Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Six

Chris Cline, September 2016

“Hey dude ... how you holding up?”

“I’ve been better.”

“Well you look great.” Ernie stood over his friend who was lying face down on his bed in a pair of gray sweatpants with a matching gray shirt. “I didn’t realize when she broke up with you, she got to keep all the fashion sense. I thought it was just the popularity and friends.”

“Not helping.” Chris’s reply came muffled into his sheets.

“C’mon, let's get up, Weepy Wonka.” He pulled Chris up by the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Argh-alright! I’m getting up!” He sat up in the bed as Ernie plopped down next to him. The receiver put his arm around his friend’s shoulder.

“Ok, no more pouting,” he said, grabbing Chris’s laptop from his bedside table. “We’ve got work to do.”

Chris watched as Ernie tried to log on to his laptop. “You’re not gonna be able to get on. You’d need my password for that.” To his surprise, Ernie typed in a string of text and the computer’s home screen appeared. “Wait … how did you-?”

“See this is the crap I’m talking about man! Why is your password still ‘Melissa + Chris 4 Eva’?”

“She changed it to that last month and I’ve been too lazy to switch it back ...”

“You gotta change that man!” He said, smacking Chris across the arm, “What is wrong with you?”

“Alright, geez, I’ll pick a new one. It’s only been like 12 hours, how much did you expect me to have done?”

Ernie typed away on the computer, bringing up Facebook. He typed in Melissa’s name in the search box and loaded her profile. “Look,” he adjusted the screen so that Chris could see. She had already changed her relationship status to single and switched her profile picture. Last night, it had been an image of the two of them together outside on a summer day. Now it was a new picture of herself on the beach in a bikini. Above it was a caption that read: Know your worth. Know yourself. Know when it’s time. No regrets.

“339 likes! Already? How is that even possible?”

“Well, to be fair man, have you seen the picture? It’s pretty-”

“Not helping Ernie!” He began crossly flipping through his Facebook pictures, looking for a suitable replacement for his own profile. He was currently displaying a picture of him and Melissa after last year’s first playoff game. He showed a couple potential photos to Ernie, but most were either too far in the past or had to be awkwardly cropped to keep his ex excluded. Eventually he settled on a photo he had taken with his parents.

“That’s a good one,” Ernie said, examining the image, “Not particularly recent, but I’m not sure there’s a reasonable alternative that is post growth spurt.”

“Right, anything before junior year, I look five years old … but anything after, she’s always in the damn picture.”

“So when is this one from?”

“Last year’s homecoming game. That small window before we started dating.” He clicked a button to make the change official. A few seconds later, a small icon appeared in the right corner of his screen, indicating that Ernie had liked the picture. “Thanks.” Chris said with a smile.

“Of course,” Ernie replied with a smile of his own. “Speaking of homecoming, did you figure out what you are doing about that yet?”

“What do you mean? My hand is still broken dude, I definitely won't be able to-”

“No, not the game.” He replied, shaking his head, “The dance. Like-who are you gonna ask?”

“I wasn’t going to ask anybody,” he said as another icon popped onto his screen as a new friend liked the photo, “We literally just broke up.”

“Dude, you have to bring someone. You’re on the homecoming court! You can’t go around stag all night. They are gonna make you walk out with Vice Principal Heild or something.” Chris shivered. “And if you think Melissa is going to go to this dance by herself just to ‘spare your feelings’ you’re more delusional than I thought.”

“C’mon man, she’s not as bad as you think.”

Ernie gave his friend a long, serious look. “How much do you want to bet?”

Ben Havleck, June 2016

It was another hot morning. His shirt was already in a bandana. Ben checked back over his shoulder before crossing the street. During his first week, he had found a reasonably secluded stretch on which to run. At this hour, there wasn’t much traffic to navigate, but he wanted to be unfocused. To let his mind wander as freely as possible. It helped the run go by faster.

He cut down off the sidewalk to a patch of shade. Then, he negotiated through a pair of trees and onto a soft, gravelly trail. His new shoes flexed gently against the alternative surface. Absentmindedly, he pressed on, his pacing progressing with each passing mile. He thought about the work he had at his internship. He thought about his friends and family back home. But, ultimately, everything circled back to the upcoming cross country season. The rolling hills. The hairpin turns. The thrill of competition. It all flashed before his eyes, motivating each successive step.

