And Rebecca was wearing a tiara on her big hair and a sash across her body that declared she was Belle of the Ball.
I looked at the matching sash on Logan that made him the Beau. My heart had what felt like a mild seizure and I involuntarily took a step back.
“Oi. What do you think of the top spunk on the left?”
“Are you wearing a shoestring tie? What are you, a Texan?”
Logan grinned back at me.
“Hey, it’s the height of formal fashion. I was the best-dressed guy there.”
“You mean it was the height of fashion. Don’t make me cringe.” By that I really meant that he looked cute in a retro way and I didn’t think his black suit and white shirt, with the red carnation at the pocket, looked bad at all.
“Chill out, Miss Matey. I bet if I asked you to the ball, you’d spaz out.”
I turned red. I wiped both my hot cheeks, pretending they had something on them.
As a matter of fact, no one had asked me to the upcoming ball. That was good . Me and Rebecca had decided we weren’t going to go anyway. Well, more like Rebecca had decided it wasn’t “something she would do”, but regardless I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to share their coming-of-age memories in the back seat of a limo with me. We were going to stay in and watch craptastic movies instead. That sounded good to me.
“I’m not going to spaz out, okay?” I said.
“Good then,” replied Nancy who was standing at the door. “In fact, it’s better than good!”
I had forgotten all about Nancy.
Nancy went to inspect the working projector. I quickly slipped my hand over the forward button so it looked like I knew what I was doing. It wasn’t until my hand started going numb with pins and needles that I looked down and noticed I had put it through Logan’s hand. I pulled my hand back.
“I admit it. I underestimated you. No offence or anything, but you don’t seem particularly to excel at anything and based on past experience, everything you do seems to come out wrong. Amy, what are you doing?”
I stopped trying to blow hot air onto my hand. “Nothing.”
“Anyway, I went to the library and – hang on, isn’t that …?”
Nancy walked up to the screen and scrutinised the image of Stacey. Then she doubled back and put the book she was carrying down on the other side of the desk, walking right through Logan at the same time.
Logan stepped back and went to stand in the corner.
“Brrr! Now I understand, Amy. There’s an absolutely freezing draught in here. I wonder where it’s coming from?”
Nancy looked around the room briefly, then went back to flipping through the book. It had “ Middlemoore SHS Yearbook 1988 ” printed on the cover and some strange artwork that featured an android hooked up to various machines. I presumed this was some student’s “interesting” impression of the future.
“That boy is the one from your locket.” Nancy pointed at the projector screen. “And look at the girl – she’s wearing the locket.”
It felt kinda weird that I was wearing the locket. Like I was some creepy copycat who badly wanted something she couldn’t get, so all she could do was pretend.
“Look at this.” Nancy held up the colour spread in the middle of the yearbook and turned it towards me. It was a collage of all the ball photos I had seen, with the one of Logan and Rebecca–Stacey in the middle.
“Sweethearts Stacey Gibson and Logan Feldman – Middlemoore SHS’s own Romeo and Juliet!” read Nancy.
Logan Feldman . A little piece of my heart jumped at knowing his last name. Which was silly, since I wasn’t a primary school kid who desperately needed both our full names for a love calculator test.
“Romeo and Juliet? Ugh. Did the ‘journalist’ of this piece even do English? Don’t they know that Romeo and Juliet had a tragic ending? Who wrote this stupid thing?”
Nancy flipped irritably at the pages.
“Oh my God.”
Nancy’s face suddenly went as white as a sheet. If I didn’t know any
I looked at the matching sash on Logan that made him the Beau. My heart had what felt like a mild seizure and I involuntarily took a step back.
“Oi. What do you think of the top spunk on the left?”
“Are you wearing a shoestring tie? What are you, a Texan?”
Logan grinned back at me.
“Hey, it’s the height of formal fashion. I was the best-dressed guy there.”
“You mean it was the height of fashion. Don’t make me cringe.” By that I really meant that he looked cute in a retro way and I didn’t think his black suit and white shirt, with the red carnation at the pocket, looked bad at all.
“Chill out, Miss Matey. I bet if I asked you to the ball, you’d spaz out.”
I turned red. I wiped both my hot cheeks, pretending they had something on them.
As a matter of fact, no one had asked me to the upcoming ball. That was good . Me and Rebecca had decided we weren’t going to go anyway. Well, more like Rebecca had decided it wasn’t “something she would do”, but regardless I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to share their coming-of-age memories in the back seat of a limo with me. We were going to stay in and watch craptastic movies instead. That sounded good to me.
“I’m not going to spaz out, okay?” I said.
“Good then,” replied Nancy who was standing at the door. “In fact, it’s better than good!”
I had forgotten all about Nancy.
Nancy went to inspect the working projector. I quickly slipped my hand over the forward button so it looked like I knew what I was doing. It wasn’t until my hand started going numb with pins and needles that I looked down and noticed I had put it through Logan’s hand. I pulled my hand back.
“I admit it. I underestimated you. No offence or anything, but you don’t seem particularly to excel at anything and based on past experience, everything you do seems to come out wrong. Amy, what are you doing?”
I stopped trying to blow hot air onto my hand. “Nothing.”
“Anyway, I went to the library and – hang on, isn’t that …?”
Nancy walked up to the screen and scrutinised the image of Stacey. Then she doubled back and put the book she was carrying down on the other side of the desk, walking right through Logan at the same time.
Logan stepped back and went to stand in the corner.
“Brrr! Now I understand, Amy. There’s an absolutely freezing draught in here. I wonder where it’s coming from?”
Nancy looked around the room briefly, then went back to flipping through the book. It had “ Middlemoore SHS Yearbook 1988 ” printed on the cover and some strange artwork that featured an android hooked up to various machines. I presumed this was some student’s “interesting” impression of the future.
“That boy is the one from your locket.” Nancy pointed at the projector screen. “And look at the girl – she’s wearing the locket.”
It felt kinda weird that I was wearing the locket. Like I was some creepy copycat who badly wanted something she couldn’t get, so all she could do was pretend.
“Look at this.” Nancy held up the colour spread in the middle of the yearbook and turned it towards me. It was a collage of all the ball photos I had seen, with the one of Logan and Rebecca–Stacey in the middle.
“Sweethearts Stacey Gibson and Logan Feldman – Middlemoore SHS’s own Romeo and Juliet!” read Nancy.
Logan Feldman . A little piece of my heart jumped at knowing his last name. Which was silly, since I wasn’t a primary school kid who desperately needed both our full names for a love calculator test.
“Romeo and Juliet? Ugh. Did the ‘journalist’ of this piece even do English? Don’t they know that Romeo and Juliet had a tragic ending? Who wrote this stupid thing?”
Nancy flipped irritably at the pages.
“Oh my God.”
Nancy’s face suddenly went as white as a sheet. If I didn’t know any
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