Page 103 of Something Rad
For some reason that’s all my brain’s been able to think about lately. The thing is, I can’t even decipher the thoughts. It’s not like there’s something in particular. He’s just…there. Which is unfortunate because there are about a million other things that should be there in his place right now. Like the photos I’m about to take of this pep rally for the spread in the school newspaper I need to create tomorrow. Or my algebra test on Thursday. Or my physics project that’s due on Monday. Or the scholarship essay I need to get started on for NYU. Or the speech I have to give next Friday so that I’m elected student body president so that I have even a fraction of a chance of getting said NYU scholarship.
I blow out a breath, securing my camera strap around my neck. I turn to look into the little magnetic mirror I have on the inside of my locker door, pulling my hair out from under the strap and attempting to fluff it into a reasonable state. I find my eyes trailing up, landing on the stickers stuck to the door above my mirror. First to the Bay View Bears one, then over to the one in the shape of an F-14 Tomcat. My lips automatically pull up into a smile when I see it. I reach my hand up, grazing my fingers over the little fighter jet sticker, remembering how Mr. Ritter gave it to me in a Christmas card last year as an ode to my favorite movie. He had no idea how much it really meant to me. But that’s okay. Nobody really does.
My smile falls.
Well, I guesssomebodydoes now.
I refrain from slamming my head against my locker door.
I’ve never talked to anybody about my obsession withTop Gunand my delusional fixation on how it connects to my life before. Not even Alice. I’m sure my mom can connect the dots, but she’s never brought it up. We figured out a long time ago that it was just easier to not talk about things that make us sad and that we didn't have the control over to fix. So I decided to just keep it to myself. Nobody needed to know.
So why on earth did I tell Robbie Summers?
I don’t have the slightest clue. He just pulled it out of me. He has a way of doing that, and it’s becoming downright infuriating. Every once in a while, when he actually decides to stop talking, suddenly Ican’t stoptalking. One minute he’s arrogant and annoying, never shutting up, pushing my buttons and making me want to pull my hair out. And then the next…he’s quiet, curious, attentive, almost on the verge of comforting, and possibly even, dare I say…sweet?
I don’t know, but I don’t have time for it. I just have to get through this next week and a half. I’ll give my speech next Friday (that I still have to write) and then I’ll be elected president the following Monday.
Or I won’t. And this will have all been for nothing.
And then we’ll go our separate ways. I’ll never have to speak to Robbie again. My stomach dips at the thought, but I know it has to just be the stress of what’s coming. That has to be all it is. My and Robbie’s little arrangement is going to expire, just like it was meant to. Just like we both planned for. Just like we both want.
My stomach sinks further.
I just have to get through my speech next Friday. Then we’re done.
But why am I feeling like I’m forgetting something?
“Hey you!” Alice’s head appears around the side of my locker door, making me jump. I grip the door, my heart stuttering it my chest.
“Hey, you menace,” I say. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
Alice tilts her head at me. “What were you so deep in thought over?” she asks. “Or should I saywho?” Her eyes narrow playfully at me.
I play off her question with a chuckle, closing my locker door. “Did you come to walk with me to the gym?” I ask, starting to walk down the hallway.
“No, actually,” she says, following after me, “I’m meeting Daniel in a minute. But I did want to ask you if you have next Monday off of work?”
“Oh.” Monday is the only day a week I technically have off from Groovy Movie, but I often end up picking up an extra shift that day anyways. “Yeah, as of right now.”
“Great!” Alice claps. “We’re going dress shopping. I’ll pick you up from school after your library shift.”
I spin to look at Alice. “Dress shopping? For what?”
“Well, Homecoming, of course.”
My feet slow.Shit.I knew I was forgetting something.
“Robbie asked you, right?” Alice asks, one brow raised.
“Oh, well, yeah. Of course he has,” I mumble.
He hasn’t. I’m hoping he won’t. Maybe he’ll just forget about it.
He won't forget about it. I know there’s no way I’m that lucky. He talked about it when he came up with the idea of…well,us. But he hasn’t said anything since. I can’t believe I’ve been so hung up on the election that I completely forgot that Homecoming was the next day.
“So you’ll go then?” Alice asks. “Dress shopping?”
“Umm…” I think about the probability that Robbie won’t make me go to the dance and decide it is approximately a zero percent chance. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go.” Worst case scenario, I’ll return the dress.
