Chapter Five
http://www.dearaubrey.com
Dear Aubrey,
You sound hot. When do you want to go out?
The Man
Dear The Man,
When? Never. This is a respectable advice column, not online dating.
Stay real,
Aubrey
HYPOTHESIS: Boys can be juvenile.
PURPOSE OF EXPERIMENT: N/A
CONCLUSION: Boys can be juvenile.
I arrived at school the next morning wishing I’d never emailed Amber about inviting Beth to a party. My supposed best friend had replaced me with an It girl, which had to be karma’s way of teaching me a lesson for abusing my social power as Aubrey.
Well played, karma.
I opened my locker, grabbed my books for first period, and jumped when Beth came up next to me. “I don’t want to talk right now,” I muttered.
She tilted her head, letting out an exasperated sigh. “I can’t believe you’re upset with me.”
“I can’t believe you dumped me for an It girl,” I said, honestly. My throat tightened. There were too many changes going on and I didn’t want a repeat of last night’s sobbing, so I turned my back to her and fished around in my locker for the book I needed.
“You’re not being fair, Poppy. How long are you going to hold a grudge?”
Hmm. . . How long should one take to get over her best friend ditching her? A question for Aubrey, for sure. I decided not to justify her invalidation with a response.
She sighed. “Well, even though you’re not speaking to me, I think you should know Mason’s not coming to school today.”
What a low blow, using Mason to make me talk. He had a perfect attendance record, which meant something big must be going on with him.
“Why isn’t he coming to school?” I asked, a slice of pain jabbing my chest over her rejection. I pressed my palm to my heart, still unable to believe she’d chosen Amber over me. I slammed my locker shut, gave her a cursory glance to follow, and then started down the hall.
“Brace yourself. This news is not good.” Beth pushed through the crowded hallway beside me and then we stopped outside my classroom door. “Somebody used toilet paper and whipped cream to vandalize Mason’s car after school yesterday.”
My brows came together. “Please tell me they caught whoever it was.”
“No.” She shook her head and stepped closer, as if attempting to create some sort of privacy amidst all of the lockers banging and kids goofing around in the hallway before the start of the school day. “And someone wrote ‘Go Back To Your Four-Eyed Dating Pool’ across his windshield in chocolate syrup.”
My stomach lurched as my thoughts raced. “What is that message supposed to mean?”
She glanced away for a moment, then took a deep breath and shifted her gaze back to me. “Mason didn’t tell you . . .?”
The warning bell for the first period shrilled.
“Didn’t tell me what?” I asked, wondering why Beth looked so uncomfortable.
“I thought you knew.” She stepped back as several kids pulled my classroom door open, and pushed their way inside. The door slammed shut again. An odd flicker of emotion flitted across Beth’s face as she studied her feet. “Amber Glass asked Mason out yesterday.”
“What?” I shrieked. A girl stopped in the hallway, gave me a look like I was crazy, then moved on. Maybe I needed to tone down my shock. But, hello? “Our Mason and the It girl?”
“I know.” Beth’s gaze remained on the floor and she paused, making me sense how much it bothered her that Amber had asked Mason out. She finally lifted her gaze. “Mason said yes to going out with her.”
“He did?” I blinked, processing that information. Truth be told, I always thought Mason and Beth would make a cute couple if either could admit they liked the other in that way. Over the years, I’d sensed occasional sparks between them but neither had made a move.
“Not sure what’s going on there, but we can talk more at lunch,” Beth said, the corners of her mouth turning downward. “Gotta run or I’ll be late for class.”
“Okay,” I said, Beth’s downcast expression making me want to forget my own hurt and comfort my friend.
After she walked off, I took a moment and leaned back against the wall outside my classroom, squeezing my books to my chest. When had life at San Felipe High spun so out of control? First, Amber dumped Jake based on Aubrey’s advice. Second, Amber invited Beth to a party (ahem, Aubrey’s advice again). Now, Amber had asked Mason out on a date (not Aubrey’s fault this time). And subsequently, Mason’s car had been trashed. Wowzers.
