Freak 'N' Gorgeous

by Sebastian J. Plata

  CHAPTER 26

  CAMILLA

  LET ME TELL YOU A sweet little story.

  Once upon a time, a boy—the most beautiful boy in the world—talked to a girl. A girl so ugly that, when she looked in the mirror, her own eyes glazed over and she didn’t see a girl at all, but only parts. Flat, unremarkable hair that always needed brushing. A unibrow lurking under the surface. Crooked teeth only braces could save. Un-kissable, thin lips.

  But the beautiful boy talked to this ugly girl anyway. And he kept talking to her, day in and day out. He took her to see her favorite band, told her she looked great—even though she obviously didn’t. He made her laugh, held her hand, made her feel special. He was thoughtful, attentive. Against all odds, the beautiful boy and the ugly girl were happy together.

  The end.

  This is not a realistic story. This is a fairy tale.

  But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that, for a moment there yesterday, at the mall with Konrad Wolnik, I almost believed it to be true myself.

  Thank God he took that photo of us. Thank God he reminded me of his true character. I mean, a Turkish restaurant? What fucking high school guy is that thoughtful? Even the boyfriend of my fantasies—and I’m an expert at fully realized, imaginary boyfriends—isn’t that sweet. I can’t believe I almost fell for it, almost believed he actually likes me.

  This morning, I ran in the park until I could no longer bear the excruciating stitches in my side. At lunch, I blasted the Leaky Lizards while I made chicken salad. When five o’clock came along, I whipped out the makeup kit Jodie had left me soon after my ID, and at six thirty, I slipped into my navy dress. When Mom got home at seven, I lied about my day, failing to mention the little tidbit about ditching.

  And now it’s five to eight, and I’m here, behind the school I didn’t go to today, hanging from the steering wheel of Mom’s car.

  I really do hope that photo Konrad took of us has over a thousand likes by now. I really do hope he thinks his plan is working. It’ll only make his humiliation burn that much hotter.

  This is it. Tonight’s the night. Tonight, things don’t go Konrad Wolnik’s way. Tonight, Konrad Wolnik’s life stops being perfect. Tonight, Konrad Wolnik has to face the fact that his despicable selfishness ruined someone’s life.

  And it’s all going to happen in front of the entire school.

  The parking lot is crowded with other cars. Couples mill around the back entrance, colorful ties and dresses galore. Lights flicker out through the gymnasium windows. It’s strange seeing the building so alive this long after last period.

  I don’t see anybody I know—anybody I’d have to stop and talk to, anyway—so I seize the moment and get out of the car. Heels clicking on the pavement, heart thudding, I make my way toward the commotion. My arms, I realize almost too late, are covered in a layer of perspiration. I wipe one against the other.

  Mom bought me this little navy evening purse to match my dress. I feel stupid carrying it, but at least it gives me something to do with my hands. Besides, there are plenty of other reasons to feel stupid. Every girl I see has exposed shoulders. Every dress ends above the knees. Mine not only has elbow-length sleeves, it flares out to mid-calf. It’s an outcast. Just like its owner.

  “Camilla!” I hear halfway up the stairs. I turn to see Eve’s hand hooked into Scott Jenkins’s arm. “You came!” she says. But I bet that’s not what she’s really thinking. Really, she means You came? Very emphatic question mark.

  “Of course,” I say, a little too defensively. But that’s not a good way to start the evening, so I make up for it with a smile.

  “You look great,” she tells me, her eyes gleaming in the stream of light from inside. The V-neck black dress she has on complements her runner’s body perfectly, displaying her collarbone in the most elegant way. I’m ambushed by a pang of envy and my smile falls.

  I don’t look great. She does. I might look better than usual, but looking great and Camilla Hadi are opposing forces now. Unfortunately, if I’m going into this building tonight, I have to forget about semantics. “Thanks,” I say. “I love your dress.”

  “Aww!” Eve says. “Thank you! Did you come by yourself? Why didn’t you call me? We totally would’ve picked you up.” She looks up at Scott, who is standing there awkwardly like humans with penises tend to when I’m around. He fires off a few nods for my benefit.

