by Donna Cooner
“You’re going to do the first dance, and Sam will change my shoes,” Isabella says. Sam darts a look at Alex, then focuses back on rearranging the slice of meat loaf on his plate.
I have no idea what she is talking about. Evidently, Alex’s grandmother realizes it about the same time, so she explains, “After the first dance, the birthday girl’s father takes off her flats and replaces them with high heels more befitting a young lady.”
“I can do that,” Sam says quickly. Alex gives him a squinty-eyed look, but Sam ignores him.
Isabella’s phone makes a dinging noise.
“I’ve told you no phones at the dinner table,” her mom says.
“I’ll turn it off,” Izzy says, pulling it out of her pocket. She looks down at the screen. “It’s this new app I downloaded called Worthy.”
I’m surprised Izzy knows about Worthy, but I shouldn’t be. It’s a sure sign something has spread to the whole school when even freshmen are joining in.
“It’s like a favorite-couple contest. Everybody decides whether they’re worthy of each other or not,” Izzy says.
Alex rolls his eyes.
Her mom looks down at Izzy’s phone. “Just some new craziness,” she says. “Now put it away and eat your dinner.”
She’s right. It is crazy. I know it. So why am I wondering what the notification was from Worthy?
WORTHY
Hey, Hornets. Tick. Tock. It’s that time again. Another girl is coming up for your review. Let me know what you think … I can’t wait, can you?
The next morning, I stare down at my phone, my cereal growing mushy in the bowl. I’m seriously sleep deprived. I stayed up way too late last night, pinning promposals on Pinterest and checking Worthy for updates. There have been no more alerts, but every possible form of social media is exploding with the possible names of the next target. This morning I feel the guilt scuttle under my skin again, slinking deeper. Kat was right. Maybe I didn’t post mean comments about Raylene, but I became part of the Worthy mania by voting.
My open journal mocks me with empty pages. I pick up my pen and write the first words that come to mind.
Nasty. Cruel. Malicious. Shameful.
“Everything okay, Linden?” Mom is hovering over the toaster. No cooking-show fails this morning. Our kitchen is much smaller than Alex’s, with a table in a nook by the windows where we eat all our meals and magnets covering the fridge from vacation destinations. There is no view of a swimming pool in the backyard. Just a patio table and a couple of chairs that have definitely seen way too many summers. “You’re looking pretty grim this morning.”
“I’m fine. Just sleepy.”
Two Pop-Tarts spring up from the toaster, and Mom gingerly fishes one out. “Want one?”
I shake my head. “Where’s Dad?”
“He took your brother to school early on his way to work. Theodore had some kind of club meeting.”
“When does your shift start?” I ask.
“Today. I won’t be home for a couple of nights. Move,” she says to Murphy, who repositions himself from under her feet to a prime spot under the table. She sits down beside me, takes a bite, and then puffs out air around her now open mouth. “Hot,” she says.
I nod, chewing on a spoonful of Cheerios.
She reaches out and smooths my hair back behind one ear. “You sure everything is okay?”
I look up from the phone. Mom’s eyes are the same as mine—light golden brown that looks almost green in the right light—but sometimes I think that’s all we share. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
My phone buzzes and I look back down at the screen.
NIKKI: DID ALEX ASK YOU TO PROM?
I click my phone off and swallow hard, then turn it over on the table.
That afternoon we have a junior class assembly. Alex slides into the seat beside me, giving me a quick kiss. This time our lips touch confidently, like we greet each other like this all the time. I don’t jerk away, but I still feel a little self-conscious. It’s the first real sign to the world that we’re dating, and there’s nothing more public than a school assembly. I sneak a peek at him, checking to see if he looks uncomfortable, but he doesn’t.
At first, the assembly is pretty ordinary. The candidates for student council president give their election speeches. Max is definitely the front-runner. His speech is full of promises about healthier options in the cafeteria and student input on the school calendar. The only other candidate is Emma Johnson. She plays trombone and has a strong band following, but she is still a long shot.
