Confessions of an Almost-Girlfriend by Louise Rozett Page A

looks sorry, which surprises me.
She turns back and is about to say something to me when the
bell rings and the famously cute Mr. Camber ambles in.
Every year at least two or three girls and the occasional boy
get in trouble for writing Camber love letters on Valentine’s Day.
It’s sort of a Union High tradition at this point. Last year I heard
he got three, including a fake one that someone wrote him from
Ms. Maso, who everyone wants Camber to ask out because they’re
both really good-looking and would make a great couple.
To keep his distance, Camber is generally a total hard-ass who
doesn’t waste a second on being chatty or friendly. He cuts right
to the chase with us—no welcome speech, no “this is going to
be a great year, kids,” no nothing. As he writes his name on the
board, he leads off with, “If you forgot to leave your phone in
your locker, give it to me now or risk getting detention the second it rings. And I do mean the second it rings.”
When Camber turns around to grab a stack of books off his
desk, Tracy turns to me, wide-eyed. I mouth, Are you okay? She
mouths back, Are you? I give her my best confused look. She
gives me hers back. Then she points to herself and holds up one
finger, and points to me and holds up two fingers.
For a second, I have no idea what she means. And then, in a
moment of soul-crushing clarity, I do.
Number 2 on the Top Ten List of Union High Sluts?
Me.
Camber slams a book from the top of his stack onto my desk.
It’s called As I Lay Dying.
My phone—which I forgot to silence because it’s my first day
with a cell phone in school—dings in my bag, alerting me to
the presence of what I am sure is a text from my mother supplementing the note she left me earlier, wishing me a great day.
Camber looks around for the culprit and seems surprised
when he sees that I’m the one with a guilty look on her face. “Off
to a fantastic start, Ms. Zarelli. See you after school for the first
detention of the year. Welcome back.”
Thanks. It’s just great to be here.
    Detention is supposed to be forty-five minutes, but when
Camber holds up my phone and asks me—the only student in
all of his classes who managed to get a detention on the first
day of school—why I brought “this stupid thing” to class, I explain that I’ve never had a cell phone before and I’m not used
to Union High’s rules. He hands the phone back to me and tells
me I can go.
    “I hear good things about you, Ms. Zarelli,” he says, sounding drill sergeant-y, just in case I might think he’s being nice to
me. “I hope they’re true. See you tomorrow.”
    It is the nicest thing anyone has said to me today. Of course,
that’s no surprise, given that I’ve been called “Slut #2” multiple
times by Union High’s most notorious jerks—with the exception
of Matt. Matt has been strangely silent and unwilling to make
eye contact with me or Tracy, which, as far as I’m concerned,
means that his girlfriend, Lena, is behind the list.
    The thing is, Kristin actually has a point—it is just a slut list.
Every high school has them, and they hardly ever have anything
to do with reality. They’re usually written by girls who are trying to ruin other girls’ reputations, or trying to break up a couple by making a guy think that his girlfriend is messing around
with the whole football team. Don’t get me started on that double standard. Guys get to do whatever they want but a girl gets
called a slut for, well, in my case, kissing.
    I’m sure Lena put me on that list for all the wrongs I committed against Regina. Although really, she should be thanking me.
I’m the reason she’s the captain this year. Without me, she’d still
be just another cheerleader.
    It sucks to be on the list. It’s already generated a nickname
that could potentially stick with me for the rest of the year. But
to be honest, after being called “911 Bitch” for half of last year
and seeing it