“Man, how did that freak pull such a hottie?” Brody mutters into his soda.
You follow his gaze out to the dance floor, where Farshid is slow dancing with Hope Wang, a cute girl you have choir with. They look like they’re having fun.
You, on the other hand, are not. You’ve spent the whole time hovering by the snack table, hoping for a glimpse of Mariana, while Brody tries to make you laugh. Or complains about your classmates.
You tug on your tie. You can’t tell if you got it too tight, or if ties are always supposed to make you feel like you’re choking.
Brody’s own tie is off-kilter, and his suit doesn’t quite fit. It’s too small around his shoulders. Out on the floor, Farshid’s suit fits his own solid frame. You catch some of the other girls smiling at him, talking to him as he and Hope dance. You wish they’d look at you that way.
Mariana used to. Maybe she will again.
“Hey, guys,” a raspy voice says. You didn’t notice Reggie heading your way. He raises a fist. Brody’s suit bunches at the shoulder as he raises his own fist to meet Reggie’s.
You reflexively bump Reggie’s fist, too, even though he still owes you twenty dollars. Even though in class, he acted like he had nothing to do with what you did. Like he didn’t dare you to.
And the one time you called him on it, he just said, “I thought you knew I was joking!”
You kind of hate him.
And you hate seeing him and Brody so friendly. Brody’s your best friend. He’s supposed to be on your side, isn’t he?
“Who’d you come with?” Brody asks.
Reggie shrugs. “Thought I’d see who I could score here.”
Score.Like it’s some sort of sport. Gross.
Reggie and Brody keep talking about the girls here, but you ignore them, scanning the gym for Mariana again. You don’t know if she even came. If she ever asked anyone. But you thought you overheard her talking about it in German, so you have to hope.
A fist presses into your shoulder, a soft punch to get your attention.
“What?” you ask, turning back.
Reggie says, “You struck out, too?”
You didn’t strike out—Brody accidentally sabotaged you.
But Brody chuckles. “He’s got a thing for Mariana Herrera.”
“Oh, really?” Reggie grins. He’s got overly large canines for his face, which is angular with a forehead that takes up more than half of it. He’s pasty white, and brown-haired, and kind of plain, if you’re being honest.
You shake your head, look back out into the crowd, and then you spot her.
Mariana.
She’s in a pretty blue dress that really shows off her… well, her beauty. And she is beautiful. She’s talking with Hope Wang, who still has her arm looped through Farshid’s.
On the one hand, you don’t feel like dealing with Farshid, who’s got to be the worst grudge-holder in the world. On the other, this might be your chance.
You glance back, hoping Brody might go with you to be your wingman, to apologize, but he and Reggie are still huddled up. You’re on your own.
You straighten your shoulders and start walking, but then you wonder if your arms are swinging too much. They feel weird in the suit. Do your arms always move like that? You try to project confidence and saunter over.
But what’s a saunter anyway? Are you doing it right?
You don’t have time to figure it out. Suddenly you’re there, right in front of Mariana. And Hope. And Farshid, who looks as nervous as you feel.
“Uh. Hey, Mariana.” Your armpits feel sweaty all of a sudden, even though all the gym doors are open to get some airflow. Does it show?
