Page 24 of A Scandal in Homeroom
“I am,” I admitted, but I felt the need to qualify it. “It was more of a dare than anything else, and you know I never back down from a challenge.”
“Well,” he said, standing. “I would say have fun, but you’ll see it’s utterly excruciating. Walking between those lines. Wondering if you’re managing the balancing act. Trying to figure out by the end if she wants you to kiss her or would rather you drop off the face of the planet immediately.”
“Your brotherly advice continues to inspire me.”
“I’m ordering dinner,” he said, heading for the door. “Han Dynasty?”
I nodded vaguely at the mention of the authentic Sichuan place. He already knew my order.
Question: How to put this date out of my mind until the actual event?
Answer: Good luck with that.
6
The Night of the Fall Fashion Show
Reen
It was ridiculous how nervous I was. I’d been out with boys before. Lots of times. But this felt different. Like maybe it was my first real date because I had no particular agenda. I told myself I had something to prove to him, but it’s not like I was going to jump his bones to show him how sexually sophisticated I was.
That was the thing about Locke. You couldn’t really fool him, so there was no point in trying.
I hadn’t been brave enough to pass any more notes in class, and he hadn’t taken the initiative, either, which had been mildly depressing. He’d eaten lunch with us a few days this past week, but he hadn’t paid any special attention to me so my friends might think tonight was happening.
In fact, he’d texted me only once this entire week and that was to ask what time he should pick me up.
NowwasI was sitting in my living room, wondering if I should change my blouse for the third time, thinking maybe I should call the whole thing off. He didn’t really want to go out with me. I’d essentially dared him to, and Locke wasn’t someone who backed away from a challenge.
He hadn’t been aloof this past week, but he’d been…stiff?
Potentially awkward?
Awkward certainly didn’t fit with his otherwise smooth persona.
I heard a car pull up in front of the house, but dismissed it. Locke didn’t have a car. Our plan was to walk to the high school, which was why I was wearing ballet flats.
Dark wash jeans, flats, a simple buttoned-down blouse that didn’t show too much cleavage. My outfit screamed average teenage girl, instead of sex pot. Would he be disappointed?
He’d seen me come home that night from Thornfield Home in a short, tight, black dress, stockings and high heels. Would he feel like what I was wearingwasnow was somehow cheating him?
I should change. I should be what he was expecting. What was the point of developing a character if you didn’t stick to it?
The doorbell rang and I jumped. The Sumners were out together at a movie, so it was just me in the house. Which was good. No awkward meet and greets with the fosters. To their credit, they didn’t try to parent me very much. There were a set of rules that had to be followed, chores that needed to be done. If I complied, I got a roof over my head and food in my stomach.
They weren’t ever going to pass judgement on what I wore to school, and they never asked about my personal life, so maybe they just assumed I didn’t have one. They didn’t come to the football games to watch me cheer, and they only cared about my grades so long as I was passing everything, because that data got reported to the state.
When I turn eighteen, I’ll walk away with a thanks and a handshake. That was the nature of our relationship.
I bounced up and made my way to the front door. Swinging the door open, I had to swallow as again nerves overtook me.
Locke was dressed in his typical black. Black jeans, black shirt that hugged his body a little tighter than what he typically wore to school. He was sucking on his vape pen and had just puffed out a plume of smoke.
The shirt reminded me of what he looked like in his jogging clothes. Locke, more often than not, gave the impression of being thin because everything he wore typically hung on him a little, but the reality was he was more lean muscle than skinny.
“Hullo,” he said, and I remembered that accents were still my jam.
“Hi.”
