Crushes, Codas, and Corsages #4

by Michelle Schusterman

  “I’m also very impressed with your performance in the sight-reading room,” Mr. Dante continued. “I’m sure some of you noticed the ratings board. The sight-reading music was more challenging than usual this year, which made it difficult for any band to receive a Superior rating—particularly from all three judges. But I feel like we played the best we could.” Pausing, Mr. Dante smiled at us. “Which makes getting Sweepstakes even better.”

  He pulled the trophy out of his bag and held it up, and the band exploded.

  That’s what it must’ve sounded like from across the parking lot, at least. Over all the noise, I could hear Gabby yelling “That was totally evil!” at Mr. Dante, who was laughing. I hugged Owen right before Julia hopped up two rows and tackled me, Natasha, and Gabby. It took the poor photographer several minutes to get everyone back in our positions on the risers. Mr. Dante stood next to the front row, holding our Sweepstakes trophy.

  “Ready?” The photographer stood behind his camera. “I’d say smile, but that seems pretty unnecessary,” he joked, and we laughed. He was right, though. Five minutes later when our bus pulled out of the parking lot, I was still smiling so hard my cheeks hurt.

  The expressions of the workers behind the pizza buffet at Spins were kind of funny. Probably because about forty kids in tuxes and ugly puffy-sleeved dresses just had burst through the doors, yelling and jumping around like we were all on a sugar rush. (Which most of us were, thanks to the massive bag of celebratory M&M’s Gabby had opened on the bus.)

  Gabby skipped the pizza and went straight to the cinnamon sticks, piling her plate high before claiming a massive circular booth in the corner. Victoria and Max joined her, along with Trevor and Owen. Julia and Natasha hurried over to sit next to Victoria, so the only spot left for me was on the end next to Owen. Which I was pretty sure had been intentional, judging from their too-innocent looks.

  “What’s your deal with dessert, anyway?” Trevor asked Gabby around a mouthful of pizza. “Don’t you ever eat real food?”

  With an exaggerated, weary sigh, Gabby leaned back. “Trevor, I’m going to tell you a story,” she announced. “It’s called ‘Death by Tofu-Spinach Scramble.’ Once upon a time, there was a girl whose mother thought sugar was the source of all evil, so she banned it from the kingdom. She—”

  “The kingdom?” Victoria interrupted with a grin, while the rest of us snickered.

  Gabby nodded solemnly. “Yes, the Kingdom of Flores. A magical place where peanut-butter cups grew on trees and it rained Jolly Ranchers, until the queen was brainwashed by her diet support group and decided everyone in the kingdom should live off lettuce and carrots, like rabbits.”

  Brandishing her cinnamon stick like a wand, Gabby explained how the queen had used magic to turn chocolate into tofu and Twizzlers into celery sticks, until Princess Flores, who suffered from severe health-food allergies and needed sugar as an antidote, was forced to become a candy-hunting outlaw. By the time she got to the part where the princess barely survived a quest for life-saving cinnamon sticks after a deadly tofu-spinach breakfast, everyone was laughing almost too much to eat. Even Trevor.

  “I definitely need some dessert after that,” Natasha said, still giggling. She slid out of the booth, and Julia followed.

  As soon as the others started talking again, Owen turned to me, his eyes bright. “Guess what?” he said, continuing before I could respond. “My parents are sending me to an art camp this summer! It’s not animation, though, mostly drawing and illustrating. But the teacher is a real comic-book artist!”

  I couldn’t help but grin, because he looked so excited. “That’s so cool! Where is it?”

  “This school near Dallas,” Owen said. “Two whole weeks, too. It’s in July.”

  “Wow!” I tried to sound enthusiastic, but it was hard with my brain screaming Hang on—isn’t Ginny from Dallas?

  I listened to Owen describe the camp, smiling and nodding and wondering whether or not Ginny the Amazing Artist would be there, too. For two whole weeks. With Owen.

  Ugh.

  After a few minutes, I got up to refill my drink. No matter how hard I tried not to, I couldn’t help feeling jealous of Ginny. Which was ridiculous for about a million reasons. I mean, I didn’t even know if she’d be at that art camp. And even if she was, that didn’t mean Owen liked her. And even if he did, Owen wasn’t my boyfriend.

