Backlash

I worry whether I’m enough for him, period, all the time. I know he doesn’t spend as much time worrying about me. I asked him once why there were so few posts on his Facebook wall and he said he’s so busy with APs that he really only ever logs in to talk to me. He just doesn’t have the time to keep up with everyone else’s posts.

If only I were that focused.

But he still hasn’t asked me to his dance, even though he’s been hinting at it for weeks. That’s another thing that’s been driving me crazy, and, if I’m honest, affecting my schoolwork. I’ve been spending a lot of my time on the computer either chatting to Christian or searching for dresses instead of doing what I should be doing. And Syd is being such a pain, always bugging me to get off because she thinks her homework is more important than mine, even though she’s only in middle school and I’m in high school.

I don’t understand why Christian doesn’t just come out and ask me. If he can say he loves me, then asking me to the dance should be a no-brainer, right? Why does he keep stringing me along? It’s soooooooo frustrating, not to mention crazy-making. I just want to know for certain so I can pick my dress, get some shoes, figure out how to wear my hair, and all that stuff — and also because then I’ll finally get to meet Christian in real life. The thought of walking into the dance with him, dancing to some slow song, being in his arms knowing that all the other girls are wishing that they were me …

My daydream is interrupted by a text from Ashley.

Don’t forget to wear uniform to school tomorrow!

Oh shoot! I forgot. I have to go throw my cheerleading uniform in the wash. I’ll wait till later, because Syd’s going to want the computer.

Plink!

Facebook chat window. It’s him …

Hey, babe — how’s it going?

Pretty good. But can’t chat much. Too much homework. Got to catch up.

: ( Homework more exciting than me?

Trust me, I’d SO much rather talk to you than do math. But I have to keep my grades up or the ’rents will freak.

Yeah, I know. My dad is always on my case about grades.

It’s more Mom with me. Dad, too, but Mom’s much worse. Anyway, I better go …

Wait! Quick question before you go. Tell me, who’s your best friend?

I don’t want to admit that I haven’t got a real best friend anymore — not since Bree. I mean, I’ve made other friends, sure, like Julisa and Ashley, but I don’t know if I’ll ever be as good of friends with anyone as I was with Bree, telling them everything, all the time. Maybe it’s because I’m getting older — or maybe just wiser. I couldn’t understand how she could just dump me when we got to high school, after we’d been besties for so long.

Still, Christian’s not going to know if I lie — at least not till we actually meet. So whatever, I figure.

This girl Ashley. We’re on the squad together. She’s awesome.

I really need to get going on my math homework, but I see he’s typing.

What were you like in middle school?

Is he serious? Didn’t I just say I had all this work to do and I don’t have time to chat? Besides, if there’s anything in the world I’d rather do less than math homework, it’s talk about middle school.

I really have to do homework, I type.

Come on, baby, please? Tell me a little something and then you can go. I really want to get to know you better.

I want to go, but I can’t. Maybe if I tell him something, he’ll finally ask me to the dance. But … middle school? Ugh.

I don’t really like to think about middle school, much less talk about it.

Why not?

Oh you know. Bad hair. Bad clothes. Whatever. I’ve moved on.

What about friends?

That’s the part I want to talk about the least. He’s picking a scab on a wound that’s only recently healed — if it even has healed all the way. Why the sudden inquisition?

In middle school, I was best friends with this girl, Bree.

There, satisfied?

What happened?

I’ll tell him this one last thing, and then I’m signing off to do my homework.

I don’t know. She just kind of dumped me when we got to high school. Like all of a sudden she didn’t want to know me anymore. And now …

I hesitate, wondering if I should tell him about Bree. She’s one of his Facebook friends. I wonder how well they know each other.

Now what? Go on, tell me …

Now she’s acting like a total brat. Like, when I made cheerleading and she didn’t, she gave me a death glare. Seriously, if looks could kill, I’d be dead.

Why can’t she just be happy for me?

After all this time, I’m —

I pause in the middle of typing this last thought because I was about to write getting my life together, but that would tell him that my life in middle school had fallen apart, and I don’t want him to know that. I’m trying to figure out what to say instead, when he types, Well, I guess you better go do your homework. Later.

And he goes offline.

What?!

He could see I was in the middle of typing something to him. And he didn’t sign off with anything like Love you, not even Later, baby. Just Later like I’d said something to offend him.

I have to catch up on my homework and get my cheerleading outfit in the wash, not spend the rest of the night worrying about why he quit our chat so suddenly and went offline.

Like I’m actually going to be able to do that easily now.

WHEN I log out of Christian DeWitt’s profile, I’m fuming.

So I’m “being a total brat,” am I? Maybe Lara Kelley should look in the mirror! I’m not the one who was a total porker in middle school. I’m not the one who was so psycho I had to see a shrink. And to top it all off, Lara expects me to be happy for her? WOW. That girl is totally delusional.

I print the chat out and put it in my backpack to show to Marci tomorrow in school. I’m going to talk it through with her, but I’m pretty sure I already know what I’m going to do. It’s time to bring this prank to an end and finally give Lara the lesson she deserves.