Adorkable(17)

The conversation was peculiar on several levels, but I appreciated her comments even if I didn’t actually have a boyfriend. It reminded me to start thinking about who could play my F.B.F.

“Thanks, Ms. Vega,” I said. “But—”

“And you make sure this Becks person knows that you are his girlfriend and no one else.” She pursed her lips as I stood there speechless. “Men seem to have trouble with this concept—just ask my first two husbands.”

Turning away, Ms. Vega started mumbling to herself about the many odd names today, but I was still in shock. Did she just imply that Becks—Becks of all people—and I were going out? How ridiculous. Why would anybody believe such an obviously made-up story?

The shock lasted until about the time Hannah Thackeray, a fairly good friend of mine, nudged my shoulder. “Hey Spitz, glad you finally got your guy.”

“What?” I said dumbly.

“You and Becks,” she said, smiling. “I’m happy for you. It was inevitable, really.”

Was everyone here delusional? “Hannah, that’s absurd. Who told you that?”

“Absurd?” she repeated, her smile faltering. “But I saw the two of you...at Paula’s last night.”

“And?”

Hannah blushed. “Well, you guys looked pretty cozy. Becks was holding you like he might never see you again.”

I remembered Becks hugging me, but Hannah’s view was completely different from mine.

“He just caught me as I fell,” I explained. “I slipped on some water, and he grabbed me so I wouldn’t hurt myself.”

She looked unconvinced. “It looked pretty serious to me.”

“Well, it wasn’t.” At her frown, I immediately regretted my tone. “Hannah, I’m sorry. But really, what you saw was nothing more than Becks saving me from a busted lip. We’ve been best friends since grade school for goodness’ sake. Becks would never even look at me that way, let alone ask me out.”

“Whatever you say,” she muttered and walked past me into the hall.

“You’ll never be able to keep him, you know.”

Quinn Howell, queen bee and Varsity cheer captain, was suddenly there, her long blonde hair tied together in a loose braid, her makeup perfection. Becks had told me they made out last Friday, but there wasn’t any “chemistry.” Sounded like she disagreed.

“He’ll figure it out sooner or later,” she said, a curl to her lips. “I mean, how could Becks go from me to someone like you? It just doesn’t…make sense.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said.

Quinn shrugged her lean shoulders. “Just remember I called it first, Spitz. You and Becks? It’ll never last.”

“Okaaay,” I said. That’d been the weirdest interaction yet. Quinn was your classic mean girl, but she wasn’t stupid. She couldn’t truly think Becks and I were together.

As she walked off, I caught other people—most everyone—looking at me, or whispering to someone else and then looking at me. A strange sensation, having that many eyes on you at once. It made me wonder if this was the way Becks felt every time he was on the field.

Becks, my boyfriend? Now that was a laugh.

Like anyone would ever believe that.

And yet—the thought struck me as Quinn and her crew kept shooting me the stank eye—people had believed. Bought the lie, told it to their friends and their friends’ friends, repeated it so often that it had even managed to reach the ears of Ms. Vega.

The effect of one small, innocent hug was extraordinary.

And I’m not going to lie and say it took me a long time to come to a decision.

Nope. The light bulb hit about thirty seconds later when Becks called out, “Sal” and I saw Hooker striding toward me from the opposite direction, face pinched.

I didn’t think. Acting on impulse, I grabbed Becks by the front of his jersey, dragged him to the storeroom not far away and pushed him inside, which earned us a few catcalls.

“Sal,” he said again, laughing, but there was no time.

Hooker had stepped up the pace and was nearly upon us.

Without a thought, I threw myself in right after Becks and jerked the door shut behind me, heart pounding as I heard the final bell ring.

“Lillian, are you coming to class?”

The voice was Mr. Caroll’s, the Political Science teacher, and I’d never been so happy to hear it in my life.

Hooker mumbled something back that I couldn’t quite make out. Through the little window in the door, I saw them arguing, Hooker pointing toward our hiding place, Mr. Caroll’s frown getting more and more pronounced. With one final glance, where Hooker and I actually locked eyes but only for a moment, she turned stiff-backed and walked to class.