomeri?”

“Nope. But I puked again.”

“Stupendous! Puking is a strong indicator of high school enjoyment.” Dr. Brownstein’s lizard lips curve into a tight smile. “And since the vomiting occurred outside of my lab, I’m happy as well.”

Fifty torturous minutes later, class is finally over. I strategically position myself in Andy’s way as I pack up my binders, working up the nerve to deal with him.

“Can you move?” he asks.

“Why are you so angry?” I plant my hands on my hips. “It’s not like we were going out and I cheated on you.”

A heavy sigh escapes from the bottom of his chest. “I’m not mad, Sadie. I just don’t like you anymore.”

“Here’s a piece of news, Andy. You never did like me.”

Andy smiles a sad smile and his blue eyes dim. “No, see, that’s where you’re wrong. I pretended not to like you because it was funny. But you pretended to like me and, you know what, I didn’t find that funny.”

I shake my head, straining to process. What did he just say? “Andy, you’re too smart for your own good. Maybe you need to sign up for a seminar on understanding what is and isn’t funny instead of going to those extra physics classes you like so much.”

“Sure. I’m the one who needs help understanding our situation.”

“What situation? We don’t have a situation!”

“Right. No situation. Enjoy the rest of high school, Sadie. I hope you find another idiot to play your immature games.”

And with a disgusted shake of his head, he leaves me in his wake.

Fill It In – March 10th

Top Ten Anger Management Tips

1. Go for a walk.

2. Go to track practice and actually run.

3. Polish off a full carton of Chunky Monkey Ice Cream.

4. Lock yourself in your room and play sad love songs over and over.

5. Ignore your best friend’s fifty texts.

6. Go shoe shopping.

7. Cry. A lot. It’s cathartic.

8. Pull out your script and try to get into the character of a man-eating plant, wishing you really could deal with life’s little problems by feeding them to obnoxious alien foliage.

9. Pull out your last eleven yearbooks and deface Andy’s pictures by scribbling facial hair all over them.

10. Suck it up, because deep down you know you have no one to blame but yourself.

After my showdown with Andy, I get angry, as Coach Jenkins likes to say. My legs achieve an unprecedented rate of speed, and my split times cross into competitive territory. Coach clocks me sprinting down the hallway, he shakes his head in astonishment and hands me a baton. I’m assigned the second leg of the B relay team. Not much amazing achievement potential, given that our A team was last year’s state champ. But hey, it’s a real race.

“Hold up, Sadie,” Dom calls when I motor by, wrapping up my final circuit. He flexes his chiseled arms, slick with perspiration. When I slow my pace, I see exactly how much sweat drips off of him. Yuk.

He drops into a set of sit-ups, showcasing his core strength, a term Coach Jenkins throws around on a daily basis. Of course, in relation to me, Coach usually talks about my lack thereof and follows up his comment with the suggestion of a daily abdominal routine including 1,000 crunches. I only wish I had that much dedication.

Dom’s dark eyes meet mine between curls. “So, what’d you do to AK? He looks like he wants to put his fist through a wall every time he sees you.”

“We kissed. Same as you and me. And you still like me, right?”

“Sure I do.” Dom grunts his way through five more reps. “Maybe we need to try it again. I might have missed something the first time.”

My stomach churns up some serious bile at the thought of reliving the stunt he pulled in his closet. No way. “You know what, maybe I’ll check in at mathletes and see if I’ve missed anything lately.” I jog down the hall in the direction of Mrs. McCaffrey’s room, leaving Dominic looking sort of pissed off at my rejection. The door is closed, but I hear muffled voices, so I rap my knuckles on the frosted pane.

“Come in,” Mrs. McCaffrey calls. She and Jana are engaged in a pow-wow around the teacher’s desk. Between them sits a sea of math books, red plastic cups crammed with pencils, protractors, rulers, and a stack of tests waiting for grades. Mrs. McCaffrey is an anti-perfectionist mathematician who only straightens up her piles of junk when Principal Dailey visits her room during his annual observation period.

Jana turns toward me, her mocha-colored eyes watery.

“Sorry for interrupting.” I step back into the hallway.

Mrs. McCaffrey waves me inside. “Sadie, we were just talking about you.”

“I was telling Mrs. McCaffrey about how horrible I felt. Our argument was all my fault,” Jana confesses, with a sniff. “I pushed you into a situation and I shouldn’t have. I wanted to apologize, but what, was I supposed to follow you into the girl’s locker room and force you to talk to me?”

I sigh. “It wasn’t all your fault. I’m my own person. No one forced me into—the situation.” I pray Jana didn’t spill any specific details to Mrs. McCaffrey about what we apparently now refer to as the situation. I don’t want the faculty to think I’m in the habit of randomly kissing boys like I did at Dom’s party.

“I didn’t realize that the situation had—extenuating circumstances,” Jana answers, keeping up with the code.

“Ahem.” Mrs. McCaffrey clears the air before we continue. “Listen girls, I need to make some copies in the office. Feel free to hang out in here until I get back.” She waves a packet of worksheets on her way out the door.

“So, are we still friends?” Jana asks, as soon Mrs. McCaffrey leaves.

“We’re always going to be friends. Did you think a stupid misunderstanding about a dumb list of meaningless achievements was going to ruin us?”

“I’m so sorry if I messed up your chance with Andy,” she says, blinking back tears. “The day of the Senior Superlatives you seemed so mad about being associated with him.”

I sink into the seat next to hers and sigh. “I was totally blindsided. I mean, I’ve known him since kindergarten. I never really looked at him as a potential boyfriend. But, at some point, I realized he’s not the person I’d always assumed he was.”

