“Yeah, that would be embarrassing. Hilarious, but yeah, embarrassing.”
“Brooke!”
“I pinky swear, all right? God!”
I hoped I could believe her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
FRIDAYS FOR SENIORS were different from Fridays for everyone else. The mornings were filled with either two long periods of Advanced Placement classes (for college credit), college preparation classes (usually filled with students whose parents had forced them into it), office assistant duties (in the main office, guidance or helping out a teacher in a specific subject) or with the morning off (an option usually chosen by students who didn’t care at all about academics and adored sleeping in).
I was an assistant in the main office, which meant I answered phones and did boring filing. The job brought nothing very exciting to my day, but the secretaries in the office loved me, so it was an okay environment in which to spend a couple hours. I’d chosen it because it gave me Student Service Learning hours, and I needed them to graduate. My GPA was fine, it was the extracurricular stuff that I had fallen behind on.
Seniors spent the second half of their Fridays either at internships or doing a senior capstone project. Some students had a specific subject area for their project. Drama kids worked on directing and acting in one another’s miniplays. Band students practiced for end-of-the-year performances. Artsy kids planned for a big show at the end of the semester at a gallery in Bethesda. People like me, who had no specific skills, did the generic capstone project, which worked on “team building and critical thinking.” At least according to the paragraph in the description.
On Fridays, my dad would usually take me to school, but every once in a while Aiden would pick me up. This was on account of the fact that Brooke had taken the sleeping-in option, much to her parents’ fury. Lately, I had declined Aiden’s occasional night-before texts to pick me up. I felt awkward with him for whatever reason. So this morning, my dad dropped me off, giving me the hug and kiss on the forehead that he’d been giving me since my first day of kindergarten. I had always hated the kids in TV shows and movies who acted like it was such an enormous drag when their parents showed them affection. I thought it was adorable.
It had been about a month since the Stupid Cupid party, and in that time, I had hardly seen Aiden. Brooke had been driving me to and from school in her car. I wasn’t sure why we hadn’t gone with Aiden for so long. She said it was because he had stuff to do after school, but part of me wondered if they were on the brink of a breakup. When I wondered this, I got an irritatingly hopeful feeling in my chest.
Today he came into our capstone class and glanced up into the stadium-style seats and found me. At first it struck me as flattering or unusual that he should seek me out but then I realized he probably always did this, since we usually sat next to each other. This was just the first time I had also been watching for him. I usually stared at my phone or a schoolbook so that I could avoid exactly that: looking like I was looking for him.
The only open seat was behind me. I turned around as he sat down. “Hey,” I said. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”
“I know. How are you?” His tone was a little chilly. For the first time, it occurred to me that if he and Brooke broke up, maybe he wouldn’t talk to me anymore. I fussed anxiously with my hair.
“I’m good. Thank God it’s Friday, right?”
Before he had a chance to respond, our teacher came in and called attention to the front of the room.
Halfway through class, we got the news that we were officially to start on our senior projects. After weeks of PowerPoint-heavy lectures on time management and organization, we were finally going to do something.
We all knew about Ms. Jean’s final senior projects, because they tended to be relatively epic and awesome and things that encapsulated the past four years for us all. Her capstone class was the one to be in if you weren’t in one of the specialized classes. Last year one team put together a tear-jerking video using collected footage that they’d gotten a bunch of people to donate, and they had given everyone a copy. I’d had my idea in mind since sophomore year, and I had been waiting and hoping no one would take it.
“As you know, the major focus of this class is the senior project. And once we are finished, so are you, with your entire high school career.” She allowed people to clap and whoop. “The point of the project is not only to bring people together who might not already be friends and give you something to physically or mentally take away from high school—in addition, of course, to all the knowledge—” pause for laughter “—but also to put the power in your hands. I’m sure you know I am very loose with this assignment. I tell you no more than the fact that it is a senior project, who you’re partnered with and whether what you suggest is asinine or insanely inappropriate. But even that I am flexible on.”
More laughter from the class.
“Now, I take great pride in what my classes put out with this project. And I chose all of you specifically to be in my class when you filled out the application. This is not a project to screw around on, and it has become something that colleges look for from our school’s graduates. It is not something to take lightly, and it is not something that you will ruin for future students.
“You are in this classroom, and doing work for the class on your own time, for a big portion of your senior year. I won’t pretend that you don’t have major things going on in the rest of your life, but I will say that you must find a way to do this and do it well. Not just for the grade. Not just for college. But for you. Because one of the most important questions you are going to have to ask yourselves, and in the end find a strong answer for, is this—what matters to you, and what matters to everyone else?”
No one was laughing now. People had begun to scribble down notes. I opened my red notebook—a five-subject one, for this class alone—and wrote down the questions.
