by Dayo Benson
Hayden Wright stopped to talk to Monica. “Are you coming tomorrow?” he asked her. He’d joined Kingston High the fall after I left, and although I’d only observed their banter for a few weeks, it was clear that Hayden could be trouble for Monica and Liam’s relationship. If I were her, I’d either just get with him or stay well away.
Monica gave him the most flirtatious smile I’d ever seen. “Sure, I’m a cheerleader now.”
It took everything within me not to snort. Monica used to be on the gymnastics team. She’d even won state tournaments. Now, she’d left all that for cheerleading! No doubt Michelle had been the architect of that decision.
Hayden hugged her, and another guy hugged her from behind. It was a Monica sandwich, and she was giggling and squirming, trying to free herself.
I dropped back. I always felt self-conscious around Monica when she went into flirt mode, but I had to admit that she was highly fascinating to watch.
“Hey, Jace,” Monica trilled, when she managed to release herself from between the two guys.
I looked back. Jace Washington was coming up the corridor, flanked by two buddies, his shirt thrown over his shoulder. One of his buddies was Kevin Wallace, who Sandy had been dating forever. The other was some new blond dude. Another curly-haired black guy was walking just behind them, texting on his phone. There was no denying that some hot guys had joined the school since I’d been away.
I wished I could just be invisible. Why did I have to see the whole basketball squad first thing in the morning on a day when I looked atrocious? The worst part of it was my hair was still damp and at this strange halfway point between curling and frizzing.
“We’ve got a cheer for you, Jace. We hear you’re hot.”
“Cool, Monica.” Jace walked off toward the boys’ bathroom.
Monica refocused her attention on Hayden. She seemed to have forgotten that I existed. “Eww, you’re all sweaty, Hayden.”
Hayden flexed an impressive bicep. “Yeah, Coach worked us hard.”
I looked at my watch. I needed to get to class. Had I really just told Monica that I was going to the after party tomorrow? The thought of it filled me with nervous dread. I’d probably be on my own all evening. Either that or I’d be Monica’s invisible sidekick, while she flirted the night away. I wasn’t sure which was worse.
Chapter 2
I started modeling when I was thirteen. One of my mom’s work colleagues had suggested that I do a modeling course to help me overcome my shyness. Apparently, her daughter had been quiet and shy when she was younger, and a modeling course had helped to draw her out.
I’d liked the idea, so I’d enrolled for a five-week course over summer vacation. But for me, it hadn’t been about overcoming my so-called shyness. It’d been the allure of glamor, fame, and wealth as my naïve imagination ran wild and conjured up visions of a stunning, dark-haired primadonna (moi) sauntering down a runway in a sparkly gold bikini, while the world salivated at her feet.
The course was both rigorous and fun. I was taught that I shouldn’t let my height make me feel awkward (I’ve been 5’8 since I was twelve!), and that I was exactly the kind of person that agencies wanted. Unfortunately, I was taught to walk by straight women, not by glamorous effeminate men like on Top Model.
When the course finished, I told my mom that I wanted to be a model, and I managed to secure a few bookings. We moved to England, and I caught the eye of an agent at an open call at Transition agency in Manchester, a city half an hour away from our home in the Wirral. And the rest, as they say, is history.
Whether modeling helped me with my shyness or whether I just grew out of it, I don’t know, but on the whole, I was still a quiet, reserved kind of person—not shy but just more of an introvert than an extrovert.
I pondered all this as I packed my things after Thursday night’s fashion show. It was hard to stand out among so many beautiful girls. How exactly was I going to stand out and become a supermodel? Especially with my chilled personality? A lot of the models I met were what I called champagne people: vivacious with effervescent personalities. How was I going to compete with that?
I glanced around the room as I shook my hair free from the numerous pins the hairstylist had used to sweep it up. The models were all chatting away to each other, and some were flirting with the male models.
