by Kieran Scott
True and I stared each other down. There was no way I was going to blink first. But then, out of nowhere, her expression changed. She lit up like she’d just been spritzed with cooling cucumber spray.
“I have an idea,” she said. “Why don’t you join Boosters anyway? You can help Wallace plan the pancake breakfast this weekend!”
Claudia smiled. “Yes! That’s a great idea.”
“Wait, Wallace Bracken?” I asked, even though there was only one Wallace in the entire school.
Claudia, Peter, and True started walking again, and I fell into wobbly step with them.
“Yep. He’s sort of our manager,” Claudia said. “And he’s great with the organizing and everything, but not so much with the creativity and motivating. I bet you’d be incredible at that.”
My spirits perked up at the compliment, but only slightly. Wallace Bracken was my next-door neighbor. When we were kids, we used to play Harry Potter in our backyards together, making up elaborate stories and going out on dangerous adventures to slay Lord Voldemort. In middle school we were in all the same classes and we used to study at his house, eating the crazy cake combinations his mother was always trying out on us. Sometimes I’d even have dinner there while my mom was off establishing her career.
But then, Darbot had happened. And I’d decided that I was going to make myself Veronica’s best friend so that people would stop seeing me that way. But if you were Veronica Vine’s best friend, you couldn’t hang out with people like Wallace Bracken. She’d made that perfectly clear to the world in some pretty awful ways.
So I’d stopped being his best friend. We were still in almost all the same classes and he still lived next door, but we hadn’t so much as said hi to each other in, like, four years. Until yesterday, when he’d slammed into me at Goddess. But I don’t think that counts as much of a conversation.
“Wallace could handle the assignments and the budget, and maybe Darla could take care of decorations and getting everyone psyched to do their part,” True suggested oh-so-helpfully.
“Perfect,” Claudia said at the door to the school. “I’ll let Wallace know you’re coming to the meeting tomorrow afternoon, okay?”
“Um, sure,” I said. “Sounds good.”
“This is gonna be so great!” True exclaimed. Then she rushed to catch up with Heath on his way up the ramp.
I bit my tongue as I watched her go. If I had to deal with Wallace, then I had to deal with Wallace. At least if I was on the Boosters I could keep an eye on True and Orion at the events the team and the club had together. I could keep them from flirting, keep people from seeing them act couple-y when they weren’t.
Claudia and Peter turned as one to go inside.
“And hey! Good luck today!” I called after them.
“With what?” he asked.
“You know. Homecoming court? It’s being announced in homeroom?” I said.
They looked at each other sort of blankly. “Right. Thanks. You too,” Claudia said.
Like it didn’t matter to her one bit. I supposed when you were a total lock like they were, you had the luxury of pretending it was no big deal.
“Hey, D!”
“Hey, V!” I called out, pivoting on my heel.
The smile froze on my face when I saw Veronica striding toward me. She wore skintight jeans and an off-the-shoulder royal-blue sweater the exact shade of the Lake Carmody High blue. Her blond hair was as glossy and bouncy and perfect as ever, hanging straight down her back, and her diamond studs sparkled in her ears. But it was her boots that were the jaw-dropper. Calf-high, slouchy, creamy suede Michael Kors limited edition. They were thousand-dollar boots. I knew because I’d torn them out of InStyle last month and tacked them to my style board above my bed—the board full of the things I daydreamed I’d one day have.
“Where did you get those boots?” I blurted.
She lifted a shoulder and checked her phone, shooting off a quick text. “They were on my bed when I got home from spin last night. Daddy got them in L.A.”
What that really meant was that she’d asked her father’s assistant, Penelope, to get them for her, and Penelope had pulled a few strings, as always. Veronica’s dad might be a high-powered entertainment lawyer constantly jetting back and forth between New York and L.A., but his idea of high fashion was polka-dot suspenders and an only slightly stained tie.
