Dating on the Dork Side

Chapter 7-1

Chapter 7

IN THE FINAL PART of the ceremony, each homecoming queen candidate received a single red rose, which we were required (more or less) to tote with us for the rest of the day. Why, I couldn’t say. In case someone forgot we were candidates? In case we forgot?

I lost Rhino in the crowd leaving the gym and only saw him again at lunch, leaning against my locker.

“I’ll buy you an ice cream sandwich,” he said the second he saw me.

Rhino knew all my weaknesses. I could walk away from cake and chips, even chocolate, but wave a can of Cherry Coke or an ice cream sandwich in front of me, and I lost all control.

“I’ll trade you that ice cream sandwich if you tell me what you meant at the pep rally,” I said.

Rhino looked at me like he didn’t know what I was asking. Of course he knew. He just wanted me to say it out loud.

So I did. “When you said ‘it worked,’ what, exactly, did you mean?”

“In the caf.” He crooked a finger at me and started slouching down the hall. I didn’t have any choice but to follow.

At the cafeteria doorway I skidded to a halt, wondering if everyone still had their rose or if I was the only one obeying the rule. Mercedes had the stem of hers threaded through the rings of a spiral notebook. Elle was wearing hers in her hair. Sophie’s rose was peeking out from her cleavage. Clarissa was waving hers around like a wand, or maybe like a sword. Either way, a flower had never looked so much like a deadly weapon.

I just carried mine like a dork, but that didn’t seem to matter to anyone.

Our table in the cafeteria was usually pretty quiet. Today it looked like Geek Central Station. All the honor roll kids, the math and science freaks, and the book nerds were there. But other people crowded the space too. Kids I’d tutored over the years. There were some from the arty clique, a few semi-slackers, even some of the girl jocks who needed to keep their grades up to compete. I hadn’t realized there had been so many.

All of them had the same thing to say: “I voted for you, but I still can’t believe it.”

Seriously? Neither could I.

Dalton from the chess team managed to squeeze in next to me. He picked my rose up from the table and sniffed it. “It’s real,” he said. “But a silk one would last longer.”

True. My rose was already drooping. I hoped it would last until I got home. I wanted to show it to Dad.

“You should tie a string to the stem and hang it upside down. That way it’ll dry and keep its shape,” Dalton said. When everyone at the table looked at him like he was some kind of alien, he added, “My mom. She likes horticulture.”

“What kind of culture?” Sophie pressed herself between us. “Hey, Dalton, want to smell mine?” she said. “It’s real, too.”

And yes, the rose was still stuck between her breasts.

Dalton went redder than any of the roses we were carrying. He pushed back his chair, grabbed his books, and stumbled away.

Rhino scowled as Sophie slipped into Dalton’s empty seat. “So. What’s up with all this?” she said to me.

“All what?”

She picked up my rose and bopped me on the head with it. “You’re the big brain. I was hoping you’d figured it out.”

“You’re smart, too,” I said. If I could get her to believe that, she might out-brilliant Rhino one day.

Sophie went on as if she hadn’t heard me. “I’m thinking maybe it was backlash from that thing Elle started.”

I cast Rhino a quick look, trying to gauge if he was listening or not. We were edging close to wiki talk, but with his face down, he appeared more interested in the goulash than in anything Sophie and I were saying.

Still, I whispered when I said, “Elle’s on the homecoming court too. How much payback is that?”

“Everyone else voted for her.”

“I didn’t,” I said. “I voted for you.”

“Shut up.” She glanced away for a second. When she turned back she pointed at me with my rose. “The way I see things is: you and me, we get voted in because guys like The Ab and Aiden think it would be funny. How else do you explain the school brain and the school slut?”

Was that what she thought? That we were a joke? It wasn’t too hard to believe about myself, but I hated that Sophie felt that way. I started to say something, but she shut me up with one of those sharp-as-broken-glass looks.

“Anyway, about that Lysis-what’s-its thing,” Sophie said under her breath. “Is it one of those plays where everybody dies at the end?”

“Actually, Lysistrata is a comedy.”

“But who wins?” she asked. “The guys or the girls?”

“The women.” I hadn’t read the play before Elle brought it up, but I’d found a copy online and scrolled through it one night while making backup copies of the wiki.

Sophie tilted her head toward the center of the cafeteria, where Elle was sitting with the rest of the A-list girls. “You really think her plan will work?”

Rhino was staring right at me by then. I waited until he looked away and said, “It all depends on which side can go the longest without … you know.”

Oh, mature, Camy. Try a real word next time. Heat prickled my cheeks.

Sophie leaned forward like what I was saying riveted her. “Without?” she said.

“Each other.” I cleared my throat. “Near the end of the play, the men walk out on stage with huge—”

“Swords?” she suggested.

I don’t know when he’d clued into the conversation, but Rhino laughed and said, “Yes, swords. That’s it exactly.”

That he’d read Lysistrata at some point didn’t surprise me, but Sophie turned toward him.

“You’ve read this thing?” She waved a hand, immediately dismissing him. “What am I saying? You’ve read everything.” She turned her attention to me. “No swords, then. No bloodshed? I was really kind of hoping someone dies.”