I kicked off the oppressively tight shoes I was wearing. Each pair of shoes I’d been given tonight were at least two sizes too small. I’d sauntered down the runway in agony, with a deadpan expression hopefully masking my anguish. My feet were a sorry sight, and the thought of going to a party and having to dance was not very appealing right now.
Modeling looked so glam, but it wasn’t. Celebrity models had it good, but puny modellettes, like myself, were a dime a dozen. However, it did have its perks, like my seven closets full of hot clothes that I had acquired from generous designers all over Western Europe. I never went shopping, because I had more clothes than I knew what to do with. For tonight’s party at school, I’d brought with me a gray Weston dress that Ché Weston herself had let me have after a photoshoot in Paris last year summer. I pulled it out of my purse. It was slightly creased but still wearable.
A shirtless male model walked past and I averted my eyes before he thought I was checking him out. He disappeared behind a rack of clothes to change.
I looked at myself in the mirror. Many times, hair and makeup for fashion shows was too ‘knock your eyes out’ to wear anywhere else but on the runway. For tonight, though, Vinnie Hoffman had wanted a ‘less is more’ look, hoping to achieve an ‘ordinary people’ feel for his collection. So I didn’t need to wash it off and redo it.
I was still wearing the deep red silk dress that my dresser had thrust at me for my last change. It had more personality than the gray dress that I’d packed for the party. Yes, it was probably a little too much for school, but had I not lived in England for the past four years? Was it not expected of me to show up at the party and make a bit of a fashion statement?
I stuffed the gray dress back into my purse. I was going in red silk. Kingston High, watch out!
I packed up and went to say bye to Vinnie. He said he’d let me keep his dress if I would do some more shows for him. I gave him my agency’s details so that he could contact them.
***
I got to school just before nine and made my way to the gym. It was heaving. Luckily Monica was looking out for me. “Lexi,” she yelled over the music, eyeing my dress. “I thought you weren’t coming any more. It’s nine o’ clock! The party finishes in about half an hour.”
“Really? Why?”
“Because we’ve got school tomorrow. If it was a Friday, they’d let us stay till two in the morning. Whoever planned this party for a Thursday was crazy. Any party that’s out before midnight ain’t a party.”
“But you can’t have the after party the day after the game.”
“Says who?”
“Whatever. You look great anyway.”
Monica whipped her hair. “I do, don’t I?”
Liam came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. “Hey, you keep getting away from me.”
“Yeah, can’t you take a hint?” Monica joked.
“Do you want to dance?” he asked her.
Monica looked at me, and I smiled. “Go and dance. It’s cool.”
“I’ll be back in a minute,” Monica promised.
Coming to this party had been a bad idea. I already felt lost, and my feet were still killing me from being crammed into Vinnie’s shoes.
I walked over to the drinks stand and stood behind the curly-haired texter I’d seen with Jace yesterday. He asked for a ‘Slam Dunk.’ He was given a glass of something dirty brown.
I smiled at the girl serving the drinks. “Do you have Coke?”
“One Dirty Dribble coming up,” she yelled.
“Hey, Lexi,” the guy said.
“Hey.” The first thing I noticed was how tall he was. I grinned at him,
as I was handed my drink. “I hope this is just Coke.”
He steered me toward some chairs that had been set out on the left side of the hall. I was grateful. I needed to sit.
“Yeah, what else could it be?”
I made a face. “With a name like ‘Dirty Dribble,’ I don’t know. Coke laced with marijuana?” I was always suspicious about drinks. I’d been offered so many dodgy cocktails at fashion industry meet and greets, and I’d been sick for two days the first time I’d accepted one at a London event. But this was school. It had to be harmless.
“Girl, what kind of parties do you go to?”
I laughed and sat down, taking a tentative sip. “Tastes like normal Coke. What are you drinking?”
“A Slam Dunk.”
“Please translate.”
“Lemonade, lime juice, and ginger.”
I made a face.
“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” he said, offering his glass.
I took a sip, then handed it back. “It’s vile.”
He grinned. “You left me some lipstick.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“It’s cool, Lexi. You can leave some on my lips later if you want.”
