Chapter 17
Things are weird between Theo and me in school. I do my best to avoid him in the hallways, but sometimes we pass each other without saying a word, and it feels awkward to say the least. He doesn’t start a conversation, and neither do I.
I tell myself it’s what I wanted—to keep distance between us. My mind accepts it, but my body doesn’t. What began as a slight pang of remorse deep inside me is swiftly developing into overwhelming longing to be with him.
Even Paige has noticed the rift between us; I can tell by the smug look on her face she’s proud of herself for accomplishing her goal—to drive us apart.
But she hasn’t said a word to me in days.
Does she regret it? Slim chance, but at least I’m no longer a target.
I pretend to be invisible once more, and she pretends I don’t exist, and that’s how it should be . . . that’s how it’s always been.
Rick hasn’t bothered me since the day I caught him chatting with Theo, who I suspect must’ve said something to him, which makes it even harder to pass by him in the hallways.
Try as I might, I can’t deny this simple truth: I miss being around him, and with each passing day, I realize just how much I like him. He’s the last person I should want, but somehow, he’s the one I can’t get out of my mind. Admiration from afar is no longer a viable option.
By the second week of radio silence, I can’t focus on studies at all, with my thoughts constantly revolving around all the things I’ve said to him.
In Chemistry on Wednesday, as I ponder the best way to make up with Theo, he walks by my desk and places an envelope on my textbook. He says nothing nor makes eye contact; he just takes his seat next to Paige, looking straight at the board.
Mr. Kendrick clears his throat. “All right, everyone, please open your textbooks to chapter fifteen.”
I shove the envelope aside and follow the teacher’s instructions, trying to focus on the chapter. But the envelope taunts me, its contents a mystery begging to be unraveled.
Mr. Kendrick picks the worst day possible to come out of his desk and lecture us directly. Usually, he likes to write on the board, but not today. Ahh! Why doesn’t he turn around and draw another detailed chemical reaction?
Now I understand how Noah feels when mom and dad refuse him something he desires—mainly chocolate candy late at night, which is not good for him, but still . . . the situation is extremely frustrating, and all I can do is struggle to contain my anticipation.
Just when my curiosity becomes unbearable, Mr. Kendrick turns his back to write on the whiteboard. Yes! What is it they say? Dwell on something long enough and it will manifest.
I move the envelope to my lap and then open it. My fingers quiver a bit as I unfold the card inside—two tickets slide out, catching the glow of the fluorescent lights above.
No way. BTS concert tickets?
My heart skips, and a smile spreads across my face as I open the card fully, my eyes scanning Theo’s handwriting. It’s an apology note and—he’s asking me out on a date!
Call me Dorkella right now, and it won’t bother me at all. How did he get his hands on BTS tickets? Joy spreads through my entire being. No one has ever done anything like this for me.
When I glance at him, our eyes meet, and his mouth curls in a gentle smile before his lips part, mouthing a silent sorry. For the first time in weeks the heaviness I’ve been carrying lifts.
From the corner of my eye, I notice Paige glaring at me. She doesn’t seem thrilled about the tickets in my hand, but for once, I don’t care. My attention is on Theo.
As soon as the bell rings, he walks over to my desk. “So, what do you say?”
I can’t stop smiling as I hold up the tickets. “Apology accepted.”
A sigh heaves from his lips. “It’s a date, then.”
If my pulse was slightly elevated before, it’s galloping now. “You’re on, Mr.”
We lock eyes again, and I can tell the burden of avoiding each other in school has lifted from his shoulders, too. He must have felt bad about the party, and I didn’t make things easier on him over the past few weeks.
“Talk later,” he says, taking off to his next class.
I can’t decide what’s more exciting, seeing BTS live or a date with Theo.
Slipping the tickets into my bag as if they’re made of glass and could shatter at any second, I head toward the lockers. I can’t wait to tell Stephanie.
She doesn’t wait for me to come up to her, but rushes to me, her hands on her chest as she catches her breath.
“Chrissy, you won’t believe this!” She grabs my hand and leads me forward before I can even ask what’s happening. “Come quick.”
“Where are you taking me?”
She just shakes her head, urgently dragging me along. “Better if you see it for yourself.”
We’re racing through the hall, weaving past students and making our way toward the announcement board. Whatever it is, I can tell it’s big.
People gather in front of the board as if something earth-shattering had been posted there. Stephanie and I navigate through the crowd to the front.
“Are you going to tell me what this is all about?” I ask, raising my voice to be sure she heard me over the surrounding chatter.
She wriggles between two girls who grimace as we pass. “Almost there.”
We’re now close enough to read what’s posted, and she points to the middle announcement. “Look.”
The talent show poster, with neon pink and blue flowing lines, spiraling and looping, the kind you see when someone rapidly moves glow sticks in front of you, monopolizes most of the board. Written on it are the names of all the participants and their respective talent.