Suddenly, he snapped back to his surroundings. He was farther along the path than he had ever been before. Looking down at his watch, he realized he was at least a mile farther than he intended to be. Well, that much less to do tomorrow, he thought as he grabbed a tree and spun himself around in the opposite direction. He quickened his stride a little bit more, trying to make up lost time. He didn’t want to have to rush his morning routine, but he couldn’t afford to be late.

As he took a gradual right along the path, he saw a pair of figures heading quickly his way. Like him, they were running shirtless along the path. The gap between them was shrinking quickly as both parties were moving at an impressive clip. The two harriers looked to be about Ben’s age, perhaps a year or two older. After a few more steps, they drew even. They nodded at one another politely, as runners sometimes do, but otherwise continued on their individual journeys.

Chris Cline, cont.

“She’s already got a date! Can you believe it?” Chris threw his backpack at their usual lunch table.

“You know I actually can believe it,” Ernie said extending his hand. Chris reached into his pocket exasperatedly and pulled out a ten dollar bill to offer his friend. A few other members of the football team joined the table next, pushing a group of scared looking sophomores out of their way. They ended up huddled at the end of the bench, two to a seat.

“And you wanna know the worst part?” Chris continued, his emotion distracting him from his peers’ thuggish behavior, “She’s going with-”

“Matthew Clayton.” The table answered in unison. Clayton was the star football player for their hated rivals, Coatesville. Their last meeting had ended with Chris breaking his hand.

“Yeah,” he responded with surprise. “Man, word travels fast in this school.”

“Dude, she tweeted it a couple hours ago.” Jacob Naughton said obviously, pulling a chicken sandwich from his brown paper bag.

“How would I know that? I’ve been in class all day.”

“What does that matter?”

“Well ...” Chris looked around the table, but no one seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary about checking your phone during school hours. “You know ... because ... learning … and stuff ...”

“Ha, you’re funny, Cline.” The linebacker took a massive bite out of his sandwich. One of the sophomores stared at him, looking terrified but seemingly unable to avert his gaze.

“Well I should probably get to the gym,” Chris said in a huff, standing up with a bag still filled with food. “I’ve got to meet Coach Groff for extra film.”

“Maybe he’ll explain to you why McDermott runs the offense better than you.” Lineman Dennis Petrov called jeeringly. His teammates laughed while Chris looked back in confusion.

“Am I missing something?” He asked, looking from Petrov to Ernie.

“Dude, you gotta get on Twitter.” The receiver pulled out his phone and brought up the blue app. Then he selected a particular tweet from his homepage and showed it to the quarterback.

Taking the phone Chris read aloud, “Coach Groff says Warrior’s success is due primarily to his coaching system. Thinks team can win state title without Cline. What’s this crap?”

“C’mon, dude, don’t be upset. It’s just Coach being a prick as usual.”

“Easy for you to say. I’m surprised they didn’t add ‘Cline still trying to remove large knife from his back’.”

“I’m not. That would definitely be over 140 characters.” Ernie flashed a small grin but Chris frowned back at him. “You’d be laughing right now if you used Twitter. Trust me.”

“Whatever dude, I gotta go.” He turned and made to leave. “By the way,” he said to the sophomores at the end of table, “if any of you don’t feel like sharing seats, feel free to take mine.” And he trudged off, trying to keep from drifting further into his sour disposition.

“Yo, wait up,” Ernie called, jogging after him. Chris slowed to let his friend catch him, but did not turn around.

“What.” he said flatly as Ernie reached his shoulder.

“Did you um-” he looked around and dropped his voice before continuing, “Did you figure out who you’re going to ask?”

“Seriously? You think that’s what I want to talk about right now?”

“Don’t get mad at me, I’m just trying to help.” Ernie said defensively, “You’ve only got a week to figure it out.”

“Sorry,” Chris said frustrated. “But I think I’m SOL on this one. All the girls we hang with are either already taken or friends with Melissa. I’m her ex. They aren’t going to go with me.”

Ernie cursed under his breath. “You’re probably right, unfortunately.” They stopped outside the entrance to the gym. “Wait a minute, what about somebody we don’t hang out with!” He said excitedly.

