“Look,” she said, placing her hand on top of mine. “I would never do anything to hurt you. How about this—if I get the smallest inkling that he likes me back or whatever, I promise I’ll tell you. And if you’re still not over him and it really bothers you that much, I’ll back off, okay? Besides, don’t you think it’s only fair to Logan that you give him a shot? Maybe he’s exactly what you need to finally get over Justin. Maybe in a few weeks you won’t even care whether or not Justin likes me.”
I found it hard to believe that I wouldn’t care, but she had a small point. Since I’d started talking to Logan, my Justin obsession had waned ever so slightly. I didn’t think I’d ever get over him completely, but the daily “does he or doesn’t he like me” drama had become an ulcer-inducing suck-fest, and Logan was a welcome distraction. And what if I was wrong about the intentions behind Justin’s studious glances? I could end up a high-school old maid who never did anything with a boy because she was too busy waiting on The One.
I picked at my nail polish, weighing my options.
Option 1: Full blown tantrum, complete with crying and threat of friendship revocation if Sunny so much as looked in Justin’s direction.
Option 2: Dump Logan so Sunny couldn’t use the stupid cake analogy anymore.
Option 3: Let it ride and assume she really would call things off if by some miserable chance Justin liked her back and I still had feelings for him.
Option 3.5: Bring Sunny gifts in the form of fattening, pimple-causing foods to reduce the chances of attraction and eliminate the need to call her bluff via option three.
Option 4: Forget about Justin and focus on Logan. Logan, Logan, Logan.
She smiled one of her radiant smiles and gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. The afternoon light turned her glossy hair into a coppery shawl spilling down the length of her back, and I couldn’t help thinking how pretty she looked. Somehow the color of her hair made her perfect peaches-and-cream complexion look warm and flushed, and the green of her eyes reminded me of springtime.
That’s when I realized what was really bothering me. Knowing Sunny had a crush on Justin made me nervous. What if I misread the way he watched me? What if he stared at everyone that way, or I had a perpetual booger hanging out of my nose and that’s why he kept looking at me? Added to the uncertainty of his feelings for me was the fact that I couldn’t deny that Sunny was pretty. And even though I knew Justin was smart and special and different from all the other guys, he was still a guy, and guys liked pretty girls.
My heart said to tell her no, to tell her that I liked Justin first and I didn’t want her laying a single one of her perfectly manicured claws on him. But my head reminded me that she was my best friend, and no matter what happened that was more important than anything else.
“Okay,” I said, turning my face toward the soccer fields. “But you promise you’ll back off if I’m still not over him?”
“I promise,” she said, slinging her arm around my shoulders and giving me a light squeeze. I swallowed thickly and kept my eyes on the soccer field.
There was a loud buzz as a dragonfly darted out from behind the stands, zipping out in front of us and then circling back in the direction it came. Sunny lurched to her feet, a shriek ripping from her throat as she jumped down and ran in the opposite direction. Her arms helicoptered around her head as she hopped from foot to foot, screaming like the thing had launched a personal attack.
“Get it away get it away get it away!” she shrieked.
I slapped a hand over my mouth, trying to hide my laughter because I knew it would piss her off, but she looked ridiculous. And I couldn’t help but feel like the dragonfly was somehow on my side.
“Stop laughing!” she said, turning in a frantic circle to see if it was still there.
“It’s harmless. They don’t even bite. And it’s gone anyway.”
“It’s post-apocalyptic is what it is.” She looked around once more before taking a hesitant seat next to me. She tried to act all cool as she smoothed her hair back into place, but her hands were shaking. I hid a smile behind my hand.
After several minutes of silence, Sunny clapped her hands together and looked at me, a wicked smile stretching across her face.
“I almost forgot to tell you. Did you hear about skank-the-tank Tracey Allen and pervy Mr. Thomas?”
I shook my head. “You mean our gym teacher Mr. Thomas?”
Sunny nodded vigorously, jumping up and down at the excitement of getting to be the first to share the new gossip. “Someone saw Tracey mugging down with him at some booshie restaurant this weekend.”
“Oh come on, even Tracey Allen isn’t skanky enough to mess around with a teacher. That’s gross.”
“Don’t be too sure about that. I have it on very good authority that Tracey and Mr. Thomas are doing the nasty and have been for a while. And apparently he shows up at the Walgreen’s where she works, like, all the time. I mean, can you be any more obvious?”
I narrowed my eyes at Sunny. She decided years ago that she didn’t like Tracey Allen, even coining some of her infamous skank-themed nicknames. It seemed a little too convenient that her nemesis was involved in such a juicy scandal. But gossip was fuel at my high school, and we needed people like Tracey Allen to feed our moral ambiguity, giving us a clear delineation of where the line between teenager and slut was drawn. Whether the rumor was true or not, I was as guilty as the next person—I wanted it to be true.
“Are you sure? I mean, he’s old.” I made a face for emphasis. I mean, yuck.
“I can’t reveal my sources, but I can totally vouch for the fact that it’s one hundred percent true. And he’s not that old. He only graduated from college a few years ago, not that that makes it any less gross. I mean, he’s a teacher. Bluh.”
“Wow. Who knew Mr. Thomas was such a perv?” I shook my head in awe, watching as Sunny stood and walked over to the water fountain, filled her cupped hand with water, and splashed it across her shirtfront.