And that’s when I spot Clay exiting the cafeteria. In a rare turn of events, he’s alone, not surrounded by all his supersmart friends. Maybe this is my chance.
Besides, Kassie’s right. I’ve nursed this pathetic crush on Clay for all of high school and I’ve done absolutely nothing about it, which is so unlike me. I’m a go-getter. I make things happen, headfirst, elbows out. I can prompose to a guy my damn self. Screw the bucket list.
I stand up and follow him out.
FIVE
Clay is nowhere to be seen by the time I amble out of the cafeteria, baby toes pinched in my prom heels.
Nori thought it would be a good idea to “break them in.” But I’m about ready to toss them in the trash. So much for “orthopedist approved.” I’m convinced high heels are the devil’s footwear.
The rainbow smattering of freshly painted bricks catches my eye as I limp to my locker to get my books for next period, defeated. It’s tradition that each graduating student paints one brick with their name, immortalizing themself on the MHS walls. I’ve already reserved mine next to Kassie’s and Ollie’s joint brick, though I haven’t started painting yet—mostly because putting brush to wall feels so final.
I still remember walking these halls for the first time. Kassie and I busted through the doors giggling, arms linked, ready to take on the world. We were buzzing with anticipation, swapping gossip about all the kids from other feeder middle schools.
Of course, my confidence was a facade, unlike Kassie’s. Truthfully, my gut was more twisted than a plate of lo mein noodles when we entered the noisy gymnasium for the freshman welcome assembly. Kassie gripped my wrist and whispered, “Straighten your posture and smile.” I followed close behind as she led us up the bleachers, past a sea of anxious faces. I’d pulled us left when I spotted an empty row, but she yanked me to the right, conveniently smack-dab in front of Ollie and Renner.
I was envious of Kassie’s ability to waltz up to the dude she’d made out with days before like it was no big deal. Turns out, the smile wasn’t for Renner. She’d zeroed right in on Ollie.
Renner flashed me a megawatt smile that nearly sent me sideways off the bleachers and said, “I’m J. T.” Just as I went to shake his hand, Kassie flashed me a warning look, reminding me not be one of those “basic girls” who falls for his cult-leader charisma.
In return, I smiled shyly and turned away, just in case Kassie still liked him. She had him first, after all.
I veer left into a relatively empty hallway, and a pair of heavy, Paul Bunyan–style footsteps gain on me. Renner. He narrows his gaze as he passes like one of those professional speed walkers. He has one goal, as do I: to get to our locker first.
Unlike the beautiful, shiny, full-length lockers in the movies, Maplewood High lockers are those obnoxious half-size stacked ones, one on top, one on the bottom. And because life has it out for me, mine is directly below Renner’s. We can’t comfortably be at our lockers at the same time without my head winding up somewhere near his crotch.
Every day it’s a mad dash to see who will claim the territory first. I’ve beaten him about 70 percent of the time, not that I’m counting or anything.
I channel Emily in Paris charging through cobblestone streets in her four-inch stilettos, even though I look more like a severely injured crab missing a leg.
Triumphantly, Renner arrives first. At nearly a foot taller, he has an unfair advantage.
“By the way,” he starts, stance wide as he takes his sweet time with his combination. “I’m planning on going to the party rental store after school to grab the prom decor. Wanna come with?” It’s tradition that student council decorates in the mornings so we get to participate in Senior Week fun.
I slow blink. “Why are you inviting me? Shouldn’t the president have it under control?”
“I do. I was supposed to go with Ollie but he bailed like usual. Like Kassie does with you,” he says knowingly.
I’m shocked that he’s even picked up on my issues with Kassie. I never complain to anyone about her, not even Nori.
“Ollie ditches you all the time too?” I ask.
He arrows a hard stare at his lock. “Sure does. It’s really freakin’ annoying, actually. Sometimes it feels like they just don’t care about anyone but themselves.” He pauses for a moment as he finally opens the lock and resets, like he regrets talking badly about them. “Anyway, wanna come? The last thing I need is you on my ass about something dumb like the napkin color.”
I try to hide my smile. This is his backward way of asking for help because, in the depths of his pea brain, he knows he’s clueless. “Napkin color is important. The last thing we need is that tacky blue color messing up the look.”
“May I ask what tacky blue is?”
I snap my fingers, fumbling for the words. “That ugly bright blue. Like the Facebook logo.”
He takes a sharp breath, looking offended. “What do you have against Facebook blue?”
“It’s the color of depression.”
“Good to know. I’ll put in a rush order for a bulk pack of Depression Blue napkins.”
I can’t tell if he’s being serious or not. “Actually, don’t worry about it. I’ll just go alone,” I say, waving him off.
He gives me a lingering stare. “As president, I should be there to supervise.”
“That would be a first,” I sneer. “Trust, I’ve planned many a school dance without you. I’m fine to take over.”
“How are you going to transport all the decor on your own? Your bike basket ain’t gonna cut it.”
I glare at him. He has a point. And my bike is out of commission.
He sees the gears turning in my head and pounces. “Meet me on the steps after fourth period.”
“I have the Katrina Zellars Foundation scholarship interview. Tomorrow after school?”
“Nope. I have plans,” he brags.
“Shotgunning beers behind the Sundown Diner with Pete? Please. You can reschedule.” Something about his statement digs at me. I’m suspicious that the group is hanging out without me, again. Just last week, I found out they’d all had a barbecue at Andie’s. Kassie ignored my text earlier that day asking what she was up to.
Sometimes it feels like our group is like a jawbreaker. There’s the core—Kassie, Ollie, and Renner. Then there are the outer layers. The people who are progressively less and less integral to the greater group, like Andie and Pete, then Nori and me.
I wonder if I’d be friends with them at all if it weren’t for Kassie (not that I’m “friends” with Renner). Probably not. They’re all jocks, and I can’t even dribble a basketball without it nearly breaking my nose. (Don’t ask.) The only reason I ever got a decent grade in PE was because of the health portion.
His jaw tightens. “No, actually. Real plans. I can’t cancel them.”
I don’t have the energy to guess, so I just shrug. “How about Friday morning?”
“Not gonna work. That’s Beach Day.”
I sigh. He has a point. It’s tradition to complete prom setup in advance of the sleepover and the beach. No one wants to be stuck on decor duty while everyone else is soaking up the sun.
“Fine. I can ask the rental person if we can come early tomorrow morning before class?” he offers. “We both have spare first period anyway. We can start decorating early.”
The mere thought of spending all morning with Renner makes me want to stress clean. But I also don’t trust him anywhere near the napkin colors. “Fine.”
I lean against the next locker, heels in hand, watching as students hustle in from lunch break. “Accidentally in Love” by Counting Crows blasts over the PA. It’s one of twelve ancient tunes the teachers play between periods to signal that it’s time for class.
Meanwhile, Renner just stands there, idly texting in front of his open locker. I take great pains to regulate my breathing. I will not choose violence today. I will not choose violence today.