Ever since he reached the right age for it, basically since he met Julia, he’d considered himself a romantic, an advocate of love, of people getting tangled up in each other. He liked hearing about people hooking up because it was just more evidence of human chemistry, that sparks occurred and brought two people together, if only for a moment. But because he’d only ever loved Julia, and only ever in that particular way that he loved her, he’d never experienced getting tangled up firsthand.
He’d kissed exactly one girl in his life: his cousin’s friend sophomore year when he’d gone to Fresno for a family reunion. That kiss had happened only because the girl was deceptively quick and, despite her awkwardness, had aimed really well when she’d nosedived at Dave’s lips. It’d been a strange first kiss for someone who’d romanticized them for so long, and Dave had fled as soon as he could. Since then there’d only been the constant longing for Julia. He’d never pursued anyone else because there wasn’t anyone who could ever pull his interest away from her. In the process, he’d missed out on a lot of normal high school experiences, clichés that even Julia hadn’t avoided: crushes; first kisses; the slow, stumbling, eager approach to sex, with various successes or failures. He’d reserved all of it for Julia, never admitting to himself that it might not come. Rather, never admitting to himself that it wouldn’t, that Julia loved him in a completely different, yet faultless, way. That she loved him, she always had, just in a way that shouldn’t be interfered with.
Maybe, finally, it was time to pursue. He pulled his phone out and went to his contact list. At the Kapoor party, Gretchen had grabbed his phone and entered her name as Section 16520 of the Family Code. He clicked on her name and went to the message screen. Nothing had been said yet between them, and it was a little intimidating to know where to start. Just hi? Ask her out? A knock-knock joke? He held his thumbs over the keyboard, waiting for something to sound right in his head. Then he realized he’d been ignoring Brett and Julia for a long time and resolved to text Gretchen later that night.
“Look, I’m all for blowing shit up,” Brett was saying, sprinkling, as usual, way too much Parmesan cheese on another slice of pepperoni-and-mushroom pizza, “and to be honest I didn’t think an artsy girl like you would have such a badass idea. But the prom committee would probably disqualify you for it.”
“There’s a prom committee? People care that much?”
“Says the girl who’s buying me pizza in order to get her friend voted onto the ballot.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, did I offend the Man Formerly Known as Prom King by implying that prom is not important enough to necessitate a committee? And I can repeat all of that in monosyllables, if you like.”
“Don’t use a five-dollar when a fifty-cent word will do. Your boy Mark Twain said that.” Brett was only a couple of years older than Dave, and though he sometimes acted like he was still twelve, he looked much more grown-up, his features aged by all the time he spent in the sun during his construction jobs, by losing his mom at eleven and having to look after his little brother.
“Shit, that was actually a good one.” Julia tossed her napkin at Brett.
“What ballot?” Dave asked.
“Welcome to the conversation,” Julia said, breaking off a piece of crust and dipping it in her side order of marinara sauce. “The campaign isn’t actually for prom king; it’s just to get voted onto the ballot. That vote is in April. Then people vote for prom king from the four or five people on the ballot at the prom.”
“If you wanted Dave to be prom king, you should have tried talking to other people for the last four years. People vote their friends onto the ballot, so the people with the most friends get on. Dave has one friend.”
“But she’s such a great friend!” Julia cried out.
“Hey, I have more than one friend.”
“Like who?” They both said at the same time.
“Jinx!” Julia cried out.