another sip and turned to find Jack at my elbow.
“Was he bothering you?”
“No,” I said quickly. “Not at all. I don’t even know the guy.”
“Really? ’Cause it looked like . . .”
“Just seen him around is all,” I said. “Barely know his name.”
Jack stared in the direction Wade had walked off. I couldn’t decide if the emotion twitching across his brow was anger or relief. “What you did for Penny was nice,” he said finally, turning his piercingly blue eyes back to me.
I looked to where I had left Penny, who remained with Pedro — darn him.
“I didn’t do much. A little hair product, a big round brush . . .”
“I was talking about the pep talk after Monique was so mean.”
“Oh. That. No biggie. Monique will get what she deserves.”
“You mean Wade?” Something dark inked across his irises.
A wind howled through the trees behind us. I gathered my vest to my throat. “That and more.”
As in morning sickness, swollen ankles, and a squirming belly
.
Feedback from the PA system screeched through the air. I looked up to see Wade with a microphone in his hand.
Jack looked left and right. “I don’t see Chris. I’d better make sure he’s getting photos for the paper.” He glanced up at the stage with a scowl and then hurried off.
Whatever had happened between them last year, it wasn’t forgiven.
“Welcome, everyone,” Wade said. “Just a few words about this year’s Homecoming.” He stood with a confidence beyond his years, his thick legs set apart in a boxer’s stance. “Ballots for this year’s king and queen will be available first thing Monday morning. Stop by the front table before or after school to vote.” I noticed there was barely an
umm
or hesitation to his words. The gift of gab. A born salesman. “Tickets to the dance also go on sale Monday morning. Remember, they’re only sold in twos, so make the right request of the Asking Fire.”
What a crock. Only sold in twos? What, do they have a bouncer at the door checking? Couples’ police? Ark patrol? This was a boat that definitely needed rocking. Which at least went with the dance’s under-the-sea theme.
Wade then slid from class president duties to those of football captain. He praised the team and its coaches, cheered their unbeaten record for the year, and announced that he and his defensive line were going to make Pinewood pay for last year’s game. I noticed he spoke only of the defense, with brutish words like
crush, pound, wreck,
and
ruin
. It was clear that Wade took his tackles seriously. He didn’t acknowledge Jack, the quarterback, or the rest of the offense. Whatever was between them was mutual. “And finally,” he said, “Let me declare the Asking Fire open for bids.” He lifted his arms in a wide gesture and affected a poet’s cadence.
“Should your mind be open
And your heart be true,
Then let the fire’s magic
Make a match for you.”
I stood with my mouth open, unable to believe that even someone as oily as Wade could stand there and recite anything so corny. But nobody else seemed to think twice about the lame little poem, which must, I surmised, be tradition. I decided to find Penny and walked in the direction I’d last seen her. I skirted around the fire, watching bands of girls clutching pieces of colored paper in their hands and then releasing them to the fire with rapt looks in their eyes. It couldn’t possibly work for everyone. The Asking Fire had to disappoint as much as it pleased. I stopped in my tracks, chiding myself for personifying the fire. I found Penny and Tina clutching their papers and whispering to each other.
“Haven’t fed the fire yet?” I asked.
“We were waiting for you,” Penny said. “I thought you might change your mind.”
“No way.”
“Can’t think of anyone?” Penny asked.
“Not to save my life,” I replied.
“Should we go ahead, then?” Tina asked Penny.
They approached the fire. I could see them elbowing each other and
“Was he bothering you?”
“No,” I said quickly. “Not at all. I don’t even know the guy.”
“Really? ’Cause it looked like . . .”
“Just seen him around is all,” I said. “Barely know his name.”
Jack stared in the direction Wade had walked off. I couldn’t decide if the emotion twitching across his brow was anger or relief. “What you did for Penny was nice,” he said finally, turning his piercingly blue eyes back to me.
I looked to where I had left Penny, who remained with Pedro — darn him.
“I didn’t do much. A little hair product, a big round brush . . .”
“I was talking about the pep talk after Monique was so mean.”
“Oh. That. No biggie. Monique will get what she deserves.”
“You mean Wade?” Something dark inked across his irises.
A wind howled through the trees behind us. I gathered my vest to my throat. “That and more.”
As in morning sickness, swollen ankles, and a squirming belly
.
Feedback from the PA system screeched through the air. I looked up to see Wade with a microphone in his hand.
Jack looked left and right. “I don’t see Chris. I’d better make sure he’s getting photos for the paper.” He glanced up at the stage with a scowl and then hurried off.
Whatever had happened between them last year, it wasn’t forgiven.
“Welcome, everyone,” Wade said. “Just a few words about this year’s Homecoming.” He stood with a confidence beyond his years, his thick legs set apart in a boxer’s stance. “Ballots for this year’s king and queen will be available first thing Monday morning. Stop by the front table before or after school to vote.” I noticed there was barely an
umm
or hesitation to his words. The gift of gab. A born salesman. “Tickets to the dance also go on sale Monday morning. Remember, they’re only sold in twos, so make the right request of the Asking Fire.”
What a crock. Only sold in twos? What, do they have a bouncer at the door checking? Couples’ police? Ark patrol? This was a boat that definitely needed rocking. Which at least went with the dance’s under-the-sea theme.
Wade then slid from class president duties to those of football captain. He praised the team and its coaches, cheered their unbeaten record for the year, and announced that he and his defensive line were going to make Pinewood pay for last year’s game. I noticed he spoke only of the defense, with brutish words like
crush, pound, wreck,
and
ruin
. It was clear that Wade took his tackles seriously. He didn’t acknowledge Jack, the quarterback, or the rest of the offense. Whatever was between them was mutual. “And finally,” he said, “Let me declare the Asking Fire open for bids.” He lifted his arms in a wide gesture and affected a poet’s cadence.
“Should your mind be open
And your heart be true,
Then let the fire’s magic
Make a match for you.”
I stood with my mouth open, unable to believe that even someone as oily as Wade could stand there and recite anything so corny. But nobody else seemed to think twice about the lame little poem, which must, I surmised, be tradition. I decided to find Penny and walked in the direction I’d last seen her. I skirted around the fire, watching bands of girls clutching pieces of colored paper in their hands and then releasing them to the fire with rapt looks in their eyes. It couldn’t possibly work for everyone. The Asking Fire had to disappoint as much as it pleased. I stopped in my tracks, chiding myself for personifying the fire. I found Penny and Tina clutching their papers and whispering to each other.
“Haven’t fed the fire yet?” I asked.
“We were waiting for you,” Penny said. “I thought you might change your mind.”
“No way.”
“Can’t think of anyone?” Penny asked.
“Not to save my life,” I replied.
“Should we go ahead, then?” Tina asked Penny.
They approached the fire. I could see them elbowing each other and
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