Page 76 of Kiss Collector
I look up at Mom, who nods that he’s right. I flop down on the grass, frustrated and tired. And then, to my amazement, Zeb runs, does a sloppy roundoff with his feet too far apart, throws himself backward, and does a back handspring, stumbling but staying upright. My mouth falls open.
“How did you do that?!”
His eyes are as huge as his smile. “That was awesome!”
“It’s because he’s not scared, sweetie, and you are,” Mom says from above us.
My hands clench. Iamscared. I don’t know how to stop being scared. I yank out a handful of grass and throw it. “I’m done.”
When we get upstairs, Mom pulls a piece of grass from my hair. “How was school?”
“Bad.”
She sighs. “I brought broccoli soup and sourdough bread from the shop. Let’s eat.”
The rest of the week is more of the same. I avoid everyone but Kenz, and everyone avoids me. It’s really freaking depressing. How long are we going to do this? I feel sick about it every day.
Friday morning comes, and there is a crowd around the grassy knoll at the side of the school. Kenzie and I press in on our way up from the parking lot to see what everyone is murmuring and smiling about.
On the side of the green hill, written in colorful, real flowers, is a message:
Monica, prom? Dean.
It hits me way harder than it should, in a jumble of harsh emotions.
Kenz gasps at my side andaws. It’s beautiful. It really is. I have to swallow several times. Looking around, I don’t see Dean and Monica, so I assume she’s already seen it, said yes, and gone happily inside the building.
I trudge with the crowd up the stairs and into the school. When I get to English, I slump into a seat. Am I jealous? Yes, but not in the traditional way. I had a mad crush on Dean, but I have to face the fact he doesn’t like me like that. The knowledge is humbling, but mostly because I was mistaken. He only ever liked Monica. He was my friend, and he wanted to get to her. That’s fine. It’s not Dean that I want, it’s love in general, which makes me mad at myself. I don’twantto want love, but it’s part of who I am.
And then there’s Monica. I never dreamed we’d not be friends. It’s hard to accept the fact that she just got the most gorgeous promposal I’ve ever seen, and I wasn’t at her side to jump up and down and hug her. It’s all wrong. The loss is gutting me.
A figure stops beside me and I suck in a breath as I look up at Dean. My face heats with embarrassment.
“Hey,” I say, clearing my dry throat.
“You okay?” he asks.
I nod. “Mm-hm. I liked your, um, the flowers. It was pretty.” I force myself to look up at him, despite the knowledge that my face is embarrassingly red.
“She said no,” he tells me.
My abs squeeze, and I frown. “What?”
“Well, she said ‘maybe,’ which is a no.” He shrugs, like it’s no biggie, but it’s a show. He is hurt. I stare up at him in shock, at a complete loss for words. He’s telling me this for a reason.
The bell rings, and he moves to the back to sit. I turn to watch him go, but what I end up seeing is Joel watching me, unsmiling. He pulls his hood up to hide his eyes, leans back, and crosses his arms. What is his problem?
I face forward, trying to digest Dean’s revelation. Why on Earth would Monica not say yes? The only conclusion I can come to is... me.
“Good morning, Panthers,” says the senior president over the announcement speakers. “Please stand for the Pledge of Allegiance.”
I push to my feet with the others, covering my heart and reciting the pledge. Then we sit again.
“Here are your top three nominations for junior-class prom princess and prince. Quinton Green. Kyle Fairchild. Dean Prescott.” The class cheers. I glance back at Dean, who doesn’t even crack a smile. “Monica Sanchez.” My insides squeeze with pride for her. “Meeka Washington. And Zae Monroe. Now for your top three senior nominees...”What?!The announcements are lost in an array of excited voices congratulating me and my own blood pounding in my ears. People pat my shoulders. I cannot believe they just said my name. I donotwant to go to prom. And now Monica and Dean need to go more than ever.
I glance back at Dean again, but he’s not wearing histrademark smile. He’s staring off into space. Then my eyes shift to Joel, whose eyes are cracked open at me. When he sees me looking, he closes his eyes and keeps them shut. Fine.
I catch Taro looking at me with his one revealed eye, reflecting kindness and concern. It makes me emotional and I have to turn away.
