by Dayo Benson
I called her that evening to tell her about Carl. “You won’t believe who asked me to the dance.”
“Who?” she squealed. “Jace?”
“No, Carl Layton.”
“Really? Did you say yes?”
“I did.”
“But I thought you liked Jace.”
“Well, Carl asked. Jace is going to the dance with Michelle anyway.”
“Oh, yeah, he is.” I could hear Monica’s disgust. “If it’s any consolation to you, Michelle had to ask him. You should have seen her on Saturday when we all went bowling. She was all over him, and it ticks me off because she’s just a flirt.”
I logged in to my computer to finish my Lit assignment. “It takes one to know one, honey.”
***
I didn’t know whether it was just my imagination, but I had this strange feeling that Jace was avoiding me. It was weird. I hadn’t seen much of him during the week, but when I did, he either didn’t look at me, or he just nodded at me. Plus, I still hadn’t gotten my economics notes back.
I told Monica on Friday afternoon while we did our homework in the school library, and she found it ludicrous. “Why would Jace not be speaking to you?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since Wednesday anyway.”
“Yeah, I think he’s staying away from school for a few days after what happened.”
“What happened?”
“You know, with the fight and all that.”
“What fight?”
Monica shut her chemistry book and shoved it into her purse. “He had a fight with the guys from Los High that smashed up his car.”
“When?”
“Wednesday night. Everyone’s saying different things though, like he’s in hospital or that he got arrested after the fight, but he’s just at home laying low.”
“How come I didn’t hear about it?”
“Maybe because you don’t really talk to anyone.” Monica dug a packet of dried fruit out of her purse and offered it to me.
I tried a shriveled banana. “I talk to you, and you didn’t tell me.”
“Yeah, well, I have other things to think about apart from feeding you info about Jace.” Monica threw the mutilated fruit into her mouth in handfuls. She was obviously starving. “Tanya told me she was driving home from church, and she saw him outside Gym LA with Hayden, Lewis, and Craig. He tried to get her to leave, but she wouldn’t because she knew he was up to something. Next thing, three guys come out of the gym and Jace and co. jump them.”
“Are you kidding?”
“No. You know what Tanya’s like. She’s really upset. She expected Jace to turn the other cheek and all that. Personally, I think that if you’re gonna go round smashing cars, you should expect some kind of retaliation.”
“How did he find out who did it?”
“I don’t know.”
I watched Monica devour the packet of wrinkly fruit. “Are you full now?” I asked, and she glared at me. “Why don’t we go to that Mexican place up the road after school? It’s on me.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, if that’ll make you eat. I hate to see you suffering like this.”
“Whatever. I’ll come, and you don’t have to pay for me.”
“I insist.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ll order you some real food. If you pay, you’ll feel guilty ordering anything other than some dry salad.”
Chapter 7
I couldn’t believe my eyes when my phone rang at 5 a.m. on Saturday morning, and it was Monica announcing that we were going shopping for the dance.
“What?” I croaked. I squinted at my clock. I wasn’t mistaken; it really was two minutes past five.
“I’ll be outside your house at nine okay? Do not keep me waiting, Lexi. I’m giving you plenty of notice.”
“Huh?”
“Repeat after me, Lexi, shopping at nine.”
“Shopping at nine.”
“As soon as I hang up, I want you to set your alarm for eight thirty.”
“Okay.” I fell asleep.
Monica rang again three minutes later. “Have you set your alarm?”
“No.”
“Set it now,” she ordered.
She hung up, and I set the alarm on my cell phone for eight thirty. I was about to put the phone back on my nightstand when it rang again, with Monica’s name flashing across my screen.
“I’ve set it,” I groaned.
“Good,” Monica replied. She sounded so awake. “See you at nine.”
I was prodded awake by my mom a couple hours later. I opened my eyes briefly and shut them again as she went over to my window and flung open the blinds. “Mom, it’s Saturday,” I grumbled.
“Monica’s outside waiting for you. I told her you’d be out in a minute.”
My eyes shot open. “Oops!”
“What?”
“We’re supposed to be going shopping for the dance.” I leapt out of bed, suddenly wide awake. I was sure I’d set my alarm. I must have slept through.
My mom looked at me like I was crazy. “You’re going shopping?”
“Yeah, why?” I scrambled to get my flip-flops on.
She looked pointedly at my closets. “You only have seven closets full of clothes you never wear.”
“I know, but Monica doesn’t.”
“Well, let her wear one of yours.”
“I never thought of that.” I looked in the mirror. My hair was wild. “Anything that will save me from following Monica around all day while she harasses shop assistants and freaks out when they don’t have a dress in her size.” I’d been shopping with her before, and it was not a pleasurable experience. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to just own up to her that I was a model.
“Lexi, did you wash your face last night before going to bed?” My mom asked. Her pet peeve was people who slept with makeup on.
“I was tired.”
She glared at me and tossed over my packet of antibacterial Aloe Vera face wipes, and then opened the window and beckoned to Monica. Obediently, I wiped my face clean.