“You’re a genius, Ern,” The quarterback replied sarcastically, “what’s your plan for our nation’s debt crisis? Get more money?”

“No, seriously,” he pressed eagerly, “what if you ask somebody from the cross country team? Didn’t you say you’ve run with some of the girls?”

Chris’s mind jumped straight to Sarah. “Well ... there is one girl I might be able to ask. I’m not sure I have her number though-ouch!” Ernie had punched him in the arm.

“Did you learn nothing from your first relationship? You can’t just text a girl and ask her to a dance!”

“Well, actually, I was gonna call her-”

“No! You have to do something big! Something special!” Ernie gestured dramatically as he spoke, causing his friend to raise his eyebrows skeptically.

“Like what?”

“Hmmm,” The receiver stroked his chin. “Do you know where her locker is?”

“No ... I can try and find out?”

“If you get me the locker number, I’ll handle the rest. Trust me.”

Chris studied his friend for a moment. Well, I suppose things can’t get much worse …

Ben Havleck, July 2016

He was alone on the start line. Winds swirled around him, whipping his long black hair across his cold face. He brushed it back. On the sidelines, Coach McWilliams stood, stoic as usual.

“You have to get out,” his voice carried across the field to his ears.

And in an instant, he was surrounded on all sides by mobs of people. He took off at full sprint, trying to get ahead of them, but it was as though he was running in quicksand. They crashed down on him from both sides like tidal waves. Imprisoned in the mass of bodies, he tripped and felt a push in his back. Already unsteady, he crashed in a heap to the ground.

“I knew you couldn’t handle it,” His Coach’s voice echoed across the scene. “There’s nothing special about you.” Ben curled up into a ball as the runners hurdled and dash around him. Then a spiked shoe appeared above his head, flying quickly downward, directly towards his face ...

Can’t stop addicted to the shindig … Cop top he says I’m gonna win big … Choose not a life of limitation, distant cousin to the reservation …

Ben snapped upright, frazzled and sweating. He looked around the room, finding his phone on the nightstand to his right. He pressed a button on the side and the music stopped. Taking a deep breath he flopped back onto his pillow. He closed his eyes. It would be so easy to drift back into sleep. One day off couldn’t hurt.

A few minutes later, he was jogging along his normal route. Slowly, his legs began to wake up and his body stopped fighting against him, accepting its fate. A trickle of sweat dripped down his nose. After a mile or so he cleared the main roads and meandered down to his favorite trail, opening up his stride and his mind.

After two weeks, Ben had created a consistent routine for himself. His research position had been exciting thus far and he had been working hard to make a good impression on the Georgetown faculty. He had also become more comfortable living on his own; although he was thankful he didn’t need to cook for himself. His homesickness was slowly subsiding, but he still called his parents at least once a week.

Running comfortably, his mind jumped through a variety of images as he continued along his path. He thought of Neal wandering around the store at Barnes and Noble. They had spoken on the phone a few nights ago, talking about their respective jobs and career plans.

“I’m pretty much only in Econ classes at this point,” Neal had said, “But I’m trying to graduate early. If I enter the market on an off cycle, it will hopefully give me an advantage on the job circuit.”

“What extra stuff do you have to do?”

“Not that much thankfully. I've always been fairly aggressive with my course load and I had some APs and stuff coming in which helps.”

“You never told me you took AP classes,” He said surprised.

“Well I’m more than just a pretty face, Benjamin.”

“Which ones did you take?”

“Eh you know, Calculus, Micro, Gov ... pretty standard.”

“Oh, that’s cool! I'm taking a couple of those myself this year.”

“Yeah they aren’t so bad. Besides Gov. I don’t know why you like that stuff.”

Ben scoffed audibly. “What could possibly be a more important topic than-”

“Yeah I know, blah blah democracy blah blah Bernie Sanders blah blah.” Neal replied pompously.

“Very funny.” He muttered back disgruntled.

“Stop. You’re feeding my ego too much.” They were silent for a second, Ben pacing around his small dorm room.

“So what are you up to right now?”

“Just looking at some last minute scheduling stuff ... hey, wait a minute-you aren’t by chance related to this guy Paul Havleck, are you? He’s teaching one of the elective courses I may add for next semester.”

“Oh, yeah.” Ben said simply. “That’s my dad.”

