“So what did Rat say about all this?” Chance asks.
“About all what?” I say, all innocent sounding. I open my locker and stick my head inside, hiding my face. “You know, Rat’s never been one to focus much on girly stuff.”
“Rat isn’t saying anything at all these days. Not to you, anyway.”
Chance frowns and opens the door of his locker next door. He rummages around in his locker and finally pulls out a worn baseball glove. “So, you and Whitney are all BFFs now?”
“I wouldn’t say that, but she’s been really supportive.”
“Right,” Chance says, his eyes narrowing. He slams his locker shut with a clang that makes me jump. “I’d watch that if I were you.”
“What do you mean?” But I’m asking it to his back as he disappears into the after-school crowd.
I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn to see Jackson standing by my open locker.
“Hey,” I say, my heart instantly responding with rapid beats. “What’s up?”
“Nice new haircut,” he says, and I blush. God, I’d missed looking into those blue-green eyes. “It looks almost like how you used to wear it. You know. Back when we were . . . friends.”
“You remember that?”
“Of course,” he says. He reaches out to pick up a strand of my hair from my shoulder. “Hanging out back then was amazing, right?”
“Yeah,” I say. “It was.” An excited hum starts up in my ears. Something’s happening. Something big.
“So, anyway, I was wondering if you’d like to go to the dance?” Jackson asks, slowly twisting the strand of hair around his finger. He’s standing in front of me and his lips are moving, but I must be misunderstanding what he’s saying. He couldn’t possibly be asking me out.
“The Fall Ball?” Stupid. Of course he is talking about the Fall Ball. It isn’t like we have millions of different dances. There is only one dance a semester and this is it — the biggie — and it is only a few weeks away.
“Whitney said we could go with her and her date. I mean . . . if you want to.” He’s standing so close I can see his impossibly long eyelashes batting up and down over those amazing sea-colored eyes. I feel an uncomfortable tug at my heart.
“Ummm . . .” I try to process the information. He’s really saying this, right? It’s not another one of my daydreams. I want to pinch him or me, but I don’t think that’s the right response. I’m supposed to say something. Our eyes lock, and he breaks into a slow smile.
“Come on. It’ll be fun.”
“Yes,” I say finally, because I realize he’s waiting in front of me for an actual answer. Like there would ever be a doubt I’d want to go with him. “That sounds great.”
“Good.” He runs a hand through his dark hair, and his eyes meet mine for a long moment. I can hardly breathe. “So I’ll talk to you later, then?”
“Sure,” I mumble in a daze, and watch as he walks off down the hall. As the realization of what just happened starts to set in, I can hardly keep from jumping up and down and squealing like those girls I can’t stand. The thin, pretty ones who always gather outside the boy’s gym. Jackson. Asked. Me. Out.
Take that, Skinny.
She doesn’t respond. She misses a lot of these opportunities lately. The long silences between us are unexpected and strange.
“You want a ride home?” I’m startled by the sudden appearance of Rat at my right elbow.
“Are you actually talking to me?” I smile uneasily and try to make it a joke, but I’m not rewarded with one of the famous Rat smiles in return. We’ve shared every thing since we were five, but never an awkward pause like this one.
He finally breaks the silence. “I’m going by the community center, and I know the kids would like to see you.”
“Okay. That’d be good. Let me get my books.” I fumble around in my locker, still trying to process what just happened with Jackson. Now I also have Rat to consider. We haven’t talked in the last few weeks, and now’s my chance to say all the things I’ve needed to say to make it right. The problem is, the only thing I want to tell him right now is how Jackson just asked me to the ball. Of course, I want to tell Rat first. He knows exactly what it means to me. Everything. I just don’t think he wants to hear it anymore.
There’s so much I want to say to him, but I can’t bring myself to speak. Not yet. He starts the car, and we drive out of the school parking lot, the silence stretching out again. I’m >desperate to say something, anything, but the words don’t come, and the seconds run by.