“I thought we were dressing up,” I said, looking down at my outfit.
Standing next to her, I was seriously overdressed.
Three tiny lines appeared in Veronica’s perfect brow. “You didn’t get my text?”
I whipped out my phone. There was a text from Veronica sent fifteen minutes ago.
CHANGED MY MIND. GOING CAZ.
To which I had texted back on my way to school:
WHAT DOES CAZ MEAN?
“I got it. I just didn’t understand what it meant,” I said.
“Caz. You know, casual?” she said, striding past me.
“Oh. Okay.” I wished she’d texted me a little earlier so I’d had a chance to change. And also used words in the English language.
“So, isn’t this exciting?” I asked as I held open the door.
Veronica checked her phone again and sent another text. “What?”
“You know.”
Suddenly her face lit up, and she shoved the phone into her leather messenger bag. “Right! Homecoming announcements! Do you think you’ll get it?”
She breezed past me into the school, total confidence. She knew she was in. I followed her into the main hall, the buzz of conversation around me humming in my veins. It felt like the revving of the engines before a big race.
“I hope so,” I said. “What do you think?”
We paused in the center of the hallway. Her locker was on one side of the school and mine was on the other.
“I think that whatever happens, we’re going to have a kickass time at homecoming,” she said.
I felt like I’d been slapped, and my face fell. “So . . . you don’t think I’m going to get it.”
“No! Of course I do! I voted for you!” Veronica said. “I’m just saying, it’s not the biggest deal. I mean, if you don’t get it. That’s all. Don’t be disappointed. It’s not like it’s so much fun to ride around the football field in a convertible, freezing your ass off in your tiny dress.”
Maybe not if you’ve already done it twice. I swallowed hard, trying not to let her get to me. She was just preparing me for the worst. That’s what friends are for.
“And speaking of dresses, don’t forget! Shopping this afternoon!” She grinned excitedly, as if she didn’t go shopping every afternoon of her life.
“Right. My new dress.”
Last night I’d spent way too much time staring at myself in the mirror wearing my blue dress, and honestly? I still loved it, even if my hips did stand out a tad. I didn’t want a new dress. I didn’t need a new dress. But now was not the time to debate it. We had to get to homeroom.
“Well, good luck, V,” I said. Not that she needed it.
“Good luck, D!” she replied.
We hugged, the bell rang, and it was time to face the announcements.
* * *
Fifteen minutes later I sat in homeroom, experiencing what it must feel like to have a heart attack. Or a stroke. Or both at the same time. My heart was fluttering and making me hiccup. I could feel the blood running through the veins and arteries in my wrists. I kept having hot flashes, followed by extreme cold blasts that made me shiver. Under my desk, my knees were pressed together, my hands clasped palm to sweaty-ass palm.
“The chess club recorded its first victory of the season last night, beating Jamestown High eight to one,” the vice principal announced over the loudspeaker. “Their next match will be held at Oak Ridge High this Thursday, so come on out and suppor
t the team!”
My teeth clenched. Who cared about the damn chess club? Get to the homecoming announcement already! Homecoming!
“Hey, Darla! Did you finish the calc homework?”
I glanced over my shoulder. Rusty Shipman was leaning forward in his desk, his ever-present spray of acne shining particularly red this morning. I wished someone would get the kid some Proactiv for Christmas. He was actually pretty handsome, but the zits were so distracting.
“Yeah, why?” I asked.
“I can’t get number ten. Can I see your notes?”
“Yeah. No problem.” I fished through my bag for my homework and handed it to him. From across the room I saw Kenna eyeing us curiously as she toyed with one of her short black braids, and faced forward again. She wouldn’t tell Veronica I was whispering with Rusty in homeroom, would she?
“And now, for the moment you’ve all been waiting for, the announcement of this year’s homecoming court as voted on by you, the students of Lake Carmody High.”
I just about fainted and glanced at Kenna again. Her glossy smile was excited and encouraging. I felt so weak I could barely bring up a smile back.
