Sandwich Girl bit into another carrot and rolled her eyes. “Big shock.”
“Be nice, Monica,” Emmaline chided.
Hayden nodded at the last slice of Emmaline’s pizza. “You gonna eat that?”
Emmaline shoved her remaining pizza toward Hayden and continued talking. “I want someone to ask me, too. I mean, it’s my junior year and I’ve never been asked to the winter formal. Or homecoming. Or prom.”
“It’s just a dance,” Hayden muttered around a mouthful of pizza.
“This is why I need your help.” Emmaline leaned across the table, tapping the surface.
“So I can get you promposals?” Hayden snorted. She didn’t have guys lining her up to ask her to dances either. Thank God. “That’s not my department.”
“But attracting guys is,” Emmaline insisted, waving her hands for emphasis. “I mean, look around right now. Notice how many guys are checking you out?”
Hayden shook her head, not bothering to look around. She didn’t care if guys were checking her out. She did not measure her worth on whether or not guys found her attractive.
“They could just be watching her eat like a wolf. What is that? Your fourth piece?” Monica bit down on another carrot.
“Third,” Hayden corrected. “And I’m actually getting full.” She polished off the last square and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Well, it’s been fun, girls,” she lied, pushing up to her feet.
“So we’ll see you later?” Emmaline looked at her hopefully.
Hayden hated to crush the girl’s hopes. She really was nice. Too nice. Hayden wouldn’t be doing her any favors if she showed up for her slumber party. She couldn’t help her—she could barely help herself.
The bell chimed, signaling the end of lunch.
Hayden said nothing and nodded noncommittally at Emmaline. “Gotta go. I’ll see you around.”
She hurried through the double doors, her breath falling a little easier once she was free of the cafeteria, free of Emmaline and her friends.
She started down the hall toward her fifth period class, stopping when she heard her name.
She turned and watched Emmaline jog to catch up with her, a bulging backpack bouncing on her shoulders. “Hey,” she said breathlessly. “You never answered my question.”
“Uhh—”
“Seventy dollars,” Emmaline blurted.
Hayden forgot whatever she had been about to say. “Seventy dollars? For one sleepover?”
“And lessons. I’d like you to answer all our questions.” Emmaline’s eyes fixed on her. “But yeah, seventy dollars. Easy money.”
She couldn’t make that much money in a ten-hour shift at the Tasty Freeze. Not after taxes. Plus, she’d be asleep for the majority of the sleepover. Hayden sighed. She couldn’t afford to say no to money like that.
“Okay.”
Emmaline squealed and jumped up and down, her backpack thrashing almost violently behind her.
Hayden reached out and clasped her arm, giving it a calming squeeze. “Take it easy there before you hurt yourself.”
Emmaline nodded and started to back away. “Yeah, okay. I gotta run. My class is on the other side of the building. Bring your swimsuit, and I’ll text you anything else I can think of.” She curled her fingers and flapped a quick wave. “See you soon!”
Hayden watched her hurry down the hall, wondering what she had just agreed to do.
Lesson #14
Don’t let anyone make you feel not good enough.
x Nolan x
Nolan watched as Hayden hurried out of the cafeteria.
Priscilla was still critiquing the dance proposal with her friends as though they were judges evaluating a complicated Olympic-level floor sequence. They had a lot to say on the matter. The general consensus seemed to be that the guy should have had at least twice as many balloons and he should have gotten someone else to do the poster. Apparently the writing was not legible enough and there should have been glitter. Lots of glitter.
His sister waved goodbye to her friends and hurried after Hayden.
He felt the urge to chase after them. God knew their conversation, whatever it was, would be better than this one. At the very least it would be informative. It might possibly even shed light on his sister’s sudden fascination with Hayden Vargas.
After spending the night with Hayden, he might share that fascination, but he suspected Emmaline had different motives.
His sister didn’t have anything in common with Hayden. Emmaline wasn’t into horror films. She was into rom-coms and training for her academic decathlon team with all her friends.
His chair screeched against the tile as he stood up.
“Where you going?” Priscilla looked up at him. He was guessing she wanted him to stick around to hear her thoughts on proper dance proposals. The dance was a month away. She would be expecting him to ask her soon, and in grand style, of course. He had to admit, after two years with her, he was running short on creativity.
“I need to get to class early. I want to go over a homework question with Mr. Akwasi.”
Frowning, she nodded.
He hurried from the cafeteria. In the hall, he noticed his sister at the end of the corridor, hopping excitedly in front of Hayden. Emmaline’s face was bright with happiness. Okay, that wasn’t normal. He headed their way with purposeful strides, determined to find out what was going on.
Before he reached them, Emmaline hurried off.
Hayden turned and caught sight of him.
She shook her head ruefully. “Come to investigate?”
He stopped in front of her. “Emmaline looked . . . happy.”
“Your sister is a happy person.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“Yeah, she’s always been that way.”
“Then why so suspicious?”
“I’m not suspicious.”
“Yeah, you are.” She gave him a disgusted look. “We both know you think I’m a bad influence.” She waved a hand around them. “You sure you want people to see you talking to me? You have a reputation to maintain.”
He winced. “Hayden, come on. I didn’t—”
She shook her head. “I don’t have time for this.” She started to turn away but stepped into a path of girls running down the hall. Hayden’s notebook clattered to the ground, papers flying loose.
“Sorry!” one girl called out, but they didn’t stop.
Muttering, Hayden squatted to gather up her papers. Nolan joined her, helping her gather everything.
“I got it,” she bit out.
He ignored her, reaching for a paper close to him. Once it was in his hand, he stopped and studied it. It was a very detailed tree, growing from the side of a craggy mountain. Tiny colorful flowers sprouted from the branches. It was mesmerizing. “Did you . . . do this?”
She looked up abruptly, her gaze flicking from him to the paper he held. She snatched it from his hand. “Give that here.”
“You did that?”
She shrugged one shoulder as she stuffed it inside her notebook with her other papers. He strained for a better glimpse. He could see that they were all brightly colored.
“That’s amazing,” he said. “I didn’t know you were an artist.”