  I stood in front of the soda fountain, lost in thought, until my cup started overflowing with root beer.

  “Oops!” Making a face, I pulled the cup away too late.

  “Here you go!”

  Glancing up, I realized Aaron was next to me, holding out a napkin. “Oh! Thanks,” I said, taking it and wiping off my cup.

  “No problem.” Aaron started filling his own cup with ice. “So I saw House 2 last weekend.”

  “Yeah?” I dried my hand and tossed the sopping napkin in the trash. “I saw it a few weeks ago. I loved it.”

  He nodded. “Me too. Although I think I still like the first one better.”

  “Really?” I asked. “I thought this one was scarier.”

  “It was, but . . .” Aaron looked thoughtful. “I don’t know. I guess I liked the ending of the first one more.”

  I laughed. “Why, because in the second one the girl turned out to be hallucinating?”

  “Well, yeah!” Aaron said earnestly. “I mean, in the first movie the ghosts were all real. The house was actually haunted. That’s what made it so creepy.”

  “That’s what Owen said!” I shook my head. “I think it’s creepier that she was imagining it in the second one. Doesn’t it freak you out that she was so sure everything that happened in the second movie was real? It’s like the ghosts from the first movie were actually in her head! The house wasn’t haunted—she was.”

  We debated for a few more minutes, but I was pretty sure Aaron still thought the first movie was better. He wasn’t alone—I’d had this argument with pretty much everyone. The only person who agreed with me was Chad. My brother might be annoying sometimes, but at least he really got horror like I did.

  Still, talking to Aaron was fun, and I was smiling by the time I went back to my seat. But as soon as I saw Owen, I remembered the whole Ginny thing, and my stomach dropped a little. Maybe I should just ask him flat-out if she was going to be at that camp. Was there a way to do it without sounding like a jealous nutcase? Taking a deep breath, I turned to Owen.

  “Cinnamon stick?” he asked, offering me his plate.

  “Thanks!” I took one, but set it on my napkin without taking a bite. Owen spoke again before I could say anything.

  “Are you still coming over after school? I finished the cartoon last night.”

  “Yeah!” I nodded. “I can’t wait to see it. And . . .” I paused, still trying to think of a way to ask about Ginny.

  Suddenly, I felt seriously annoyed with myself. What was my problem? So what if Owen was friends with this girl? And so what if she was a great artist, too? Or if they talked on the phone? I talked to Aaron about horror movies and stuff a lot, because he was my friend. Even if Owen and I were dating, there would be nothing wrong with that.

  I realized Owen was still waiting for me to speak. “And, um . . . maybe afterward we can get some Prophets time?” I asked. “It’s been a while.” Prophet Wars was our favorite video game, although thanks to all our homework and projects, we hadn’t been able to play much since before spring break.

  Owen perked up. “Yeah! I forgot to tell you—they’re releasing an expansion pack next month! Ten new levels, plus a bunch of new weapons and add-ons for the tanks.”

  “Really?” I said excitedly. “Should we order it? We can split the cost.”

  “Maybe,” Owen replied, smiling. “It’s still pretty expensive, and my mom just bought me that tablet and everything after the workshop. But I’ll ask her.”

 
“I’ll ask mine, too.” I picked up the cinnamon stick and took a bite. Maybe sugar was the antidote for jealousy, too, because I suddenly felt a hundred times better.

  We got back to school halfway through fifth period. Owen and I barely had time to set up for the lab assignment Mrs. Driscoll had given before the bell rang. During seventh-period announcements, the assistant principal mentioned the band’s UIL Sweepstakes, and Julia and I did little happy dances behind our computers.

  “I can’t believe UIL is over,” I said, picturing the Summer Countdown Calendar on my bulletin board. “Just the science fair and the concert left. And finals, I guess.”

  Julia cleared her throat. “And the dance.”

  I grinned. “Yeah, that too.”

  “Oh hey!” Julia said, eyes wide. “Why don’t you and Owen come to dinner with me and Seth before the dance? My parents are taking us to some fancy place my dad loves. They won’t sit with us, though,” she added hastily. “They promised we could get our own table.”

