Six
Days bled into weeks as I breezed through the next few weeks, pushing down my anxiety and plastering a phony smile on my face. Thankfully, after four years of creating the perfect persona, I was good at hiding my emotions.
Elliot, on the other hand, was doing terribly at avoiding negative attention as he refused to learn how to bite his tongue and narrowly escaped detention three times.
I’m surprised Mrs. Hawthorne didn’t negate our deal after he stole a fish from the tank in the main office and paraded it around school in a small glass bowl.
Maybe she was too preoccupied with her smutty books to realize.
It also didn’t hurt that most people were focused on spirit week, which had been kicked off with every high school student’s favorite thing—pajama day.
But that was yesterday. Today’s theme was Tropical Tuesday, and man, oh man , if I could go back to a time when I hadn’t seen so many people dressed in coconut bras.
Sure, they had undershirts because…high school…
duh . But still, ew . The one upside about being a cheerleader is that we never wore anything that wasn’t designer brand, meaning no coconut bras for us.
Thank. Fucking. God.
I propelled my legs forward as I thrust my upper torso through the crowded hallway, bumping shoulders with nearly every person I passed.
My fingers gripped the large cardboard box wrapped tightly in my arms as I pressed it against my chest, determined not to let any of the goody bags inside spill onto the floor.
Each velvet drawstring pouch held a keychain engraved with the words ‘Vote for Clarke’ on gold-plated metal, two vanilla cake pops adorned in pink icing, an Apple AirTag, and a strawberry-scented hand sanitizer.
My wallet shriveled at the thought of buying fifteen of those trackers, but I knew I couldn’t cheap out and settle for stale candy and plastic buttons with my face plastered in the center.
I would be the laughingstock of the entire homecoming court.
My voice cracked as I called out, “Vote for Clarke, grab a treat—because this Queen can’t be beat!
” I handed out the bags left and right until the box in my arms was completely empty.
“That oughta do it,” I spoke under my breath as I broke apart the box and shoved it into the nearest bin.
Before I could relish in the fact that I was done socially prostituting myself, Meredith and Kendra rushed over to me, appearing out of thin air. Jesus . They were like cockroaches.
“Hey, girl, hey!” Kendra beamed.
“How’d passing out goodies go?”
“Well, they’re all gone, so…”
“Nice.” She bumped her hip against mine.
Releasing a silent puff of air I didn’t know I was holding in, I looked down at my feet and continued putting one foot in front of the other as the three of us strolled down the hall.
Ever since the first day of school, it had felt like I was on some kind of fucked up roller coaster that only did loops…
oh , and the tracks were on fire. I never expected that running for Homecoming and Prom Queen would come with so much baggage.
Not to mention that I made everything a trillion times harder by getting figuratively handcuffed to Elliot Keller for two days out of the week.
So far, senior year had consisted of creating social media posts for Homecoming Queen and teaching Elliot how to spell onomatopoeia.
And then mingling with a shit ton of jocks who shared one collective brain cell and telling Elliot that using a blue highlighter did not make him more manly.
And then making crudely drawn posters of a tiara in art class and explaining to Elliot that the word oxymoron was not synonymous with an idiot who liked to shoot up oxycodone.
Next on my never-ending list of housekeeping was the Homecoming game this evening, Mason’s party tonight, and the Homecoming dance tomorrow.
“You got this whole homecoming thing in the bag.” Kendra chuckled. “Pun intended.”
“I hope so.”
Meredith’s voice came out in a hushed yet condescending tone. “Yeah, you’re welcome for that. Where’s my thank you for, not only taking you under my wing when you moved here, but also for being on the Homecoming committee to help boost your chances of winning that stupid ass crown.”
My spine stiffened. I couldn’t tell whether I wanted to rip the dangly gold hoops out of my ears and ball up my fists or curl up in a dark corner of an empty room and blast Lana Del Ray. Nope . Actually, I did know. I was mad. Definitely mad. Welp, off come the hoops.
“Aw, are you jealous that your little boyfriend said he’d vote for me?” I chirped. “Don’t worry, I’m sure when I win Homecoming Queen and he wins Homecoming King and we’re up on that stage together, he’ll be thinking of you the whole time.”
From the corner of my eye, I watched as her confidence seemed to deflate as her shoulders slumped downward. An unabashed smirk made its way across my lips.