“It’s a list of everyone that will perform this year,” I say. “Is this what you wanted to show me?”
Stephanie turns to me, her eyes wide. “Read the last entry.”
Right there, at the bottom of the list, my name appears and listed beside it: Dance Routine.
An icy chill runs through me, dragging my stomach to the floor and making my skin pebble. How in the world is this possible?
I stand there befuddled, unable to move.
“Chrissy, did you sign up?” I can tell Stephanie is worried. We share everything, and I’d never keep this from her.
“Absolutely not.” I shake my head, grabbing her arm. “I didn’t do this, Steph, I swear.”
Her expression softens, but the bewilderment is still there. “Then how—“
“Someone must’ve added your name to the list,” Ian says, emerging from behind us, looking as puzzled as we are.
“But who would do such a thing?” Stephanie says, incredulous.
I turn my back to the board. “Doesn’t matter.
I’ll be a no-show, anyway.” Whether it’s a mistake or someone’s messing with me makes no difference.
Even if my name is on the list, I don’t have to take part.
You’d have to pay me to get up on that stage.
No, wait—scratch that. The only way I’d dance is if BTS’s Jungkook himself asked me to.
And even then, I’d still insist on performing in an empty auditorium.
Just as I’m finally beginning to calm down, an annoying voice breaks through the crowd. “What’s the matter, geek?” Paige says. “Afraid to compete?”
The students around us part, making way for her to saunter over to us, her signature smugness plastered on her face. She tilts her head as her smile widens. “I actually hope you show up. I’m dying to see what kind of clown show you’d put on this time.”
Chuckling sounds in the hallway, but I stand tall. My heartbeat quickens, but not with the usual panic that used to flood my system whenever Paige appeared. “Were you the one who put my name on the list?” I ask, my eyes narrowing.
The whites of her eyes show as she rolls them.
“Oh, please, like I’d waste my time on someone like you.
” Her tone is thick with fake innocence, but I know better.
Ever since Theo let it slip that we live under the same roof, Paige has had it in for me, waiting for her next opportunity to put me down.
This is no doubt retaliation for the tickets I received.
“Wow, must be exhausting being this petty all day long,” I say, crossing my arms. Three months ago, I would’ve crumbled under her verbal abuse. Now, her words have no effect. Well, maybe not entirely, but the sting has dulled to a minor irritation.
Paige steps closer, the scent of her expensive perfume strong in my nose. “What did you just say to me?”
“You heard me.”
We have an audience around us, watching the showdown with eager eyes. I swallow hard, and my muscles lock with anxiety—I don’t do well under the scrutinous gaze of onlookers.
“Listen, charity case,” Paige hisses, lips barely moving. “Just because Theo feels sorry for you doesn’t mean you suddenly matter in this school.”
Stephanie steps forward. “So why do you care if Chrissy competes or not?” Her voice carries across the hallway, drawing even more spectators. “Seems like you’re pretty obsessed with someone who doesn’t matter.”
Paige’s cheeks flush a dark shade pink. “I’m not obsessed—I’m entertained. There’s a difference.”
“Only you could confuse bullying with entertainment,” Ian mutters, just loud enough for those closest to hear. A few students snicker.
Then he tugs at my sleeve as Paige shoots him a glare. “Come on,” he says, “it’s not worth it.”
“You stay out of this, loser.”
But Ian doesn’t flinch. Instead, he shakes his head, his voice calm. “I should thank you.”
Paige’s brow furrows. “What?”
“For showing me how wrong I was about you.”
The look on her face as a comeback eludes her—priceless. Nice going, Ian! All she does is huff and scoff then turn away, murmuring a dismissive, “Whatever.”
Before rounding the corner, however, she looks over her shoulder straight at me, eyes glinting with something sinister. “See you around.” Then she disappears, and I shudder.
The threat lingers in the air, but somehow it doesn’t crawl under my skin like it would have had months ago. I straighten my shoulders.
“That was—“ Stephanie begins.
“Intense,” I finish for her. “But nothing we couldn’t handle.”
The warning bell rings, scattering students like startled birds.
From the thinning crowd, Theo emerges and comes up to us. “What did I miss?”
“Someone put my name on the talent show roster,” I say, pointing to the announcement board.
His expression shifts, and instead of alarm, there’s a spark of something that looks like . . . excitement? “I think you should do it,” he says.
“Never in a million years. I’ve experienced enough humiliation lately to last a lifetime.”
Theo doesn’t push it, but I can tell he’s disappointed. Ever since he caught me dancing in my room, he has tried to convince me, on more than one occasion, to take the stage this year.
No, thank you.
As he walks us to History, I steer the conversation into safer territory. “So, the BTS concert. I didn’t peg you as a fan.”
“It’s not the band I’m a fan of.”
He has a way of saying things that make me smile. To think I get to spend an evening with Theo listening to my favorite band—someone pinch me because I still can’t believe it.