She nods. “I guess Andy’s pretty mad right now, isn’t he?”

I laugh. “Fuming.”

“And the list? Are we quitting?”

“No way. We are completing ten amazing achievements before graduation, even if I have to kiss Andy’s big smelly sneakers and beg forgiveness because he’s the last living male on the planet.”

“Would you kiss Dom again to get a ride in his car?” she asks, with a faint smile.

“Absolutely not. He just tried to pull that trick on me, and I wanted to tell him to stuff his tongue down someone else’s throat. Any amazing achievement related to Dominic is now your responsibility.”

Jana’s face breaks out in a smile. “I guess I’d be willing to handle Dominic. For the sake of our friendship.”

***

“Tomorrow’s a big day,” Jana remarks. We ease on down the sophomore hallway, taking a long, slow lap as we wrap up track practice. As soon as we began running together again, my split times reverted right back to turtle pace.

“What’s so great about tomorrow?”

“Coach Jenkins said March fifteenth is the official kick off date for spring track. We get to run outside.”

“Oh, right. On the trail around school.”

“Yep. And to celebrate, I’m going to kiss Ben in front of the sign.”

“You need to try something. Otherwise, you’ll be a saggy old lady before he gets past texting.”

“Do you think he’ll come willingly like Andy did for you?”

“I’m pretty sure that if you lead, Ben will follow.”

“If not, then I’m totally misreading him.”

“How can you miss those big hazel eyes adoring you every second of every day?”

Jana giggles. “Okay, here’s my plan. I’ll ask him to run warm ups with me. We’ll loop around to the front of school. You need to distract Dominic.”

“I thought we agreed Dom is off limits,” I protest.

“You don’t have to
kiss
him, chica. Just ask him for running pointers or something that involves taking his shirt off.”

“Ah, taking off the shirt! Brilliant.”

“I know, right? Then catch up with me for verification purposes.”

“I don’t need proof. You believed me, didn’t you?”

“True. But I also saw both boys right after they kissed you.”

“Did they have matching looks of satisfaction?”

“Sort of. Dominic looked like a wolf that just tore apart a squirrel. And Andy looked dazed and confused.”

“Andy always looks dazed and confused,” I say, with a snort.

“Yes, but he was a total loon that night. His blue eyes were all sparkly, too. He seemed drunk, but he wasn’t at the party long enough to actually be drunk.”

“Andy is high on life. Well, he used to be before I dared to lock lips with another boy the same night I kissed him. Like I knew Andy was even interested in anything besides a one-time hookup.” But as the words pour from my mouth, guilt stabs the center of my heart. I picked up on
something
between us, but I chose to ignore the signs.

“Yeah, who would have thought Andy was crushing on you? Especially after the snowball incident. That’s what twelve-year-olds do when they like someone, not guys heading off to Ivy League-caliber colleges in a few months. Anyway, you understand the plan for tomorrow, right?”

“Distract Dominic. I don’t need to see you and Ben in action.”

“Your decision. Maybe I’ll snag a prom date while I’m at it.”

“Another awesome achievement. But probably not list-worthy, since we did go to prom last year.”

“Best friend, I’m sorry for ever doubting the power of us,” Jana says solemnly and stops running to give me a hug.

***

The next day track practice gets off to a late start. Everyone mills around waiting for Coach to announce outdoor running assignments, so I take advantage of the confusion and casually ask Dominic to demonstrate the proper way to stretch before a race. On top of being a great runner, the guy is some type of yoga master. He dips into a runner’s lunge so low he’s practically doing a split. I attempt to mimic his pose, but the instant I flex my right knee, a pulling sensation creeps up the back of my leg. I stop mid-stretch, settling for what Dominic describes as a vaulted warrior pose. Good enough. I’m not interested in suffering for my sport.

By this time, Jana and Ben have disappeared, but no one else seems to notice. Coach Jenkins is caught up welcoming the varsity football team’s offensive linemen. They showed up to shot put and run a few laps, hoping to shed their winter blubber before summer workouts begin.

“Start here,” Coach says to the guys, reverting to two-word sentences when his first attempt at explaining the practice schedule is met with only blank expressions. “Run there.” He points to the batting cages on the other side of campus. “Come back. To me.” He points to himself. They nod and take off at a snail’s pace.

“Girls team, run the cross country trail. Meet in the gym when you’re done to work on relay handoffs,” Coach says, turning towards the rest of us.

“How long is the cross country trail?” I ask.

“Three miles,” says one of the twiggy shaped junior runner girls.

“Three miles?” My last sip of pre-practice Gatorade detours into my windpipe. I bend forward, coughing hard to help redirect the liquid electrolytes seizing hold of my lungs. I’d never run more than a mile during indoor practice.

“Welcome to spring training, Matthews,” Coach Jenkins says, thumping me on the back and sending me into another round of near-asphyxiation. I recover in time to fall in at the back of the pack, keeping one eye on the trail and one on the lookout for Jana.

The girls’ team gallops along like wild horses, rounding the first corner of the trail. Mud kicks up from the soggy ground and splatters the lower half of my legs. When we reach the straightaway in front of the school, I step off the trail, into the grass and kneel down to tie my shoe. Jana and Ben are still MIA.

After stalling as long as possible, I take off again, stretching out my strides to avoid losing sight of the girls. By the time they pass the school sign, I’m lagging far behind. My lungs recoil at the freshness of the air and the pungent scent of the pollinating trees. Inside practices conditioned me to breathing in stale dust. Right before the sign, I pause to catch my breath, knowing I’ll never catch up. As I stand there, gasping for air, a large blond figure jumps out from the behind the school sign.