  Maybe I’m combative, maybe I’m desperate, or maybe tonight I just want to be on a mountain and not in a valley, but their forced kindness triggers something inside me. “I’m here with somebody.” I say. “Konrad Wolnik? You know him?”

  Eve and Scott are staring at me like I just spat out a chunk of gibberish. Eve’s about to open her mouth, but before she can, I quickly add, “Yup. Konrad Wolnik is my date tonight.” I turn my back to them and walk through the door.

  “Good evening, Ms. Hadi,” says Mr. Connick, clearly on chaperone duty. I flash him a brief smile and hurry on. I’m too busy trying to control my pounding heart and dodging all the stares. They’re almost tangible, like I’m walking against a heavy wind. Still, I show Mr. Connick my ticket, hold my head up high, and strut through the gym doors.

  Inside, it’s darker than I expected. Above me, strings of white light bulbs hang from the middle of the ceiling in two symmetrical arches. The lights reflect off the shiny floor like it’s a giant wooden mirror. White balloons are scattered everywhere you look.

  People line the walls, especially near the drink area. A group of brave seniors has ventured into the middle of the floor, the guys waving their arms to the hip-hop music, but it’s clear the party’s still far from full swing.

  I’m looking around, searching for Konrad, when I spot Alan Nguyen. Solo cup in hand, he’s heading straight for me, with—and this is pretty random—Jackie Baker, our school journalist, on his tail. He has a huge smile on his face. “Camilla!”

  “Hey, Alan,” I say as Jackie catches up. “Hi, Jackie.” I eye them both with curiosity. “Let me guess, Lauren’s not coming tonight.”

  Alan laughs. “Good guess.”

  “Did you guys come together?”

  Even though it’s dark, I can see Alan’s face flush. “As friends.”

  Jackie nods emphatically. “As friends.”

  I don’t want to make them any more uncomfortable, so I decide to change the subject. “Did we win the game?” Looking relieved, Jackie quickly shakes her head. “Well, darn,” I say.

  Alan grabs my elbow. “Come on.” He weaves us between dresses and neat, buttoned-up shirts, all the way past the drink tables. There, against the wall, my eyes lock on to a frilly yellow shirt. For a couple of seconds, I feel like my heart stops.

  Head down, elbows on his knees, Konrad sits in one of the chairs, holding his phone with both hands. The light from the screen illuminates the concentrated frown on his perfect face.

  My throat goes dry. I stop, willing him not to look at me, but it’s like he can feel my presence. His eyes jerk up and crash into mine. Instantly, he stands, the biggest smile I’ve ever seen stretching across his face.

  “Hi,” he calls over the music.

  “Hi,” I say back.

  His hands slip into his pockets. “I was sure you wouldn’t come.”

  “Why wouldn’t I? I told you I would.”

  He smiles, another huge grin. Then his eyes start shifting, running up and down my body. He’s looking at me, taking me in. All of me. My ugly calves. My small breasts. My thick layer of makeup. It’s torture.

  “You look beautiful,” he says.

  “Thanks,” I mumble, my insides twisting with humiliation. I motion to his shiny yellow shirt. “You actually wore it.”

  He glances down. “Why wouldn’t I? I told you I would.” He shoots me a smirk.

  I feel a warm tingle in my chest. It rises up into a smile. I quickly suppress it.

  “You look absolutely ridiculous,” Alan says with a snort. But if Konrad hears him, I can’t tell. Instead, Konrad
moves closer, stopping right in front of me.

  “Want to dance?”

  Shaking my head, I say, “I just got here.” I glance over my shoulder at the near-empty space in the middle. “No one’s dancing, anyway.”

  “Good,” he says, “more room for us.” He extends his hand.

  I take a deep breath. Do I have to roll out my plan already? If we go out on that dance floor, we’ll have everyone’s attention. It’s the perfect opportunity to humiliate him.

  But I hesitate. It’s not the idea of all those eyes being on us that bothers me. It’s the thought that, deep down, a part of me—a part that dreams of beautiful boyfriends and true romance—actually wants to take his hand, follow him out on that dance floor, and just dance.

  I suck in a breath and place my hand in his. As he pulls me to the center of the room, the stares pile on us. It doesn’t help that the music transitions into a cheesy eighties pop song.

