Prince Charming by Sara Celi

She turned her head, and looked away again.
    “I’m sorry,” I said, even though I wasn’t at all. I hated Evan so much. He always loomed over everything, like a bad rash, or a bruise. “So . . . um . . . do you want me to just send you a message on Facebook, or something?”
    Why was it so hard to do this? Oh, right. Because it was her. Jesus, she was nothing but nice to me, but I never managed to make these conversations sound the way I wanted. I needed to fix that.
    “Why don’t you call me?” she said, her attention on me again.
    “Well . . . okay . . .” I replied, and then faltered again. My right hand started to shake.
    “Here’s my number—seven . . . three . . . one . . .”
    “Wait, I don’t have my phone. It’s in my locker,” I interrupted, but inside I was kind of glad I didn’t. My hand shook so hard I couldn’t have held it.
    She grinned. “Okay. I’ll message you my number on Facebook.” She took a step backward. “And you’ll call me, right?”
    “Yeah,” I said. “I’ll call you.” I didn’t add that I would call her every day if she wanted me to.
    “Great. Talk to you later.”
    She turned, and flounced back to her table. My eyes fell on Mark, Nathan and Josh. They all stared at me, wide-eyed, as if I had the answer to the location of Jimmy Hoffa’s dead body. I waited until I sat back down at the table to say anything. By then, anticipation had her own seat at our table.
    “So,” I said, “she has cheerleading practice tonight.”
    “Oh, man,” Josh muttered. “I knew she would turn you down.”
    I burst out laughing, still in some disbelief myself. “She didn’t. She said she’d do something Saturday night.”
    Nathan’s fork clattered against his tray. “She did?”
    “Yeah. She did.” I leaned back in my chair, and folded my arms. “So, looks like you’re missin’ that class.”
    “Damn it,” Nathan said. “I thought for sure you’d chicken out.”
    He should have known better than to make a bet with me. I didn’t like to lose.
    Josh’s mouth hung open, but Mark found some words. “Dude, you are absolutely my hero right now.”

    B y the time fifth period switched into sixth, I’d been asked about my date with Laine forty times. I counted. It started with the stony glare Evan gave me in World Cultures class, where he proceeded to fart more than usual and seemed to aim it at my face. Kids stopped me in the hallway between classes. They taunted me under their breath as I walked down a row to my seat in class. They spoke in hushed voices, and greeted me with the kind of cold stare that only comes from classmates who think you’ve done something you shouldn’t have. In short, they wanted me to know how much I had overstepped my boundaries.
    I ignored it all as I took notes and wrote down homework assignments. Fuck them. Fuck the whole school. They could all go to hell on a one-way ticket.
    After class, Blake and Bruce waited for me by the car in the chilly, stale winter air. I’ll admit, I walked a little slower than I should have down the sidewalk in front of the school, and across the street to the student parking lot. I liked making them wait, and on Fridays they relied on me to get home.
    “You’re such an asshole,” Bruce muttered as I walked up to them with a big, leisurely grin on my face. His cheeks were flushed from the cold chap of the final days of winter.
    “I’m the asshole?” I said in mock protest, as I unlocked the car with the key fob.
    “You could have walked a little faster, couldn’t you?” Bruce narrowed his eyes at me. “Or was that too much for you?”
    “He was probably daydreaming about his nonexistent upcoming date with Laine,” Blake said to his brother.
    I kept my face serene. “Well, the car is unlocked now. Don’t you want to get in?”
    Both of the twins did, of course. They didn’t speak to me again until after I pulled the car out of the parking lot and turned onto North Robert Road, the long main drag