Go Back To Your Four-Eyed Dating Pool? Such a mean thing to say! Like people without twenty-twenty vision were less than worthy. Mason was one of the nicest guys I’d ever met and didn’t deserve to be treated that way. Also, he was an ace student, so he must be mortified over the incident if he’d skipped school. Why hadn’t he confided in me? Had I been too wrapped up in my column the last few days to be there for my longtime friend?
I shook my head, unable to imagine who had picked on him. Everyone liked him since he was the world’s nicest guy. The last bell shrilled and kids scrambled into their classrooms. I reached for the door handle to my classroom at the same time someone else did and my fingers accidentally wrapped around a large masculine hand.
I turned to peer into green eyes with gold flecks. Daniel! The feel of his skin against mine sent tingles skittering up my arm, and I snatched my hand away as if it were on fire.
“You’re in my class?” I blurted, like a bubblehead.
The corner of his mouth hitched up. “I didn’t realize you owned it.”
“I bought the class online. You didn’t hear?” I asked, barely recognizing the playful tone in my voice.
The corners of his eyes crinkled, sending a zing through my chest. “Well, I am new to this school.” He pulled the door open, gesturing for me to go in first. “I might need some help getting acquainted with everything.”
“Oh, really?” I smiled, but then my cheeks burned because I was pretty sure we were flirting and that was new territory for me. Miles out of my comfort zone.
“Excuse me,” Trish Benson said, her tone accusatory as if we had violated some law by talking to each other. She gave me a look that said “move it,” so I stepped back and she squeezed up next to Daniel. “Good morning.” She smiled at him, batting her long thick lashes. “Are you coming to my party Friday night?”
“I’ve heard that’s the place to be,” he said.
I couldn’t tell if Daniel’s answer meant he was going to her party or not, but one thing was obvious—Poppy-corn Pinkleton wasn’t invited.
“Definitely,” Trish said, then dropped into a chair in the back row and gestured toward the seat next to her. “Here’s an open spot, Daniel.”
The “hands off” look Trish shot me made me so uncomfortable I hurried to the row of seats by the windows with my head down and slipped into the front spot. Oodles of humiliation rolled through me. I’d opened myself up to talk with Daniel—and even flirt a little—but then Trish swooped in and shot me down.
Aubrey would’ve stood her ground, but I’d slinked off like a coward.
Everyone around me took their seats. I opened my notebook, mentally berating myself for flirting with Daniel, and for letting Trish scare me away. Clearly I was destined for a solitary existence as a teen geek with no social life.
Suddenly, I felt a tap on my shoulder, making me jump in my seat. I swung around and my gaze met soft green eyes with gold flecks. “What are you doing here?” I asked.
Daniel slipped into the seat behind me. “You took my spot.”
“I did?” I glanced down at my desk, wondering how he’d claimed it when we didn’t have assigned seating in here. “I’m sorry . . .” I started to stand up—
“I’m kidding, Poppy.” He chuckled, brushing his pencil against my arm. “You own the class, anyway. Right?”
“Right,” I sai
d, biting my lip to suppress a giggle.
The teacher started talking, so I turned to face front again, my gaze catching Trish’s stare from the back row—and the look she gave me could’ve set my backpack on fire. Yikes!
My smile faded and I kept my gaze glued on the teacher. Trish’s glare reminded me I didn’t belong near the It crowd. Probably the only reason Daniel had chosen to sit behind me was because he, uh, liked being by the window. Or something.
I wanted to defend myself to Trish, but it’s not like she’d listen to me. I didn’t matter to her or to the It crowd, and it was very clear I never would.
****
I changed into yoga pants for P.E. and hoped some exercise would alleviate my anxiety about Trish’s party Friday night. It felt weird that Beth and Mason would be there, while I’d be at home—alone. I’d wanted to add some spice to my junior year with Dear Aubrey, not send my best friends to join the It crowd without me.