“What?!” Neal shouted through the phone in surprise. “Your dad is a professor at Bloom? And you didn’t tell me?”

“I don't know,” Ben said awkwardly, “It just never came up ...”

“Never came up? That’s a crappy excuse. We aren’t talking about Gal Gadot right now, but if you knew she was gonna be at Barnes and Noble tonight, you’d tell me wouldn’t you?”

“Ok, that’s not even close to the same thing.”

“No probably not ... but I thought it might be worth reiterating my Gal Gadot policy.”

“Haha fair enough ... so are you gonna take the class?”

“It sounds kinda hard. Also I’m not particularly interested in the topic.”

“So you’re not taking it then?”

“Are you kidding me? Of course I’m taking it. If Gal Gadot was teaching molecular biology, you think I wouldn’t take it?”

“You have a problem.”

Neal wasn’t the only person he had stayed in touch with while in Washington. Although he had been careful not to come on too strong, he had also been talking to Nicole Christian. Most contact was through text, although he had tried calling her the previous afternoon.

“Hello?” She sounded surprisingly concerned.

“Hey-um-how’s it going?” He said nervously, trying to sound casual.

“It’s going alright … Is-is everything OK?”

“Er-yeah I just thought maybe you might want to catch up-if you’re free and stuff?”

“Yeah for sure,” her voice returned to its natural tone, “Sorry-I just-I don’t know, I guess I’m not used to people calling me...”

“Oh right,” he said, feeling stupid, “My phone just kinda sucks for texting, but if you’d rather-”

“No, no, I like that you called! I’d rather communicate like humans than robots.”

“Yeah, exactly!” They laughed together. Hearing her laugh without being able to see her smile made him realize how much he missed her. He wanted to say it out loud, but caught himself. “So how have you been? Starting to get excited for soccer?”

“Yeah, definitely! We are trekking over to one of the college showcases this weekend which will be the first games I’ve played in a while. So I’m pretty pumped to get back out there again.”

“I bet. Waiting around for the season to start is killing me.”

“The summer will go fast though. It always does.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I hope so.”

Chris Cline, cont.

“I got it,” Chris said excitedly as he walked into 6^th period English class. He took his seat next to Ernie at the back of the classroom. “Locker number 223.”

“You’re sure?” Ernie replied covertly taking out his phone.

“Yeah, I just saw her putting some books back as I was coming here.” His palms were suddenly sweating. “So what do I do next?”

“All you need to do is be there the next time she opens her locker.” Ernie said simply. “I’ll take care of the rest.” Ernie took out his notebook and dumped it casually across his desk. “The decorations should be pretty self-explanatory, but you can add a little extra drama by just-maybe-appearing around the corner or something.” He flipped through the pages of the notebook before reaching a blank page which he ripped out. “And then ask her once she’s finished being surprised.”

Chris pictured himself back in front of the locker, awkwardly emerging from out of sight. Even in his imagination he felt silly. “What if she says no?” Chris asked nervously.

“It destroys your already fragile confidence and sets you on a path toward a miserable homecoming dance.” He finished a final text and slipped his phone back in his pocket. “But don’t worry. She’ll say yes.” He got up from his chair, grabbed the blank piece of paper and patted his friend comfortingly on the shoulder. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to ‘use the bathroom’.” He trudged up to the front of the room. As Chris watched, he felt his stomach squirm uncomfortably. When Ernie left the room, he forced out a deep sigh and opened his copy of Beowulf.

After about 10 minutes, Ernie returned to class. Chris noticed him wipe a trail of glitter off his hand as he sat down. He tried to read his friend’s face for some indication of the mission’s success or failure, but the receiver waved him off silently and mouthed “Later”. When class ended, the two hung back to discuss the project in secret.

“How’d it go?” Chris whispered anxiously.

“It went fine, everything is good ...” Ernie replied, ushering Chris forward out of the room, “But you might have a bit of an audience ...”

“Um, you just said ‘ambiance’, right? You couldn’t have said ‘audience’. That would be the opposite of what I wanted.” They walked out into the crowded hallway.

“Well here’s the thing,” Ernie said, able to speak louder amidst the noise of his peers. “Ms. O’Connor walked by about half way through the process and … Well, I didn’t have a great excuse lined up … so I just told her the truth. I was helping my friend ask a girl to homecoming.”