  Smiling, Konrad turns to face me. His neck starts twitching from side to side, his mood immediately contagious. Unable to look away, I start copying his moves, making my own shoulders shimmy back and forth.

  And for a moment—our hands interlocked, swinging to the beat, both of us owning our dorky moves, not a care in the world—I allow myself to pretend. I let myself believe that the fairy tale where I’m here, all dolled up, dancing with the hottest guy at school is real. That this stunning guy—for inexplicable reasons—actually likes me.

  Me.

  “What’s wrong?” Konrad yells, still swaying. “Why’d you stop?”

  “Um,” I mumble, realizing I’ve completely frozen. “Let’s get something to drink.”

  He leans in. “What?”

  “LET’S GET DRINKS!”

  Slowly, he reins in his dance moves, reminding me of those battery-powered toys that take a few seconds to go still after you turn them off. He looks disappointed but nods.

  Back on planet Earth, I remember where I am. The music gets louder in my ears and I’m again aware of my surroundings.

  “BEAUTIFUL FOREVER!” one of the seniors yells in our direction, hands cupped around his mouth. “I STAND WITH CAMILLA AND KONRAD!” screams the girl next to him.

  Someone whistles. I scan the crowd and see Becca and Tom. Becca’s arms are crossed under her cleavage. Tom is whispering something into her ear, scowling.

  Eyes. Eyes as far as I can see. All filled with glee and support and optimism. All looking at Konrad and me.

  This is the perfect moment to make a scene. To do what I came to do tonight. And yet, a lump forms in my throat. I can’t bring myself to take the next step. I need more time.

  “Damn,” Alan says when Konrad and I rejoin Jackie and him. “You guys got this party started.” I follow his gaze to the crowd on the floor, which is growing bigger by the second.

  “That’s how we roll,” Konrad replies.

  The two of them start chatting about a video game that’s coming out soon, and Jackie asks me something about PSATs, but I’m not really listening. I’m busy watching the other side of the gym, where Jodie and Ashley are hugging. Ashley must have just arrived.

  My heart contracts. They both look so beautiful. Ashley’s got on a white chiffon cocktail dress, the hem flowing above her knees. Jodie’s enveloped in a short black sheath, Audrey Hepburn-style. Next to her, Joe Park hovers protectively in his black blazer.

  I wonder if Jodie’s officially dating him now. I wonder why Ashley isn’t smiling. I wonder why I don’t know these things and why I’m over here and not there with them.

  Jodie looks at me and my breath catches. Even though I promised myself to wait until the night is over, I smile at her.

  She looks away first. Cold. Indifferent. Ashley doesn’t even glance my way.

  “You okay?”

  I blink and look up into Konrad’s eyes.

  No, I’m not okay, I want to say. I’m not okay with you sabotaging my friendships. With you making me feel like you can have everything this world has to offer, while I get nothing. I’m not okay with you making me feel like you care when I know you don’t.

  I yank my eyes away from him. I need a distraction, so I search for Jackie, but she’s not around. Before I can ask Alan where she went, I get my answer.

  The music cuts off. A spotlight illuminates the back of the gym. Everybody stops what they’re doing and crowds toward the makeshift stage that’s set up there.

  “You guys having fun?” Kendra McKenzie, the senior class version of Jackie, asks into a microphone. The floor erupts with hoots of confirmation. “Great!” she says. The microphone—too close to her mouth—hisses and crackles. “Oops!” The microphone lowers. “So,” she says. “Who wants to know this year’s homecoming court?”

  More squeals and cheers. Beside me, Konrad reaches for my hand. I bring my hands up to clap, as if I didn’t notice, and pretend to crane my neck to get a better view.

  First, a freshman announces his grade’s prince and princess to wide applause. Once the two are crowned, he passes the microphone to Jackie. Jackie clears her throat. “And now for the sophomores.” She pulls out a white card from an envelope, makes a show of reading it, and looks out at the floor. “Please give a warm round of congratulations to our sophomore prince, Konrad Wolnik, and our sophomore princess, Becca Lipowska.”

  I hold my breath. There are no hoots this time. The only people clapping—besides me and Alan—are the ones who didn’t get the memo that Konrad and Becca broke up.

  “I’m not going up there,” Konrad mumbles.

