Pride & Popularity (8 page)

“Book club?” Blake sounded amused.

I’d take amused over mad or hurt any day. “Yep. And apparently my mom will never be able to show her face again if I back out, so . . .”

“So what’s he like?

“Collin?”

“Yeah, a guy’s gotta know his competition, right?”

“You think Collin is competition?” I blurted out.

“He’s a guy, right?”

“Yes. I guess you could call him that.”

“And he’s going out with you instead of me,” Blake said. “He’s competition. So what’s he like?”

“Oh. He’s . . . er, I don’t know. He’s, like, not all there, you know?”

“Is he as good looking as me?”

“As you? Hmm. I guess he’s cute, but more in a loner sort of way.”

“Oh, well, cute? Cute, I got beat.”

“You sure about that? Just because you’ve got dimples, don’t think it’s in the bag.”

Blake groaned. “Don’t remind me. I hate my dimples.”

“What? Why? Every girl loves dimples.”

“So you’re saying you like them, then?”

“Uh, maybe.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He laughed into the receiver, and I shuddered. There was something about his voice that turned my insides into jelly.

“So, do you still plan to come for dinner tomorrow?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t miss it. What are your parents like?” “Um, they’re sort of crazy.”

“Crazy?”

I laughed. “Well, they just like to put the guys who date me through some sort of a dating ritual thing.”

“Dating ritual?” Blake sounded surprised. “What do you mean? What’s it like? Is there anything I need to know?”

“Just go with it. You’ll be fine.”

“Okay, come on, Chloe. Can’t you give me more than that?”

“You definitely need a sense of humor to survive.”

“All right, so I need a sense of humor.”

“The funnier you are, the better.”

“Wait. You mean I have to act funny? Like a monkey or something?”

“What? No! You think you’ll have to act like something?” I giggled.

“Very funny.” I could hear the grin in his voice. “How else am I supposed to act?”

“Like yourself.” Smiling, I got up off the bed and wandered over to my mirror.

“Myself?”

“Yep, be yourself and you’ll be fine.” I made a face at my haphazard hair.

“You know, you’re lucky I’m brave or this could really begin to scare me,” Blake said.

I wonder if he likes red hair.
I sprung a curl and answered, “Scare you? No, it’s not scary. Just, um, funny.”

“So, you guys are going to make fun of me or something?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I never know what they’re planning to do. Stop being so curious. I promise, you’ll live.” As I turned to plunk back on the bed, my knee collided with the corner of my dresser.
Ouch!
“Oh, sh–sugar!”

“Sugar? Did you say sugar?” I could tell Blake was trying not to laugh.

“Not always.”

“Oh?”

“No. Sometimes I say ‘sugar plum fairies.’”

He snorted. “You say ‘sugar plum fairies’ instead of—”

“Don’t say it!”

“—shoot.”

“Oh, I thought you were going to say something else.”

“I thought about it,” he said.

“You did?”

“Yep, but I changed it at the last minute. I didn’t want you to get mad and say ‘sugar’ or something.”

“Ha ha. Good one.”

“So why don’t you say, uh, the other word?”

“Oh, because—”

“Because of your parents?”

“No. Well, yeah, but mostly because I’d rather be unique and different than follow the crowd.”
Oh my gosh! What am I saying? Blake is
so
going to think I’m a dork now.
“Anyway, I know it’s kind of childish to say ‘sugar,’ but I always have, so it’s—”

“Chloe!” my mom yelled.

Thank you, Mom.
“Uh, Blake, I’ve gotta go. My mom’s calling me.”

“Sure. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay. See ya tomorrow. Don’t forget to be funny. Bye.”

“Bye. Oh, uh, Chloe?”

“Yeah?”

“Just for the record, I like that you’re unique. Besides, it sounds cute when you say ‘sugar.’”

My heart stopped and then flip-flopped. “Really?”
He thinks I sound cute?

“Bye.” I sighed and fell back onto my pillows as I hung up the phone.
A girl could kiss a guy like that.

“Chloe Elizabeth!” My mother’s exasperated shout sliced through my daydreams of kissing Blake.

“Coming,” I called, wishing for just three minutes of privacy. It’s not every day a girl gets told she sounds cute.

My mom was still in the dining room. She was sitting next to my dad.

“There you are, Chloe. Have a seat.” Dad pointed to the chair opposite him.

Wondering if we were having some sort of family conference, I sat down hesitantly. “What’s up?” My parents only did this gang-up thing if they needed to tell one of their kids something upsetting.

“Well I’ve just checked my email.” Mom paused, obviously waiting for me to speak up. When I didn’t, she went on, “It seems you were caught reading a note in your English class today.”

You’re kidding me. Mr. Young emailed my parents? That is so harsh.
“Um, yeah. I was.”
Great. So what’s it going to be, grounding for life?

“Your father and I” —she looked over at my dad as if to include him— “think it’s time for you to take some responsibility.”

“Okay.”