“And what did she say?”

“She just ate that up, honestly. Super excited about it. Even helped me put the finishing touches on everything. It’s actually a great excuse. I should really try and use that one more oft-”

“Get to the point Ern.”

 “Well, I mean obviously she wants to come watch now ...”

“Obviously?” Chris replied fearfully, the squirming inside him ramping up once more. He shook his head disappointed. “Fine,” He muttered, trying to stay positive, “One teacher isn’t the end of the world.”

“Right no, definitely not.” Ernie fidgeted fretfully with the ends of his backpack. “But-well-I think she may have told some of her other teacher friends.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I saw her tell some of her other teacher friends.”

“Seems like a reasonable guess then.” Chris hung his head miserably. They reached the entrance to Chris’s final class of the afternoon. There was under an hour to go until he had to ask his question. “Wish me luck.”

“Don’t worry man, I’ll be right there with you for moral support.”

“Thanks, bud ... You just want to watch in case things blow up, don’t you?”

“Well yeah, but the moral support thing gets me front row seats.”

After a seemingly endless lecture, Chris powerwalked from the room to make sure he got to Sarah’s locker before she did. He stood awkwardly, waiting just around the corner. From his vantage point, he could see the locker cleanly, but he was also far enough out of the way that no one would notice him unless they were specifically looking.

“Hey man,” Ernie appeared at his shoulder, slightly out of breath. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” Chris replied, the pit in his stomach getting larger. He looked at his friend who was now panting, his hands on his knees. “Are you good?”

“Yeah ... I just kinda ... ran here ... I didn’t want to miss it.”

“Well, you sound terrible. You should start doing some Sunday runs with me.”

“Yeah, maybe I will ... Except, also … definitely not.”

Chris shook his head and smiled. “You know it’s really not that bad, I actually kinda like-” he stopped mid-sentence as two girls walked into view. “Here she comes.” Sarah and her friend Maggie were heading straight for the locker, seemingly unaware of the small audience that had now gathered nearby.

“Do you still have my calc book?” Chris could hear Maggie ask.

“No I put it in your locker after class,” Sarah replied, gesturing ahead. “Thanks for letting me borrow it!”

“Oh no …” Chris said under his breath, the pit in his stomach seemingly having rolled off a cliff. Sarah peeled off slightly to the right as Maggie walked forward, preparing to open locker number 223.

“What’s the matter?” Ernie whispered, looking anxiously to his left.

“Wrong girl,” Chris responded, suddenly panicking.

“What?!”

“That’s the wrong girl, I mixed up the lockers!” He said in a hushed scream. “What do I do?”

“Um, I don’t know ...” They looked at each other fearfully, “I think you might have to ask her …” The door to the locker popped open and a small stream of confetti sprayed out.

“I can’t do that man, she’s kinda weird and awkward and-” Ernie pushed Chris forward into plain sight. He looked back over his shoulder to see the receiver scurrying away from the scene. Then, feeling the weight of seemingly hundreds of eyes on him, he turned to Maggie and smiled awkwardly.

Ben Havleck, cont.

Ben pulled himself back to reality, looking around the trail to see what he recognized. He had been putting off checking his watch as long as possible. It never seemed to read as long of a time as what his mind had estimated. Considering this was his longest run so far this summer, he was in no rush to take a peak. He knew it would be quite some time before he needed to turn around and begin his return trip.

He let his mind drift off again. His powerful imagination painting a picture inside his head. He was no longer running across dirt and grass. Instead, his feet collided with solid, rubbery red. He was running down the back stretch of a track, feeling the wind in his hair, propelled forward by the roar of the crowd. He looked slightly right to gauge the position of his top pursuers. They were coming for him.

Around the turn, they moved up onto his outside shoulder. But he blasted off the turn, accepting the challenge, opening up his stride. He could hear Nicole’s voice cheering him on. Feeling confident, he turned to her and winked. Then, he cranked it up to another gear. A few yards ahead, a big clock was visible. He could see its surface was ticking slowly toward nine minutes. He could still get under ... the state record was within reach ...

“Yo!”

The shout broke Ben from his daydream. He turned wildly around to check for the source of the noise, fists raised in a fighting stance. A pair of shirtless runners were coming toward him. Were those guys talking to me? He turned back and continued running farther along the path. Probably not.

