I try to put Brent totally out of my mind by concentrating on classes and other school stuff. It works, mostly, except I see him in the halls after almost every class. Okay, maybe the fact that I scour the scenery looking for him means I’m not totally trying to put him out of my mind, but I don’t talk to him or anything. I hardly even sneak a peek at him at football games either, because Colt and I are so busy getting photos and videos for the school paper.
Maybe it’s because we spend a lot of time together as biology-lab-and-study partners, but Colt and I do work well together. Of course, it helps that Colt puts up with me if I have a problem with the camera (I mean, I am new at this) or if I worry too much about whether this or that shot will turn out okay. I think it’s because he’s so appreciative of me taking over photos so he can concentrate on video—at least that’s what he’s always telling me.
I don’t relate to Randi and her whole going-after-Justin thing, when it’s seriously obvious he just likes the thrill of sneaking around with her and has no intention of breaking up with Madison. That’s my take on it, anyway. Since Brent is just as “taken,” as Justin, I’m not going to chase after him. And though I can’t help lusting in my heart for him, I am not looking for some on-the-side thing either.
One morning as Nina, Tanya, Randi and I arrive at school we are greeted by a semi-frantic Kylie. “There you are!” she says, as if she’d been searching for us for hours, which would be weird, since it is not even eight o’clock yet. “Cotillion meeting this afternoon at three, room twenty-four. Don’t be late!”
Before we can even ask what the meeting is about, Kylie is off to do some other urgent task.
“Maybe they’ve changed their minds about those ‘Little Miss Virgin’ dresses and are going to let us wear something more glam,” Randi says.
“I think the dresses are pretty.” Nina reaches for a book at the back of her locker. “They almost look like something from Swan Lake.”
“Exactly.” Randi rolls her eyes.
“I wish they weren’t white,” Tanya says as she scans the horizon for Del. “It’s such a boring color. Oh, by the way, don’t you think Todd Cook is cute?”
“Tim Cook?” Randi, Nina and I say in unison as we exchange glances of what-now?
Tanya scrunches her lips into a small pout. “Don’t give me that look. I’m just noticing. A girl can make an observation, right? Guys do all the time. Right?”
Trouble in paradise, I do not say. “Um, right. And, yes. He is cute.”
Tanya shoots Nina and Randi each a look that says, Well?
“Cute.” Nina says.
Randi sighs. “For a freshman.”
“Del is a freshman!” Tanya drills Randi with an indignant stare.
Tanya’s rapid turnabout makes me dizzy.
“Um, is that the bell?” I don’t actually hear a bell, but I’m hoping that with all the noise in the hall no one notices.
The ploy works. The Tim/Del turbulence is dispelled as we strong-arm our way to homeroom.
The day moves along in typical Franklin High fashion.
Duke hits Ralph Pollak with the Self-Justification accusation when Ralph says it was his sister who got ketchup all over his How Frustration Leads to Aggression essay. I think it’s more blaming someone else than self-justification, but what do I know?
Ms. Bianco tries to help Kate McCutcheon, who is really struggling with Latin. Of course, Ms. B. speaks only Latin during class, so Kate doesn’t know what she’s saying.
Mr. Paar looks as if he’s closer and closer to early retirement when he tries to ignore the ruler/wadded-up-paper hockey game going on in the back of the room during biology.
Mr. Burr has perfected the talent of watching the class with the eyes that must be in the back of his head, so as a result it’s pretty quiet in history.
Ms. Prentice works the Triangle of Life into her lecture on sources of Vitamin C. I’m not sure what trust, respect and responsibility have to do with vitamins, but whatever. At the end of class she goes into a brief rant about how she’d better not find any of her students ever drinking or using drugs. One-third of the class looks around the room all innocent-like, as if saying who, me? Which seems to be a dead giveaway that it’s who-them.
In P.E., Ms. Brewer focuses all of her attention on the girls who are already good at basketball, so all of us non-jocks happily chat as we pretend to watch the others scrimmage.
Lunch is the usual chaos of trying to talk over the sound of six hundred other voices while wolfing down food in twenty minutes or less.
Colt and I study biology during free period, though we’ve moved inside to the library, because it’s getting colder outside and rains as often as not. The only problem is our table is next to a burping contest that the librarian studiously ignores. “Maybe we should enter the contest,” Colt says.
“Why?” I ask. “In order to analyze exactly what kind of molecules make up a burp?”
Colt grins. “Studying it is.”
* * *
While I’m not exactly looking forward to the Cotillion meeting (I mean, could it possibly be interesting?), it is nice that Nina, Tanya, Randi and I will all be heading in the same direction after school. Of course, Del is with Tanya, but they are so entwined that it almost seems like one person.
At the door to the room where we’re meeting, Tanya and Del dis-entangle. Tanya says, “Are you going to wait for me in the library or the lunchroom?”
“Neither,” Del says. “I’m starting karate lessons today, remember?”
“Oh. That’s. Right.” Each word is coated with ice.
