The girl changes Chem lab partners at the request of Noel.
She tries to avoid crying in Art History and Am Lit.
She helps people with hippie sandals.
She drinks carrot juice for breakfast. She does homework. And she walks a harlequin Great Dane through the Seattle drizzle.
***
Tate Prep has this Valentine's Day delivery service, run by the seniors. Everyone walks around all day with
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armfuls of flowers. Flowers in mail cubbies, flowers on desks, flowers delivered during class by cute senior boys. Lectures are constantly being interrupted by the entrance of someone or other with an armful of roses.
On February 14, a day on which I had no expectations of getting flowers from anyone but Meghan, I was sitting in Am Lit when Jackson walked into the room with a bouquet of twelve white carnations.
Everyone looked up when he walked in. Everyone meaning not just me but Kim, Cricket and Nora, too.
He caught my eye and headed over.
My stupid heart leaped, seeing Jackson with twelve white carnations, extending them to me.
I took them and read the card--"Hugs and Happiness! Nora"-and my eyes filled. Partly because no, of course they weren't from Jackson, and partly because I knew Nora wished she could take them back. Wished she'd never bought them. Just like the flowers I'd sent her, they'd been ordered when we were friends. Now they didn't mean anything at all.
"Thank you," I mouthed-but she turned her gaze away.
Even though Jackson was delivering flowers to people all across school-all the seniors were-Kim stared as he left the room with a look of shock and hurt in her eyes. I saw Nora whisper in her ear, probably explaining that those weren't from Jackson, they were the carnations she had sent me, though of course I hadn't deserved them after all.
***
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My sessions with Doctor Z came to a standstill. I couldn't finish the treasure map. I couldn't talk to her. I couldn't listen to anything she asked me.
A typical session went like this:
Doctor Z: How are you feeling today?
Me: Okay.1
Doctor Z: Do you want to elaborate on that?
Me. Um. Not really.2
Doctor Z: All right. Well, I'm here and ready to listen.
Me: Okay.3
Doctor Z: (silence)
Me: I don't have much to say, that's all. I'm fine.4
Doctor Z: (silence)
Me: (silence)5
And that would be it.
So I wasn't getting anywhere in therapy, and the fact that I couldn't talk to my shrink was obviously taking its toll on my mental health. The panic attacks increased to
***
1 Inside my brain: I Can't believe your boyfriend calls you Schmoopie. Schmoopie Schmoopie Schmoopie Schmoopie!
2 His feet are so disgusting. How can I tell my problems to someone who hangs around all day with a terrible foot smell.
3 I mean, that was some really weird fungus Jonah had going on there. It's enough to make me doubt your judgment.
4 Because if you feel like those are normal feet, Doctor Z, I can't possibly trust your evaluation of whether my brain is normal.
5 I can't tell you anything I'm thinking because I know you'll be offended that I thought your boyfriend had freakishly repellent feet; it's not the kind of thing you can actually say to anyone, much less your shrink, whose personal life you're not supposed to know anything about.
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the point where they made my life hell at least four times a week.
Only now, no Nora came to put her arm around me.
***
In early March, Spring Fling was announced at assembly. It was scheduled for April 6. Every year the dance takes place on a mini-yacht; there's a band and some punch and cake, and it's supposed to be a really romantic evening-much more so than prom, which is all about graduation and never has an amazing view or anything.
This year, I had no plans for going. I mean, what were the possibilities?
* Finn. Yes, he'd brought sample ninja brownies and lemon bars to us at the CHuBS table, and blushed, and convinced half the boys' soccer team to bake things, but it would have been social suicide for him to take me to a dance, given that he was Kim's ex.
*Jackson. We were on friendly terms; in fact, he had been sweet to me lately-but with all our bad history and the waves of hatred coming from Kim and her friends, no way.
* Gideon. Nora had no doubt told him I was evil.
Besides, college boys never want to go to high school dances.
* Noel. Couldn't stand me.
Everyone else single was either Jackson's friend, Ariel's friend, a complete Neanderthal or unlikely to risk the horrible gossip that would circulate if they asked me to
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the dance-even if they imagined that by taking the school slut they'd probably get lucky.
The first mentally deranged thing about the whole situation was that I even wanted to go to Spring Fling. One formal dance I'd been to had been really awkward. The other had been a complete nightmare. There was no reason to think I'd actually have a good time, and if I'd been sane I just would've forgotten the whole dance was happening and gone about my roly-poly business. Except-
I heard Katarina, Ariel and Heidi in line for lunch, talking about dress shopping together over the weekend and how they thought wearing black was over and this year they wanted pastels. Heidi and Katarina were going with senior basketball muffins. Ariel didn't have a date yet, but she was thinking of asking Noel. "Or I bet I could get Sam Williams to ask me, don't you think?" she said, thereby illustrating the fundamental difference between me and her, as I was completely unable to conceive how on earth a girl would "get" a guy to ask her to a dance if he didn't want to take her already.
Kim was going with a guy she knew from crew team; Cricket had asked a senior she'd befriended in Drama Elective. Nora didn't have a date yet.
And neither did Noel. But then, last year he'd gone solo, so maybe he wouldn't ask anyone.
Anyway, I wanted to laugh with Meghan (who was no doubt going to end up going with some candidate for Operation Sophomore Love, though she hadn't decided which one yet). I wanted to worry about shoes and whether
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I'd kiss my date. I wanted to order a boutonniere and buy a dress with my Birkenstock money. I wanted to try on makeup in department stores and slow dance at the end of the night.
The second mentally deranged thing about the situation was that I was waiting for someone to ask me. Obviously, this is the twenty-first century, and as I'd told Nora, girls can ask guys out. We should ask them out. There is no reason to sit around being passive and hoping that someone will ask you to a dance when you can easily invite the person you want to go with. How are women going to become president and win Oscars for directing if we sit on our butts waiting for things to happen?
I know this. I believe it. But I still wanted someone to ask me to the dance. Yes, like it was 1952. Yes, like Gloria Steinem never existed. Yes, idiotically, yes.
I don't know where all the dance fantasies came from. But there they were, these stupid retro dreams, and here I was, without them coming true.
A week and a half after Spring Fling was announced, Meghan met me by her Jeep in the parking lot holding a foil tray of brownies.
"Those look like ninja brownies," I said to her. "Are those ninja brownies? Because if they are, I need to have one now."
She didn't seem to be listening to me. "Roo, I have something I want to ask you."