Couldn’t wait. Really.
I plopped down on the loveseat next to Constance, who had saved me the space. As soon as the first commercial appeared, Lorna turned from her spot on the floor. She was seated on a pink silk pillow she had brought down from her room.
“So what do you
do
on Sunday nights?” she asked me. She had some kind of smelly blue mask smeared all over her face, and her curly hair was up in two buns at the top of her head. She looked like some kind of comic book villain. The Blue Terror.
“Read, mostly,” I said.
Missy scoffed and Lorna rolled her eyes. These were their two favorite affectations. At any given moment you could find one of them doing one or the other.
During subsequent commercials, Constance updated me on the backstory, but I only half-listened. I knew I should be back in my room or at the library, reading through the extra history texts I had yet to wade through. Or practicing French pronunciation. Or doing trig problems. Pretty much the only class I wasn’t feeling stressed about was my lit class, and that was only
because
I spent all my Sundays up until now reading. But as much work as I had to do, I wanted to be social. I needed to be.
Of course, I wished I was spending this time socializing with the Billings Girls, but that was not an option. I had spent my meals with them ever since Noelle had stolen my tray, running for their food and executing every other small errand that popped into their minds, but our contact had yet to extend outside the cafeteria.
“So, everyone going to the dance on Saturday?” Diana asked as the scene faded to black, then to a car commercial. Kiki sat next to her, head bobbing to her personal soundtrack as she flipped through the latest issue of
In Touch
.
“Of course,” Missy said. She pushed herself up from the floor where she had been painting her toenails and sat on the couch, capping her nail polish bottle. “I need to pick out my boyfriend.”
Like she was shopping for socks.
“We never had dances at my old school,” Constance said. “Well, unless you count charity events, but then all the parents were there. There’s no parents at this one, right?”
Missy answered with another eye roll.
“We’ll take that as a
no
,” I said.
“Then I’m definitely there,” Constance said. “What about you, Reed?”
I flushed at the very idea of attending a school dance. I had never shown my face at one in Croton. Only the cheerleaders and male jocks went to them and later they were always crashed by the burnout crowd and eventually closed down early by the cops. As a
result, they had dwindled from four a year to exactly one—the prom—which was only for juniors and seniors. As a result, I had never danced with a boy in my life. Not once.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I actually have a lot of work to do.”
“You read on Sundays
and
you’re gonna do homework on a Saturday night?” Lorna said, cracking her mask as she pulled a face. “Back up, ladies—we have a party animal.”
“Don’t bother with the reverse psychology, Lorna. There’s no way she’ll go,” Missy said, going to work on her cuticles with a pair of cuticle scissors.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.
“It means, you’re a sheep,” she said, looking me in the eye. It was all I could do to keep from staring down the deep caverns of her nostrils. If I looked long enough, would I be able to spot the blackness of her heart? “There’s no way the
Billings
Girls are going to go, because they think they’re all above any and all school functions, and we all know that whatever they do, you’ll do. Isn’t that what sheep do? Follow the herd?”
Lorna snickered along with her friends. Constance bit her lip and glanced warily in my direction, wondering if I was going to explode.
There were about a million things I could have said. I could have pointed out the fact that she was just jealous that the Billings Girls knew I existed. I could have reminded her that she was the one who was so looking forward to being a Billings Girl next year, and if she
so wanted to be one, why was
she
going to the dance? But I knew that whatever I said would come off as a defensive rant.
I wasn’t going to give Missy Thurber the satisfaction. Even though my blood was boiling hot enough to spew lava, I just stood up without saying anything and calmly walked back to my room, wondering why I had ever craved the friendship of other girls.
“Are you going to talk to him?” Constance asked me breathlessly.
