by Amy Sparling
Josh looks like he’s about to agree when Bryce whoops from across the room.
“Da-amn,” he says to his phone screen. “Mindy posted pictures of this new chick who just moved here. She’s hot as hell.”
My stomach launches up into my throat. The last thing I need is for Bryce to start hitting on Maddie.
He clutches his phone to his chest and closes his eyes. “Oh, Instagram, you have been good to me.”
I breathe a little sigh of relief. Although Mindy posted a couple photos she captioned as “sexy clothes shopping with my new M”, she didn’t tag Maddie in them. I may or may not (okay I did) spend a few hours searching for her name on both Instagram and Snapchat and Twitter. Maddie either doesn’t have any social media profiles, or she has them severely privacy blocked. Probably the latter, obviously. No one our age isn’t on social media.
It just sucks because I don’t have her number and I couldn’t find her online. I’ve debated asking Mindy for it, but then she’d no doubt take all the credit for hooking us up. I learned a long time ago that one thing you should always try to avoid is being in Mindy Carmichael’s debt, real or imagined.
That girl can tell you it’s hot outside and then take the credit for it when you agree with her and put on a pair of sunglasses.
“She’s hot, but she’s unavailable,” I say. I don’t know why I do it. The very sentence alone opens me up for follow up questions—all of which will have to be a lie since the original thing was a lie.
But the thought of Bryce setting his sights on the new girl before I’ve officially won her over makes my blood boil. I don’t know how he does it, but Bryce has a silver tongue that’s a force to be reckoned with.
You know when you hear those stories on the news about a teacher hooking up with a fourteen-year-old student? Bryce does shit like that. He’s never been caught, either.
Sure, he’s tall, dark, handsome and all that, and girls think he’s awesome, but he’s kind of a sleazebag when it comes to dating. I meant it about the STD thing. I don’t even drink after the guy. He’s been having sex since he was thirteen years old and Josh and I still thought girls had cooties.
He will not get to Maddie.
Even if I don’t deserve a girl like her, that won’t stop me from protecting her from a guy like him.
Josh turns on an action movie, something I don’t really pay attention to because Bryce keeps verbally commenting on Instagram photos of hot girls at our school. I keep waiting for him to mention Maddie again, or maybe even for him to call Mindy and ask about her.
To my relief, he doesn’t. That doesn’t mean he won’t still try to hook up with her. It just means that for now, Maddie is safe from his prying, womanizing claws.
Chapter 21
The food court at any mall is a paradise of delicious and unhealthy foods. Cheese fries, corndogs, tacos, pizza. Ice cream and cookie cakes.
But here I am eating a salad.
This is my life now, as a popular girl. Mindy told me that this place called Salata—a mall food place I had until now always ignored—was the best salad joint ever. She said it like there are no other food options in the mall, and that’s when I realized that popular girls also = skinny, and skinny = salads.
Which really sucks because I’m thin from years of being poor, not years of trying to be thin. I’ve kind of enjoyed eating a ton of food lately.
Anyhow, we’re having a salad. And it is pretty good, as far as salads go, but when a kid walks by with a tray of cheesy fries, it takes all of my willpower not to trample him and steal his food.
Another new addition to my life is the app Instagram. I always knew my fellow classmates are addicted to social media, but having no internet connection, no computer, and no smart phone for the last few years has left me in the dark. Now I understand it.
Mindy didn’t ask too many questions when I lied and said I didn’t have an account already because “my old life sucked and I deleted it to get away from it.” I guess that kind of thing made sense to her because she just nodded in agreement and helped me create a new account. Now it’s filled with pictures of Mindy and me lounging by the pool, hanging out in my new movie theater room, painting our nails—you get the idea.
Now I’m following Mindy’s lead and snapping a photo of my salad for the whole world to see. So far I have twelve followers, mostly guys, and all of them Mindy’s friends.
Colby is missing from that list.
I didn’t seek him out online last night, even though I wanted to. I guess I want him to find me online and add me first.
It all sounds so dumb when I think about it, but it would still mean a lot to me if Colby followed me first.
I stab my fork into a piece of cucumber. “So, how long does it take to get followers around here?” I ask, trying to sound casual. “I noticed you have two thousand.”
Mindy nods. “The secret is posting half-naked selfies, to be honest.”
I nearly choke on my salad. Mindy laughs. “But if you mean people from our school . . . particularly a certain boy . . .”
I roll my eyes, again, trying to be somewhat nonchalant about the whole thing. “I would like to meet more school people, I guess. I mean, I’m new here and all.”
Mindy nods, setting down her fork like she’s got the perfect plan. “I got you.”
She holds up her phone, the camera facing me, and says, “Look sexy.”
I lift an eyebrow, confused as to how I’m supposed to look sexy with a bite of salad in my mouth.
Mindy laughs, snaps a photo, and then looks down at her phone. “Perfect.”
I lean forward, but I can’t see what she’s doing over the booth. She holds up a finger to me while she types something one handed on her phone.
“Okay. Done.”