Was everything going to strike a chord in me lately? Answering the question “What matters to you?” felt exhausting. I hardly knew.
“Maybe it’s the same thing,” she went on. “Maybe it’s going to change throughout the semester. Maybe your answer now will be one you’re embarrassed by at the end of college. But whatever it is, it has to be real. Find a way to do something that matters to you. And don’t hand in a pencil and say that it encompasses everything you ever can or will do because it is the symbol of potential and possibility and also the ability to change. Clever that might be, but believe me, the boy who did that a few years ago got a failing grade.”
She looked out at all of us again, and then took the glasses from the beaded chain around her neck and put them on her nose. She held out a hand and her TA brought over a yellow envelope. Ms. Jean leaned on her desk and gave a wicked smile.
“I can feel the tension in the room.” Laughter. “Yes, this is the list of partners.” She held it up. “The person—or people—that you will be spending your final semester working with, side by side. I chose your teams based on your applications. Some of you I’ve paired with compatible students. For some of you—those of you whom I believe need the challenge—I have paired with incompatible people. Because that’s life.” She smiled. “Have fun figuring out if your team is supposed to be compatible or not.”
More laughter, but it was nervous now. Particularly mine.
We listened, all of us on the edge of our seats. When she got down the list to Aiden’s name, I found myself almost knowing what was coming.
“...Natalie Shepherds.”
I couldn’t even turn to look at him at first. I waited for her to finish the list and tell us to get with our partners. He climbed over the row of seats and came to me.
When I finally looked at him, there was something intense in his expression. Maybe it was annoyance. I flushed red—as if I had anything to do with the pairing—and then whatever I’d s
een was gone, and he looked normal.
Finally, I said, “Well, of course, right?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Hey, at least neither of us is working with that girl.” He gestured at Kylie Tamer, who was a nonstop chatterbox.
“She might talk a lot, but she’s going to school for engineering next year.” I wished again that my brain wasn’t filled with so many details about other people’s lives.
“Yeah, I was just kidding...I’m actually sorry about you getting me as a partner.”
“Why?”
“Because I am...man, I am not creative. I’m all left brain.”
“Well, I don’t have a lot of that. So we’ll be a good match!” I immediately regretted my choice of words. “Um. Yeah, so it doesn’t matter, I have our project. I mean, if it sounds cool to you.”
“Please,” he said, leaning back in his chair to listen.
“Well. I thought of it forever ago and always intended to do it if I got into the class.” I cleared my throat. “I think it would be really cool to make sort of a...a real-life Facebook or Tumblr-type thing. In the center of the school in the square. To plaster the wall with pictures of everyone throughout the semester. Like, let’s say we get anyone who wants to...to donate three pictures of themselves. Because that’s a lot of wall to cover. And then we put them up as sort of a base. Then toward the end of the year we can keep adding to it. Posters, ticket stubs, prom corsages, that sort of thing. The type of things people keep. And then at the end of the year we’ll take high-res shots of the wall and give the pictures out to everyone.”
His eyebrows were raised.
“What? Do you think it’s lame?”
Immediately it sounded lame in my head.
“Are you kidding? I think that’s an incredible idea.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely, Natalie, that’s crazy cool. I can see it now, too, people taking pictures in front of the wall or whatever.”
“Exactly! Yes, that’s exactly what I envisioned. Like, exactly what I envisioned.”
I was thrilled at his acceptance of the idea, and by the fact that we were having a moment of acting normal again.
“Maybe rather than just asking people to donate pictures, we could rent out areas. So if a group of girls want to have their section all together, they can buy a square for five bucks or ten bucks or something. And then, in the end, we could do something where everyone could stand in front of it. We could get Mike, that camera kid, to take the pictures, and sell the prints. We could use the money to go toward a party. Like a graduation party for everyone.”
“That’s awesome. Wow. See, your left brain did help.”
We went up to the front.
Ms. Jean, who was somehow both sharper and more pleasant-looking up close, raised her eyebrows at us. “Already?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Um. Well, I kind of came up with the seed of the idea a couple of years ago, inspired by seeing what everyone else did, and I told Aiden just now, and he added a few things that I think will really total it all out.”
“Go ahead.”
I told her most of it, and Aiden pitched in the rest. When we finished, we waited anxiously. Her face was completely impassive. She thought for a full minute before responding.
“I think that idea has some incredible potential.”
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
“The key will be,” she said, “to keep it from looking junky. I think you’ll go wrong by having it too cluttered, and I think you’ll go wrong by having it be too organized.” She nodded at us, with a small smile. “I think you two will make a good team.”
“Thank you, Ms. Jean,” said Aiden before heading back to our seats.
“We’ve got our first accepted project of the year!” she said to the class at large. “But please, this is not a race! You have all week to solidify your ideas, so make sure you think them out properly!”