“I have to,” Del whines. “My dad is making me. You know I’d rather be with you.”
I can’t take listening to the if you cared about me you’d stay routine from Tanya I know is coming up next. I go into the meeting room with Nina and Randi close on my heels. Kylie is there, watching the clock and looking anxious. She’s next to a desk with a stack of trays, a pitcher of water and a box of paper cups.
Standing around looking prompt and bored are Colt, Kurt Durrand and Marc Campo. Marc came to Franklin High from a different middle school, but he’s in my history and biology classes and Scene Stealers, so that’s why I recognize him. I guess they are all going to be waiters at the Cotillion.
“Hey.” Randi whispers me. “Look who’s here.”
I look at where she’s not-so-subtly pointing. There, staring out the window, is Todd Cook. “Yikes!” I say in a much-too-loud whisper. I look over at Nina.
She’s already seen and has a this should be interesting look on her face.
“Is everyone here?” Kylie says in an overly cheery, extra-loud voice directed toward the doorway, where Tanya is still saying her prolonged good-byes to Del.
Tanya whirls around, steps into the room and closes the door behind her. I’m pretty sure the door-closing, which was almost but not quite a slam, was directed at Del. Poor guy. To think he actually expects Tanya to be reasonable about him having a life of his own once every millennium or so.
“Just a quick meeting today,” Kylie says in a more genuinely cheery voice this time. “These are the waiters.” Kylie gestures toward the guys. She must figure we know them, because there are no introductions. “When you first bring out the trays of refreshments at the Cotillion, I want you to walk out of the kitchen in pairs. Girls, please line up from shortest to tallest.”
There’s not a whole lot of difference in our heights, but we line up Tanya, Randi, me, Nina. Tanya is looking out the narrow window of the classroom door, as if she still can’t quite believe that Del actually left the building without waiting for her.
“Gentlemen, match up with the girls, according to height.”
The guys shuffle around a bit, as if it’s a more complicated task than it really is. After a minute, Marc is next to Nina, Colt next to me, Kurt Durrand next to Randi and Todd Cook next to Tanya. Kurt looks both thrilled and terrified to be standing right next to Randi. It is at this point that Tanya finally realizes Todd is in the room. Suddenly her I’m still ticked at Del look morphs into a flirty smile topped with major batting of the eyelashes.
Tim has hair that is almost as black as Tanya’s and as unruly as hers is smooth. The tousled tendrils curling onto his forehead emphasize big brown eyes that stare at her with wonder. At least, I think that’s what it is. Maybe he’s just near-sighted. No mistaking the look in Tanya’s eyes, however. It’s the lioness who has found her next prey. Poor Todd. Or maybe I should say poor Del. At least Colin made it through the entire school year. Of course, maybe Tanya has just been perfecting her skills on Del until the next Mr. Right comes along.
“Now for the trays!” Kylie announces. She grabs a stack of round trays from a desk, hands one to each of us and keeps one for herself. “Girls, I want you to hold your trays like this.” She holds her tray in both hands in front, absolutely parallel to the floor and about waist high.
We do the same.
“Wonderful! Perfect!” Kylie exclaims, as if we’d all just performed some triple-spin ice-skating jump followed by a perfect landing. “Okay, now, guys, like this!” She holds the tray with her fingertips, arm extended out on her right side at slightly more than a right angle so the tray is just a bit over her head.
The guys do the same.
“Absolutely just right!” I get the feeling Kylie has taken motivational-speaker lessons or something. No one can be all that positive and encouraging naturally.
“Now we’ll try it with cups of water.” Kylie signals the girls to approach the desk where the pitcher and cups are and loads each of our trays. “Okay, now, glide!”
We do our best to glide. I guess we do okay, because Kylie says, “Perfect! Now the guys!”
The guys do not rate a perfect on their first try. “Um, nice effort, but, um, Kurt, your water splashed a little. We can’t be splashing punch on the night of the Cotillion, now can we?” Kylie says in a cheery, encouraging tone of voice. “Now, try again. Careful. Hold those trays steady.”
While Colt looks as if he’s pretty comfortable with the whole waiter thing, the other guys seem to have shell-shocked, what-am-I-doing-here expressions on their faces.
Even though it feels almost sexist for the girls to have it easier than the guys, I have to admit I’m glad we don’t have to hold our trays up in the air by our fingertips.
After five more rounds of tray-carrying, Kylies decides that the girls will serve punch and the guys will serve the cookies. She has the girls and guys line up next to each other again. “Okay, now glide in step with your partners. It’s important to make a smooth entrance!”
We practice. Kylie buzzes around the room, cheerful as a bee in clover, to look at us from all angles. Tanya and Todd act as if they are photographing each other with their eyes. Kurt gazes at Randi with what appears to be deep longing, but Randi’s interest is clearly limited to the cups on her tray. Nina and Marc are so in-sync, you’d think they were partners on Dancing with the Stars. Colt has a hint of a hitch in his glide, but otherwise he and I do a pretty good job.
After about ten rounds, we finally rate two perfects in a row from Kylie. “Are there any questions?”
Kurt gives an anxious little cough. “Do we have to line up like that every time we come out of the kitchen?”
“Oh, no,” Kylies assures him in a voice as bubby as champagne. “It’s just for your grand entrance! Now, when you reach each table for the first time, you stop and say, “Punch?” or “Cookies?” Remember—make your voice go up. Let me hear you.”
I can see that none of us is thrilled, but the girls all do an okay job of it. The guys are in more of a mumble mode.
Colt does say it just right, though to me it sounds as if there’s a tinge of humor in his voice, as he bows stiffly from the waist in a way that reminds me of a butler in some old movie from the Classic Movies channel.
Kylie has to work one-on-one with Kurt for a few minutes, but eventually he gets it.
We all go through it all one more time. Kylie applauds. “Wonderful!” She clasps her hands to her chest. “Oh, this will be the most amazing Cotillion ever!”
As we empty our cups of water back into the pitcher and stack our trays on the desk, as Kylie instructed, I hope that the Cotillion will be amazing in a good way. I have been permitting myself to fantasize about dancing with Brent. I mean, one little dance. That’d be okay even if he were married. And, of course, he’s not married. Not even engaged ….
“Next time we meet will be when the dresses arrive!” Kylie says. “Guys, since the committee is renting your tuxes locally from The Suit Factory, you’ll be excused from that meeting.”
Colt looks relieved, but Todd and Kurt look disappointed. Hmm, so does Marc. Could it be the lure of seeing Tanya, Randi and Nina that sparks their looks of letdown? Or am I reading too much into things? Maybe they’re just tired. Or maybe I am.
Kylie makes noises that we should all be on our way now. Randi, Colt and I gather up our books. Tanya and Todd seem to have locked eyeballs. Nina and Marc are having a quiet conversation in the corner, but not so quiet that I can’t hear them when I strain to listen. It turns out they are talking about Scene Stealers. Marc is one of the actors, or wannabe actors at this point. So far the only performances have been two short, free, propless plays performed at Scene Stealers meetings. The times are announced and students and parents can attend. I’ve been to both because of Nina and because I’m technically in Scene Stealers. The audience has numbered maybe thirty at each performance, which is about how many chairs can be set up at the back of the room after the desks have been pushed aside to make enough space for a stage area.
They’ll do Macbeth at the Town Hall Auditorium for the general public some time in May. It seems to me that there’s something about bad luck connected with performing Macbeth, but I’m not sure. Probably just a superstition. Acting in general seems to be like that. There’s all that business about never wishing an actor good luck, because it means bad luck, so you have to say, “Break a leg.” Too complicated for me. I’ll stick to props, which I won’t have to worry about for ages, anyway.
“Did you ride your bike?” Colt says.
I pull myself out of eavesdropping mode. “No, I walked.”
“Ah. Well, see ya.”
“Yeah, bye.” I’m glad Colt and I have settled into an easy sort of friendship. It’s much more comfortable now that I realize he sees me as study partner, some-time photographer’s assistant, and nothing beyond that. I mean, he’s nice enough. My biology grade is totally better than if I were slogging through my lecture notes alone. Thanks to him I’ve had a few photos in the To Be Frank-lin, though not too many are needed now that Claire has been inundated with artwork for the paper after her call for submissions. But I don’t think about Colt as anyone more than a sort-of friend, if you know what I mean, so the fact that I’ve figured out he feels the same is a good thing.
“Do we have to wait for Nina and Tanya?” Randi gets these scrunchy lines on one side of her forehead from raising one eyebrow. “I need to get home and wax my legs.” Though Franklin made it to the playoffs in football, they lost their first game. So there are no more football practices and Justin doesn’t play basketball. Thank goodness. It means I don’t have Randi trying to drag me to basketball practices. She hasn’t figured out where Justin and Madison go right after school, except that he turns left when he pulls out of the parking lot and then immediately right onto Willamette. I’m sure if she does discover where Justin goes, she’ll figure out a way to get there. Meanwhile, she spends a good portion of her time perfecting the art of being grumpy.
“Hi, ready to go?” It’s Nina. Marc is heading out the door, and if there is any romance brewing between the two of them, it’s not obvious. They’re just two Scene Stealer members who will be waiting tables at the Cotillion, I guess.
“We’re ready, but I don’t know about her.” Randi nods in the direction of Tanya and Tim, who are radiating enough light to illuminate half of Franklin High. Randi makes a throat-clearing noise as loud as thunder. “Tanya. Are. You. Coming?”
Tanya turns her face away from Todd. “Yeah.”
With that, she just leaves Todd standing there. She does not look back.
Out in the hall Tanya says, “So … is he looking at me?”
“His eyes are totally glued to you,” I say, because, I, of course, checked.
A small smile of triumph formed on Tanya’s lips. “Good.”
Poor Todd. Poor Del.