I stood against the wall of the great room, where Easton apparently held all their events from fundraisers to blood drives, staring across the room at Thomas, who was surrounded by people. Freshmen and sophomores mostly, since it seemed that most juniors and seniors had avoided this, the first school dance, including—as predicted—the Billings Girls. Missy was right. They were above events like this. Far too sophisticated, too cool, too blessed with thousands of better things to do. I had come for exactly three reasons: 1) because Constance had begged me to, and I knew she would never let it die until I said yes; 2) because Missy had publicly declared there was no way I would show; and 3) because I myself had nothing to hold me back other than a stack of homework the size of a Buick.
What I didn’t get was why Thomas was there. If the Billings Girls were too good to be here, he certainly was as well.
“I might,” I said.
If he wasn’t so clearly otherwise occupied.
I watched with a pang of jealousy as a pretty, petite brunette laughed at something he said. Ever since that look Thomas had given me outside the cafeteria, I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. Even though I knew he was probably trouble, I just felt a deep pull toward him and a sense of connection that was weirdly powerful considering how few times we’d actually spoken. But the heart wanted what it wanted. And tonight it definitely wanted Thomas.
All around the room, people kept to the walls, talking and laughing or staring out at the empty dance floor while the DJ spun random dance hits of the last ten years. A few teachers roamed the periphery, staring people down and looking generally peeved. It seemed as if Easton had tapped its sternest adults to chaperone the event, and I wondered if anyone would be dancing or at least having some kind of fun if these sentries of doom weren’t present. All in all, it probably would have been the lamest dance I had ever been to. If I had ever been to a dance before.
“Why don’t you just go ask him to dance?” Constance said.
“Uh, no one else is dancing,” I said.
“Well, then, at least go say hello,” Constance said. “C’mon. We need some romance around here and it can’t be me since I have, you know, Clint. I need to live vicariously through you.”
“Look, I never even said I liked the guy,” I said.
She scoffed. “Yeah, right. It’s, like,
so
obvious.”
Oh, God. Was it? How humiliating.
“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Missy said, horning in on the conversation. “Go up to him already. He’s just a person.”
Right. Like you could do it.
“A person who’s coming over here,” Constance said under her breath.
What? I looked up. Slowly, Thomas was making his way across the room. He looked right into my eyes and smiled the whole way.
He stopped right in front of me and tucked his chin. “Where’s your entourage?” he asked.
“My entourage?”
“The Billings Girls,” he said. “I thought you didn’t leave home without them.”
Behind me, Missy snorted. Was this why he had come over here? To mock me?
“I do what I want to do,” I said, lifting my chin slightly.
“Good,” he replied. “You don’t need them anyway.”
Yes, I did. And if he didn’t realize that, he was a lot more clueless about this school of his than he knew.
“Well, someone should be dancing,” he said. “And I think that someone is Reed Brennan.” He smiled slowly and offered both his hands.
Damn.
“But . . . no one else is dancing,” I said.
“What’s the matter? You scared?” he asked.
I narrowed my eyes. “Please.”
I took his hands and he backed toward the dance floor, watching my eyes the whole way. Everyone in the room stared. The teachers looked almost disgusted that someone actually had the gall to dance at this dance. The guys seemed merely intrigued, but
I could practically
taste
the jealousy radiating off the female population. The hottest guy there, the only guy with the guts to actually dance, had chosen to dance with me.
Thomas paused. My heart pounded in my every pore. Without a word, he lifted my arms and placed them around his neck. Then he slid his arms around my waist, his hands resting lightly just at the small of my back. His eyes never left mine. As we started to step from side to side, my breath grew short. Every inch of me ached to touch him. Arms and hands were not enough.
“What are you thinking?” he asked me, his voice sending reverbs through my chest.
I flushed. “Nothing.”
Thomas lifted one corner of his mouth, bringing out a small dimple. “Yes, you were. You were thinking something naughty.” My skin sizzled. He brought his cheek to mine and his stubble scratched my skin. His breath was hot on my ear. “Tell me your naughty thoughts, Reed Brennan.”
Oh, God.
My palms were sweating. My head swam. My whole body throbbed.
“Do I make you nervous?” he asked.
