Ella's Twisted Senior Year (9 page)

“I’m so sorry, El.” My heart feels like it’s breaking all over again as I imagine her going through eighth grade alone. Truth is, it’d been hell on me as well, but I hid it better. I joined football and made friends but I still missed her every day. I just channeled that hurt into working out and telling myself to get over it.

“Maybe we could try being friends again?” I ask. She takes a second before looking over at me and in that moment, all the blood in my veins freeze in anticipation. If she rejects me again I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle it.

“Yeah,” she says. “Maybe we could be friends again.”

The first four classes of the day blur by as if I’m trapped in a time warp. I am vaguely aware of sitting in desks, staring ahead while my teachers ramble on with their lesson. In third period, I even manage to take some notes, using letters and words that might make sense to someone who’s in their right mind, so although my body is present and accounted for when my teachers take attendance, my mind is in a whole different world.

One where Ethan never called me a stalker.

Is it really possible to have spent the last four and a half years believing a lie?

Ethan and I don’t have a single class together, which up until this morning I’d considered a blessing from the schedule gods. Now I’m dying for more time with him, thinking stupid things like how fun it would be if we could look over in class and share secret glances with each other. Something is severely wrong with me. We’d agreed to be friends. That’s all. And now I’m just blowing it all out of proportion by letting it fill up my every waking thought.

When the bell rings for lunch, I’ve nearly convinced myself to stop thinking about Ethan. Just for an hour, so I can think clearly.

April grabs my elbow the moment I walk in the hallway from class. “Did you know they broke up?”

I don’t need to ask who she’s talking about. “Yeah, it kind of happened right in front of me,”

“Ella, there’s this new technology that exists. It’s called a cell phone. And it has this calling feature that’s pretty cool.” She narrows her eyes at me, her height making her look a little intimidating. “You should have used this technology to call and tell me all about it, you jerk.”

I snort. “I’m going to need more than a phone call to tell you everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours.”

“Oooh, I’m intrigued. So how’d the breakup go? Was she all shrill and screaming?”

“Actually no,” I say, shuddering when I realize that Ethan and Kennedy haven’t even been over for a full day yet and he and I have already made out. What kind of person does that make me? Ugh.

“Okay well, she’s on the freaking warpath. Apparently she wasn’t going to tell anyone about the breakup because she thought they would get back together, but he told his friends and of course, word got out instantly.” She holds up her phone, wiggling it at me. “Some people know how to use social media, unlike you.”

“Why do you even care about this? We’ve gone years not caring about the daily life drama of the popular crowd,” I say, grabbing a box of Cheerios from the cereal cart in the cafeteria. I’m not that hungry and plus, it’s only seventy-five cents.

“I didn’t care until my best friend started living at the future prom king’s house,” she says, placing a hand to her chest. “Now I’m kind of psyched to see what happens.”

I roll my eyes. “
Nothing
is going to happen.”

We move up a few places in the food line and my eyes drift over to Ethan’s table. He’s sitting with his friends, his fingers laced together on the table. Kennedy sits next to him, sideways in the chair, her knees touching his thigh. I can’t hear what she’s saying but she’s talking animatedly, moving her hands around. I did want to tell April about the make out mistake of last night, but now I’m thinking I should keep that to myself. Clearly it meant nothing to him.

I look at April. “You think they’ll get back together?”

She digs in her pocket, fishing out some dollar pills to pay for her slice of pizza. “Who knows? But Kennedy seems to think they will.”

“Yeah, probably,” I say with a nod. “Let’s sit outside today.”

In the courtyard, I am separated by Ethan and Kennedy by a solid wall of glass and a couple dozen other students. It’s still not enough to block out thoughts of him, but it’ll do.

“So prom,” April says while she blots off the grease from her pizza. “We haven’t been dress shopping yet. Are you still wanting to hit up the Galleria or go somewhere local?”

I eat a handful of Cheerios. Prom has always been April’s thing. I agreed to go because it made her happy. But frilly dresses and hair appointments and limo rentals doesn’t light up that part in my brain that screams
yay!
Instead I just feel the pressure of choosing a dress that’s not too expensive but still looks awesome, and I can’t decide if the anxiety of trying to find a date is worse than the anxiety of going alone.

All of our lives we’re exposed to movies and books and full page ads in magazines that build up our expectations for a wonderfully extravagant and perfect high school prom. We’re force fed ideas that frilly sparkly dresses are something to be desired and that wearing a dead flower on your wrist is supposedly romantic because a guy gave it to you. Why is this even a thing?

We don’t live in old times where boys call on girls and court them before proposing marriage. We don’t wear petticoats and curtsey and giggle beneath a fabric fan. So why am I supposed to crap myself with excitement when prom time rolls around? I’d way rather spend the night watching TV.

“It’s whatever you want to do,” I say, realizing April is still waiting on an answer for our dress shopping adventure.