“If your name is on this list, please come to room 128 immediately after school today for an informational meeting about campaign rules and regulations.”
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Get on with it!
“First, the freshman representatives. The freshman princes will be Nico DeLeo and Scott Rasmussen. The freshman princesses will be Zadie Carlson and Vanessa Vine.”
Kenna and I locked eyes. So Veronica’s little sister had made it in her first year. Shocker.
“For the sophomore class, the princes will be Liam McKinley and Shane Westwood. The princesses will be Christa Jennings and Tara Schwartz.”
I couldn’t breathe. Oh God. I couldn’t breathe. I sat back in my chair to keep myself from putting my head on the desk.
“And for the junior class . . .”
I swear every person in the room turned to look at me. Was that a good sign, or a bad sign? The juniors voted only for the junior representatives during nominations. Did this mean that a lot of them had voted for me? Or did they just know that I was nervous and they wanted to see me have a major breakdown when I didn’t get it?
I would not break down. No. I would not break down. If I didn’t get it, I would not break down.
Oh God, please let me get it.
“The junior princes will be Orion Floros and Josh Moskowitz.”
My heart leaped. If Orion got it, then I had such a better chance at—
“And the junior princesses will be Darla Shayne and Veronica Vine.”
I squealed so loud everyone laughed, and then they applauded. For me. Kenna jumped up and ran over to me, enveloping me in an awkward standing-to-sitting hug. My whole body flushed with relief, then ecstasy.
I was on homecoming court. I was on homecoming court. Darbot the Geek had made homecoming court!
“Back to your seat, please, Ms. Roy,” our homeroom teacher grumbled.
Kenna air-kissed me, then went back to her chair by the window. It was so loud now I barely heard the seniors get announced, but Peter and Claudia’s names were, obviously, mentioned. Then my phone buzzed and I grabbed for it, my hands shaking. It was a text from Orion.
CONGRATS! I KNEW YOU’D GET IT, MY PRINCESS!
I laughed, so overcome I almost cried, then texted back.
YOU TOO, MY PRINCE!!! XOXO
I sent the text, then texted Veronica.
CONGRATS, V! THREE YEARS IN A ROW! YOU ROCK!
I watched the phone as the VP finished his announcements, my smile so wide it was starting to hurt my face.
“I knew you’d get it,” Jenica Stalb said, leaning across the aisle. “I totally voted for you.”
“Me too,” Rusty said, passing my homework back to me. “And thanks.”
“Thank you!” I replied, my heart full.
The bell rang, and everyone began to gather their stuff. I got up and glanced at my phone. No reply from Veronica. A few more people congratulated me as we shuffled up the aisles toward the front of the room, and I waited for Kenna to join me before heading for the door. She wrapped her arm around mine and held me tight.
“So? How does it feel to be a princess?”
“Pretty damn good,” I replied, glancing at my phone again.
My heart sank just a touch.
“What’s wrong?” Kenna asked.
“Nothing. Just . . . I texted Veronica congratulations and she hasn’t texted back.”
“Oh.” Kenna’s face went serious for a second, so I knew I wasn’t overreacting. “Well, she’s probably just busy with people congratulating her. I’m sure she’ll get to it.”
“You’re right. I’m sure that’s it.”
I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but I still held on to my phone the whole way to first period, and she never texted me back. Not one word. Was she mad at me for something? Had I done something wrong? I thought it would be so cool, doing the homecoming thing together for once. Didn’t she want me there?
By the time I sat down in honors chem, my smile was considerably less bright.
“Hey. Congratulations.”
I looked up to find Wallace Bracken hovering next to my lab table on the way to his.
“Oh, um, thanks,” I said.
I felt touched that he’d bothered, considering.
As he moved back to his own table, my cell phone vibrated in my hand. I was so startled I almost dropped it. It was from Veronica. Finally!
