Babel Novel
50
Winter formal-and winter break-are fast approaching, but I don’t know how I feel about that. I’m enjoying a quiet life of studying and hanging out with Miranda and Andrew. Zack and I have been texting, but not as often as Lizzie and me. She seems really nice, and I’m starting to look forward to her messages.
“I’m dreading the New Year,” I groan, because it feels like time is slipping through my fingers. Not being bullied has put my year into hyper speed, and now I’ve got anxious butterflies in my belly when I think of going back to that, this low grade anxiety buzzing through me, always wondering if I’m being hunted. “And I’m not sure how I feel about going home either.”
Miranda looks at me sympathetically, but her family’s going to Paris for winter break. Staying in the big, cold academy with a skeleton staff was fine for fall break, but not over winter. I want to celebrate Christmas, decorate a tree, have a ham and sweet potatoes with marshmallows. Besides, I can’t stay mad at my dad forever; I miss him.
“You seem to be getting along with the guys okay,” Miranda offers, her mouth twitching at one corner. I roll my eyes, but I know we’re going to talk about this again. “Those videos of you kissing Zayd-”
“Please don’t,” I groan, pausing outside the elevator in Tower One on our way to homeroom. “I already told you, that was just part of a bet.”
“Whatever you say,” Miranda whistles, pausing as Tristan approaches us, sans his usual gaggle of girls. The elevator doors open, and he holds out a
hand, gray eyes sharp and focused. He looks like he wants something. Oddly enough, he looks like he wants me. I’ve had that thought many times over the past week, ever since the party at Becky’s. I try to figure out when this shift happened, when the Idol guys started being marginally nicer to me, and I can pinpoint it to just after the Halloween party.
Makes a girl wonder.
“Ladies first,” Tristan says, but it’s said with such intense feeling, that a shiver runs down my spine. I’m not about to argue, and I think the Idol/elevator rule is stupid, so I walk in and lean against the back wall with my bookbag held tightly in front of me. Tristan presses the button for floor twelve, and we all sit in silence. “Miranda,” he says finally, but the doors are opening and she’s scoffing, bolting out and into the classroom without even waiting for me.
“What’s going on between you two?” I ask him, and he drops a dark gaze on me. His raven-black hair shines in the sunlight as we step into the classroom. It’s blue-black, and feathered in the front so that it falls softly across his brow. I wonder what it’d be like to run my fingers through it? The thought crosses my mind, and I feel a hot blush fill my cheeks.
“Going on between us?” he asks, like he’s considering the question. “Mm. Why don’t you talk to your friend and fulfill your end of Creed’s bet?” He moves into the classroom ahead of me, but when his usual flock of girls bounces up to him, he brushes them aside and takes a seat, cracking open his laptop.
Interesting.
Something is definitely going on with the Idol guys. Harper watches Tristan for a moment before turning her narrow-eyed gaze to me, mouth tightening. She flips me off when he’s not looking, and then turns away to take her seat next to him. Before she can pull out the chair, Tristan’s grabbing the back of it and turning a dark glare on his fellow Idol.
An angry, whispered conversation passes between them before her eyes go wide and she storms off, nostrils flaring with rage. After a minute, Tristan turns around and makes eye contact with me.
“This is your new seat,” he says, pulling the chair out, and then going back to his laptop.
I’m so shocked that I don’t even argue, sliding into the chair as Harper sits next to Miranda. My best friend and I exchange a look across the room, but I can’t decide if mine should be relief, excitement, or confusion.
The guys are being nice to me, but why? And for how long?
Some part of me knows it won’t last. The rest of me … wishes that it would.
Because Burberry Prep is a boarding school with strict on/off campus privileges, most of the students have had their winter formal gowns all along. Me, I couldn’t afford one, so Miranda brings over some extra dresses for me to try on. It’s like a repeat of Halloween all over again, me trying on things that are too tight, too short, not remotely my style.
“You can’t wear holey jeans to the dance,” she tells me, eyeing my expression of distaste in the full-length mirror on the back of my wardrobe door. “Just pick one. You look gorgeous in every single one.” Miranda leans back on my bed, dressed in a sparkling blue gown that shows off how stunning her natural eye color is. She’s a goddess in pale blue, with her blond hair coiffed and decorated with pearls. And this isn’t even her trying, just a practice run. On the day of, she’ll be irresistible. “Besides, I’m pretty sure Andrew’s going to ask you to go with him.”
“Andrew?” I ask, because after our one date, and that one time he put his hand on my knee, I haven’t gotten any vibes off of him that he’s interested in me. “Really? I don’t think he’s into me like that.” I snap a photo of myself, and send it to Lizzie. I see the dancing dots that shows she’s typing, and then I’m inundated with screaming emoji faces.
You look freaking amazing! she sends, and I smile. That’s all Miranda’s said, too, but I don’t feel pretty. Maybe it’s just my nerves getting to me, but I’m not as excited about the dance as I should be. On a whim, I also send the photo to Zack.NôvelDrama.Org: text © owner.