Then Heather makes an announcement about prom and urges everyone to get their tickets before they sell out. Alex is sitting beside me, and I give him a sideways look to see if he reacts at all to the prom announcement, but he just stares straight ahead. Nikki is sitting on the other side of me and she nudges me with her elbow. I ignore her.
At the end, Mrs. Hernandez, the principal, comes up, and I can tell something is different by the way she taps at the microphone at least five times to make sure everyone is listening. The loud feedback screech makes everyone clap hands over ears and groan.
When it finally dies down, Mrs. Hernandez clears her throat and says, “It has come to our attention that there is a malicious online app being circulated throughout the student body.”
Raylene and Ross are sitting three rows in front of me, and I see people twisting around in their seats to look at them. Ross’s arm is around Raylene’s shoulders and his expression is grim. Raylene has a weird smile plastered on her face that looks more like she’s screaming than actually smiling. Her hair is flat and scraped back into a ponytail. She isn’t wearing her signature bling or anything at all that would command attention. I look away, feeling sad for the loss of everything Raylene.
Alex reaches for my hand and links our fingers together. He gives my hand a squeeze and I look down. I’ve seen Alex throw a baseball at lightning speeds, and I know the strength in that hand. But right now, sitting in the middle of this auditorium, he is cradling mine in his with the lightest of touches. I glance up at his profile and suddenly I’m a big puddle of mush. This is who I want to be holding in my arms, slow dancing with under the sparkling lights. And in that moment, I decide: I will ask Alex to the prom. It’s time for me to stop making up fairy tales when I have a chance to actually live one.
The wonder of my decision buzzes around in my brain so loudly that I can hardly concentrate on the stage, but Mrs. Hernandez continues, “We want to encourage anyone who feels bullied online or in person to report it to your teachers or to me.”
A few kids look at the person next to them in confusion and are quickly filled in with whispered information. A wave of murmured conversation ripples around the auditorium, and Mrs. Hernandez taps the microphone again.
“We will also be sending a letter to all parents to encourage their involvement in order to stop the spread of this vicious activity,” Mrs. Hernandez says. “If you have information about who is behind this app, I implore you to speak up and stand up for your fellow students.”
The assembly ends and everyone files out. Everywhere I look, students are pulling phones out of purses, backpacks, and pockets on their way out the door. I can’t help but think this big shot of extra publicity will result in even more downloads and shares than ever. I resolve that for the rest of the day, I will not check Worthy.
When I’m leaving the library later that afternoon, my phone buzzes with a text from Nikki.
NIKKI: COME OVER AFTER WORK! VERY IMPORTANT!!!
Three exclamation points. Something must definitely be up.
I drive straight to Nikki’s house. I walk into her bedroom to find Maricel is sitting in the middle of the floor. Her eyes are red and she’s crying.
“What’s up?” I ask, feeling like I walked in on a movie already in progress. I look at Nikki, sitting on the floor beside her, and she shrugs. I perch myself on the side of the bed, pull out a candy bar from my bag, and wait until Maricel’s tears subside
enough for her to talk.
Finally, between her sobs, Maricel says, “Donnie Robinson said I was fat and ugly.”
“Are you fat?” Nikki asks her.
Maricel looks at her, surprised enough by the question to stop crying. “No.”
“Are you ugly?”
“No.”
“So what does it matter what Donnie Robinson says?”
It seems so simple when Nikki puts it that way, but it isn’t. Learning to love yourself can be a very difficult task. For me, it’s a daily contest to find that kind of confidence. I unwrap the candy bar and break off a piece.
Maricel pauses, then asks in a much softer voice, “But what if … ” She looks at Nikki, then drops her eyes.
“You were fat?” Nikki asks. “Like me?”
Maricel nods.
Nikki laughs, but I can hear a touch of bitterness in it. “Then you need to get a thicker skin.”
Maricel’s eyes widen. “You don’t care what people think about you?”