CONGRATS
My heart sank. That was it. No smiley face. No exclamation points. But at least it was something. I wasn’t going to let a lack of punctuation get me down. I was nominated for homecoming queen. We were going to meet after school. Just us. Just the elite of the school. Veronica, Orion, Josh, and I were going to have the best time.
I took out a notebook and started to sketch out ideas for posters. No time like the present. It felt like the first day of a brand-new life.
CHAPTER SIX
True
Ninth period, Monday. We’d gotten through an entire day of school and no sign of Artemis and Apollo. Please, Gods, let this Wallace and Darla thing work. Let me be right about them. I just wanted to hold Orion in my arms again. I just wanted to hear him say he loved me. Please, please, please.
As I cleaned up my paints at the end of class, carefully twisting the crusted, corroded caps onto the tiny tubs of color, I kept an eye on Orion two easels over. He was wearing a black sweater that made him appear sophisticated beyond his years, and his dark, wavy hair had grown out a bit since he’d arrived on Earth, giving him a casual, sexy look. He shoved something into his backpack, zipped it up, and glanced my way.
“Hey,” he said with a smile. “How was the rest of your day yesterday?”
I dropped the paint tubs onto the counter and grabbed my stuff, my heart pitter-pattering as I approached him. “Uneventful.”
Thank the Gods.
“Congratulations on the whole homecoming court thing,” I said drily. “I guess that makes you a pretty big deal around here.”
He puffed up his chest. “Yeah. Don’t get bigger than me.” Then he laughed. “Whatever, it’s just kind of cool to be nominated when I’m so new here, you know? Darla’s all over me to come over tonight and make posters and stuff, but it seems kinda pointless. At my old school, the seniors always won.”
Whatever he said next was completely lost on my ears, because I’d just caught sight of his painting, and the entire world around it had faded to a muted gray. He had painted the arrow again—our arrow—the one that hung from the pendant I’d once given him, but that now lay flat against my own chest. I could tell because the fletching was uneven, with nine striations in the feather on one side and eight on the oth
er, which would, of course, make a real arrow imbalanced. In fact, he’d joked when I’d given it to him that I was trying to throw off his shot so I could beat him at target practice.
But this painting was different from the last. This time Orion had painted the arrow flying through the sky over a near-perfect rendering of the cabin we’d lived in together for the last six months in Maine. The six months before we were caught, that is.
Orion was not supposed to remember that cabin. He wasn’t supposed to remember the arrow. Was he actually starting to recall our time together? Was he starting to realize who he really was? Maybe I’d been right from the beginning. Maybe our love was so strong it could survive even a brainwashing by Zeus himself.
“What?” Orion asked, shifting his feet self-consciously as I gaped at his painting. “Is it that bad?”
When he turned briefly to the side, I saw the tiny white scar near his temple, the spot where Artemis had struck him with an arrow those many millennia ago. I felt a surge of something huge and unstoppable inside me, and I knew what I had to do.
“No. I just . . .” I looked into his eyes—the eyes I knew so well I could have painted my very own copy of them down to the last tiny gold fleck. Holding my breath, I reached up and tugged his arrow pendant out from beneath the collar of my T-shirt.
Orion did a double take. The smile fell from his face. He looked at his painting, then back at the arrow. Then, so slowly it felt as if it took an eternity, his eyes met mine. At the easels around us, students gathered their things, dropped brushes into cans, chatted about their days, shuffled toward the door, but the two of us simply stood there, locked together inside our own little world.
“Orion,” I said.
He opened his mouth to speak, and someone in the hallway screamed.
“Get out of the way, cretin!”
There was an awful slam, as if a body had been shoved against a locker door, and a few people shouted.
Orion grabbed my wrist. We stared at the open classroom door. Our teacher, Mrs. Fabrizi, had left for the bathroom or the teacher’s lounge or had gone out to the parking lot for a smoke. We were entirely alone.
