eight coats of lipstick weighing down your lips so you can’t talk?”
Ashley and I were standing in line for the washroom along with several other girls. I’d spoken maybe half a dozen words in the hour and a half that we’d been here, and my unpleasant mood had slowly escalated into a downright shitty one. Ashley was at her wit’s end with me.
“What is with you tonight?” she asked. “You’re acting like you want to rip someone’s head off.”
I couldn’t tell her. The hurt was too fresh, and my brain was having trouble formulating anything beyond rage.
“I’m fine,” I said, and then hurried into a vacant stall. I stood there, leaning against the wall, and blinked back some tears. I thought of the many coats of mascara and eyeliner around my eyes. If I cried, the whole school would know because I’d look like a drug-addicted raccoon no matter how much Kleenex I used. I wouldn’t cry, not here. I’d do it later, in bed, with my favorite stuffed swan as the only witness.
But first, I had to get through this stupid dance.
As Ashley and I emerged from the washroom, I heard someone call my name. I glanced around the gym and caught sight of Jessica over by the refreshment table, where she stood with Brent and a few other people, drinking eggnog and waving me over. Ashley quickly made up some excuse about needing to go ask Brooke something and took off in the opposite direction.
“Hey, Jess,” I said, forcing a smile as I approached.
“Cookie?” She held up a shortbread in the shape of a snowman. I eyed all the goodies on the table, none of which looked appetizing to me.
“No, thanks.”
“They really went all out for this thing, didn’t they?”
Lia squeezed in beside us and helped herself to a glass of punch. “Not a menorah in sight,” she said, and right then I remembered that Lia was Jewish. Everyone had been so careful about calling it a holiday dance instead of a Christmas dance, but no one thought to cover all the holidays in the food and decoration planning.
“I haven’t seen you out there, Taylor,” Brent said, nodding toward the dancing couples in the middle of the gym.
“I haven’t been out there,” I said, and before the words had even left my mouth, Dylan appeared in front of me as if he’d sprung up from the floor.
“Hey,” he said, his eyes flicking over my face in a slightly concerned manner. I guess I did look a little ferocious. For his own safety, he moved away from me and started talking to Brent. I wondered where Breton Cracker was. Had they broken up already? Or was she at home, propped up in bed, her leg broken from an unfortunate dancing mishap, tears of pain and disappointment running down her smooth cheeks?
No such luck. A minute later, Cracker glided over in a skimpy black dress that showed off her dancer muscles. She greeted everyone with a smile and sidled up to Dylan, who grabbed her hand while I grabbed a cookie without even checking to see what kind it was first. A gingerbread man, I discovered after I’d taken an unconscious nibble. I gnawed off another, bigger bite. It was good—sweet and chewy. Instead of biting the head off first like most people did, I always started with its limbs. I liked to save the head for last. It seemed more humane that way.
As I devoured my cookie, I furtively studied Breton. What was it about her, I wondered, that had attracted Dylan? She and I weren’t alike at all—she was blond instead of dark, lean instead of curvy, outgoing instead of reserved, athletic instead of uncoordinated, short instead of…not as short. If Dylan liked me, if he was drawn to my type, then why out of all the girls in the school had he chosen my antithesis?
I popped the gingerbread man’s head into my mouth and walked away. It had been a mistake coming to this dance. When I wasn’t thinking about Michael and Lauren, I was thinking about the past week, seeing Dylan and Breton together all over the school. Walking together in the
Ashley and I were standing in line for the washroom along with several other girls. I’d spoken maybe half a dozen words in the hour and a half that we’d been here, and my unpleasant mood had slowly escalated into a downright shitty one. Ashley was at her wit’s end with me.
“What is with you tonight?” she asked. “You’re acting like you want to rip someone’s head off.”
I couldn’t tell her. The hurt was too fresh, and my brain was having trouble formulating anything beyond rage.
“I’m fine,” I said, and then hurried into a vacant stall. I stood there, leaning against the wall, and blinked back some tears. I thought of the many coats of mascara and eyeliner around my eyes. If I cried, the whole school would know because I’d look like a drug-addicted raccoon no matter how much Kleenex I used. I wouldn’t cry, not here. I’d do it later, in bed, with my favorite stuffed swan as the only witness.
But first, I had to get through this stupid dance.
As Ashley and I emerged from the washroom, I heard someone call my name. I glanced around the gym and caught sight of Jessica over by the refreshment table, where she stood with Brent and a few other people, drinking eggnog and waving me over. Ashley quickly made up some excuse about needing to go ask Brooke something and took off in the opposite direction.
“Hey, Jess,” I said, forcing a smile as I approached.
“Cookie?” She held up a shortbread in the shape of a snowman. I eyed all the goodies on the table, none of which looked appetizing to me.
“No, thanks.”
“They really went all out for this thing, didn’t they?”
Lia squeezed in beside us and helped herself to a glass of punch. “Not a menorah in sight,” she said, and right then I remembered that Lia was Jewish. Everyone had been so careful about calling it a holiday dance instead of a Christmas dance, but no one thought to cover all the holidays in the food and decoration planning.
“I haven’t seen you out there, Taylor,” Brent said, nodding toward the dancing couples in the middle of the gym.
“I haven’t been out there,” I said, and before the words had even left my mouth, Dylan appeared in front of me as if he’d sprung up from the floor.
“Hey,” he said, his eyes flicking over my face in a slightly concerned manner. I guess I did look a little ferocious. For his own safety, he moved away from me and started talking to Brent. I wondered where Breton Cracker was. Had they broken up already? Or was she at home, propped up in bed, her leg broken from an unfortunate dancing mishap, tears of pain and disappointment running down her smooth cheeks?
No such luck. A minute later, Cracker glided over in a skimpy black dress that showed off her dancer muscles. She greeted everyone with a smile and sidled up to Dylan, who grabbed her hand while I grabbed a cookie without even checking to see what kind it was first. A gingerbread man, I discovered after I’d taken an unconscious nibble. I gnawed off another, bigger bite. It was good—sweet and chewy. Instead of biting the head off first like most people did, I always started with its limbs. I liked to save the head for last. It seemed more humane that way.
As I devoured my cookie, I furtively studied Breton. What was it about her, I wondered, that had attracted Dylan? She and I weren’t alike at all—she was blond instead of dark, lean instead of curvy, outgoing instead of reserved, athletic instead of uncoordinated, short instead of…not as short. If Dylan liked me, if he was drawn to my type, then why out of all the girls in the school had he chosen my antithesis?
I popped the gingerbread man’s head into my mouth and walked away. It had been a mistake coming to this dance. When I wasn’t thinking about Michael and Lauren, I was thinking about the past week, seeing Dylan and Breton together all over the school. Walking together in the
Similar Books
