Page 111 of Holidating
“Well, as Teddy Roosevelt said, ‘greatness is the fruit of toil andsacrifice and high courage.’” God, I was such a dork. But Katie was still smiling, so it didn’t really matter.
“I’m winning this thing,” she said.
“You’retyingthis thing. The score is 1–1, smack-talker.”
With a fiery look at me — one which I felt in some very inappropriate places — she marched off again.
CHAPTER 6
KATIE
The room was more crowded tonight than I’d anticipated. Everyone was taking this last opportunity to have a beer with friends before we all hunkered down for exams. As I waded back into the thick of things, I was halted by the sight of a girl’s limbs wrapped around Dash.
That was fast.
Peeking through the boughs of the Christmas tree, I snuck a closer look. When the girl shifted her face from one side of him to the other, I recognized her.Debbie Dunn. She wore an unhealthy amount of eye makeup. And was staring up into Dash’s face, and practically rubbing her boobs on his oxford shirt.
My first thought was:Ew. My second was:Have I ever done that? And did it cause someone else to say ‘ew’? My third thought was:Do I care? Am I actuallyslut-shamingDebbie Dunn because she’s wearing gloppy mascara?
My fourth thought was:When did I start over-thinking absolutely everything? And how can I stop?
Abruptly, I moved around the Christmas tree, looking for someone else to talk animals with. Andy had been right about one thing. It was hard to second-guess yourself to death when you were trying to come up with a reason for your neighborhood frat boy to sayhedgehog. Orplatypus.
For now, I steered a wide path around Dash. Later,maybe I would try to get him to sayoctopus. Because that’s what Debbie reminded me of.
Gah! Catty, much? There I went again, worrying about the wrong things. Because, hell, the girl was actually doing me afavor. If Dash was busy allowing Debbie to slither up his body like a sea creature, he couldn’t exactly make any crude comments about me (or my recent performance) to his pals.
I should thank her. I should buy her flowers. (Because Dash never would. That was for damned sure. He wasn’t a fan of “romantic shit,” he’d said once.)
And anyway, a few yards from where I stood, Andy was busy talking to Dash’s pledge mate, the one they called Ralph. “You’re from Chicago?” I heard Andy say. “How do you like your football team this year?”
Crap!
“The Bears look pretty good going into the playoffs,” Ralph said.
Andy’s eyes flicked over to me, and I saw a corner of his mouth turn up in satisfaction. Then, after he and Ralph exchanged a few more words, Andy actuallymoonwalkedbackwards a few paces, as if in victory. Now, someone as tall as he was really couldn’t moonwalk without making a spectacle of himself. And I saw a few eyebrows lift in his direction. But Andy seemed not to care, and that made me smile.
Once upon a time, I’d felt that way, too. In high school, I’d found it easy to be the silly one. I had a lot of good friends, and a solid standing in the social group of my choice. And were I to have moonwalked (not that I’d ever wanted to) through a party, nobody would have cared.
Somehow I’d taken a wrong turn these past few months. I cared too much about the opinions of people who cared too little about me. That was something I was definitely going to mull over later. But right now, I had work to do. Because Andy was a point ahead of me in our weird little game.
And there was never going to be a better time to face the music. So I marched up to stand among the group of fraternity boys which included Dash, and also Whittaker.
“Evening, Katie,” Whittaker said. A little smile played on his lips,making me almost certain that he’d been in on Dash’s stupid little prank.
Just breathe.
“Evening, Whittaker,” I said. “Are you ready for the art history exam?” He was one of Dash’s football cronies in that class. I used to sit beside them every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. I’d felt smug about that, too. As if one seat in that lecture hall was better than another one. It seemed quite ridiculous now. Some other stupid girl could have that seat. Debbie, or a whole team of Debbies. I was done with it.
“Still have to memorize all those paintings,” Whittaker said.
“Yeah,” Andy put in. He slid in behind me and put a hand on my bare shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m taking that course, too. And some of those paintings are a little gruesome. You know, those Renaissance scenes? Especially that one from right after the hunt?”
Crap again!I knew where Andy was going with this. The hunt painting had a very dead wild boar in the foreground. But no way was he going to win this thing by getting Whittaker to say “boar.” It had to bepig. No substitutions. I leaned my shoulders back against him as a silent message.Don’t think this will work for you, pal.
He gave my shoulder another squeeze, as if to say:don’t you wish you’d thought of this?
Whittaker scratched his head. “I don’t think I know that one yet.”