I shook my head.
He pulled back slightly, looked me in the eye, and smiled. “Liar.”
And then he kissed me.
I had been hoping that Thomas would actually show up on time for morning services, wanting to see me as much as I wanted to see him, but he sneaked in ten minutes late as usual and hunkered down in his seat with his sunglasses on. Result? I couldn’t even catch his eye. How he got away with that stuff, I had no idea, but no one seemed to bother him about it. He was just that type of guy.
I spent the morning “studying” out on the quad in the sun with Constance. I had to do something about my not-so-stellar academic record. When I presented my art history project earlier Friday morning—I had decided to do it on Frida Kahlo—Mrs. Treacle had critiqued it right away as she had all the others, calling it pedestrian and under-researched (unlike all the others). She gave me a C and told me to do better next time. An oral report in French didn’t go much better. Although my pronunciation had improved, Miss Krantz said I was still too hesitant and that my lack of confidence was distracting. And finally, there was the history quiz. I didn’t even want to think about the number of blanks I had left on that page.
I wanted to buckle down. I really did. But most of my time on the quad was actually spent scanning my surroundings, hoping for a glimpse of Thomas. All I could think about was that kiss. The way he had touched my face with his fingertips. I had never had a kiss like that before. And I wanted more. Now.
“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?” Constance asked me during one of my many dazed-in-space jags.
“No. I was just . . . trying to figure out this equation,” I said, looking down at my trig book and blushing.
“Yeah, right. You’re so in love you can’t even stop smiling,” she said.
“I’m not in love,” I said flatly.
“Yes, you are!” she teased.
“Let’s just study,” I said.
Constance’s face fell and she went back to her work without a word. I instantly felt guilty for shutting her down, but didn’t know what to say. When was I going to learn?
I took a deep breath and tried to concentrate. I really did. But five seconds later, I was with Thomas again. I definitely had it bad.
Lunch hour could not come fast enough. Thomas always showed up for lunch, however briefly. I was salivating at the thought of seeing him.
I approached the Billings table uncertainly as I always did, waiting for them to tell me it was all a joke and to go away. When I slipped into my chair without incident, I let out a sigh of relief. Ariana looked up briefly from her book and gave me a wan smile.
“Hi, Reed!” Taylor said brightly, as she always did. She was
the only one of the four who always seemed genuinely pleased to see me.
“Hi,” I replied.
I glanced at Kiran. She ignored my presence as if nothing out of the ordinary had ever occurred between us.
“How’s everything going? How are your classes?” Taylor asked. “Did you do anything interesting yesterday?”
“Fine, fine, and no. Not really,” I said lightly. I was getting used to Taylor’s questions and learning how to answer them as vaguely as possible.
“Yeah, right. I hear you and Thomas Pearson got nasty last night,” Noelle said, amused.
My mouth opened slightly, but nothing came out. How did she always know everything?
“Thomas Pearson?” Kiran said, raising one perfect eyebrow. “
There’s
a good idea.”
Right. Like your Dreck boy was such a wise choice.
“Did you know that the Pearsons donate two hundred and fifty thousand dollars to the school every year? That’s on top of his tuition,” Taylor offered.
Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars? Two hundred and fifty
thousand dollars
?! How rich
were
these people?
“Taylor. Really,” Ariana scolded. As if talking about money was just that wrong.
And as always, Taylor clammed up.
Just then the double doors opened and Thomas walked in with
Dash, Gage, and Josh. My heart caught and immediately began racing. I was expecting to
maybe
catch him in the last ten minutes of the meal when he usually appeared, grabbed food, and bailed. But there he was, trailed by his friends. Right on time.
I told myself not to expect anything. Maybe the kiss meant nothing. Maybe he had forgotten I existed. Maybe he—
“Hey, new girl,” he said, sliding into the chair next to mine. He pushed my hair back from my face with his fingertips and when I turned to him, kissed me right on the lips. “I guess I should start calling you Reed now.”