“It’s a comedy,” I said again, if only to stall. “The men ... actually ... well ... when they walk on stage they...” What was I? Twelve? Why couldn’t I force a simple clinical term from my mouth? It wasn’t a bad word, not really. “The men have great...”

Rhino came to my rescue. “Excitement.”

It wasn’t the E-word I was thinking of, but it would do, especially since a knowing look settled on Sophie’s face. “No way! In some crusty old play? Boners?”

“Giant ones. You might be surprised how much s*x there is in those crusty old plays,” Rhino said.

“Wait.” Sophie held up her hands, stopping us both. “I have to struggle through The Grapes of Wrath while all the smart kids get to read porn? That is so freaking unfair.”

Just then, Rhino stood and slouched over to the vending machines. When he returned, he was holding two ice cream sandwiches. He held one in front of me, and the other in front of Sophie.

“Who wants one?” he said.

Both of us reached and grabbed air at the same time. Rhino held the sandwiches just out of our reach. I looked up at him and he stared back for half a second.

“I win,” he said flatly. Then he grinned, dropped the sandwiches into our hands, and turned toward the cafeteria doors.

I got a message during last block. All it said was: Report to the office after school.

No explanation. Even though I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong, my heart pounded harder with each step I took toward the school’s administrative offices.

When Elle and Mercedes streamed in alongside me, my heart rate, oddly enough, didn’t slow. We stood in front of the reception desk. Clarissa strolled in next, looking unconcerned. Only Sophie, who skidded in last, looked as flustered as I felt.

“Girls,” Ms. Pendergast greeted us. The look on her face made it clear that this was the last place she wanted to be on a Friday afternoon. I was pretty sure that went double for the rest of us. She herded us into a tiny conference room. There weren’t enough chairs, so I ended up perched on the radiator.

“I’m sure you’re all aware of the guidelines for homecoming court,” she said.

Well, I wasn’t. Judging by the look on Sophie’s face, she wasn’t either.

Ms. P pulled a stack of papers from her tote bag. “Even so, take one of these. It details the code of conduct, the dress expectations, and the rules for campaigning. This will be your lifeline for the next two weeks.”

She handed the stack to Elle, who passed them on. A few sets were still left by the time they got to my spot on the radiator. I waved the stack at Pendergast. When that didn’t work, I leaned forward and slipped them onto the table. Why did I always pick the spot where leftover handouts came to die?

“As for the dresses,” Ms. P was saying, “you’re responsible for buying those and the shoes. The school will provide the gloves, tiaras, and fur stoles.”

I hoped those hideous fur things were as fake as they looked from a distance. In Minnesota, late September could be almost any temperature. Last year it had been a summery seventy-five degrees. But the year before that, it had snowed all through the homecoming parade and game. The girls wore their winter coats and the fur stoles, and they still had to huddle next to their escorts the whole time just to keep from freezing to death. I didn’t care how cold it got, I was not spending an entire evening with a dead animal slung across my shoulders.

I was still considering the horror of it when Ms. Pendergast spoke again. “This year, we’re going to shake things up a bit. Instead of the usual white dresses, everyone thought it would be a nice change to go with Trojan blue.”

Clarissa’s head jerked up. Elle’s eyes went wide.

“Actually, any shade of dark blue will work fine. Tillie’s Bridal and Formalwear has several, ahem, age-appropriate dresses set aside for you girls.”

I saw it then. The half-panicked, half-ticked-off look that passed between Elle and Clarissa. Had they bought their dresses already?

I pressed my fingers over my lips to keep my mouth from falling open. Who did that? How did anyone develop the kind of massive self-confidence that told them they were a sure thing? Was it something hardcoded in your DNA, a gene that determined whether you occupied prime real estate in the cafeteria, or whether you ended up wedged onto a radiator with the leftover handouts that not even the teachers wanted?

Ms. Pendergast went over the rest of the rules. “For the next two weeks, until one of you is crowned queen, all eyes will be on you,” she said. There would be no keggers, no smoking, no inappropriate behavior. We were to “conduct ourselves with a modicum of decorum” at all times, whatever that meant.

Next she skimmed through what we could, and couldn’t, do to campaign. Finally, she went through the schedule of events, times for the photo shoot, the rehearsal, the parade, the coronation, the game, the dance.

“Anyway,” Ms. P said, “it’s all there on your information sheets.” And she shooed us out of the conference room and into the hall.

As soon as we were out of sight of the office, Clarissa threw herself against a locker. “Well, isn’t that just s**t on a stick?” she said.

“You might as well chill. There’s nothing we can do about it,” Elle said.

“But blue? It’s alllll-ways been white.” Clarissa pulled out her phone and checked the screen. “Wait. I know. I’ll wear the blue one for the ceremony and I’ll change into the white one for the dance.”

Sophie rolled her eyes.

“When are you guys going shopping?” Mercedes asked, then her eyes got all bright. “No. Wait. Together. We should totally all go together.”

Sophie took a step away from us. Clarissa and Elle didn’t look too thrilled about it either.

And me? Shopping with Clarissa Delacroix? No, thank you. I’d tried it before and had no desire to repeat that particular form of torture.

“Well?” Mercedes said. Her gaze flitted back and forth amongst the four of us.