'Isn't my week up. 7 ' I asked her plainly.
She looked at me with confusion for a moment. 'Your week?'
'My allotted week to hang out with you.'
Slow realization came over her face. 'Oh. You mean you don't want to be my friend anymore?'
Now I was the confused one. 'You said I could spend time with you for a week. The week's over.'
She waved a hand. 'That was just the screening process. I wasn't sure if you would try to use me or not.'
I blinked. 'Do a lot of people use you?'
'You'd be surprised.' She shrugged. 'I only realized it recently-it became, like, crystal clear to me-that at least half my so-called friends aren't really my friends. They usually try to use me for what they think I can get them- popularity, hot guys, you name it. So they flock. Therefore, my friendship screening process recently came into effect.'
'And I passed?'
'With flying colors.' She grinned. 'So, can we be friends? For real?'
I could have been wrong, but I swear I saw a glimmer of doubt in her eyes, as if she half-expected me to say no. Melinda James-the queen of the Royal Party-scared I wouldn't want to be her friend?
I hadn't even thought it was possible, but at that moment I could admit to myself that, yeah, I did want to be Melinda's friend. I'd realized over the week that we had a lot in common. I mean, she was perfect and I was far from it. But we liked the same movies, television shows, books. We'd talked for hours one night about absolutely nothing. I felt comfortable with her.
'Friends,' I agreed with a smile. 'For real.'
And that was that.
Suddenly I had a chance to fit in somewhere and be accepted after sixteen years of being a big nobody. I hadn't asked for it, but being friends with Melinda was like winning the social-life lottery.
Which apparently included being stared at by a really strange guy with shoulder-length dark hair that hid his face so I couldn't even see what he looked like.
He was starting to seriously creep me out.
Melinda eyed me. 'He's bothering you, isn't he?'
'Forget it.'
But she didn't forget it. She stood up instead, and everyone along the cafeteria table stopped eating and talking long enough to turn and look at her.
'Hey, loser!' she shouted in the guy's general direction. 'Why don't you take a picture of her? It'll last longer.'
I felt my cheeks heat up. 'Melinda-' I pulled at her arm, then glanced over to see the guy shove his hands in the pockets of his jeans and walk out of the cafeteria.
She smiled. 'See? You just have to be more confrontational.'
'If you say so.' I glanced back at the entrance and this time my breath caught in my chest because at that very moment, Chris Sanders walked in.
Picture: hot, gorgeous, fabulous, wonderful, and popular. Dark blond hair, blue gray eyes like the ocean on a stormy day, broad shoulders, and a killer smile. A whole year older than me. Total perfection.
That was Chris.
He was my major crush since I'd started at Erin Heights, and since he was also a member of the Royal Party, I'd had the chance to talk to him a few times.
Every time I'd tried very hard to hold back the drool.
'Here he comes.' Melinda grabbed my hand. 'Just try to stay calm.'
My eyes widened and I turned to look at her. 'He's not the one you were talking about, is he?'
She gave that noncommittal shrug. 'Maybe.'
'And did you have anything to do with this?'
'I might have helped a little bit.' She grinned. 'I figure you've been here two months. It's about time for you to start dating somebody worthy of your new social status. Besides, it's only two days till the dance and you still haven't accepted anyone else's invitation.'
No, I hadn't. A couple of guys had asked me, but I wasn't interested in any of them. I'd planned on skipping the dance altogether.
Chris Sanders was going to ask me to Winter Formal? Me?
If that was the case then I'd seriously have to reconsider my decision.
I inhaled so sharply that I almost had a coughing fit. Luckily, I didn't. That wouldn't have made a very good impression on the hottest guy in school, who was getting closer to me with every step he took.
I forced myself to be cool. It was a struggle.
'Hey, Nikki,' he said as he approached the table.
'Hey,' I squeaked as if I'd been chewing on a helium sandwich.
His gaze flicked to the very amused Melinda and then back to me. 'Can I talk to you?' 'Uh-huh.' Another squeak.
His dazzling smile widened. 'Let's go out in the hall. If that's okay.'
'Sure.' I slid out from behind the table and followed him to the hallway, right next to a long bank of lockers that I leaned against to give the illusion of casual confidence. I wished Melinda had given me some kind of warning so I could have worn something nicer than black jeans and my old blue cableknit sweater. At least my ankle boots had heels. Since Chris was tall-and I wasn't-it helped a bit.
'I want to ask you something,' he began. 'I know this is last minute, but I'd really like you to go to Winter Formal with me. If you want to.'
And there it was.
Since I was completely stunned, I didn't say anything for a moment. I think he took that to mean I wasn't sure how to answer.
His smile faded a bit around the edges. 'I mean, I know we don't know each other very well, but I think you're really cool. And pretty. And you'd be great to hang out with. But if you're not interested, I totally understand-' 'No.' I cut him off. 'I'm interested. I'm definitely interested. I'd love to go to the dance with you.'
The smile returned. 'Well, good. I've got a limo and everything lined up.'
'That'll do nicely.' I grinned at him.
A limo. Wow. I knew that Chris's father was a big-time lawyer in Toronto and his mother was a doctor. They definitely didn't have to worry about money.
My mom, on the other hand, wrote romance novels. The non-office freedom of her job helped when she had to make her sudden marriage moves around North America. As long as she had her laptop she could write from anywhere. But my father? I had no idea what he did for a living. I'd never known him.
He'd left my mom when she was still pregnant with me.
'This is good,' Chris said. 'I've wanted to ask you out since you moved here. I guess I was worried you'd say no.'
I almost laughed out loud at that. Who in their right mind would say no to Chris Sanders?
'Well, then I guess it's good that I said yes.'
'It is.' He put his hand against the locker next to my head and leaned in toward me. He was so close now that I could feel the warmth from his body. 'And I wanted to tell you something else, but I'm a day late.'
'What's that?' I breathed. His mouth was only inches away from mine.
'Happy birthday.'
'You know it was my birthday yesterday?' He nodded. 'Did you have a good one?' 'There was cake. Chocolate.' 'That sounds exciting.'