  My heart gave an extra-hard thump. “That would be fun! I’ll ask Owen after school.” And I meant it—going to dinner with Julia and Seth would be fun. It would also very much feel like a double date.

  After school, I met Owen near the front entrance to walk to his house. We talked about the science fair the whole time. When Mrs. Driscoll had given us the handout last semester, Owen had been way more excited than me. But now, I was looking forward to it just as much as he was. Our project really was cool. And after I saw the finished cartoon, I was totally convinced we were going to win.

  “Play it again!” I yelled, bouncing up and down on my toes in front of Owen’s computer. Laughing, he tapped the space bar.

  Coming Soon . . . Alien Park! flashed across the screen, and our commercial started again. Owen had added a soundtrack and a bunch of funny sound effects to accompany the cartoon aliens swimming in the Europa habitat, crawling around the Mars exhibit, and zipping around the Saturn roller coaster.

  “Hang on, pause!” I said suddenly, leaning forward. Owen hit the space bar again, stopping on the UFO slingshot. All of the aliens inside were different—blue, purple, and orange skin, some with tentacles, some with regular arms and hands. And in the very front were two green aliens: a blond boy and a girl with a brown ponytail.

  “Is that us?” I cried. “Did you make us aliens?”

  Owen was smiling, his cheeks a little pink. “Yeah. I was wondering if you’d notice. I figured since we can’t actually visit Alien Park, this is the next best thing.”

  For a few seconds, I just gaped at the screen. “That . . . ,” I finally managed to say. “Is. Amazing.”

  “Thanks.” Owen looked both pleased and embarrassed. He hit PLAY, and we watched the rest of the cartoon. The second it finished, I turned to face him.

  “Do you want to go to dinner before the dance Friday?” I blurted out. “Julia’s parents can take us with them. I mean, not with them. With Julia and . . .” I stopped, shaking my head. Owen was blinking like crazy. “Okay, starting over. Julia and Seth are going to dinner before the dance, and she invited us to go with them, if you want.”

  “Oh,” said Owen. “Okay! That sounds fun.”

  “Okay, it’s a date!” As soon as I said it, I winced. “I mean, um . . . you know. For dinner. Anyway . . . Prophets?” I walked over to the sofa, mostly so he couldn’t see me blushing.

  “Sure.” Owen plugged the controllers into the console while I mentally chewed myself out. It’s a date? Seriously? Why, brain, why? I chanced a peek at Owen. Still red-faced, like me.

  He’s always been shy, Amy had told me. She was definitely right about that. But I’d never been all that shy. And yet any time Owen and I got anywhere near the subject of dating, I turned into Queen Awkward and did things like spit soda all over his kitchen or stammer or turn tomato red.

  After ten minutes of blowing up alien pods, everything felt back to normal. We joked around and got to level nineteen and laughed when Owen’s tank got stuck in a nuclear swamp. It was easy and not awkward at all. I didn’t want it to change.

  But I couldn’t ignore the fact that my maybe-crush on Owen was getting a lot less “maybe.”

  The week after UIL flew by. I turned in my research paper on Eleanor Roosevelt to Mr. Franks on Monday, finished my group history project on Tuesday, and did my computer-lab PowerPoint presentation on Wednesday. When I found out on Friday that I’d gotten an A on both my math quiz and my Spanish brochure, I started to think maybe I’d survive my classes this semester after all.

  I spent most of Friday afternoon getting ready for the science fair the next day. Mrs. Driscoll had given us the schedule earlier in the week, and Owen and I had lucked out—we wouldn’t present Alien Park until after lunch. Julia had an afternoon slot, too. But poor Natasha had gotten stuck with her presentation at nine in the morning.

  When I finished triple-checking my notecards, I stood and looked around my room for another distraction. My eyes fell on the book Julia had loaned me weeks ago, lying on my dresser. Grabbing it, I flopped down on my bed and started to read, trying to ignore the butterfly colony that was apparently making a new home in my stomach.

  Nearly an hour later, I sat up with a jolt, like an alarm had gone off. But it was just the muffled thump of loud music coming from Chad’s room. I glanced at the clock—Owen’s mom was dropping him off in about an hour, and Julia’s dad was picking us up here for dinner. I said a silent prayer my brother would stay in his room until we were gone.