After forty minutes of playing basketball in P.E., only one person decided to pass the ball to me, and it was promptly taken away. Still, I was exhausted from all of the running around and my worries didn’t feel even a smidge further behind me.
Trish was so not a nice person. Yet somehow she’d be spending Friday night with my best friends. And maybe with Daniel, too. I wanted to write Aubrey and ask her how this had happened and what I should do about it. But, yeah, couldn’t exactly write myself.
“Poppy Pinkleton?” Mr. Santiago, our P.E teacher, handed me a green piece of paper and then called another student to come forward.
Wiping the sweat from my brow, I unfolded the piece of paper, and nearly fainted from what I read:
Progress report for Poppy Rose Pinkleton.
Current grade in PE: C.
Participation is satisfactory.
The world around me spun, making me dizzy. I’d never received as low as a B grade before, but Mr. Santiago was giving me a C? That wicked letter of the alphabet would destroy my GPA, ruin my chances of getting into Stanford, and my mom would freak. I felt the ground crumbling beneath my feet—there must be something I could do.
I hurried over to where my teacher was giving out the progress reports. “Mr. Santiago?”
“Brian Walker?” he called, handing out another green slip.
I reached out and grabbed his arm, which just went to show how desperate I was about this atrocious error. “Mr. Santiago! There must be some mistake.”
“And, last but not least, Hannah Yardley.” He gave out the last slip, grabbed the whistle from around his neck and blew, piercing my ears. “See you all tomorrow.”
He began collecting the orange and black balls, so I trotted behind him and waved my green slip in the air for him to see. “This progress can’t be right. This says C,” I shrieked. Several students turned my way. I cringed, then forced myself to take a deep breath. “I’m currently getting a C? There has to be a mistake and I need you to fix it please.”
Holding a basketball between his arm and hip, Mr. Santiago took the dreaded paper from my hand and squinted at it. “Yes, a C. It’s not your final grade, just a progress report.”
“Just a progress report?” I asked, feeling my dream university and my desperately needed life of freedom slip out of reach. “But I’ve never missed a single day of participation. How could I be getting a C? I don’t want to brag, but I have straight As.”
“To get an A in this class, you have to do more than show up, Poppy.” He handed back the green slip and shot the ball in the air, which slammed against the backboard and dropped through the hoop. “You’ll have to start participating.”
Did he not see the sweat still dripping down my temples? My fist tightened, wrinkling the green paper in my grip. “With all due respect, sir, I was participating the entire class period.”
He retrieved the ball and did some fancy kind of lay-up that threw the ball in the air and through the hoop again. “You were running back and forth down the sideline, avoiding the actual play. That doesn’t count as participation.”
I frowned. “Mr. Santiago, I’m there to participate. It’s not my fault that nobody throws the ball to me. They play as if I’m invisible.”
“Why do you think that is, Poppy?” he asked, the sound of the buzzer screeching across the gymnasium, signaling the end of class. Apparently Mr. Santiago thought that meant our conversation was over as well, because he tucked a ball under each of his beefy arms and started toward the boys locker room.
Desperation inflated my chest more and more the further he got away from me, until I raced to catch up with him. “Isn’t there anything I can do to increase my grade? Please?”
“Yeah.” He spun around to face me, walking backward as he pointed his fingers at me as if holding imaginary guns. “Start participating,” he said, squeezing the imaginary triggers.
I gaped after my horribly unfair P.E. teacher as he disappeared into the locker room, leaving me alone in the empty gym. The vein on my temple throbbed and I could hear my pounding pulse throughout my head. I had no idea what my mom would do to me if I came home with a C, or if that grade blew my shot at Stanford.
There had to be a way to bring my grade up and “participate” to Mr. Santiago’s satisfaction, but I had no idea what that way would be.
****
After a grueling morning of classes, I now had the joy of choosing to eat lunch by myself or joining my best friend, who had chosen not to invite me to her first party. Neither option appealed to me.
