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Chapter 18
Matt
I do everything I can think of to take my mind off Izzy for the weekend. I meet up with Carter, and we hit the beach. I zone out playing video games with Isaac. I try to focus on nothing but homework, and once that loses interest, I turn on Netflix and watch for hours. But no matter what, I still keep thinking about her. The way her fingers felt on my lips when she stopped me from kissing her. The look in her eyes, telling me she wanted to kiss me as much as I wanted to kiss her. That lotus hair product smell that lingered in the air as she held her head closer to mine. Finally, I decide to surf the internet to try and pass the time.
No. That’s a lie. I’m telling myself I’m just going to surf the internet as I flip open my laptop, but I know exactly what I’m really doing. Checking out her channel.
She didn’t update it at all last week, but there’s a new video uploaded from late Friday night. The initial cover image has her making a goofy face, sticking her tongue out, which makes me laugh until I see the title. ‘Comic Book Couples’.
I nervously click the play button and watch as the video opens up with her sitting in front of her camera, her eyes red as if she’s been crying. My heart cracks, knowing I’m probably the cause of it.
She starts talking about different couples, and when she gets to Cyclops and Emma Frost, the video only has a few minutes left. Then she mentions Tony Stark and Pepper Pots. A small chord inside puts me on edge, wondering if she’s going to mention me. I don’t think she would by name, but maybe she’ll allude to something. She covers their relationship, and it doesn’t go over my head. She’s talking exactly about me.
She seems to perk up a little more at the end and mentions something about finding her Black Bolt. That’s when I wrinkle my nose. I’m Black Bolt, can’t she see that? The dude can level a city just by whispering, so he had to stay quiet. And his wife, the queen of the Inhumans was Medusa, but she was still with him. I feel a spiral of indignation start twisting in my stomach. I can’t say anything, lest I have my entire high school life, that was nearing completion mind you, ripped out from under me and leveled. I have to stay quiet. I don’t care what anyone else likes or dislikes. If they’re my friend, I have their back. Just like I had Carter’s back. But I guess life isn’t a comic book.
When I get to class Monday morning, our teacher goes over the ballot slips just before we start the morning announcements. I take a deep breath, closing my eyes, hoping the girls changed their minds, but no such luck. In the middle of the list sits Izzy’s name and I bite my tongue, cringing.
In years past, the joke vote could get out of hand. People would rag on the person who made it on prom court, stuff stupid things in their lockers, or toilet paper their car if they had one. Juvenile stuff fully intended to belittle the other person.
In the past few years though, the faculty at Woodbridge had taken steps to put a halt to the joke votes. That’s why the students made sure it came across as legit. And no outward hazing was done to either guy or girl on the court, but that didn’t matter. The person who made the court stuck out like a sore thumb compared to the rest of the court.
Take the guys on the ballot this year for example. I was this year’s homecoming king, senior class president, and lettered in football for the past three years. Franco Avila lettered in Basketball, Football, and Lacrosse and already signed his letter of intent to go to USC. Other guys had the GPA, good looks, and nice cars. We’re the popular guys. That’s not having an ego; it just is what it is.
Now compare our resume to Sam Patterson. He’s super-smart, but he comes off as a dork. Super thick glasses, he started wearing braces junior year, and he always walks around with not only a loaded backpack but carrying at least three other books. And he’s captain of the chess club and debate team. I hate to judge a book by its cover, but one of these things is not like the others. I’m still not convinced the faculty hasn’t just been turning a blind eye the last couple years, figuring that kids will be kids, because it’s so obvious the guy and girl elected to prom court are there deliberately. And I do feel bad about it, but it’s not like I can change a tradition that’s been going on for twenty years.
“And finally, prom is right around the corner!” Yvette lights up like the fourth of July, a huge grin across her face. “By the end of first period, you’ll all be given your ballots. Remember, out of the ten names for the guys and ten names for the girls, only five from each will be elected. You have all week to vote, so any of you that’d really like to can get out there and campaign. I know there’s one boy I’ll be voting for this year. A president should always wear a crown.”
My mouth drops as she gives me a knowing wink and then looks at the camera, repeating the gesture.
“What the?” I look over at her then at our teacher.
“Yvette?” Mr. Garrison calls out a warning.
“Okay.” She smiles as if it’s all part of the announcements. “That’s it for the morning announcements. Remember, ballots must be turned in by end of the day, Thursday. And don’t forget this Friday’s pep rally, for our reveal of who made this year’s prom court!”
Her frozen smile stays on the camera, until Kip calls out, “All right, we’re clear.”
“What the hell was that?” I say, my voice a little louder than I intend.
“Language, Mr. Hillard,” Mr. Garrison says, still sitting at his desk.
Yvette gets up from the announcements desk and walks over to her own, which is next to mine. “Oh, Matt, calm down. We all know you’re gonna make court. And I know I’ll be prom queen. I’m campaigning hard for that this year.”
“Yeah, and?”
“And, I know who I want as my king.”
“Yvette, I was already homecoming king. I’m not even campaigning to make court, let alone try and be nominated prom king.”
“Good.” Oscar laughs. “Because I’m gunning for that one, dude.” He tosses a glance towards our teacher, who’s still sitting behind his desk going over papers before we finish with the rest of class. Leaning closer to me from the row over, he quirks an eyebrow. “Imagine the hook-up power I’d have if I was prom king. Yeahya!”
“You can try if you want,” Yvette retorts, sounding a little annoyed. “I’m campaigning for Matt myself, though. So, don’t feel too bad when he adds another crown to his trophy case.”
“Seriously.” I look back at Yvette. “Don’t campaign for me. I don’t care about prom court. I’ve already got enough to do. We’ve already got enough to do with setting up the dance and prom court week stuff.”
“Oh, don’t be silly.” She waves me off before grabbing my hand. “Matt, we’re gonna rule prom. I just need to make sure I have the right date.”
The look in her eyes is anything but questioning. She gives me her best shy but sly smile, the kind I know she can dole out to any guy, making him give her whatever she wants. She wants me to ask her to prom. She hinted so hard at it last week that I honestly expected her to just flat out ask me herself. But Yvette doesn’t play that way. She wants what she wants, and how she wants it. If she wants a guy to ask her out, she makes damn sure he knows it. And she doesn’t stop until she gets it. It’s a power thing for her. I’ve seen her do it throughout high school.
I just give a frustrated smile. As annoying as she can be sometimes, that doesn’t mean I want to hurt her feelings. But I don’t want to go to prom with her either. Thankfully, Mr. Garrison finally gets up from his desk and calls everyone to attention for the remainder of class.