Moments later, a frustrated Monica breezed into my room, flanked by Chanel’s Allure Sensuelle.
“Morning, Monica.”
“Lexi, I’ve been outside for—” she stopped and took in my disheveled appearance. “You’re not even ready!”
“Yes, but I have a good excuse.”
“You better!”
I walked over to one of my closets and flung the door open. “You don’t need to go shopping. I’ll hook you up with what you need.”
Monica frowned.
I put on a Cuban accent like my grandmother’s, “You like de Gucci or de Armani? ‘Coz I gat it all.”
Monica raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow.
I dropped the Cuban accent. “You can wear one of my dresses,” I told her. “You should be able to find something you like. They’re all from fashion shows, and photoshoots, and stuff.” And a lot of them were from shopping sprees around Europe.
Monica stared at me blankly. “Fashion shows, and photoshoots, and stuff?” she repeated.
“Yeah. I’m a model, so I get freebies.”
Monica looked incredulous. “You’re a model?”
“You seem surprised,” I said, feigning hurt.
“Well, yeah! How come you never told me?”
“You already know. Remember, I used to model before I left?”
“Yeah, but I thought it was just stuff like that catalog you were in that time. I didn’t know you were doing designer clothes and fashion shows.” Monica looked at my mom. “Is she for real, or is she just trying to get out of shopping?”
“She’s for real,” my mom confirmed with a smile. She left the room, and Monica had a million and one questions. What agency was I with? Had I met any famous people? Did it mean I was secretly super-rich? Could she really have as many clothes as she wanted?
I hesitated on the last one. If I said yes, she might call a
removal truck and haul the lot away. “Yeah, but don’t take any from the closet by the door because those are the clothes I actually do wear.”
She rummaged around each of the other closets, piling up a heap of clothes in the middle of the room that she was going to take. She took out a black YSL dress and looked at it for a while. “When’s your next modeling job?”
“Next Saturday. That’s one of the reasons why I didn’t want to go to the Christmas dance. Then I’ve got my last booking for the year a week from Wednesday.”
“Is it a fashion show?”
“Yes.”
“Wow,” Monica breathed. “Can I come?”
“Sure. You can have my mom’s ticket since she’s not coming.”
Monica held the black dress against her body. “I think I want this one for the dance.”
My mom popped her head around the door. “Good choice,” she told Monica. She looked at me. “I’m going to your grandmother’s. You’ll have to fix lunch for yourself, but breakfast is in the oven.”
“Thanks.”
“Your mom is really pretty,” Monica said when my mom left us.
“I’m prettier.”
A picture on my dresser of me and my dad caught her eye. “Ooh, who’s the hottie?” She picked up the picture frame for a closer look and raised her hand to her mouth apologetically. “Sorry. It’s your dad, right?”
I grinned. “It’s okay, Monica. I’m not all sensitive and weepy today.”
“I’m really sorry, Lexi.”
“Don’t be silly. It’s okay. Try the dress on. Make sure it fits.” I went to brush my teeth. When I returned, Monica was standing in front of the mirror wearing the dress. “That looks great.”
“I know.”
I turned to my dresser to locate my hairbrush. Why did I always give Monica compliments? She had an ego the size of Manhattan. “Isn’t it a bit cold to wear that though?”
“Considering how good this looks, I’m prepared to freeze.” She pointed to the sizeable heap of clothes on the floor. “You sure you don’t mind?”
“Yeah, you can have them.” I spied a pair of white Diesel jeans among the heap. “I thought you only wear Levi’s.”
“It depends on the outfit.” Monica pointed at a blue dress she’d draped over my desk chair. “I’m going to wear that to church tomorrow. Do you think it’s okay? It’s long enough, isn’t it?”
“You’re going to church?”
“Yeah.” Monica made a face as she removed the black dress. “I promised Tanya. I can’t believe I’ve let her rope me into church again. This is like the third time this month. Apparently, she’s singing a solo and needs me to come watch.” Monica slipped her skinny arms into her pale yellow sweater. “She doesn’t know I’ve got her sussed. She tells me to come watch her do this or do that, saying she needs my moral support, but she’s hoping that while I’m there I’ll get miraculously saved or something.”
The thought of Monica in church made me smile.
“But I love Tanya. She’s one of the nicest people out there, and she’s always been there for me.”
“My aunt goes to her church. She’s really annoying sometimes.”
Monica wriggled into her skin tight stone washed jeans. They hugged her slim hips like a second skin. “You see? These are Levi’s,” she said. “Now tell me they’re not hot.”
“They’re hot,” I agreed. “I’ve got Levi’s too, Monica. I just haven’t worn them to school.” I hated Monica. She always looked great.
“Well, I have a date with Liam in about...” Monica looked at her watch. “...an hour.”
I glared at her. “What if we’d actually gone shopping? So you would have dumped me at the mall?”
“No, he called while you were in the bathroom. We had a date for six, but I told him I’m free. So we’re going for an early movie, and then probably for something to eat after.”
“Whatever.”