I contemplated studying in the library for the lunch hour. But then I pictured Beth’s obvious sadness over Mason dating Amber—still couldn’t wrap my brain around that conjuncture, and he hadn’t answered his phone when I’d called him during our morning break—so I sucked it up and strode toward our usual table in the cafeteria.
“Hi,” I said, sliding into the seat across from Beth. I pulled my tuna-on-rye out of a brown bag and opened my soda with a crisp, welcoming sound.
Then there was a long awkward silence.
“I was worried you weren’t going to meet me for lunch.” Beth’s facial muscles tightened and she visibly swallowed. “Do you want me to back out of the party?”
I blinked, surprised she’d make such an offer when I knew how badly she wanted to go to that It party. “You’d stay home just because I’m upset?”
Her eyes watered. “Of course.”
My heart squeezed at the confirmation that I was still important to Beth. I suddenly realized I might’ve overreacted to the one minor rejection. Whoops.
“That means a lot to me.” I smiled, then shook my head. “But don’t cancel your party plans. Go and have fun.” I took a bite of my sandwich, a deep sense of relief washing through me. Beth and I were still besties. All felt right with the world again. Well, except for my mediocre grade in P.E. But I couldn’t even think about that right now. Too devastating.
Suddenly, loud voices echoed from the It table. I glanced over to see Amber in a heated argument with Jake. Trish and several others at the table watched them intently. Yikes!
I turned back to Beth. “Have you heard from Mason?”
“No.” She gave me a long look. “Is it really okay if I go to Trish’s party?”
An icky feeling crept across my chest at the mention of Trish’s name. But in the best interest of my friend, I lifted my soda can in a salute. “Yes, it’s really fine. I swear on The Pact.”
“Very funny.” She chuckled, rolling her eyes. Then her gaze flicked over to the ruckus at the It table. “What do you suppose Amber and Jake are arguing about? Do you think it’s about her date with Mason?”
“Could be.” My thoughts muddled over the possibility of Amber forgiving Jake, telling Mason to take a hike, and dismissing my fantasy future with my crush. Although, on the flip side, their reunion would free up Mason to date Beth if she were truly interested.
“It’s none of your business who I date!” Amber yelled, her entire table gaping at her with rapt attention. Guess that solved
the question of what—or who—they were arguing about.
Behind Amber, I saw a boy walk by and then take a seat at the end of the It table next to Trish. Every nerve in my body went numb when I recognized Daniel. He was eating lunch with Trish? Did that mean he was going to her party? Did that mean he liked her?
As if sensing me watching, his gaze lifted, catching mine, and he smiled at me.
Instead of smiling back like a normal person would’ve, I swung around in my seat, embarrassed that he’d caught me staring at him. I closed my eyes feeling like a dweeb. I’d been intending to stare at Jake and Amber—and their not-so-private argument that just escalated to shouting—but, actually, that truth wasn’t much less humiliating.
Maybe I needed to rethink The Pact.
“Well, they’re my concert tickets and you’re no longer invited!” Amber’s voice echoed across the cafeteria, causing more heads to turn their way.
Jake’s cheeks turned red. “Then what am I supposed to do?”
Amber stood, snatched up her lunch tray, and bent toward him. “You can go out with that sleaze you hooked up with,” she said, then stormed away.
Snap! Everyone in the cafeteria turned to Jake for his reaction.
“Whatever. Not like I care.” He pushed his tray away from him, stood, and stormed off in the opposite direction where Amber had gone.
“Can you believe that?” Beth asked.
“No,” I said, even though I’d witnessed the formerly-perfect couple’s argument with my very own eyes. My gaze skimmed the It table again and everyone had turned toward each other, gabbing away—except for Trish. She stood, then walked out of the cafeteria in the same direction Jake had gone. Odd, especially when she’d been so eager to sit next to Daniel in class. Made me wonder, once again, if she’d hooked up with Jake. Not that I should speculate.
The Crush Dilemma (Dear Aubrey Book 1) Page 6