He was starting to remember her outfits, how she looked so great when wearing her hair a certain way, sexy in those scuffed sneakers of all things. How every now and then she’d stare off into the distance, or chew on her pen, or examine her split ends, then slowly come to again.
When Gretchen caught him looking, she smiled and he smiled back, embarrassed, looking away for a while. He studied the secret life of legs beneath the desks. The jittering and stretching, the rearranging for comfort, laps used as support for hidden devices and hidden books. He wondered what people were thinking about as the end of the year approached, if they had little to-do lists of their own, if they had love lives punctuated by ellipses, by question marks, if they had any love lives at all. Then his eyes would slowly return to Gretchen’s scuffed sneakers and it was hard not follow them up. It made him happy just to look at her, and he had the urge to text her that message from across the room, but for some reason, he held back.
She was a constant snacker, on quartered oranges and potato chips and little Tupperware containers full of salad or trail mix. She didn’t seem to know everyone’s name, which was probably why Dave used to think of her as somehow elitist. But the more he took note, the more he came to the conclusion that she was simply less focused, dreamier than he’d realized.
The turn of her head, how she met people’s eyes, her constant smile. Her neighbors were often flirting with her, no matter their social circle. Guys would try to steal her sunglasses or her notebook and she would take it in stride, hiding her annoyance. At one point she got bored and puffed her cheeks out, playing with them as her group members argued about something or another. It was adorable, and Dave wondered how he’d failed to notice that little habit before. One of his biggest pet peeves was people who were shitty whisperers, and it was a strange satisfaction when Gretchen whispered something and he couldn’t hear it at all. And this girl was coming over to his house that night.
The PA system buzzed, snapping Dave from his reverie. It was the garbled voice of Leslie Winters, the senior class president. “Good morning, SLO High!” she called out. “I’ve got some exciting news for this year’s senior class. The ballots for prom king and queen have been tallied up, and I’m happy to announce the contenders. For prom queen...” She started listing the candidates, and Dave caught Gretchen flashing a smile at him. On their date, they’d talked a little bit about the tree house, since Gretchen had seen the video like everyone else. Dave hadn’t gone much into the details, but he had mentioned the Nevers to her, the fact that the prom king campaign was sort of like Julia’s tree house idea. “And for prom king, the ballot will list: Carl Alvarez, Hugh Corners, James Everett, David Gutierrez, and Paul Rott. Congratulations, candidates, and see you at prom!”
o o o
After school, Julia was waiting for Dave by her car, one fist raised in the air.
“How long have you been holding that pose?” he asked as he approached.
“Since the moment you won,” Julia said.
“Dork.”
“You mispronounced champion, badass.” She lowered her arm, smile beaming. The Nevers list was in her hand. “Time to cross another one off!”
“Six to go,” Dave said, tossing his backpack into her car.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling invincible.”
“What did Marroney say about the cupcakes?”
“Oh, we had a sub today,” Julia said. She lowered the top on her car and slid into the driver’s seat, plugging in her phone to play some music. “Turns out he’s in Arizona for some sort of conference. It might send some mixed signals when he returns home to a plate of rotting, ant-infested cupcakes, but nothing’s getting me down today.”
“That man is going to get nightmares because of you.”