“Of course I care. But I can’t change what goes on in other people’s heads,” Nikki says. She leans over to brush the hair out of Maricel’s face.
“And if you love what’s in here … ” She taps her sister’s chest. “Really, really love it … ” Nikki stands up and holds out her hand. “Then no one has the power to make you feel ugly. No matter what.”
Not even Jake Edwards? I want to ask.
Maricel takes the outstretched hand and Nikki pulls her up off the floor. It’s the perfect pep talk for every teen girl. I could give Maricel some advice, too, but the messages that slither around in my head aren’t nearly that clear.
Stand up straight, but not too tall.
Be strong, but not muscular.
Wear the stylish clothes and great outfits, but don’t put too much emphasis on shallow things like that.
Be everything for everyone.
But who am I to contradict someone who has figured it all out?
“By the way, I’ve decided I don’t like Miguel Canino after all,” she tells me.
“Why not? I thought he was adorbs.” I use her terminology.
Sighing, she says, “We rode our bikes home from school yesterday and he never asked me a single question. Not one.”
“And that’s important because?”
Her eyes go narrow. “If a guy doesn’t ask anything, then they don’t really want to get to know you,” she says.
“You might be right.” I am surprised at her intuition. “So who do you like?”
“I don’t have to like anyone,” she says firmly. “Life isn’t all about boys, Linden.”
I feel a spark of hope. Maybe Maricel is going to be all right after all. For a minute, I wish I were ten again. I pull her in for a bear hug, rubbing the top of her head until her hair sticks out in a tangled mess. She gives a shrieky laugh and squirms away. I smile at her and then give her a little shove.
Nikki waves her toward the door. “Linden and I have some private stuff to talk about. Okay?”
“I gotta bounce,” Maricel tells me like it is totally her idea to leave. Then she walks out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Nikki sighs and looks over at me. “You’re eating chocolate, so everything with Alex must be going well.”
“It’s going great,” I say. But I don’t divulge all the details. I want to keep some of the amazingness all to myself, to think about when I turn the lights off at night.
Nikki picks up a glass from her nightstand and takes a swig of green liquid, instantly making a face.
“Why are you drinking that stuff?”
“I want to lose ten pounds by prom. Speaking of prom, did Alex ask you?”
“No one at his house even remembers there’s a prom coming up. It’s just not on the radar right now with all his sister’s quinceañera stuff.”
Nikki shakes her head. “That’s too bad.”
“It’s going to be fine, though,” I say, leaning back against the headboard of her bed. “Because I have a plan.”
“Why does that not surprise me?”
“I’m going to ask him”—I pause for dramatic effect—“with the biggest promposal yet.”
Her mouth falls open. “Are you serious?”
I nod. “You think I’m crazy?”
“Absolutely, but this is going to be fantastic. Have you figured out how you’re going to do it?”
“I’ve been researching it on Pinterest,” I say, feeling my excitement grow. “And I think I’m going to get some people to hold up a big banner at the baseball field. It’s a huge game and everyone will be there. I’ll get someone to film it, of course.”
Nikki smiles at me and holds out a fist. “Good for you, Linden. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
I totally have it in me. Maybe I always have. I bump my own fist against hers and grin back. After years of being in everyone’s shadow, I’m stepping into the spotlight. I deserve this.
Nikki sits down beside me on the side of the bed. “I have some big news, too. Guess who just went up on Worthy?”
I plump up the pillow more behind me on the bed and break off another square of chocolate. “Who?”
She puts her hands on my shoulders and leans into my face, her eyes wide. “Me and Jake!”
I choke on chocolate and cough. “You?” I stammer. “And Jake?”
No no no no no. This can’t be happening. If people were cruel to Raylene, what will they do to Nikki?
Nikki seems oblivious to my panic. “I know, right? It’s probably because Jake is a senior, but it’s still cool, right?”
“I guess so … ” I can’t believe Nikki thinks this is a good idea.