I go to Instagram on my own phone. Mindy just posted the picture of me, fork in hand, eyebrow lifted. I guess it’s kind of cute, but definitely not sexy.
The caption reads:
Hey, bitches. Go follow my new BFF Maddie Sinclair!
My phone immediately gets notifications that I have new followers. Matilda and Maria follow me, and even like some of my posts, which is encouraging because I don’t think they exactly like me. This is now the second time Mindy has come over to hang out without inviting them.
“Look, now you’re at twenty-five followers and all you had to do was eat some salad,” Mindy says, sipping from her unsweetened tea.
“Well, it helps that I got a shout out from you.”
She looks up and makes this little fake bashful smile. “That’s what I’m here for.”
I scroll through the ever-growing list of my new followers. So far, it’s a bunch of popular people I recognize as the students who totally ignored me before Spring Break. There’s a few others, too. People I don’t recognize, and people from exotic locations that are far better than Louetta, TX. The exotic location followers are mostly guys, and I’m guessing those are Mindy’s friends obtained through posting half-naked photos.
I try not to get my hopes up, especially during these few minutes while we’re eating lunch, because not everyone is on their phone all the time. I barely saw Colby with his phone, so he’s probably not even checking Instagram right now, right?
So that’s why he hasn’t followed me. I tell myself to get it together and forget about him until he decides to seek me out. It’s exactly what Mindy would do. It’s exactly what any self-respecting woman would do.
At least, I think so.
So we finish our shopping, and after buying a few more outfits and then stopping for a healthy smoothie that tastes like strawberries mixed with dirt, I have two hundred and forty new followers, but none of them are Colby.
And then, finally, at eight-thirteen in the evening, Colby Jensen follows me.
#
Colby’s Instagram isn’t exactly what I would have pictured. Of course, until a couple of days ago, I’d never seen the app so I guess I don’t have much experience in the matter of what teen
age guys’ social media profiles look like.
His username isn’t Colby, but HotRodLife99, and his user picture is of him and another guy, someone I think is on the football team. This guy is tall and lean and has a smirk that’s practically screaming “don’t trust me.”
Colby’s pictures are posted every couple of weeks. There’s some classic cars, new cars, and basically, a lot of cars. And then photos of him with his friends, either at parties, the beach, or the pool. There’s also a lot of pictures of some place that looks like a night club. The main thing my prying eyes look for isn’t there.
Pictures of Colby with another girl. It’s a relief, even though I was pretty sure he didn’t have a girlfriend since he was flirting with me.
Colby likes all seventeen of my pictures and comments on a few of them, telling me how cute I look.
I’m practically floating all night. I only come back to reality when Starla, who’s still a little sick, comes padding into my room after ten o’clock, a stuffed bunny rabbit under her arm.
“You okay?” I ask, climbing off my bed to kneel down to her level.
She shakes her head, holding up her arms to me.
I press the back of my hand to her forehead, but her fever is gone, thanks to the medicine. In our old house, Starla would always crawl into bed with me. I pick her up and put her on my bed, then line a bunch of pillows along the other side so she can’t roll off.
I’m still up watching TV, so I’ll wait until she falls asleep to carry her back to her room.
Once she’s snuggled up in my ridiculous amount of pillows, she settles down, closing her eyes. I sit cross-legged in the middle of my bed, the room lit up from the soft glow of my television, while I stare at Instagram.
I get a new direct message from HotRodLife99.
Okay, I didn’t even know direct messaging was a thing, but now my heart leaps into my throat.
I read the message with trembling fingers.
Hey there. You awake?
Yep. It’s not that late, lol
Cool. So will I see you when school starts back?
I hope so
Me too
I bite my lip so hard it goes numb, but I can’t help myself. At last, after hours of daydreaming about this boy, we’re finally talking.
Before I know it, it’s already past midnight, and we’ve been texting back and forth through this app all night long. He’s hitting on me pretty strongly, which would be a turn off, but I’m trying to go with it. Just because I’m not used to this kind of attention doesn’t mean it’s not normal. Popular girls probably deal with it all the time.
And now I’m one of them.
I fall asleep clutching my phone, smiling like an idiot, and daydreaming about how cute Colby Jensen looks in swim trunks.
Chapter 22
The only thing that can really ruin a night of relaxing is Greg showing up with his dumb girlfriend.
They’re both away at college, and now that he’s in his first year of graduate school, we hardly ever see him. Which was fine with me. Random texts and social media convos with my brother is really all the interaction I need with the guy who always has to find a way to remind me that he’s so much better than I am.
But now he’s here, and so is Mayra. My brother’s longtime girlfriend is tall, thin, and has a face that looks like a bossy bitch. Luckily for her, she is a bossy bitch so her looks suit her perfectly. She’s a med student studying to become a surgeon, and my parents act as if that alone makes her perfect enough to be sainted.
I was really counting on chilling at home all day, maybe hitting up the park to play some basketball or something. But now I have to be in family entertainment mode.
