Page 2 of My (Not So) Perfect Plan

“I know. You basically sit in each other’s pockets. Gag.”

“It’s a good thing I know you so well or half your Regency references would be unintelligible. And what the heck? Do you want me to hang out with you or not?” Rachel asked, pretending to huff. Our lockers are right next to each other so we exchange our books as we talk.

It’s not that I hate girl’s night. I always enjoy it while I am doing it and afterward I am always glad we did it, but I hate the idea of it before we do it. It’s so complicated, and my life is already complicated. There will be hair styling and nail painting involved. And other painful processes like tweezing my eyebrows, a few stupid games that end badly, and probably a movie that will make cringe in embarrassment or fear. I’d rather just be miserable by myself. On the other hand, I can be miserable with my friends who are willing to indulge my unhealthy obsession with 80s music, or I can miserable surrounded by my loving but oh-so-insane siblings who I have to threaten with bodily injury on a regular basis.

“All right,” I whine, giving in.

“Tonight, after the game. Or better yet, leave after half time. You don’t have to stay for the whole thing.”

“That wouldn’t be right. I can’t do that. I have to stay for the whole thing.”

“For crying out loud, Claire, live a little. Break the rules one time!”

I shake my head, coming to a stop next to her outside her first period home ec class. “You going to pick me up?”

“Tamara could, I bet. She usually goes to the games.”

“I hate riding with her,” I frown. “Psycho rabbit on speed terrifies my introvert into hiding.”

“That’s good. Keeps life fun,” she say right before a big hand followed by an arm wraps around her waist from behind. She tilts her head to look up at the guy behind her. Jaxon is one of the school’s heartthrobs and it’s anyone’s guess how she ended up snagging him. But that it’s legit true love is doubted by no one.

“Hey Claire,” he nods at me before he turns to Rachel with this look in his eye that makes all us girls sigh with longing.

“Hey, babe. Good morning,” he smiles at her. He gives her a quick kiss and I try not to look and feel awkward, which is near impossible. Should I try to finish this conversation or let it go? Probably let it go because I need to get to class and they are caught up in this pink bubble that probably doesn’t admit of outside noise.

“All right, well, see ya later tonight then,” I say, but I doubt she hears me because her and Jaxon are lost to the world. My envious heart plummets.

I sit through a student council meeting where the president and the vice president argue over whether or not student council members should have designated and reserved parking spots. Evan Carmichael is slouching in a desk next to me and I have to force myself not to look at him, or even glance at him out of the corner of my eye. Stupid crush. It’s always exciting when he ends up next to me by accident, but it’s not like we interact at all. For some reason though, his mere presence has me feeling even more morose. My mind wanders off to contemplate why I’ve been feeling so out of sorts.

It’s true my trig grade has been worrisome. And certainly the chaos at home hasn’t been helpful. But there’s no real reason why I should feel so cross and despondent. That’s Raven’s thing. I got annoyed and frustrated, but being an Eyore was not me. Not that my friends would know it by how I had been acting recently. If I didn’t watch it, I’d be dying my hair black and purple, wearing black skinny jeans, covering my eyes with my bangs, getting a brow ring, and listening to indie rock bands. As if.

I snort to myself at the thought of that. Wouldn’t everyone be surprised if I did though?

“What was that, Claire? Do you think we should handle it differently?” The snotty voice of Emily Woodruff comes out of nowhere to blindside me out of my day dreaming.

I am a deer in the headlights because I haven’t been following their conversation at all. Evan Carmichael looks over at me with his slow, tantalizing smile, the one that says he always has everything already figured out and I’m still clueless. It’s his smile that does it, so smug and entitled. Everyone knows that Evan was born into wealth. Combine that with his golden boy star quarterback status, and it is a deadly combination. My face turns beet red at being caught day dreaming, but I scowl at him all the same, which has him raising an eyebrow at me.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention,” I say to Emily.

“Ugh. Forget it.” She goes back to arguing with the class president Henry Hopemore III (yeah, guess if that guy is going to have a future in politics.)

I’m trying to figure out if I should be paying attention to their argument when Evan leans toward me and whispers, “I’m just saying, it’s okay to admit when you’re day dreaming about me. It happens all the time.”

My jaw drops and I turn on him with a sneer. I am so offended. He thinks he can talk to me like that because I’m poor and unattractive. Would he say the same thing to Emily or Stella or any of his other wealthy hob knobbing giggling entourage?

“YouwishI day dreamed about you,” I hiss.

“Would it be so wrong of me to say, I do? I wish all girls would day dream about me. And one day, when this fine body,” he smirks and waves down his body – the body I can’t keep myeyes off of now, “is gracing the cover of GQ magazine, they will be.”

His arrogance is incomprehensible.

I smile and lean toward him like I’m going to tell him something flattering. I almost laugh at the way he leans toward me in eager expectation to have his ego stroked. We meet in the middle and I put my mouth up to his ear. I’m suddenly aware though that the joke is on me because Evan’s mouth is within three inches of my neck – the guy I’ve crushed on my whole life is Right. There.

I swallow and whisper what I was going to say. “You’re revolting.”

I am such a liar. I pull away and face the front, my cheeks flaming. I don’t know when he moves, or how he reacts or anything because I refuse to look his way for anything. When the bell rings, I flee the room like my butt is on fire because I really don’t want to say anything else that will make me look stupid.

The rest of the day goes by with tedious, painful slowness. In Trig. my last class of the day, Mr. Henderson has me stay after.

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