“Another thing, Justin, I forgot to give you the memo. My name’s Bree and Jenny’s dead. Your horrible old movie quotes have pushed her into an early grave.”
“Actually,” says Justin, “she died of AIDS, which is still a serious problem facing the youth of today.”
“You,” says Kallie, “are the serious problem facing the youth of today.”
Kallie and I stifle our laughs as Mr. N. clears his throat and starts talking about a new series on poetry, with weekly assignments.
Kallie’s foot taps her desk leg. I know she isn’t listening to any of this. She’s probably wondering when Nord’s going to hurry and announce the court names.
Looking ahead, I stare at Sean’s ears, which offer me the perfect distraction. The sun peeks in through the window shades, a ray hitting his shoulder. I take a deep breath in, and get a whiff of Sean’s foresty cologne and wonder if he’ll be at any of the parties by the docks at Lake Crystal this summer. Maybe he’d be leaning against a tree jamming on the same guitar he played during the Homecoming Pep Rally. My teeth gnaw the inside of my bottom lip as I copy poetry notes and conjure up my image of Sean outside of school. With his shirt off. I wonder if it’s weird for him to be playing the guitar with no shirt, and if I should ditch the half-nudity for a white T-shirt or his football jersey, but realize it’s my daydream. So no-shirt Sean stays. With the image of him in blue trunks, hanging low on his hips, his muscles suntanned and sweaty, I make a vow. If there are parties at the lake this summer, I, Bree Hughes, solemnly swear—
“Excuse me?” Shandy Kissass’s screechy voice pulls me back into class. I straighten my back against my chair. Shandy waves as if Mr. N. can’t see her right there in the front row.
“Mr. Norderick? Are you announcing Prom Court today?”
“Yes, Ms. Silvers, I’ll be announcing the names for your little Prom contest, after I finish the lesson and assignments for today.”
Shandy slouches back in her seat. Staring at Sean’s neck, I want to dive back into my daydream, or reach out, run my hand straight up the back of his neck, and feel his hair in-between my fingers. Instead, I quietly tap my pencil’s eraser against the desk, trying to drum a beat slower than my heart, which has picked up the pace. I’m not sure if it’s because the nominations will be announced soon or that I still have a vision of swim-trunks Sean in my head.
After a half hour and a couple pages of poetry terms and recommended reading, Mr. N. tells us to watch ourselves and that he’ll be right back with our court list. He then gives Shandy a wink and tells her if anyone gets out of line she has permission to use her cell phone to call the police.
Sean turns and faces me. “Did you understand any of that poetry stuff? I have to ace these next assignments to get my grade back up. I bombed the last few essays.”
Our eyes meet for a second and I have to look away because I am gone. Laser beams just shot through my body. Well, not actual lasers but close. It’s a wave of heat that knocks me slightly off-kilter. I look down at my desk, searching my notes for the answer to his question, mainly so he can’t see my face getting hot.
“Umm, well, alliteration is actually, um, it says that … or maybe if you start right here with the free-writing stuff you can …” I stop, realizing I can’t even hear myself. My heart is on a treadmill right now.
Sean squints and cocks his head to the side.
“I’m sorry,” I crinkle my lips together. “Um. I’m not making any sense. Sorry. Do you want my notes?”
“Sure. You mind if I copy?”
“No problem.” I tear out two pages, push them into his hands and he turns back in his seat. My chest caves with the pressure of a highly anxious swoon and I’m grateful for the break from his piercing eyes.
Nord walks back into class, waving a piece of paper as if it’s a winning lottery ticket. He says to make sure we bring our first poem in on Monday—no rules except it has to mention or be inspired by an animal.
“Is a chupacabra considered an animal?” Justin asks without raising his hand.
“You bet,” answers Nord as Shandy turns and casts Justin the kind of look I usually save for the d-baggy guys who catcall girls in the hallway.
“Without further ado,” Mr. N. continues, “here are the results you’ve all been waiting for, with bated breath and wild anticipation, please do not fall off the edge of your seats. In no particular order, Brian Wang, Todd White, Justin Conner, Sean Mills, Chris Monroe, Molly Chapman, Kallie Vate, Laura Rose, Jane Hulmes, and Maisey Morgan.”