“You don’t sound so sure,” she says. She picks up her phone off her nightstand and clicks to the already open app. “Look. They picked a good picture of us.”
I stare down at Nikki’s smiling face under the now all-too-familiar question, “Is she worthy?”
“And Jake looks amazing, don’t you think? Of course, he never takes a bad picture … ”
I glance up from the phone. “You’re different around Jake.” I say it before I can stop myself.
“I’ve never dated anyone like him before.” She’s still looking down at the phone with that weird half smile on her face.
“You mean popular?” I ask.
“Yeah, I guess so,” Nikki says. “I never thought someone like him would like someone like me. The fat girl gets the popular guy. It just doesn’t happen that way.”
“That’s not a reason to go out with him,” I say. Where did this come from? I’m thinking. Nikki has always been the one who believed in herself no matter what, but now I’m seeing huge cracks in her confidence that I’ve never seen before.
“I know,” she says. “But I like how I feel when I’m with him. Like I’m special.”
Now I’m angry. Didn’t she just tell Maricel the opposite? “You don’t need him for that, Nikki.” I spit out the words.
She frowns. “I didn’t think so, but now I’m not so sure.”
Just when I think Nikki has everything figured out, she surprises me. We have shared everything from first crushes to the death of beloved grandparents. But I can’t share how it feels to be inside Nikki’s skin. I let out a big sigh.
“Don’t get caught up in this Worthy thing,” I plead with her.
It’s like she doesn’t even hear me. “I know I’m going to be a long shot. After all, Jake is gorgeous.”
So are you.
“And he’s a senior,” she continues. “Every girl in school would love to go out with him.”
Not everyone.
“And he likes me,” she adds. She takes another swig of the green concoction and then says, “I’m just not sure about his friends. I don’t think they really accept me.” She gives a nervous laugh. “I guess we’ll know soon enough. Worthy will be the judge of that.”
“What other people think shouldn’t matter,” I say, unable to keep the frustration out of m
y voice. Haven’t you told me that a million times?
She looks sideways at me. “Admit it. You don’t think we should be together either. No one does.”
Guilt stabs me in the stomach. She’s right. I don’t think they should be together. Nikki is way too good for Jake.
Nikki stands up from the bed and walks over to the desk. “If we think we’re a match, it doesn’t matter what other people say.” It’s like she’s trying to talk herself into believing it.
I open my mouth, but don’t speak.
Her brief lapse in confidence is gone and her voice rises as she stalks around the room punching the air with one finger for emphasis.
“This Worthy thing isn’t going to beat me. You’ll see.” She stops in the middle of the room and glares at me. “I decided a long time ago that if people were going to stare at me, I’d give them something to look at, and now everyone’s going to be looking.” She stops suddenly and sinks onto her bed, holding her phone limp in her hand. “Whether I like it or not,” she whispers.
WORTHY
Whoa! Looks like we have a BIG competition brewing with this one, peeps (get it???). Don’t be left out. This vote is going to be HUGE! Bring it on.
“Your mom called from the fire station,” my dad says when I walk into the kitchen that night. “The cook-off thing went great. Her team won.”
He hovers over the stove, stirring a frying pan with a big wooden spoon. My brother sits at the kitchen table, long legs stretched out into the chair across from him. He wears a black T-shirt with a pi symbol on the front, jeans, and a pair of Vans Super Mario Brothers slip-ons. He is talking to my dad about monarch butterflies, which is not unusual for Rat.
My brother grins at me and runs one hand through his blond, spiky hair. “Did you know the ancient Aztecs of central Mexico believed the monarch butterflies were the souls of their fallen warriors?”
“Nope,” I say, pouring iced tea into a glass. It is also not unusual that I have no idea what he is talking about.
Tonight, I really don’t have room in my head for Rat’s randomness. All the way home from Nikki’s, I tried to make some sense of our conversation, but I was still struggling. I also have been keeping to my resolution to not check Worthy today. Especially now. I don’t want to see what people are saying about Nikki in the comments. My stomach tightens.
