maybe she’d just been trying to get me to work lights the whole time and hadn’t known how to ask.
“That would be perfect. We’re going to set up Friday at noon.”
“I’ll be there,” I said.
“Cool. Thanks.” She snapped her empty salad container shut and passed one of her two after-lunch mints to Ally. This time, however, she slid her own mint over to me. “I love that color on you, by the way. You are amazing in green.”
“Thanks.” My smile was real this time.
Seconds later, the loudspeaker squealed to life and Principal McAdams’s voice boomed through the crowded cafeteria. Saved by the squeal. For the first time the entire school year, I’d had a conversation with Rachel that ended before I’d made a total idiot of myself. The realization was a little giddy-making. “Attention, senior class. The votes are in, and your homecoming-week theme has been decided.”
“Dude, I hope it’s not that jungle thing,” Ally said, sucking her mint so hard her cheeks hollowed. “That was the dumbest idea ever.”
I nodded along with everyone else at the table, agreeing when Radar added that Welcome to the Jungle was 1980s in the lame way, not the cool way, but secretly knowing we all had animal prints in our future. I’d lived through this announcement—and the disappointed aftermath—once before.
“We had a lot of great ideas this year,” the principal’s voice continued, “but . . . Undead Disney was the clear front-runner.”
What? Undead Disney? That hadn’t even been an option the first time around. What did that even mean?
The mint I’d just popped in my mouth soured, and my throat got so tight I could barely swallow my own saliva. Another little difference in the world as I’d known it. It was just a homecoming theme, no big deal, but still . . . it made my hands tremble as I wadded up my empty lunch bag. Why was this happening? Why was now different than then?
“Awesome!” Ally squealed as Principal McAdams droned on about the dress code being strictly enforced during spirit week and reminded us that all costumes must adhere to decency standards. “I call zombie Little Mermaid!”
“No way, Ally,” Rachel said. “Katie has to be zombie Little Mermaid.”
“I do?” I asked, too thrown to think of something better to say.
“Yes. You’re the only one with red hair, duh.” Rachel wrinkled her nose in disapproval of my stupidity, but I was saved from further commentary. The bell rang a second later, signaling the end of lunch.
Without further social ado, we shoved our chairs back and grabbed bags and purses. BHH teachers were notoriously evil about handing out tardy slips after lunch. Mitch thought it was their way of getting revenge on juniors and seniors who were allowed to go off campus while the teachers were forced to eat in the depressing, lime green faculty lounge every day.
That was still the same; I’d seen the green post-nuclear glow of the walls when I’d walked by the office this morning. Almost everything was still the same. There was no reason to freak out about a change in the homecoming theme. I mean, Undead Disney did sound like a lot more fun than Welcome to the Jungle, and I already had my character picked out and approved by the platinum set. There was nothing to worry about. I did my best to throw off time-travel-related angst as Isaac and I dumped our trash and headed toward our locker.
My locker, really, but Isaac kept all of his stuff in there. My locker was more centrally located and conducive to meeting up for kisses between classes. Public displays of affection were strongly discouraged at Brantley Hills High, but we were rebels with a need for lip locking between second and third period. If making out was wrong, we didn’t want to be right.
The thought helped my grin recover. “So, I’ll see you after school? At Ramon’s?”
“Yeah. That’s cool.” Isaac sighed as he grabbed his calculus book. When I turned to glance at his profile, I
“That would be perfect. We’re going to set up Friday at noon.”
“I’ll be there,” I said.
“Cool. Thanks.” She snapped her empty salad container shut and passed one of her two after-lunch mints to Ally. This time, however, she slid her own mint over to me. “I love that color on you, by the way. You are amazing in green.”
“Thanks.” My smile was real this time.
Seconds later, the loudspeaker squealed to life and Principal McAdams’s voice boomed through the crowded cafeteria. Saved by the squeal. For the first time the entire school year, I’d had a conversation with Rachel that ended before I’d made a total idiot of myself. The realization was a little giddy-making. “Attention, senior class. The votes are in, and your homecoming-week theme has been decided.”
“Dude, I hope it’s not that jungle thing,” Ally said, sucking her mint so hard her cheeks hollowed. “That was the dumbest idea ever.”
I nodded along with everyone else at the table, agreeing when Radar added that Welcome to the Jungle was 1980s in the lame way, not the cool way, but secretly knowing we all had animal prints in our future. I’d lived through this announcement—and the disappointed aftermath—once before.
“We had a lot of great ideas this year,” the principal’s voice continued, “but . . . Undead Disney was the clear front-runner.”
What? Undead Disney? That hadn’t even been an option the first time around. What did that even mean?
The mint I’d just popped in my mouth soured, and my throat got so tight I could barely swallow my own saliva. Another little difference in the world as I’d known it. It was just a homecoming theme, no big deal, but still . . . it made my hands tremble as I wadded up my empty lunch bag. Why was this happening? Why was now different than then?
“Awesome!” Ally squealed as Principal McAdams droned on about the dress code being strictly enforced during spirit week and reminded us that all costumes must adhere to decency standards. “I call zombie Little Mermaid!”
“No way, Ally,” Rachel said. “Katie has to be zombie Little Mermaid.”
“I do?” I asked, too thrown to think of something better to say.
“Yes. You’re the only one with red hair, duh.” Rachel wrinkled her nose in disapproval of my stupidity, but I was saved from further commentary. The bell rang a second later, signaling the end of lunch.
Without further social ado, we shoved our chairs back and grabbed bags and purses. BHH teachers were notoriously evil about handing out tardy slips after lunch. Mitch thought it was their way of getting revenge on juniors and seniors who were allowed to go off campus while the teachers were forced to eat in the depressing, lime green faculty lounge every day.
That was still the same; I’d seen the green post-nuclear glow of the walls when I’d walked by the office this morning. Almost everything was still the same. There was no reason to freak out about a change in the homecoming theme. I mean, Undead Disney did sound like a lot more fun than Welcome to the Jungle, and I already had my character picked out and approved by the platinum set. There was nothing to worry about. I did my best to throw off time-travel-related angst as Isaac and I dumped our trash and headed toward our locker.
My locker, really, but Isaac kept all of his stuff in there. My locker was more centrally located and conducive to meeting up for kisses between classes. Public displays of affection were strongly discouraged at Brantley Hills High, but we were rebels with a need for lip locking between second and third period. If making out was wrong, we didn’t want to be right.
The thought helped my grin recover. “So, I’ll see you after school? At Ramon’s?”
“Yeah. That’s cool.” Isaac sighed as he grabbed his calculus book. When I turned to glance at his profile, I
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