“Yo! White shirt!”

Wait, what color shirt am I wearing, he thought, checking down at his chest. He was indeed wearing a plain white t-shirt. He looked back over his shoulder again.

“Wait up a sec!” the taller of the pair said, running forward. In response, Ben slowed his pace and circled back around to meet the two harriers as they approached. Once they were side by side, Ben accelerated back to match the pair’s pace. It was similar to the one he had just been running but perhaps a step or two slower.

“How far you going?” The shorter newcomer asked, looking across to Ben. He had dark brown hair and a solid, muscular physique. His form was concise and efficient.

“14,” Ben replied simply. “How about you guys?”

“We’re doing the same,” the runner replied. “Mind if we run with you?”

“Not at all.” He looked down at his watch, “I’m going to have to turn around pretty soon though.”

The two runners looked at one another and shrugged. “That’s cool with me, Jared, as long as you’re down?”

“Yeah, we can just add on with a campus loop or something.”

They packed up together and looped around a light post, turning around and retracing their steps. Running with company, Ben suddenly felt very aware of his breathing and his arm carriage. He took a deep breath and shook out his shoulders.

“We’ve seen you out here a couple times,” the taller one, apparently called Jared, said. “You’ve been moving pretty quick.”

“Thanks. I’ve just been trying to lay a good base for this fall.”

“I hear ya. We’ve been grinding out the miles as well. We’ll be sophomores this year at Georgetown. Are you a freshman?”

Freshman? Ben thought to himself. I know I’m small but c’mon. I can pass for at least 16.

“No, I’m a senior.”

“A senior? Oh shoot, how have I never seen you around campus before?” Ben found this to be an odd question. Why would he have seen me around his campus?

“Well, if you’re interested, you should definitely consider coming out for our Cross Country team,” the shorter sophomore chimed in. “Have you ever met with Coach Lebowitz?”

Ben’s mind flashed briefly to a small office. “Yeah, I talked to him last April about running for you guys,” He replied darkly. “But he said my PRs were too slow to have any chance at making the cut.”

“Really? Well clearly you’re due for some PRs,” The shorter runner replied, sounding surprised, “You should at least come out to the time trial next month and try to walk on.”

“Yeah, you can do some workouts with us in between if you want. Just to sharpen up.” They jogged through a small up-hill climb, attacking it with ease. “Senior year … Last chance to run collegiately before you graduate and go get a real job.”

“Real job?” And then it hit him. They hadn’t thought he was a high school freshman; they thought he was in college. “Er, right. A real job. I guess working at Barnes and Noble won’t pay the bills forever ...” He debated correcting them on their mistake. However, with so much conversation having passed already, he felt embarrassed to go back and seemingly adjust his story. Is it really necessary at this point? Besides, he liked the idea of having a training group while he was away from home. “I’m definitely down to work out with you guys. Should be awesome.”

“Awesome. I’m Jared by the way.”

“Dave.”

“Nice to meet you guys ... I’m-um-” He was concerned about giving his real name. What if they google me or something? After all, as soon as I get home, I’m gonna look them up. “B.J.”

“B.J. That’s a sweet name.” The shorter runner said, wiping sweat from his forehead, “Way cooler than Dave.”

They rolled into another hill, Ben keeping stride without much trouble. The watch on one of the Georgetown runners beeped to indicate that a mile mark was hit.  Jared looked down at his wrist. “Geez, we’ve still got 10 miles to go. Kinda makes you wish you were still doing high school training …”

Chris Cline, cont.

For the rest of the week, the school was a buzz with the news that the football team’s star quarterback was taking a junior in the math club to Saturday’s homecoming dance.

“He could do sooo much better,” he overheard two girls from afar gossip in the hallway on Tuesday. “She’s like, what a 6?”

“Then what am I, an 11?”

“I guess your standards drop when you join up with those losers on the track team.”

“Melissa dumped his ass at the right time.”

Things continued like this seemingly everywhere he went.

“Maybe she’s offering to do his homework for him.”

“Anything to keep that Ohio State scholarship.”

He couldn’t avoid it.

“Did he get a concussion? I thought he just broke his hand?”

“He’s not a basketball player obviously. Then he would know how to rebound.”

And it came from every social clique.