“How do you know my name?”
“Well, you’re Monica’s buddy that’s back from England, right?”
“Right.”
“Plus, you’re hot. Everyone knows your name.”
I raised an eyebrow. It’s a fact that raising an eyebrow in an uncomfortable situation makes you look more confident than you feel. “Well, what’s your name?”
“Lewis.”
“Lewis what?”
“Carter.”
“Oh.” He had two surnames.
Lewis looked around the hall. He had lovely, intense dark eyes. He seemed to be more of a mellow kind of guy than a loud, annoying Hayden type. I searched for something to say. “When did you start Kingston?”
“Tenth Grade. I went to Los High for a year, but basketball was rubbish there.”
“Are they the ones we played tonight?”
“Yeah.”
“I missed the game. Did we win?”
“Yep.”
“Did you score any?”
“Ten points.”
“Cool.” I sipped my Dirty Dribble.
Lewis swigged his Slam Dunk.
We were both quiet for a moment. I wondered what to say next. Lewis was looking at me. I smiled and looked over at the people on the dance floor. I hated awkward silences. I stared into my drink. “Um, do you want to dance?”
“Sure.” He downed his drink and stood up.
I downed mine. Bad idea—now I really wanted to burp. Lewis danced me over to the dance floor, and as we danced we talked about school, what subjects we were taking, which teachers we liked, and which teachers we didn’t. Lewis was funny, and I actually started to enjoy the party.
Suddenly, the lights went out for a few seconds, and everyone started screaming before they came back on.
“Party’s over,” Lewis said.
“Oh, is that how they get us out?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
I’d grabbed his arm for dear life when the lights went out, and I realized that I was still hanging onto it. I let go. “Sorry.”
“No worries. How are you getting home?”
“I brought my car.”
“Hey, Lexi, where’ve you been?” Monica asked, suddenly appearing beside me. “I thought you’d left.”
“No, I was with Lewis.”
“We’re going to the burger joint across the road. You coming?”
“No, I think I’ll just head home now.”
Monica scowled. “Lexi, why are you in such a rush to go home all the time, you miserable—”
“Okay, Monica,” I cut in, raising my hand. I’d done my best to make Lewis think I was all fun and jovial. I didn’t need Monica uncovering the real Lexi. I looked up at him. “Are you in a hurry to get home?” I knew better than to just follow Monica to the burger joint. She’d flutter off as soon as we got there, and I’d be left on my own. I’d go if Lewis was coming.
Lewis grinned. “Not when there’s the option of hanging out with a beautiful girl.”
Monica’s eyes widened. “Liam never calls me beautiful.”
“Yes, I do,” Liam piped up. I hadn’t even noticed him approaching.
“No, you just say I’m hot. I want to be beautiful.”
Liam rolled his eyes and took Monica’s hand as the four us made for the exit.
Lewis draped his arm around my shoulders when we got outside. Sandy joined us as we walked, and started talking to Monica, totally ignoring me.
The burger joint was pretty empty when we arrived. The guys ordered burger meals, and we made our way upstairs. I couldn’t stop laughing over the fact that the burger joint was actually called The Burger Joint, and Monica thought it was funny that I found it funny. She started laughing too.
Soon more kids from school arrived, and within half an hour, the place was packed. Some people started dancing to the awful music blasting in the joint.
Most of the basketball squad sat with us at our table, and Monica and Sandy were in their element, flirting and giggling for no apparent reason. Lewis pulled me onto his knee when a couple more guys came over, and Monica gave me a totally tactless wink. I ignored her. Hopefully, Lewis hadn’t seen it.
When Jace Washington walked in, everyone cheered. He came over to our table and slapped hands with a couple of the guys.
“You were on fire tonight,” Liam said.
“Thanks, man. It was a team effort,” Jace replied.
“Too right, it was a team effort!” Craig yelled over the music, pounding his fist on the table. “I scored tonight too!”
