was surprised to see a scowl on his face.
“I mean, it’s Monday, right? You’ll have time?” Basketball practice didn’t start until later on Mondays. Coach Nader had parking lot duty and couldn’t get to the gym until four. Isaac and I always took advantage of the extra thirty minutes together and shared a slice at the pizza place down the street before he had to head to the gym.
“Sure, I’ll have time.”
“Okay.” He still didn’t seem too happy about our mini-date, however. After our wonderful afternoon the day before, his moodiness was more troubling than usual. “Is something wrong?”
“No.” He slammed the locker door shut with a little too much force.
“Isaac, you can tell me if something’s wrong.”
Isaac sighed again and scanned the area behind me before leaning down to whisper his next words close to my face. “I just wish you wouldn’t be like that with Rachel.”
“Like what?”
“So nervous. Or whatever.”
“I wasn’t nervous,” I said, just thinking about talking to Rachel enough to make me nervous all over again. I was nervous every single lunch period, so much so that sometimes I faked the need to head to the library to do homework just to avoid the stress of not fitting in at the platinum lunch table.
Oh, crap , homework!
I reached out to spin the combination on the lock again. The first time around, I’d forgotten my math homework, left it in my locker because I was too busy angsting out about Mitch and Isaac and being dubbed too lumpy and redheaded for modeling. Mr. Thames, my trig teacher, had yelled at me in front of the entire class and docked me three points on my next test for having to leave his classroom to fetch my assignment after the hour had started.
This time, I was bringing that homework with me. Thank you very much, locket, once again.
Tight shoulders relaxed as I honed in on the feel of the locket’s cool metal against my chest. It made a little lump beneath my tight green sweater, but I preferred to wear it close to my skin where no one else could see it. I wasn’t ready to answer questions about where it had come from or why I always wore it, not until I talked to Gran.
“Then why did you say that?” Isaac asked, shaking his head before turning to amble down the hall. “About working the lights?”
“Because I wanted to help.” I grabbed the homework and hurried after him.
“You could have been in the show with them,” he said, still not looking at me. He could never look someone in the eye when he was annoyed. It was a tic he’d had as long as I’d known him, but for some reason it bugged me more than usual. Why couldn’t he just let me enjoy my Rachel victory? “You’re just as pretty as Ally and Rachel and their friends. Prettier than some of them.”
Aw. Now I felt like a jerk for being annoyed. “I don’t really think I’m as pretty as Rachel, but thanks.”
“Babe, if you don’t think you’re hot, no one else is going to think you’re hot,” he said, turning to face me. The crowd in the hall parted around us. Everyone got out of Isaac’s way. He had no idea what it was like to be the ordinary person I was when I wasn’t with him, a person who had to dart and weave not to get crushed. “It’s all a head game. It’s like basketball. If you think you’re going to win, you have a chance at winning. But if you think you’re going to lose, you’ll always lose.”
“All the thinking in the world is not going to make my freckles go away.” I laughed, but my joke fell flat.
“Well . . . you could wear makeup or something.”
“I was running late this morning.” My tone was sharp. “Someone wanted to stay in Nashville until ten o’clock on a Sunday night and I didn’t get in bed until almost midnight.”
“So now you’re mad at me?”
“No, I’m not mad at you.” But I was, a little. Where did he get off telling me to wear makeup? This from the boy who thought nothing of coming to school in the shirt
“I mean, it’s Monday, right? You’ll have time?” Basketball practice didn’t start until later on Mondays. Coach Nader had parking lot duty and couldn’t get to the gym until four. Isaac and I always took advantage of the extra thirty minutes together and shared a slice at the pizza place down the street before he had to head to the gym.
“Sure, I’ll have time.”
“Okay.” He still didn’t seem too happy about our mini-date, however. After our wonderful afternoon the day before, his moodiness was more troubling than usual. “Is something wrong?”
“No.” He slammed the locker door shut with a little too much force.
“Isaac, you can tell me if something’s wrong.”
Isaac sighed again and scanned the area behind me before leaning down to whisper his next words close to my face. “I just wish you wouldn’t be like that with Rachel.”
“Like what?”
“So nervous. Or whatever.”
“I wasn’t nervous,” I said, just thinking about talking to Rachel enough to make me nervous all over again. I was nervous every single lunch period, so much so that sometimes I faked the need to head to the library to do homework just to avoid the stress of not fitting in at the platinum lunch table.
Oh, crap , homework!
I reached out to spin the combination on the lock again. The first time around, I’d forgotten my math homework, left it in my locker because I was too busy angsting out about Mitch and Isaac and being dubbed too lumpy and redheaded for modeling. Mr. Thames, my trig teacher, had yelled at me in front of the entire class and docked me three points on my next test for having to leave his classroom to fetch my assignment after the hour had started.
This time, I was bringing that homework with me. Thank you very much, locket, once again.
Tight shoulders relaxed as I honed in on the feel of the locket’s cool metal against my chest. It made a little lump beneath my tight green sweater, but I preferred to wear it close to my skin where no one else could see it. I wasn’t ready to answer questions about where it had come from or why I always wore it, not until I talked to Gran.
“Then why did you say that?” Isaac asked, shaking his head before turning to amble down the hall. “About working the lights?”
“Because I wanted to help.” I grabbed the homework and hurried after him.
“You could have been in the show with them,” he said, still not looking at me. He could never look someone in the eye when he was annoyed. It was a tic he’d had as long as I’d known him, but for some reason it bugged me more than usual. Why couldn’t he just let me enjoy my Rachel victory? “You’re just as pretty as Ally and Rachel and their friends. Prettier than some of them.”
Aw. Now I felt like a jerk for being annoyed. “I don’t really think I’m as pretty as Rachel, but thanks.”
“Babe, if you don’t think you’re hot, no one else is going to think you’re hot,” he said, turning to face me. The crowd in the hall parted around us. Everyone got out of Isaac’s way. He had no idea what it was like to be the ordinary person I was when I wasn’t with him, a person who had to dart and weave not to get crushed. “It’s all a head game. It’s like basketball. If you think you’re going to win, you have a chance at winning. But if you think you’re going to lose, you’ll always lose.”
“All the thinking in the world is not going to make my freckles go away.” I laughed, but my joke fell flat.
“Well . . . you could wear makeup or something.”
“I was running late this morning.” My tone was sharp. “Someone wanted to stay in Nashville until ten o’clock on a Sunday night and I didn’t get in bed until almost midnight.”
“So now you’re mad at me?”
“No, I’m not mad at you.” But I was, a little. Where did he get off telling me to wear makeup? This from the boy who thought nothing of coming to school in the shirt
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