“Speaking of Mason.” Kendra frowned while letting out a deep sigh. “This party…do we really have to go? Like, who hosts a party right after a football game, anyway? I’m going to be tired as hell.”
“Okay, well I’m definitely not going to a party with Ryan Conners and a whole team of single-minded jocks alone.”
“Honestly, as long as they have alcohol, I’m in.” Meredith shrugged. “Plus, I’ll get to see Mason.”
“Great.” I bobbed my head in an animated fashion despite the fact that each nod felt like a betrayal of how I actually felt. “And socializing is the most important part of campaigning for Homecoming Queen, so it’ll be perfect.”
“Is socializing code for flirting?”
“No. it’s code for socializing.”
“Lame.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I didn’t help you become popular, so you could talk to boys about physics or whatever. Why aren’t you putting yourself out there? Go flirt. Let loose a little.”
“I have more important things to worry about.”
“Oh, please. What could be more important than your love life?”
Literally anything.
“Homecoming Queen, Meredith.”
Kendra’s eyes glazed over as she spoke in a monotone voice. “You guys have fun with that, but why do I have to go?”
“Oh, come on, Kendra,” Meredith groaned. “If you ever want to be known by your name instead of ‘that girl who follows Meredith and Clarke around,’ then you need to be more…interesting.”
“Are you serious right now?” Kendra asked as she stopped dead in her tracks, fire in her eyes.
I looked over Meredith, who didn’t look phased in the slightest as she stared at her nails with a bored expression.
Kendra huffed. “Ugh, whatever.”
Before she had the chance to respond, I felt a hand tap me on the shoulder. When I spun around, I was face to face with Elliot fucking Keller. My eyes narrowed.
For the last month, it took every ounce of willpower I had to resist hurling my leather-bound journal at him and bludgeoning him with it after he selfishly invaded my privacy by reading its contents.
For all I knew, he could have concocted some sort of counterplan to my original plan in order to prevent me from winning Prom Queen.
Okay, maybe that was a little bit far-fetched.
But he clearly hated me, so anything was possible.
It went without saying that there was definitely not much warmth during our tutoring sessions, but at least that meant minimal talking…
until he decided at this very minute to ruin the whole nonverbal arrangement thing we had going on.
“Don’t look so happy to see me, Princess.”
“ Princess ?” Meredith repeated, her voice oozing with disgust. “Clarke, who’s this?”
“No one. I’ll see you guys later.”
Their skeptical glances and overly critical attitude did not escape me, but I was in no mood to explain my connection to some random misfit. I ushered them off, pushing them in the opposite direction as I hastily yanked Elliot’s arm, tugging him around the corner away from their prying eyes.
“Oh, what? You didn’t want to introduce me to your friends?”
“Can I help you with something?”
“If there was a competition about which one of us hated the other more, who do you think would win? Because if looks could kill, then maybe you—”
“Elliot,” I said, cutting him off. “Why are you talking to me at school?”
“What? Afraid talking to the emo kid will ruin your chance at winning Prom Queen?”
Yes. “No. I just don’t want to spend any more time with you than I already have to.”
“And you think I do?”
“ Elliot .” I let out a slow breath, trying to rid myself of the urge to punch him in the gut. “What. Do. You. Want.”
“I’m gonna be late for our tutoring thing tomorrow. Just thought I’d let you know so you don’t sit there twirling your hair with that dumbass look on your face.”
I flared my nostrils while pinching the bridge of my nose. “Late? Why?”
“Why do you care? Don’t you have parties to attend or outcasts to avoid?”
Elliot’s phone started to vibrate. He ignored it.
“Seriously?” I groaned and shook my head in disbelief. “Should’ve known you’d try to use my plan against me.”
His phone buzzed again.
“You think I have some kind of vendetta against you that I would go out of my way to sabotage your stupid plan?” he scoffed, his jaw becoming tense as he pursed his lips. “I have better things to do with my time, Clarke.”
Buzz, Buzz.
“Are you trying to ruin my deal with Mrs. Hawthorne?”
“I’m not trying to ruin anything, Clarke,” he spewed through gritted teeth. “Unlike you, I actually have other responsibilities that aren’t winning some lame ass crown.”
Buzzzz.
“You gonna get that or something?”
I scrunched my eyebrows watching as Elliot thrust his hand in his pocket and hastily whipped out his phone, unlocking the screen. I couldn’t make out the words, but a flurry of text messages sprang up as he swiped his finger downward, his eyes scanning the text. The crease on his forehead deepened.