“Four-wheeling instead of doing your homework, talking on the phone all evening, reading notes in class.” My dad raised a finger for each of the things he listed, as if he was counting them off.

“So? What do you want me to do?”

“We think it would be a good idea for you to get a job. It’s been almost three weeks since the theater group broke up. Playtime is over, Chloe.” My mom gave me a knowing look.

Needless to say, after the “talk” with my folks, I called up Ms. Chavez at the dance studio to ask for my old job back. She said I could start Monday. I asked for weekends and Wednesdays off so I could still go on dates, just in case a certain someone felt like asking me out again after this weekend’s test and my blatant rejection of our first date.

My phone call with Ms. Chavez turned out to be a bit more lucrative than I’d expected. Not only did she offer to give me a raise, but she had a friend who was willing to consider me for Arizona State University’s ballet scholarship program. I guess she had told her friend about me and the work I’d done in her studio. Ms. Chavez even offered to help me with an admissions DVD. To say my parents freaked would be an understatement, and I was pretty excited myself.

Later that evening when I called Madison to tell her about my date with Collin, my call to Blake, my new job, and my possible ASU scholarship, she still found time to insist Taylor liked me. But Madison was singing a different tune about Taylor on Friday. We all were, because apparently, he’d fallen in love.

TAYLOR IS IN LOVE

So what else would the whole student body talk about besides Taylor Anderson?
You know, I have no idea, because it appears there is always some excitement that happens to revolve around him. Seriously, can’t we think of something more original? So he’s got a new girlfriend. Like that’s a shocker. The longest the guy has ever gone girlfriendless was back in the seventh grade, and even that was for just three days
.

In seventh grade, rumor had it that the girl he wanted to add to his list of conquests was on a trip with relatives at the time, which is why it took three days. Of course, the story goes on to say that she did manage (after an urgent phone call from a friend who tipped her off) to convince her family to cut their vacation short so she could receive the wondrous honor of becoming Taylor’s next.

“And then we kissed. It was so awesome. I knew right then that I had to ask her to be mine.” Taylor beamed.

Oh, spare me.
It sounded as if he had gotten the lines right out of a B-rated soap opera. I rolled my eyes and I looked up from the single-minded focus of my chalk landscape. I wanted to see if anyone else had bought into Taylor’s sappy drivel.

You’ve got to be kidding me.
Half of the art room had surrounded our table. The other half had strained so hard to hear Taylor’s account of how he found his
one
true love that they had to hang onto their respective tabletops to not fall off their seats.

“What did she say?” Alyssa asked. I glanced at her and realized she’d long forgotten the landscape she’d been drawing. Her elbows sat on the table where her work should’ve been. She sighed dreamily and rested her chin on her hands.

Madison wasn’t as impressed as she was amused. She claimed she wasn’t very romantic, though for some reason she sure liked to hear the latest and greatest romance gossip.

“She said yes, of course.” Taylor laughed. “What else would she have said?”

“What else indeed,” I muttered under my breath as I leaned in closer to my artwork.

“What was that, Chloe?” His voice in my ear did zilch compared to the shivers his warm breath caused.
No guy should ever breathe that close to a girl’s ear. It should be illegal or something.

As I turned my head, our noses nearly collided. For a few moments, I stared at that nose and those lips so close to my own before my gaze traveled up to his glittering eyes. I jerked back but realized I had just crossed the line of disinterested into very interested by the standards of any one of the students who had witnessed our display. To give Taylor credit—which I shouldn’t have done in case it gave the impression I was even mildly okay with the jerk’s existence—he looked just as confused and shaken as I did. A couple of seconds longer and I may have tried to kiss the guy. Infuriated with myself and my lack of ability to breathe, I decided to end this fiasco.

“Ms. Bailey, can you help me with this water?” I asked loud enough to be heard over the music that streamed into her earphones. “I can’t seem to get my lake to look real.”

Immediately the room became a flurry of activity as the students dispersed to their seats.

Ms. Bailey looked up, removed her headset, and glanced around the room as everyone scrambled. “What has been going on here?”

Because it was an advanced art class, Ms. B. usually left us to our own devices, which allowed her to work freely on her paintings. She was lenient to an extent, but even she wouldn’t tolerate complete abandonment of work.

“Get back to work, now!”

She waited until all of the students were working on their landscapes before she walked over to our table. I felt a momentary stab of guilt and hoped the class wouldn’t be punished.

“I’m sorry, Chloe. You were saying?”

“Oh, I was wondering if I could get some advice on my lake. I don’t think it looks as realistic as it should.”

“Remember, dear, you need to repeat the same landscapes and trees you see above the water, in the water. The same colors and all, just more muted, like this.”

I looked over at Taylor, my mind wandering from Ms. B.’s demonstration. He was completely engrossed in his work.
He’s probably trying to make up for all of the time he wasted boasting.

A glance at Alyssa showed she was doing the same. Only Madison looked right back at me. Slowly, she raised one eyebrow. Her gaze left mine to settle on Taylor and then returned back to me. The look she sent spoke volumes.