  “Dude!” Alan says, clearly enjoying this. “Don’t be a dick.”

  Gently, I place one of my hands on Konrad’s back. “Come on.” I force out a chuckle. “Go get ’em, Prince Konrad.”

  The muscles under my palm stir as he takes a breath. “Fine.” He snakes his way past the mob, taking his spot next to Becca onstage before accepting his little white sash.

  More people clap and cheer now, likely in response to Konrad’s ridiculous shirt as much as anything else. Alan puts his fingers in his mouth and whistles and a sense of pride warms my chest. I can’t help it. My date is homecoming prince.

  After the juniors are crowned, the senior emcee makes an extra-dramatic spectacle of announcing the king and queen. Konrad doesn’t even glance at the other winners. He’s politely clapping along, but they don’t seem to exist to him. No one does. Not even Becca, making a sour face beside him. There’re hundreds of kids here in the gym, but he keeps looking only at me.

  His gaze is so intense, I take a step to the side so I can hide behind the girls in front of me. But every time I peek out from behind them, his eyes lock on to mine immediately.

  Why is he doing this?

  The applause dies down as Kendra McKenzie raises the microphone to her lips. “Okay!” she says, ready to wrap things up, when Konrad dashes forward from the line of royalty.

  “Sorry!” he says, getting all up in Kendra’s personal space. “Can I? Just for a second?” Without waiting for her answer, he confiscates the microphone. All Kendra can do is watch in shock along with the rest of us.

  My heart is thumping. Don’t do it, I think. Whatever it is, just don’t do it.

  He clears his throat. “I just need a minute.”

  Silence falls over the entire room. Konrad’s eyes are on me again. I really, really don’t like what I see in them.

  “Camilla,” he starts and I hold my breath. Curious heads turn toward me. Konrad clears his throat, and says, “I don’t want to be your homecoming date.”

  The gym erupts in a giant, simultaneous gasp.

  I exhale.

  Konrad sputters into the mic. “I mean—I DO! SORRY! Thank you for coming with me tonight. What I mean to say is, I want to be more than just your homecoming date. I want to be your date every day after tonight, too.”

  More gasps. Panicked, I look around. Becca’s mouth is gaping open. Alan is speechless. The entire school is staring at me.

  Even though he’s f
ar away, Konrad must see my expression, because after a crackle of the microphone, he adds, “Sorry to embarrass you like this. I just really wanted you to know—everyone to know—that I’d be honored if I could be your boyfriend.”

  It’s as if my mind completely resets.

  My feet are moving, marching, straight ahead. I’m running on auto. Bodies shift to open up a path before me. I push the ones that don’t out of the way. With each step, Konrad’s smile grows bigger. Still holding the mic, he waits for me. Only when I enter the light does his smile falter. My eyes burning into his, I climb onto the stage and I get up in his face until it disappears completely.

  “You think I’m that stupid, asshole?” I say, with as much conviction as I can muster.

  Konrad’s eyelids flutter as his lips form into a sheepish smile. Shame stabs my heart—he looks so taken aback. But I can’t allow myself to think right now. I can’t back out of this. So I just raise my voice to quiet all the conflicting ones within me. The microphone amplifies it.

  “You’re the most selfish human being on this planet. All you care about is yourself. You pretend to be a good person, but YOU’RE NOT! You manipulate people, use them, just like you’re using me right now. Just to make yourself look better.”

  The gym goes completely silent. Someone coughs.

  I turn toward the faces in the crowd. “Actually, that goes for a lot of you. So many of you made my ID about yourselves. About how it made you feel. You didn’t even bother to ask me about it. Hashtag #IStandWithCamilla? You’re SO FULL OF SHIT!”

  My face snaps back to Konrad. “But none of these people are as bad as you. Because you’re using me for your own benefit after you did this to me.” I spread out my arms. “YOU DID THIS TO ME!” I stop and shake my head in disgust. “You want me to be your girlfriend? I don’t even LIKE you! Never did, and I never will.”

  Pain creeps into Konrad’s eyes. I can’t bear to look at him. So I don’t. Instead, I focus on the silly frill of his shirt. I cup my hand over the microphone and lean in. “Also,” I whisper. “I’m the one who posted your yearbook picture with that #uglyforever hashtag.”