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Authors: Tina Ferraro
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sure they meant well. They wanted me to go to the dance, too, and it would only heighten the varsity softball team’s place in the S.B. statusphere if one of us went with a popular football player.
I got that. Still, no way I was asking Randy—or any guy—to the dance.
To be safe though, I made a mental note to avoid crossing paths with this Jacy girl. As soon as I figured out who she was.
* * *
I had a creepy feeling that morning that people were staring at me. And maybe they were. With astonishment that my hair was blown out and I was actually wearing mascara? With disapproval that I wasn’t wearing school spirit colors? Or maybe it was all the hot pink flyers sticking out of my backpack. I’d been tearing them down like apple pickers before a frost.
Out on the crowded courtyard at lunch, heading towards the varsity softball table, I nodded hello at ex-Marine security guard, Betty Anne, but otherwise kept my head down. What I didn’t see didn’t have to be my reality, right?
But no way I could miss the deep, husky voice calling out my name. Or ignore Randy suddenly dead in my path.
“Courtney, right?”
I nodded, tempted to remind him that we were past the stage where he pretended not to know my name. Then his face contorted like he was in some kind of pain, and I pitched those thoughts for some compassion. “You okay?”
“I guess you’ve seen those flyers?”
“Pretty crappy.”
“Can you imagine if my mother found out? She’d probably take out a restraining order against Jacy.” He gazed down. “On top of that, apparently Jacy is threatening to kill any girl we know who goes to Homecoming with me.”
“I heard.”
He seemed to study his sneakers. “And I guess you told my mother you didn’t have a date?”
I nodded, waiting for what I figured would be an invitation. Thinking that somewhere, in an alternate version of reality, his mother was grinning. Along with Flea, Saffron and Madison. Not to mention Jennifer.
Out of nowhere, Adam popped into my brain. He’d asked Saffron to the dance to ensure her dad’s surfing sponsorship—a go big or go home move if I’d ever heard of one. Could my going with Randy, to make others happy, fall into that same category?
It wasn’t like I had plans for the night, anyway. Still, I couldn’t exactly accept until he asked, and all he was doing was arching his brow and shuffling his feet.
When enough time had passed for me to have filed, buffed and painted my nails to match the dress I’d mentally shopped for, I decided to take matters into my own hands. “Randy—”
Only to have him finally speak up and over me. “So? What do you say?”
That’s when I realized he thought he’d already asked. That somewhere, in his widened eyes, he’d popped the question. Making me wonder if he was completely full of himself, or so thoroughly whipped by the females in his life that he never had to really talk.
“Will I go to Homecoming with you on Saturday night?”
“Yeah.”
Be still my heart. “I guess, okay.”
An uneasy smile quivered at his mouth, then burst full-force. I was tempted to do a little finger wave to the gap between his front teeth. “Great. You’re helping me out here.”
“And your mom will be pleased.”
He pushed out a laugh. “Yeah.”
We exchanged cell numbers, then went our separate ways. I didn’t get more than a foot closer to my lunch table when he called back to me.
“Oh, and don’t worry about Jacy. She won’t go all postal on you. She doesn’t think you’re like, competition or anything.”
I blinked. Did this guy have a way with the English language or what?
Chapter 8
I had expected my friends and Jennifer to be all “Yay!” over me going to Homecoming with Randy—I’ll admit that. But I figured Phillip’s reaction would run somewhere between could-care-less and mild annoyance that I’d need a little time off.
Doing tux return inventories with him that afternoon
I got that. Still, no way I was asking Randy—or any guy—to the dance.
To be safe though, I made a mental note to avoid crossing paths with this Jacy girl. As soon as I figured out who she was.
* * *
I had a creepy feeling that morning that people were staring at me. And maybe they were. With astonishment that my hair was blown out and I was actually wearing mascara? With disapproval that I wasn’t wearing school spirit colors? Or maybe it was all the hot pink flyers sticking out of my backpack. I’d been tearing them down like apple pickers before a frost.
Out on the crowded courtyard at lunch, heading towards the varsity softball table, I nodded hello at ex-Marine security guard, Betty Anne, but otherwise kept my head down. What I didn’t see didn’t have to be my reality, right?
But no way I could miss the deep, husky voice calling out my name. Or ignore Randy suddenly dead in my path.
“Courtney, right?”
I nodded, tempted to remind him that we were past the stage where he pretended not to know my name. Then his face contorted like he was in some kind of pain, and I pitched those thoughts for some compassion. “You okay?”
“I guess you’ve seen those flyers?”
“Pretty crappy.”
“Can you imagine if my mother found out? She’d probably take out a restraining order against Jacy.” He gazed down. “On top of that, apparently Jacy is threatening to kill any girl we know who goes to Homecoming with me.”
“I heard.”
He seemed to study his sneakers. “And I guess you told my mother you didn’t have a date?”
I nodded, waiting for what I figured would be an invitation. Thinking that somewhere, in an alternate version of reality, his mother was grinning. Along with Flea, Saffron and Madison. Not to mention Jennifer.
Out of nowhere, Adam popped into my brain. He’d asked Saffron to the dance to ensure her dad’s surfing sponsorship—a go big or go home move if I’d ever heard of one. Could my going with Randy, to make others happy, fall into that same category?
It wasn’t like I had plans for the night, anyway. Still, I couldn’t exactly accept until he asked, and all he was doing was arching his brow and shuffling his feet.
When enough time had passed for me to have filed, buffed and painted my nails to match the dress I’d mentally shopped for, I decided to take matters into my own hands. “Randy—”
Only to have him finally speak up and over me. “So? What do you say?”
That’s when I realized he thought he’d already asked. That somewhere, in his widened eyes, he’d popped the question. Making me wonder if he was completely full of himself, or so thoroughly whipped by the females in his life that he never had to really talk.
“Will I go to Homecoming with you on Saturday night?”
“Yeah.”
Be still my heart. “I guess, okay.”
An uneasy smile quivered at his mouth, then burst full-force. I was tempted to do a little finger wave to the gap between his front teeth. “Great. You’re helping me out here.”
“And your mom will be pleased.”
He pushed out a laugh. “Yeah.”
We exchanged cell numbers, then went our separate ways. I didn’t get more than a foot closer to my lunch table when he called back to me.
“Oh, and don’t worry about Jacy. She won’t go all postal on you. She doesn’t think you’re like, competition or anything.”
I blinked. Did this guy have a way with the English language or what?
Chapter 8
I had expected my friends and Jennifer to be all “Yay!” over me going to Homecoming with Randy—I’ll admit that. But I figured Phillip’s reaction would run somewhere between could-care-less and mild annoyance that I’d need a little time off.
Doing tux return inventories with him that afternoon
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