It all began when Mr. Lowood stapled the class grades to the back wall.
I pulled my purse onto my shoulder and unhooked my heel from the leg of my desk.
I walked with the rest of the class to the back of the room, lagging behind the crowd so I wouldn't get sandwiched; my hair ruined.
Finally I stepped up to the paper and searched for my ID number. There it was. And next to it...
C+.
It wasn't even the low grade that upset me, really. At this point, I didn't care much what happened in the distant future, so college wasn't on my mind.
But you had to have at least a B in every class to be on the prom committee.
I stared at the paper for only a moment longer, turning quickly away from it and brushing my hair behind my ear, acting casual, disguising my horror. "Ver!" a voice called, and I saw Jillian coming down the hallway toward me. She wore a tight, short, high-rise velvet skirt with a band shirt tucked into it, and platforms. Her hair was wrapped in a bun which was so perfectly wispy and elegant, I knew she pulled it up carelessly, quickly. She was so effortlessly stunning, I felt appalingly plain in my pumps and spaghetti-strap dress, my hair falling around my shoulders boringly. Jill glanced in the classroom and saw the list on the wall, then immediately said, "Ooh! Grade day. What'd you get, Brains?" I waved my hand nonchalantly, "I didn't check. Those lists are for the people failing the class. If you're doing well, you know you're doing well; you don't need reassurance." Jill laughed and hooked her arm through mine, then immediately changed the subject, telling me about the guy she met at the boutique she worked at last night. I smiled, laughed, and asked questions appropriately, all the while trying to think of a way I could convince Mrs. Paige to let me on the committee despite my low grade.
Caleb wrapped his arm around my waist and kissed my shoulder. I laughed and reached my hands behind me, pulling his face towards mine and giving him a peck. "Yuck, PDA," Cona laughed, slapping my thigh from where she sat behind me. I kissed her head and sat next to her, placing my purse on the table and pulling out a package of dried fruit. Caleb slammed his full lunch tray next to my purse and slid in beside me, shaking his head as he looked at me. "You need more food in your system, girl. Gotta put a little weight on those hips."
"Why, so I can look like Fatty Fanny?" I asked, and Cona laughed, but Caleb just shook his head. Fanny wasn't fat at all. Given she wasn't a size one, but anywhere else, she'd probably be considered skinny as skinny can be. The nickname was cruel and a lie, but my hips were not my favorite lunchtime discussion, and I needed self-defense. I put down my fruit and uncapped my water, bringing the bottle to my lips and eyeing Penny where she stood at the lunch table opposite ours, her hands straddling the corner of the table as she leaned forward, laughing at every word that came out of Dustin Quaker's mouth.
I looked down at my heels and thought about the blister on the back of my foot.
Sometimes I wondered why I bothered with it all.
But then Cona reached out and grabbed a lock of my hair, turning it in her fingers and sighing as she said, "I really hate you. I wish I had hair like this."
I smiled and kicked her, "My hair for your eyes." She laughed, "Deal."
© 2012
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