Page 33 of Death is My BFF

After all, David Star wasn’t simply attractive; he was the glowing porch light, and everyone, and I meaneveryone, were the little bugs launching themselves at him. He could have any girl he wanted, and yet here I was, cherry-picked from the bunch.Why me?I kept circling back to that one thought as my insecurities reared their ugly heads.

I texted Marcy.

What do you do when a guy is a total d-bag to you and then asks you on a date?

Her text bubble popped up.

OMG!! This is it. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for. WHO IS HE? DOES HE GO TO PLEASANT VALLEY? IS IT STAR?

Me: Can’t say.

Marcy: Nooooooo!!!!

Me: Help, plz! Hurry!

Marcy: Guys who are mean to girls 10/10 times are in to them. Or he has severe anger issues . . . Either way, YES, PAPI!

Four fifty-nine. The next volunteer showed up for her shift and started flirting with the boy in the funnel cake booth beside us. My hands trembled as I reached under the counter to pack up my bag to leave. “Snap out of it,” I told myself. “You can do this. It’s only a date.”

“Hey, gorgeous,” said a hoarse voice.

I popped my head up over the counter and came face-to-face with a clown. “Ahhh!” I screamed and recoiled. “David! Don’t ever do that again!”

Laughing hysterically, David peeled the clown mask up over his forehead, his expression reflecting a child’s delight. “I won it in a game. Are you ready to go?”

“I’m going to kill you,” I growled.

“Cool,” he beamed. “I’ll meet you around back.”

Leaving the booth, my stomach performed a series of happy cartwheels. David waited for me right outside, posed like a magazine ad come to life. With a backdrop of a Ferris wheel and other colorful rides, he stood relaxed with his hands in his pockets. The clown mask was replaced by his baseball cap, tufts of chestnut-brown hair poking out along the sides. As I examined him like an art appraiser, his lips curved into a slow smile.

“Hungry?”

Hungry for your abs.“What?”

“Do you want to get something to eat?” he reiterated, grinning now.

“Oh.”Snap out of it!“I’m kinda suffering from a major sugar rush from the lemonade. Could we eat a little later?”

“Sure, whatever you want to do.” He filled the silence expertly as we began to walk. “I hope you’re feeling better about the car accident. I’ve been in a few fender benders myself. They can really shake you up.”

“It’s been okay.” I blew a flyaway strand of hair from my forehead and tucked it under my baseball cap. “My friend and I weren’t injured or anything, just a few minor bumps and bruises.”

“That’s great to hear. You guys got lucky.” He placed his hand on my back as he steered us out of the way of a group of kids fighting over a bag of ride tickets. I felt the heat of his fingers through my clothing, even after he removed them. “Tell me more about you.

What are your plans after high school?”

My brain was static, an old television with a broken antenna.

“Um . . . ”

“Are you applying to art school?”

“I’ve considered it, but the cost . . . ”

“It’s outrageous, I know.”

Thinking about college always began a domino effect of stressful thoughts. My parents maintained they’d help pay off most of my loans, but I knew they couldn’t afford any of my top schools without major scholarships, and I didn’t want to burden them.

---