She sighs. “No. It’s a big deal. Full of tradition. All the alumni come back and participate. We have to be on our best behavior the entire time. And the schedule is set in stone. The entire week is spirit week. We dress up each day. We have the voting for court, the parade, the pep rally and bonfire, the alumni tailgate, the game, the coronation, the alumni picnic, and then the dance. The alumni come to the dance.”
Brad says, “It’s a really busy weekend and fun, but Peyton’s right. The activities are geared toward the alumni. Our Welcome Back dance is always a blast, but you can’t bump and grind in front of the alumni or you get into trouble, so the music is kinda lame.”
“Why can’t we have our own dance?” I ask.
“They’d never let us,” Peyton sighs again. “Like I said, the weekend is a huge tradition. Been done this way for decades. All the alumni come back, bring their families. They incorporate the class reunions into it.”
“So we can’t change what’s in place?” Aiden asks.
“Right,” Peyton replies.
“So can we add to it?” I ask, completely understanding the direction Aiden was heading with his question.
“What do you mean?” Peyton says.
“Well, there is something you’re definitely missing.”
“What?”
“An after-party. We go to dinner, do the alumni dance, leave when it’s over, and then go to our own party.”
“What would we do? Where would we have it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe we rent out a club, get a good DJ, change out of our pretty dresses into something more club appropriate.”
“As in, skimpy?” Logan says. “Hell, I’m a fan of the idea already.”
Peyton flirts, “Well, sure, dancing's hard work.”
Whitney scowls. “There’s no way the school would pay for all that.”
Peyton slumps down. She likes to dance as much as I do. “You’re probably right.”
“So why don’t we?” Aiden says, smiling at me.
“We what?” Whitney scoffs.
“We pay for it. Or get our parents to. Get sponsors or something.”
Brad says, “I don't know about your parents, but I’m pretty sure mine would be cool with it.”
Whitney surprises me when she agrees with Brad. “I think having a few people sponsor it is a good idea.” Then she spoils it when she looks at me and adds, “That way we can make it exclusive and only invite the coolest people.”
Which, I’m pretty sure, would not include me.
“No way, Whitney,” Aiden and Brad say at the same time. Brad continues. “If we want the dean to approve it, we need to invite everyone. If you want to have an exclusive party, you’ll have to do that on your own.”
Is it bad I almost want to applaud?
“Besides, if we have it at a club, we want the place packed.” I grin and think of something to make us all happy. “But, Whitney, that doesn't mean we can't have a special VIP area.”
“How would you decide who would get in there?” Peyton asks.
“Just like anything else in life. The biggest donors get the VIP treatment. We can have levels of giving once we figure out what it will cost. We’ll need to pay to rent the club, hire a sweet DJ, snacks for when we get there, lots of energy drinks. Then, later, we should serve breakfast.”
“That’s a lot to plan on such short notice. Plus, I don’t really want to be working,” Logan says.
“That’s a good point. We need an event planner to just do it all.”
“Let’s get it approved first,” Brad says. Then he turns to me, “You’re up with the dean again.”
As Aiden and I are walking out, I say, “So why Greek and togas?”
He stops and looks at me. “I shouldn’t tell you this.”
“Why not?”
“Because.”
“Okay, fine. Don’t tell me.” I start to walk away.
He reaches out and puts his hand gently on my shoulder. Shivers run down to my toes.
“This sounds kind of stupid now, but that day when you kicked the soccer ball at my head, the way the sun was shining behind you all I really saw was your face, outlined by golden rays. You looked kinda like a goddess. I honestly thought I was dreaming. Then, when the soccer ball went whizzing by my head, I realized you were real. I’m glad you’re real.”
I laugh.
He says, “See, I knew you would think it was stupid.”
“Aiden.”
“What?”
“I’m laughing because before I knew your name, I had a nickname for you.”
He tightens his jaw and squints his eyes at me. “Do I even want to know?”
I smile and say, “Probably not, but let’s just say this themed weekend is very appropriate. If it turns out good, I’ll tell you. When you’re in your toga. Gold laurel wreath on your head.”
“I’ve never worn a toga, and I thought the wreaths were supposed to be green.”
“Not yours.”
Sucking your face.
Lunch
I sit at Dawson’s table. I call it Dawson’s table because I refuse to claim it as my own, even though I seem to sit here most days. The usual suspects are here: Ace, Jake, Whitney, Peyton, Tyrese, Bryce, and the other pretty girls who seem to have no desire to ever speak to me.
When we sit down, Whitney says to the table, “All this Social Committee crap has made me realize we need to get the hell out of here. I say next weekend we all drive up the coast. Stay somewhere fabulous. Relax all day, party all night.”