Mom and Dad freak out when Greg and Mayra arrive, and Mom immediately insists that we all go out to dinner tonight. Never mind the fact that just thirty minutes ago, I overheard them arguing about which payment to let lapse this month until Dad gets paid again. Let’s go out to eat somewhere fancy! Makes total sense.
We end up at Landry’s, an overpriced, overhyped seafood restaurant that my parents can’t afford. I try to order the cheapest thing on the menu, but even that is so pricey it makes my insides hurt.
The only thing worse than suffering through a pointless dinner with my family and listening to my brother talk about how great he is, is knowing that the bill is going to be the source of my parents’ future arguments.
Again, I think about finding my own job and taking over the payments on my car and insurance, whether they like it or not. One thing is for sure though: I will never be like my parents when it comes to money.
Thinking about money makes me think of Maddie, but it’s not like I’m not already thinking about her. Yesterday was agony having to listen to Bryce go on and on about how hot she is. I tried acting like it was no big deal, but the truth is, I can’t let him know I’m crushing on her. He’d only take that as an invitation to compete with me for Maddie’s heart.
Here’s the thing: even if Maddie was some horrible person and I hated her, I still wouldn’t let her date Bryce. He’s not exactly good to girls in any possible way.
After dinner, we head home and my family piles onto the couches in the den to keep up the conversation about how great and wonderful and perfect the eldest Jenson son is. I excuse myself, making up a phony story about how my stomach hurts.
No one seems to care.
I slip into my room, take a hot shower, and then crash on my bed to watch TV. Maddie, an ever present person in my mind, seems to have gotten even more beautiful with each day I think about her.
I check Instagram, scrolling through my friend’s stupid photos of their Spring Breaks. Some of them went on vacation to Jamaica, Hawaii, Florida and the likes. I hate all of them just on principle. My family hasn’t had a real vacation in years, but I hope to save up to take my own trip once I graduate high school next year.
I’m lazily scrolling through my picture feed when I see that pink hair. Mindy posted a photo of Maddie eating a salad. Damn, even doing something boring looks good on her.
I click on her profile, excited that I finally found her on social media. She only has a few photos, but they’re all super adorable.
I’m sitting here grinning like some kind of lovesick idiot for over an hour when I finally get the balls to click the follow button.
With any luck, she’ll follow me back.
Chapter 23
Even when I’m all alone in my room—well, besides Starla sleeping next to me—I blush from head to toes when I get Colby’s message.
Would you like to go on a date with me?
I suck in a quick breath of air, and smile so big my face might rip in half. We’ve been chatting online for hours now, and he finally asked the big question. Of course, now that I’ve gotten to know Colby a bit, I’m not entirely sure I want to go out with him.
Yes, he’s super cute, and yes, he seemed great at Mindy’s party. But online he’s kind of . . . a little perverted, I guess. Maybe that’s just how guys are.
At first, he asked me to send him a picture via the direct message feature. I told him there were pictures of me on my Instagram feed already so what would be the point?
Of course, he didn’t want one of those pictures.
He wanted a picture that I couldn’t show the general public.
And let’s be honest here, I guess that’s how guys are and everything, but it really hurt my feelings. Here I was thinking we were making a connection, getting to know each other more to see if we could really have something between us or if it was just a stupid crush. He kind of ruined all of the sweetness points he earned by walking me home after Mindy’s party. In just one winky faced emoji message, he made me feel like a piece of meat.
Since I’m not ready to take a revealing photo of myself at the moment, or maybe not ever, I lied and told him I was stuck with lots of people over and couldn’t escape to take a photo. Plus, I then tried to give him a way to get back on my good side by telling him he sho
uld wait until we know each other better to ask for that kind of thing.
That’s what made him ask me on a date. And yeah, I guess the few lewd things he’s said before he asked for this date are kind of disappointing, but at least he still wants to go out. Maybe he’s just messing around? I don’t know. I’ve heard people say you can’t really tell what a person means by reading text. It’s devoid of any emotion or facial expressions. Maybe the whole thing was just a joke.
I’m trying to figure out how to word my reply, and it’s taking a while. I mean, I could say YES and add in a smiley face for good measure, but I want to play this cool. I try to think of what Mindy would do, and I even consider texting her for some advice. But then she might show up at my door, at ten o’clock at night, and I don’t want to explain that to my mom.
After what feels like forever, but really only lasts a few minutes, I come up with this reply:
Hmm, I’ll have to check my schedule.
My finger hovers over the send button. Then my phone gets a new notification. It’s from Instagram.
Colby Jensen just followed you.
Um, what? Ice fills my veins as I click on the profile of the person who just followed me. Their name is Colby. Their user photo is of Colby. I skim through a few dozen photos and they’re all either Colby, Colby with friends, or a cute little dog named Gig. I swallow.
If this is Colby . . . who have I been talking to all night?
While my notifications bar fills up with this new Colby Jensen liking all of my photos, I go back to HotRodLife99 and look at his user picture. It’s Colby standing next to a guy with black hair. I go back to the Colby Jensen profile and search through the pictures, not even taking time to realize there’s no girl pictures on there. I find the same dark haired guy and click on the picture.
