Krissy had insisted on putting up posters for me since all the boys who are running for homecoming king have posters up as well. I stand unopposed.
At least, I did.
Now, right next to my pink glittery poster is a professionally printed poster on glossy paper. It features a photo of some beautiful girl I don’t know.
Change is a beautiful thing,the poster reads.Vote for Andrea Smith as homecoming queen!
“Who… the hell… is that?” I say.
“She’s that new girl,” Krissy says. “I told you about her.”
I do remember Krissy talking earlier this school year about some new girl who started school this year and is trying really hard to be popular. But I didn’t pay much attention because I don’t care about stuff like that.
“What makes her think she can beat me?”
Krissy shrugs. Her dark hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun. “I don’t know, but she won’t win.”
Her twin brother walks by and calls out, “Hurry up or I‘ll leave you.”
Krissy rolls her eyes. “Gotta go. Call me later?”
I nod.
A few seconds later, Zane appears, and all the weirdness of finding out that someone is competing against me fades away. Zane and I never talk about football or homecoming. It’s one of the things I like about him.
“Ready?” he says, flashing me a mega-watt grin. It’s the grin of a guy who has been in a few football magazine photoshoots. He’s super hot and he knows it. So why is he hanging out with me? I definitely need to end this.
But I’ll wait until tomorrow.
Seven
Zane
I spentall day thinking about what I wanted to say to Zara. I had my words mentally rehearsed down to a perfect speech that I planned on delivering while we were walking to my truck after school. I am nervous, but excited. Today, I’m asking Zara on a date.
But now that I’m here walking next to her, I’m at a loss for words. She tells me a story about the video she watched in class, and I listen along, happy to hear the sound of her voice. When we reach my truck, we get inside and I start the air conditioning. The cool front only lasted this morning and now it’s warm again.
“Don’t you have football practice after school?” she asks.
“Yeah. It starts at three.” I pull out of the parking lot and onto the road.
Her brows crumple. “So you drop me off and home and then go back to school?”
“Yep.”
“You shouldn’t go out of your way like that. I’m totally fine walking to school like I usually do.”
“It’s not out of my way,” I say quickly. I stop at a red light and look over at her. “I usually go home and get a snack before heading back to school, so I’d be going home anyway.”
“But you could just bring a snack with you to school and it’ll save you the extra trip.”
Why is she trying to ditch me? These rides to and from school are the best part of my day. She looks concerned, like she’s truly feeling like a burden by riding to school with me. That’s better than if she just didn’t like me, I suppose. Still, I want her to want to ride with me.
“It’s no trouble at all,” I tell her. “I like hanging out with you.”
Maybe it’s better if I ask her here, in the privacy of my truck. That way if she says no, people won’t overhear and experience my embarrassment. I take a deep breath. She must sense that I’m about to say something important, because she puts her phone down and looks up at me.
“Actually, well, I wanted to ask you on a date.”