“We need to get you a man too so that we can double date. By the way, I think Carl Layton likes you big time. I’ve heard rumors.”
I gave her a bored look. “Yeah, right.”
“Do you like him?”
“Not really. He seems okay, though. I’m already stressing about being his date for the dance. What on earth are we going to talk about?”
“Sports, athletics, wrestling?”
“Will it be that bad?”
“I don’t know. I was his date two years ago for some disco, and it was that bad. Let’s hope he’s changed.”
“You should have told me this before. It would have given me an excuse to turn him down. I could have told him I have a strict ‘I can’t date someone who’s dated my friend’ policy.”
“We didn’t date. I was just his date. Is Jace the only one you’d date?”
I shrugged.
Monica giggled. “Could you handle Jace? He’s cute, but he’s kinda dangerous, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, probably.” He was way too hot not to be dangerous.
“Well, if you really want him, I guess you’ve got the weapons,” Monica said, indicating my closets.
“Monica, I have never and will never dress up just to get a guy’s attention.” Not that I’d ever really wanted to get a guy’s attention before, until Jace. Monica looked amused. “No, really Monica. Dressing up is supposed to be fun, but it becomes a headache when you have a motive.” Besides, if I didn’t make an effort, I had nothing to lose; but what if I did make an effort, and Jace still didn’t notice me? How pathetic would that be?
“Well, just make sure you make an effort on Saturday,” Monica replied. “By the way, you should hook me up with your agency, because you know I could work a runway too. I’d probably even be better than you.”
“If you’re serious about that, they hold open calls every other Thursday.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. The next one is a week from Thursday.”
“Cool! So what do I have to do?”
“Nothing, really. Take a couple snapshots of yourself with you and hope for the best.”
Monica’s eyes were shining. “Really? It’s that easy?”
“Yes and no.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“They’ll ask you to walk. They’ll want to see you in a swimsuit. They don’t like people showing up with makeup on, and they turn away perfectly eligible people all time.” I dug out a few empty shopping bags for Monica to pack up her clothes.
She looked at her watch. “We’ll talk about this later, and you can tell me who I’ll have to bribe and who I’ll need to sleep with to make it.” She gave me a bright smile and a tight hug. “When I become a model, I’ll book us into a Caribbean spa and all treatments will be on me.”
“Why can’t you do that now?”
Monica stuck out her bottom lip. “Well, I was going to do it for my eighteenth, but it’s so expensive. I’d have to forgo my Beauty Internacionale subscription for three months.”
“I was joking.” I knew better than to ever try to come between Monica and her beauty consultancy. What I didn’t point out to her was that they weren’t making her beautiful. She was already beautiful anyway.
Chapter 8
The week leading up to the Christmas dance was unbelievable. Everyone was excited, and I really couldn’t understand why. The way I saw it, the dance was at a venue that we attended every day: school. And the dance was with people we saw every day: our fellow school colleagues. There was nothing that out of the ordinary about it.
Jace back in school, and he was in every economics class all week. And in each class, Michelle Carey was all over him like a rash. I still didn’t get my notes back, and he didn’t so much as say hi. But it was cool.
On Thursday afternoon, he came into the library while I was trying to work out why I’d scored so low in McGee’s last assignment. He looked at my paper and saw my 36%, but to his credit, he didn’t even look slightly horrified.
“Have you got a date for Saturday?”
he asked.
I thought about Monica. In a situation like this, she would flirt. “What’s it to you, mister?” I could hear her saying. I could only manage one word. “Yeah.”
“Who is it?”
Again, one word. “Carl.”
Jace frowned a little. “Which Carl?”
“Carl Layton.” Two words! I grinned.
“Oh. Well, I haven’t forgotten about your notes. I’ll copy them this weekend and give them back next week.”
“Okay.”
He left the library, and I rubbed my temples. I couldn’t wait till this dance was over. It was so stressful. I buried my head back into economics. I hated it. It didn’t seem that hard, so what was I doing wrong?
I thought about Carl. He hadn’t called me since he’d asked me to be his date. Were we still on or not? I had his number, but no way was I going to call. I didn’t even really want to go with him. I’d actually rather go alone. Ultimately, I’d rather stay home and eat straw.
Luckily, Carl called me that night. He wanted to check if I wanted a Limo. I reminded him that I was meeting him there.
On Friday morning, he was waiting for me by my locker with a box of chocolates. “Thanks for being my date,” he said, holding out the box.
Just then, the basketball team emerged from the men’s locker room down the hall and headed up our way to go outside for training. Jace looked over with a frown.
“Thanks, Carl,” I took the chocolates and put them in my locker.
“I’m looking forward to tomorrow,” he said. “I still can’t believe you said yes though. I didn’t think you would.” He high-fived Craig as he walked past and nodded at Jace.
“Really? Why?”
“I don’t know. I had to just act all cocksure of myself, but inside I was sure you were going to cut me dead.”
“Me? Cut you dead?”
“Yeah, you give off this untouchable vibe that’s kinda scary.”
That cracked me up. “Untouchable?”