  I took a quick shower, then headed downstairs to get Mom’s help with my hair and makeup. Back in my room, I got dressed, slipping on my sandals just as the doorbell rang. I hurried down the hall, crossing my fingers as I passed Chad’s room, and reached the bottom of the stairs just as Mom opened the front door.

  “Come on in!” she said brightly. “Owen, don’t you look nice. Teresa, I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages!”

  Mrs. Grady stepped inside, followed by Owen. “I know, same here! Oh, Holly—that dress is adorable.”

  “Thanks. It’s a cyborg dress,” I said without thinking.

  Mom quirked an eyebrow. “A what?”

  Blushing, I shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s just what I thought when I picked it out.”

  “Well, I think it’s lovely,” Mrs. Grady said with a laugh. A few seconds passed with her and Mom just standing there staring at me and Owen with big, dorky smiles. Then Mom offered Mrs. Grady a cup of coffee and they disappeared into the kitchen, leaving us in the foyer. Relieved, I hopped off the last step and smiled at him.

  “Nice suit!” I said. It was, too. His dark gray suit and tie with a blue shirt looked infinitely cooler than the band tux, that was for sure. My stupid stomach-butterflies were flapping around like crazy.

  “Thanks,” said Owen. His voice sounded funny, although mine probably did, too. “Um . . . did you call it a cyborg dress?”

  I glanced down at the skirt. “Yeah. I guess it’s the silver and all the shapes. Kind of a weird dress, but I like it.”

  “Me too.” Owen hesitated, then added, “You look really pretty.”

  He said it so fast, I almost missed it. My face started to heat up again.

  “Thank you.”

  We both looked down, and I realized he was holding a corsage. “Is that for me?”

  Blinking, Owen stared at his hand. “Oh! Yeah.”

  I slipped the corsage on my wrist. The flower was the same shade of blue as Owen’s shirt, surrounded by tiny white buds. “Thanks!”

  “You’re welcome.”

  When the doorbell rang again, I was pretty sure Owen was as relieved as me. Our moms came out of the kitchen just as I let Julia and Seth in, along with Julia’s parents. Mr. Gordon had brought his camera, and despite Julia’s protests, insisted on taking about a million pictures of the four of us. Which was actually kind of fun, ev
en though our parents couldn’t seem to stop using words like “cute” and “sweet.” Every time they did, Julia and I would make faces at each other. Having her there made me a lot less nervous.

  Until Chad appeared at the top of the stairs.

  He stopped halfway down, looking around the crowded foyer in confusion. When he saw me standing next to Owen, he smirked.

  Fortunately, Mom saw him, too. “What time are you working till tonight, Chad?” she asked before he could say anything.

  “Uh . . .” Chad squinted at her. “Nine thirty, I think.”

  “Perfect!” Mom smiled as Mr. Gordon snapped another picture of Julia and Seth in front of the window. “Dad and I were planning on going out for ice cream later, if you want to meet us at Maggie’s.”

  Chad and I both gaped at her. Then Chad turned to me, and I held out my hands, palms flat.

  “Holly—”

  “I didn’t say anything,” I interrupted. “I swear.”

  “She didn’t.” Mom waved a cell phone at Chad. “You really need to stop leaving this thing lying around, hon. Anyway, I can’t wait to meet this . . .” She glanced at the screen. “Amy.”

  I pressed my lips together hard to keep from laughing. Julia grinned at me. “She’s really nice, Mrs. Mead,” she said innocently. “You’ll like her.”

  “I’m sure I will.” Mom smiled at Chad, who looked like he wanted to shout at someone, but he wasn’t sure who.

  I leaned closer to Owen. “I probably shouldn’t remind her to tell Amy the cowboy-boot story, huh?” I asked in a low voice. Owen laughed, but stopped quickly when Chad shot us a death glare.

  When Julia reminded her dad we had a dinner reservation, he finally pocketed his camera and we headed outside. “Have fun!” Mom called. Turning, I smiled at Chad.

  “You too! Say hi to Amy for me!”

  The look on his face gave Julia and me the giggles for pretty much the whole car ride.