“Cool. We also need to get dates.” Satisfied with the grease removal, she picks up the pizza and takes a bite. “It’s not that I don’t want to go with my bestie and all, but this is senior prom and we totally need dates. Do you have anyone in mind?”

My thoughts go to a certain tall, dark-haired guy who looks really sexy wearing only a towel. I shake my head. “Not a clue.”

“No worries. We’ll figure it out. We have some time to find a date, but we should probably step up our game, ya know?” She shimmies her hips while sitting on the picnic bench. “We need to attract a couple of hot guys and we’re not gonna manage that with our current personalities, if you know what I mean.”

“You’re such a dork,” I say, tossing back a handful of Cheerios.

“And so are you, which is exactly why we need to sex up our image, lady.” April pumps her fists excitedly. A dark feeling settles over me as I realize that dress shopping really isn’t a good idea right now. With everything that’s happened, asking my parents to buy me a prom dress would be asking a little too much of them.

But there’s no way I can tell April that now, and ruin her sparkly-eyed prom daydreams. Maybe I should channel all of the energy I’ve spent thinking about Ethan and use it to find a job instead.

The final bell on Friday is like a siren song that I could write poems about. And that’s saying a lot because, despite my poetic last name, I don’t have a creative literary bone in my body. But an entire week has passed since Ella and I got our feelings out in the open and now we’re in a fun routine where we ride to and from school together, but don’t see much of each other outside of that. A few days ago, Ella and I watched Netflix with Dakota in the living room and although we didn’t talk much, it was the start of what I’d call a real friendship. There’s no more animosity toward each other, no more hurt feelings. Now we’re just getting to a place where we can make up for lost time.

I make my way through the locker room, stopping when my phone goes off. Frustration makes me want to hurl my phone straight into the cinderblock walls. Kennedy is calling.

I don’t know why she thinks I’ll answer her call when I’ve spent the last five days ignoring every single text and call she’s sent my way. That doesn’t stop her from joining us at the lunch table and trying to find me in the hallways between classes. I take a different route nearly every day just to throw her off my scent. But now it’s the end of seventh period and there’s no getting away from her. Which is why I press my back against the lockers and wait it out a bit. Ella is cool with this strategy.

We both want to avoid a Kennedy conflict, so we just hang out in our last period until five minutes after the bell, then slip off to the parking lot. Kennedy is already gone by then, or she’s staying after for cheer. Whatever the case, it’s worked like a charm for five whole days.

But in a world without magic, I guess the charm is bound to wear off at some point. Kennedy steps right in front of me the moment I walk out of the locker room. She’s in her cheerleader uniform, looking all peppy from the mini pompoms on her shoes to the giant bow in her ponytail. The only thing not emanating school spirit is the scowl on her face.

“You can’t just ignore me, Ethan.”

“Really? Because I thought I was doing a pretty good job.”

She puts her hands on her hips and her perfect posture plus uniform makes her look in desperate need of a pair of pompoms. “Why are you being so mean to me?”

I flinch. Mean isn’t exactly what I’m going for here, but after learning Kennedy’s true nature, I just don’t want to be friends. Is that so bad? “I’m sorry you think I’m being mean, but I’m trying to keep my distance. We’re not dating anymore so I don’t see why we need to text and talk all the time.”

“Because we’re royalty in this school,” she says. I don’t even know what to say to that.

Coach Tamara saves me from the ex-girlfriend interrogation by calling Kennedy’s name. “Practice began five minutes ago,” she says, pointing to her bare wrist as if there was a watch there.

“One second,” Kennedy tells her before turning to me. “I’m
not
going to lose you as a prom date,” she says, poking me in the chest. “You won’t humiliate me on the biggest day of my life.”

My tongue runs across my teeth and for all the bravado I had a second ago, I can’t find a way to tell her that’s not happening. So I just start walking toward the art room, which is luckily on the opposite end of the hallway from where Kennedy is going.

She calls my name and I look back although I’d prefer to just keep walking. Of course, that
would
be mean. “Yeah?”

“I know you’re giving the homeless girl rides to school because she’s poor, but you should really pawn her off soon. Your reputation will suffer.”

“Thanks for the unsolicited advice,” I call out over my shoulder. “Please lose my number.”

“We’re not done,” she says, but I walk faster and don’t catch whatever she yells after that.

Ms. Cleary is deep in conversation with Ella when I walk in the art room. They’re standing over a watercolor painting that looks like a super yellow sunset.

“Ethan, hello,” Ms. Cleary says. She gestures toward the wall where some of my canvases from last year are displayed. “Did you bring me some more art?”

I shake my head. “No, I’m here to get Ella.”

Her eyes widen for a fraction of a second. Even teachers aren’t immune to school gossip but she must be behind on the whole Kennedy and me break up thing.