* * *
WE WALKED TO lunch together, both of us thrilled that our pitch had been accepted.
“I would be so completely lost right now if I we hadn’t gotten paired up in that class.”
I felt my cheeks go hot, but laughed. “I am somewhat of a hero.”
“You are! Don’t laugh.”
“Well, yeah. I guess you would have been screwed.”
“Totally screwed. So, um, we’ll have to get together to work on this some.”
At first I almost argued that, no, a double period was probably more than enough time to do it. But something stopped me.
“Yeah. We’ll have to find some time.”
“Right. I have my internship at the vet, too, so I kinda have to work around that.”
“Oh, yeah, of course. No big deal at all. Whenever we can hook up—I—whenever we can get together, let’s do it. Let’s...whenever you have some time, we’ll work on the project.”
I glanced up to see that he wasn’t looking at me but was laughing silently.
“Shut up!”
“What? I didn’t say anything.”
“My dad always calls it hooking up when you’re both trying to make your schedules work and get together—oh, just be quiet.”
But I couldn’t help but smile back.
“Guys! There you are.” Brooke came up to us. I felt a little deflated by her sudden appearance. For once, and only for a gleaming few seconds, it was as if Aiden and I had our own relationship, independent of her existence.
“Nattie, enough hiding in the library watching movies, you’re eating with us today.”
I allowed her to pull me into the lunchroom, and it became clear quickly why she was so eager to have me join them. Eric was sitting at the table, one of the three open seats next to him. He smiled when he saw me, and again I felt the audience around us.
I wanted to walk right back out. But instead, I smiled and greeted everyone as if I was not wishing I was elsewhere. I was such a brat. They were all being so nice to me, and all I could ever do was feel nervous and want to leave.
“You guys got partnered up today for Ms. Jean’s class, right?” asked Brooke. “Who did you guys get partnered with?” She pulled the top off her Starbucks salad.
“We actually got paired together,” I answered, possibly trying too hard to sound like I didn’t care.
Brooke hesitated as she poured her salad dressing. “Oh, yeah? That’s pretty lucky, then, huh?”
“Yeah, Nat already had an idea all mapped out and everything. I got totally lucky.”
“Oh, yeah, the wall thing?” she asked. Of course I had told her about it a million years ago. “That’s cool. So, Eric, when are you taking my friend on a real date?”
Whoa. Her tone had shifted to one I recognized. She was mad. Why was she being pissy-Brooke? Obviously I could guess it had something to do with Aiden. Possibly about Aiden and me being paired together?
The same reason it secretly thrilled me must be the same reason it seemed to be secretly upsetting her. I couldn’t focus right then on what that must mean, because I was too busy being in shock at what she had said to Eric.
“Brooke,” I said, with no idea what to follow it up with.
“What?” She smiled, but it wasn’t a real smile. “You guys hooked up, I think the least he can do is earn it with a date.”
I could see that Eric was uncomfortable, too. There was nothing I hated more than being put in a position of being rejected when I hadn’t even made an offer or asked for the rejection.
If we hadn’t been around other people, I would have smacked her in the arm and told her to stop being weird. But as little time as I felt like spending around them, I wanted these people to like me. I could think of absolutely nothing to say and was even starting to feel a little sick. I gave a short laugh.
Aiden was staring incredulously at Brooke. She raised her eyebrows in a way that asked, What? while also confirming that she knew exactly what she had done.
I took a sip of my water, now feeling seriously sick. Out of nowhere, I had to actually steady my breathing in order not to wretch.
“You okay?” asked Aiden.
“Yes, I’m fine. Just...” The words were a struggle to get out. I took a deep breath. “I’m just feeling a little sick.”
“There’s been something going around,” said Brooke. “If you go to the nurse I bet she’ll let you go home. I totally would if I were you.”
“Sick like nauseated?” asked Aiden.
“Yeah.” Another wave. “I think I will go to the nurse.”
“Oh, no, feel better, babe,” said Alexa, who had sat down as the pukey feeling hit me.
“Want me to walk you?” asked Eric.
“No, don’t worry about it,” I said, trying to collect my lunch stuff.
“I’ll get this, you go ahead,” said Aiden. “Feel better.”
“Thanks. I’ll...see you.”
I ducked out of the cafeteria and into the nearest bathroom, where I hurled up my entire breakfast.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I WAS IN the library a few days later, reading a book and trying not to get caught eating hummus and pita chips, when Eric walked up to me.
“Hey,” he said, keeping his voice down.
“Hi.” I shifted from the unattractively comfortable position I had been sitting in.
I had avoided him like the plague since Brooke had cornered him into asking me out. I didn’t know what it meant exactly that I’d thrown up after talking about going on a date with Eric, but I did know that if I was to go on a date with him, I wouldn’t want it to be because Brooke told him to ask me.
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