“So did Lewis,” I put in. I looked down at Lewis. “Didn’t you score ten points?”
“Yeah, Lewis was hot,” Sandy agreed.
Jace looked around the joint, an amused frown on his face as he watched our peers making fools of themselves, dancing on the tables and acting like they were in kindergarten. “I’m gonna split ya’ll,” he said. “Or I won’t get up for school tomorrow.”
“Remember, we’re training at eight,” Lewis reminded him.
“Yeah, you’d think we’d get a break the day after a game.” Jace dug his hands into his pockets. “See ya’ll in the morning.”
A couple minutes later Hayden decided to leave too. “I forgot about training in the morning,” he grumbled, yanking his baseball cap off and scratching his head before replacing it again. He stood up, and a few of the other guys followed suit. “One day, I’ll get paid for this.”
Lewis yawned. “Do you want to go home, too?” I asked him.
“No, but I probably should.”
“Well, let’s go then.” I stood up and pulled Lewis to his feet.
“See ya’ll in the morning,” Lewis told his teammates.
“Yeah, and let us know if she’s any good,” Craig said with a wink.
Monica shook her head while everyone else laughed. “Go home, Craig,” she said.
Lewis and I walked back to the school parking lot. “My place or yours?” he asked when we got to my car.
“Huh?”
“You know the guys will disown me if I don’t have anything to say about you tomorrow.”
I elbowed him and unlocked my disgrace of a car. “You can make it up.”
Chapter 3
Truth be told, I’d enjoyed the basketball after party, but I obviously couldn’t admit it to Monica. If I did, she’d get that annoying triumphant look on her face, and I just wasn’t having that. So, when she swooshed in on me in the cafeteria during lunchtime on Friday, I acted nonchalant and indifferent about the party.
“Come on, you must have enjoyed it, Lexi. I saw you tearing up the dance floor, and you and Lewis seemed to hit it off pretty well.”
I bit into my chicken sandwich. Yep, I definitely thought Lewis was hot, but Monica didn’t need to know that.
&n
bsp; “Did Lewis get your number?” Monica asked.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know.” He hadn’t even asked, and up until now, I hadn’t even thought about it. Maybe I’d enjoyed his company more than he’d enjoyed mine.
“Well, what happened when you guys left last night?”
“Nothing. I went home, and I assume he went home too.”
Monica looked like she didn’t believe me, but she let it drop. “A bunch of us are going the movies tonight. Wanna come?”
Great! Monica had a never-ending stream of social activities to invite me to. I’d said yes to one. Wasn’t that enough? “Who’s going?”
“Just a few of us, and I’m sleeping over at Sandy’s till Sunday. You can too if you want.”
I didn’t think Sandy really liked me. “No thanks.”
“Well, we’re meeting back here at school at seven to park our cars. Feel free to change your mind.” Monica got up and walked off. I watched her leave the cafeteria. No doubt she was off to meet Liam.
I picked up my half empty bottle of water and downed the rest of it. A part of me wanted to go tonight, but my inability to keep up with the likes of Monica and Sandy made me think twice.
Since I had no more classes, I decided I was going home. On my way out, I saw Monica and Hayden. He was trying to grab her cell phone, and she was screaming and refusing to let go.
“Help, Lexi,” she called.
I forced a smile and walked past. Monica and I had been really close before I’d gone to England, and although she’d always been the ‘bouncier’ of the two of us, I didn’t think I’d been that far behind her. I was sure there’d been a time when I was happy, carefree, and full of positivity, but it seemed like a lifetime ago. Right now, things were a struggle. My glass was definitely half empty.
I bought pizza on my way home. Food was good for triggering feel-good hormones, and I definitely needed some of those. I took it to my room and devoured it hungrily, while I downloaded all my thoughts for the day into my diary. The counselor that had worked with me in the first few weeks after my dad died had recommended that I write. It was meant to be cleansing. An hour and a half later, I kicked off my shoes and lay down on my bed. Writing was also exhausting.
