I nodded, trying to be okay with that.
I was grabbing my French stuff when Sarah Frederics walked up. She was my year, tall, fit, with white-blond hair and a perpetual tan. She was definitely popular with the athletes and band kids she ran with. She’d always been kind of self-important, and she didn’t really get sarcasm, but she was nice enough. We’d just never had much to say to each other.
“Oh my gah, Rachel, can I tell you that I saw the show last night?”
I looked at her expectantly. Sarah had this way of talking where it sounded like she was done with a thought when she wasn’t.
“You were totally awesome. When you slammed the door in his face? I was laughing. So. Hard.” Sarah put a hand on her hip and gave me a close-lipped smile.
“Thanks, Sarah. That’s nice of you to say.”
“Seriously, I’m so glad he asked you. Kyle’s cool, but you’ll be, like, funny.”
I nodded, smiling. I wasn’t really sure what else to do.
“Anyway, that’s all. I just wanted to tell you we all thought you were awesome.”
“Thanks.”
Sarah smiled in a self-satisfied way and strode off down the hall. I turned to Monique. She was frown-smiling, shaking her head at Sarah’s retreating form.
“That was nice. Not like Sarah was being mean before, but at least I have someone on my side.”
Mo narrowed her eyes.
“I think you have a lot of people on your side. Sarah wanted to win.”
“Win?”
“Be the first to tell you they’d all switched over. So she’s the most loyal subject.”
I laughed.
“You make it sound so weighty. Like one of your medieval courts from Euro.”
“Rachel, high school is exactly like a medieval court. Just without swords.”
Monique was right about one thing: Sarah was only the first of many who wanted to make sure I knew they were on Team Rachel.
By lunch, at least a dozen people I’d never spoken to had addressed me by name—like they’d actually known it two days ago—and told me how good I was on TV, or how happy they were for me, or how excited they were for Wednesday’s segment. One of them was even on the Wolfettes with Emma (she was only a sophomore, so she probably didn’t realize she was supposed to hate me).
In Creative Writing Kyle and Ollie talked to me for a couple of minutes before the bell rang, and whenever I’d glance back at Kyle’s desk, he’d be looking at me hard, eyes narrowed, like I was something he needed to sear into his memory. I couldn’t help but smile. Maybe Kyle’s optimism was like mono, and you caught it through kissing.
I wanted to text him after school, but I didn’t. There was something kind of delicious about waiting.
The next day things were almost embarrassing. Random people smiled at me in the halls or waved hello. Alisa Gutierrez and Rosemary Montague sat down with Mo, Mark, Britta, and me at lunch, and we had to try to talk to them, even though they were basically strangers. Mo and I “remembered” a book we’d left in her car toward the end just so we could escape to the parking lot.
I sat-leaned on the bumper of Mo’s car, staring at the school.
“So . . . Alisa and Rosemary, huh?” I smirked. Both girls were on cheer squad, which everyone knew was Wolfettes for wannabes. Alisa talked superfast, staring up over your head and pulling on a strand of straightened, bleached hair while she went on about stuff that was way more personal than you wanted to hear. Rosemary had this laugh like a donkey braying. And apparently she thought Alisa was fricking hilarious.
“If this is what it’s like to be popular, I’m starting to understand why so many popular girls are meeean.” Mo rolled her eyes. The entire meal she’d been squeezing my knee when things got extra annoying. “If they try to sit with us again, I’m faking a wasting disease. Something contagious.”
I grinned. They were annoying, Mo was right, but they were harmless. And it was nice to have people like me this much. Embarrassing and awkward—they definitely couldn’t keep sitting with us—but thrilling too. I’d never been someone people wanted to rub off on them before.
Someone emerged from the door between the middle school and the high school, walking fast. It was a girl with dark curly hair, her head down. It wasn’t until she was almost across from us that I recognized her.
Oh Jesus, this was going to be awkward. Better to say something than nothing, though.