“She’s too good for him. Does he even do any extracurricular activities besides sports?”

“Not a very well rounded college application. They will likely have painfully awkward intellectual discussions.”

Eventually, things reached a boiling point. Wednesday afternoon, one of the popular girls he had seen at a few summer parties came up to him as he was leaving his English class. “Hey, Chris,” she said twisting a strand of long, blonde hair around her finger. “Got a sec?”

“Sure,” he said begrudgingly. He stepped to the side of the hallway. As it seemed was happening all too often, a small crowd began to gather around him.

“So, I couldn’t help but notice that you asked Maggie Warren to the homecoming dance,” she said in a soft pitying voice. “I had no idea you were that desperate for a date.”

“What are you talking about?” He replied, attempting to make his annoyance plain.

“Well you probably didn’t know this,” she pressed on, touching his shoulder gently, “but I’m actually available if you would like to ... you know ... upgrade your position.”

“Oh how considerate of you,” Chris said sarcastically. She smiled, apparently oblivious to his irony.

“Thank you! I’m-”

“You know what?” He felt his voice rise, letting the others around him hear his frustration. “I’m actually very happy with my ‘position’ right now, but if I come across any desperate guys, I’ll be sure to tell them you’re pretty desperate yourself.” He finished angrily, stepping back into the hallway. She looked shocked and outraged by his refusal. “Also, you’ve got a booger in your nose. It’s a long dangly one. Really gross.”

Stricken with embarrassment, she sprinted away from him, covering her face with one hand and pushing giggling students out of her way with the other.

Amazingly, Maggie seemed to be handling the spotlight extremely well. When Chris met up with her after school on Wednesday, a variety of girls walking nearby whispered rude things or pointed obnoxiously, but she just ignored it.

“How do you do that?” Chris finally asked as they turned and walked down the hallway, disregarding another pack of gossipers.

“What do you mean?”

“How do you-like-cope with people saying things behind your back?”

“Oh that,” she said with a smile, “I’m kinda used to it. People have been saying mean things about how I dress or how I look throughout high school.” She paused to adjust the books under her arm. “But this is way better.”

“Why do you say that?” Chris said, taking her books out of her precarious grip and carrying them himself.

“Because now they’re not doing it to be mean. They’re doing it because they’re jealous.” She beamed at him. Chris smiled back, feeling slightly uncomfortable.

The pair hadn’t spoken since Chris had awkwardly asked her to the dance and so they had planned a quick meeting in order to arrange a plan for the weekend. But, more importantly, he wanted to take the opportunity to make sure Maggie knew his intentions. He was concerned that she may have seen his asking her to the homecoming dance as a romantic gesture. So he wanted to make sure he protected her feelings and didn’t lead her on. But at the same time, he understood that telling her he merely asked her as a friend could do its own emotional damage.

I have to tell her, he thought, her gleeful expression doing nothing to ease his apprehension. You’d want to know if it were you.

“Er-well-Maggie,” he said awkwardly, “you know-you’re a cool person-but-well … Friends are something that everybody has-”

“It’s OK, Chris, I get it. I feel the same way.”

“Perfect,” he said breathing a sigh of relief, “I’m glad we are on the same page.”

“So if we aren’t doing pictures with your friends, do you mind if we do them with mine?” She continued. “Not to be lame, but I think my parents kinda want to get pictures … and meet you and stuff.” She blushed slightly.

“Pictures?” Chris said, his anxiety peaking again.

“Yeah, isn’t that what you were talking about? How awkward it would be doing pictures with your friends?”

“Oh ... yeah. Yeah, of course. Pictures. I thought you said, um-pixels.”

“Pixels?”

Pixels?! He thought. Then, scrambling, “Yeah, you know-that Adam Sandler movie? I thought maybe you, uh, were saying you wanted to see that and I was like, ‘woah, that movie looked bad, are you sure you want to do that?’ But you’re not so ...” They reached the end of the hallway where they would inevitably have to split paths. He seized his chance at an escape. “Anyway, I gotta go for practice, but just text me the details for where we are going and-I’ll meet you there?”

“Ok,” she said, slightly taken aback by the abrupt and confusing end to the conversation. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Great! See ya later then!” And he dashed off down the hallway, inwardly cursing himself.

GO TO CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN