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By the time I got to school, I was already exhausted.
I don’t know how girls woke up and glamorize themselves every day. Doing hair, picking out clothes, painting nails, putting on makeup. The entire process was like running a 5K in your bedroom. But, it was worth it. Jasmine and Ariel gave me oohs and aahs of approval as we stood by my locker. I couldn’t remember them ever doing that before. I stuffed my army green jacket inside my locker, along with a few books, and soaked in the attention.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with straight hair before,” Jasmine said, gently touching my strands. “You look amazing!”
“Thanks!”
“You should bump in to Jake more often. You look stunning!”
I glowed under the light of her compliments. This new look took forever, and I might have given myself a few bald spots. Plus, the roots were already starting to puff back up from the humid air on the train. It was barely fifty degrees out, and the subway felt like triple that temperature. Still, it was a nice surprise to see that my hair reached below my boobs. I’d worn it in braids or pony tails for so long that I’d forgotten how long it was.
I’d picked out a faded pair of jeans and, to my pleasant surprise, they actually fit me. I matched them with a sleeveless white camisole and a blue sheer pull over that fluttered when I walked. I reluctantly gave up my red sneakers for brown boots. Every piece I wore was from Goodwill, but I wouldn’t tell Jasmine that.
“You totally look like that actress, Zendaya,” Ariel said. “Doesn’t she look like Zendaya?”
“Totally.”
I smiled. Blushed. Compliments weren’t usually thrown my way. I had no idea how to react to them, so I didn’t say anything at all.
“Jake is going to trip over himself when he sees you,” Jasmine said.
Ariel held up her phone.
“I’m going to record it, so I can tag you in it on your first anniversary.”
My stomach clenched. An anniversary? Just the thought of it made me so nervous that I had to pee. I’d spoken to boys before, but never a boy like Jake. What would he say? What would he think of me?
I leaned against my locker.
“I’m nervous,” I said, my face squished in a grimace.
Jasmine gave me a reassuring smile.
“You can be nervous, as long as you try. It’s the trying that’s the important part, right?”
She bumped Ariel, who nodded her head vigorously.
“Right.”
The first period bell rang, signaling the start of our school day. In four hours, I would be asking Jake if he needed an English tutor. In four hours, I would speak my first words to him.
My whole body clenched in fear of the unknown.
“Dressing up to get good grades is against school policy.”
I turned to see Cole standing next to my locker. Well, his locker. It was only a few feet away from mine.
He slammed the metal closed, and leaned against it, holding a bright yellow textbook in one hand.
His hair was smoothed back beneath a black knit cap today, revealing a widow’s peak that I hadn’t noticed before. He wore a dark t-shirt and one of those black, thick leather bracelets. All the black made his blue eyes stand out. Blue eyes waiting to argue with me, it would seem.
“Did you want something, Cole, or are you just doling out your daily dose of verbal torture?”
He shrugged.
“Just commenting. I’ve never seen you look so much like a girl before.”
My brows pinched. What was that supposed to mean? I know I may have under dressed, but my look wasn’t boyish, was it? Drab and unkempt maybe, but not boyish.
“And what was I before?” I demanded.
He shrugged again. “A Michelangelo, I think.”
I drew in a sharp breath.
“Did you just call me a ninja turtle?”
A third shrug. A scratch to the back of his head.
“Drop dead, Cole. And, in the meantime, don’t talk to me ever again.”
I whirled around and stormed away.
“So, you admit defeat then?” he called after me. “That’s not like you.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” I threw over my shoulder.
I did not look like a turtle. Cole could jump in a lake for all I cared.
“I know you’re not a quitter!” His loud voice followed me down the hall as I rushed into first period Art. “Don’t worry. I take my wins very gregariously! That means I’m cool with it!”
I slid in to my seat in art, seething. Cole Winsted was the king of all jerks. I imagined him sitting on a tack, leaned back in my chair, and smiled.