I hitch my backpack up my shoulders. “Ella lives with me.”

This time her eyes widen so big she can’t hide it. Ella rolls her eyes and slugs me in the arm. “Don’t listen to him. He’s my neighbor and since our house became so much firewood, my family is staying with his family.”

“Ah, well that makes sense,” Ms. Cleary says. “I’m glad you were able to get that worked out and I am so, so sorry for your loss, dear.”

Ella picks up her painting. “It’s okay.”

Ms. Cleary turns her question on me while Ella takes the painting over to a long shelf for drying artwork. “So how’s the T-shirt business?”

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I pull it out an inch to see the name on the screen. Kennedy. I drop the phone back in my pocket. “It’s going pretty well,” I say. “I made a few new designs this week that I’ll upload tonight.”

“I’d say it’s going a lot better than
pretty
well,” Ms. Cleary says, waving her hands around. “At least half of my class is wearing one of your designs every single day. You’ll be paying for college in no time.”

I nod. From the other side of the room, Ella’s eyebrow is raised. I shift on my feet, knowing she’s listening to everything I say and for some reason I want her to keep looking so impressed. “Yeah, I’m pretty much there,” I say, straightening my shoulders. “I’ve got state college paid for, at least. I’m not making Harvard money, but it’s not like I’ll be applying there anyway.”

Ms. Cleary laughs. “Harvard is overrated. State college is all you really need these days.”

Ella appears at my side, her hot pink backpack slung over one shoulder. “Ready?”

I nod and we say goodbye to Ms. Cleary, quickly falling into step with each other as we walk out to the now nearly empty parking lot.

“So I think we’ll have to rethink our escape plan,” I say, digging in my pocket for my keys. “Kennedy cornered me outside of the locker room just now.”

My phone goes off again, and once again, Kennedy’s name flashes across the screen. I deleted her picture days ago so at least I don’t have to see it when she’s blowing up my phone. “I’m going to have to block her number,” I mutter.

Ella’s looking up at me as we walk. She’s so short and cute I want to rest my elbow on top of her head but I’m sure she’ll kick my ass for it. “So, you didn’t tell me what she said,” Ella says, kicking at a pebble on the concrete.

“She wanted to bitch at me for not answering her millions of texts and calls,” I say, pointing to one finger. I point to the next one. “And then she wanted to berate me about prom some more.”

“So you’re broken up but you’re still going to prom together,” Ella says, shaking her head. “And I can’t even get a date at all. You popular people have all the luck.”

We reach my truck and I’ve absentmindedly walked over to the passenger side with her. I open the door for her and watch her climb inside. “I’m not going to prom with Kennedy. She may think I will, but it won’t happen.”

She makes this mock look of surprise. “But then what will happen to the royal couple? You can’t show up with separate dates and get crowned together, that’s a prom blasphemy.”

I stand in front of her, the door still open. I should probably close it and get in on my side, but she smells like the flowers and I’m much closer to her here than I would be behind the steering wheel.

“Maybe I won’t win,” I say.

She snorts. “I’m not voting for you.”

Her grin matches mine and I close the freaking truck door because if I don’t, I’ll lean in and kiss her again. I just won this girl’s friendship back and even my dumbass knows it wouldn’t be smart to push the limits right now.

Ella flips channels on the radio while we drive home. It’s such a dumb thing, but I love that she feels comfortable enough to mess with my radio without asking. The first couple of days of riding to school were awkward, but now we have a routine and it’s finally comfortable.

“Fries?” I say when we roll up on the McDonald’s.

“Do you even have to ask?” She gives me that grin that makes my knees weak.

Splitting a large order of fries on the drive home is just as important of a routine as our morning donut stop. It’s our way of enjoying good food before getting home to where my mom has cooked some healthy paleo/keto meal or whatever type of diet the internet has convinced her to try out this week. Mom’s cooking is good, but when you never know how many tons of baked vegetables you’ll have to eat each day, it’s nice to enjoy a bucket of hot fried potatoes.

I look over at her while we pull out of the drive thru line. “Do you have any plans tonight?”

She shakes her head. “April has to babysit and I’m kind of over being around her little brothers, so no.”

“I don’t have plans either.” My heart speeds up. The question was so simple when I thought of it a moment ago but now getting the words out is proving to be as hard as mentally calculating quantum physics.

“We should hang out,” I say all in one quick breath. “Rent a movie or something.”

She reaches for a fry. “Sure, sounds fun.”

Those three words send fireworks shooting through my chest. After a week of football practice, dodging Kennedy’s calls, and trying to pretend the most amazing girl in the world isn’t sleeping in the next room over, Ella’s simple agreement to watch a movie feels like an epic advancement in our friendship.

Not that I’m trying to do things to propel us back into the make out zone or anything—but if it happens to lead there, I’ll be more than happy to grab the opportunity and hold on tight.