Casey skipped over to me. “Hey, B,” she said. “Sorry we went a little overtime. Do you mind if I change before we get out of here? I feel a little stinky.”
“I don’t care,” I murmured.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, instantly suspicious.
“Nothing, Casey. Go change.”
“Bianca, I can tell—”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I wasn’t about to get into another Wesley discussion with her. She’d probably wind up defending him like last time. “I’m fine, okay?” I said, softening my voice. “Long day. Headache.”
Casey still looked skeptical when she walked, with considerably less pep, to the locker room.
Fantastic. I felt like a total bitch. She’d only wanted to make sure I was okay, and I shut her out. I shouldn’t have taken my anger at Wesley out on her, even if she did think he was a fucking prince.
But when she came out of the locker room in her hoodie and jeans, her usual cheer had returned. She swung her purse over her shoulder and came to where I was sitting, a smile plastered across her spotless, smooth face. “Sometimes, I can’t believe the shit I hear in the locker room,” she said. “You ready to go, B?”
“Sure.” I picked up my books and started toward the gym doors, hoping that Wesley wasn’t still lurking in the hallway.
Casey must have noticed my anxiety. I could see the tense, worried look on her face, but she didn’t bring it up again. Instead, she said, “So, okay, Vikki is totally gonna get a reputation as a whore.”
“She already has one.”
“Well, yeah,” Casey admitted, “but it’s about to get worse. She’s dating that junior football player—you know, what’s-his-name—but she told some guy from Oak Hill High that she’d take him to Basketball Homecoming. I don’t know why she does this stuff to herself. You, Jess, and me will have a front-row seat for the drama when it all comes out that night. BTW, what are you wearing to the dance?”
“Nothing.”
“Hot, but I doubt they’ll let you in naked, B.” We were walking through the maze of tables in the cafeteria on our way to the parking lot.
“No. I mean, Jessica and I aren’t going to Homecoming,” I said.
“Of course you are,” Casey protested.
I shook my head. “Jessica is grounded. I promised her I’d come over and we’d watch girly movies.”
Casey looked stunned as we pushed through the blue door and entered the freezing student parking lot. “What? But Jess loves Basketball Homecoming. It’s her favorite after prom and Football Homecoming.”
I smiled a little, in spite of myself. “And Sadie Hawkins.”
“Why didn’t I know about this? Homecoming is getting close. Why didn’t you all tell me?”
I shrugged. “Sorry. I didn’t even think about it. And I guess Jessica is still moping. She might not want to talk about not being able to go.”
“But… but who will I go to the dance with now?”
“Um, a boy,” I suggested. “Casey, it’s not as if it’ll be hard for you to get a date.” I fished the car keys out of my back pocket and unlocked the doors of my Saturn.
“Right, who the hell wants to go with Sasquatch?”
“You are not Sasquatch.”
“Besides,” she said, ignoring me, “it’s way better to go with you guys.” She climbed into the passenger’s seat and wrapped herself in the blanket Jessica had used a few nights earlier. “Damn it, B. You really need to get that fucking heater fixed.”
“You really need to get your own car.”
She changed the subject. “Okay, so back to the dance. If you two aren’t going… do you guys care if I crash your movie fest? It could be a Girls’ Night In. We haven’t had one of those in a while.”
Despite my crappy mood, I smiled. Casey was right. We hadn’t had a movie night together in a long time, and it would be nice to hang out without the drama of boys or loud techno music. For once, I might actually have fun on a Friday night. So I reached for the volume on my stereo and said, “A week from Friday, it’s a date.”
6
When the Friday of our Girls’ Night In finally rolled around, I was more than ready for a nice, relaxing evening with my best friends—and the wonderfully Scottish James McAvoy, of course. I’d shoved the copy of Becoming Jane that Jessica had given me for Christmas, a pair of barely used pajamas (yeah, I sleep naked at home—so what?), and my toothbrush into my backpack. Casey was bringing the popcorn, and Jessica promised us big bowls of chocolate swirl ice cream.
As if my ass wasn’t big enough.
But naturally, the day couldn’t be all good. Mrs. Perkins, my English teacher, made sure of that during fourth block.
“So, that’s The Scarlet Letter,” she said, closing her book. “Did you enjoy it, class?”
There was a low grumble in the negative, but Mrs. Perkins didn’t seem to notice.
“Well, because Hawthorne’s work is so extraordinary and applicable to contemporary society, I want each of you to write a report pertaining to the novel.” She ignored the loud sighs. “The report can be about any part of the book—a character, a scene, a theme—but I want it to be very well thought out. I will also be allowing you to work in pairs”—the class buzzed with excitement—“which I will assign.” The excitement vanished.
I knew I was in trouble when Mrs. Perkins pulled out her roll sheet. That meant she would be assigning partners based on alphabetical order, and since there were no kids whose last names started with Q in that class, my partner was bound to be—
“Bianca Piper will work with Wesley Rush.”
Shit.
I’d managed to steer clear of Wesley for a week and a half—since the day he’d harassed me after school—but Mrs. Perkins had to go and screw that up.
She rattled off the last few names on her list before saying, “I expect the reports to be no fewer than five pages long—and that’s twelve-point font, double-spaced, Vikki. Don’t pull that stunt again.” She laughed good-naturedly. “Now, I want partners to work together. Both must contribute to the report. And be creative, people! Have fun!”
“Not likely,” I muttered to Jessica, who sat at the desk next to mine.
“Oh, I think you’re lucky, Bianca,” she said. “I’d be thrilled if Wesley was my partner. But my heart belongs to Harrison. It is so unfair that Casey gets to work with him.” She glanced toward Casey’s assigned seat, all the way across the classroom. “She’ll probably get to see his house and bedroom and everything. Do you think she’ll say some good things about me if I ask? Maybe she’ll be, like, my wing girl.”
I didn’t bother answering.
“The reports are due in exactly one week!” Mrs. Perkins announced over the chatter. “So, please work on them this weekend.”
The bell rang and the whole class stood up at the same time. Tiny Mrs. Perkins scurried out of the way to avoid being trampled by the stampede toward the door. Jessica and I joined the crowd, and Casey caught up to us just as we stepped into the hall.
“This is bullshit,” she hissed. “An essay over nothing? I don’t want to pick a topic. That’s her freaking job! What is the point of this damn assignment if she can’t even give us something to write about? It’s ridiculous.”
“But you get to work with Harrison, and—”
“Please, Jess, don’t start with that crap.” Casey rolled her eyes. “He. Is. Gay. It isn’t gonna happen, okay?”
“You never know! So you won’t play wing girl for me?”
“I’ll meet you guys in the cafeteria,” I said, turning in the direction of my locker. “I need to grab a few things first.”