“How was class?” he asked.
“Barely tolerable.” Calm down. You’re going to have a heart attack.
“That’s how I feel every day.” He drew out the last two words for emphasis.
We fell in line, moving our trays through the maze of unappetizing lunch options: greasy pizza with oil pooling on the surface, stiff mashed potatoes with some type of mystery meat, franks and fries, or a dubious rendition of spaghetti and meatballs.
I ordered the cheese pizza, pressing napkins on top to mop up the grease. I also bought a carton of milk and giant chocolate chip cookie, always reliable. Pete got the hot dog meal with three milks, fruit and a fudge brownie. We walked back toward the senior steps, and I ignored the blatant stares of my friends, who tried to make me laugh as we neared. Pete steered me to a secluded patch of lawn. I prayed the dew had evaporated so it wouldn’t soak through my pants, and sat down.
We ate without speaking, which only amplified my anxiety. Perhaps to break the ice or because Pete was adept at cutting people down, he spewed disparaging remarks about students in the vicinity loud enough for my ears only.
“Proud president of the Asian Student Union right there.” Pete nodded toward a Chinese boy with black hair parted straight down the middle of his roundish head. He carried a briefcase in one hand, a brown bag in the other.
“Not the typical student accessory, is it?”
“Virgin,” he said about a gangly looking girl.
I hit him playfully in the arm.
“This guy? He eats his boogers, I guarantee it.”
“Gross!”
Pete identified his next victim, this time a male teacher. “Serial killer.”
I laughed.
“And this chick has never cut class in her life. Or she’s the neighborhood skeeze.” The tall girl presented as timid and nervous.
“I’ve never cut class either.”
“We’ll have to remedy that.”
I gave him my serious stare. “I can’t. I’ll get in trouble.”
“No, you won’t. It’s easy. Just forge a note.”
“Right. I’ll whip out my parent’s signature like I do it every day. And when I’m busted, you, my dear, will never see me again because my father will have killed me or locked me away in some Rapunzel-like tower.”
He laughed. “Maybe not today, Trapani, but this year, you’re gonna cut your first class.”
“You’re a bad influence, O’Reilly, you know that?”
Pete winked.
“So,” I said, unable to wait any longer. “You wanted to talk to me about something?”
“Oh, uh, yeah. I did.”
I met his gaze, appreciating his killer green eyes.
“I, uh, thought we should discuss that relationship status thing.” He was nervous, too!
I smiled in agreement. “Discuss away.”
“Would you like to officially be my girlfriend?”
“Yes.” Yes, yes and yes!
He laughed. “Sure you don’t want to change your mind?”
I backhanded him in the arm in response.
“Would you also do the honor of accompanying me to the soccer banquet?”
“I’d love to. Tell me more.”
“The soccer team holds an awards banquet to celebrate the end of the season and eat a fancy dinner. Specific awards are handed out in certain categories and for MVP. It’s kind of a big deal.”
Definitely a dress-up event. I envisioned us decked out. “Sounds wonderful.”
Steve, Jim and Tez approached, interrupting us. I beamed, unable to contain my joy. Pete asked me to be his girlfriend! I had a bona fide boyfriend! My first. Well, except for Doug MacNamara, but that lasted all of three weeks way back in seventh grade and hardly counted.
The guys dropped down on the grass beside us. Jim shrugged out of his letterman’s jacket and glanced my way. “You’re not hanging around with this idiot now, are you?”
“I beg your pardon...idiot?”
Jim grinned. “What, did he drug you?”
“I came willingly.” I planted my hands in the grass and leaned back, basking in the glow of my own happiness.
“You’re one lucky bastard, O’Reilly. You don’t deserve her.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, coming from our team motivator,” Pete wisecracked.
“That’s me.” Jim said it with pride. “See, Anna, Pete may sound a little jealous, but that’s only because the coach recognizes my ability to inspire the team. It’s because of me these knuckleheads play their best on the field.”
A group of bulky football players walked by, their gait slow and deliberate. A few wore their Titan jerseys over long-sleeved shirts. Their cocky attitudes displayed an obvious arrogance—as if they believed themselves superior athletes. One stared openly at me, breaking into a wide smile and brazenly rubbernecking as he strolled past. I averted my gaze, uncomfortable.
“Jerks,” said Pete under his breath.
“Who are you guys playing this week?” I said, attempting to break the mood.
“Castlemont,” said Steve.
“And they play dirty,” added Tez.
They launched into a discussion about the upcoming game while I secretly rejoiced about being Pete’s official girlfriend. I couldn’t wait to tell my friends.
I phoned Katy and Michelle as soon as I got home from school to spill the details. They shrieked in response, although Katy reminded me she called it. I asked about Jake, and she said things were progressing, but I doubted it. He might be the most popular boy in our class and Katy, despite her self-assured confidence, was out of his league. I didn’t want to dash her hopes, so externally, I tried to encourage her.
The phone rang right after hanging up with Michelle, making me jump. Pete, I thought, smiling as I answered.
“Is this Anna?”
“Who’s this?”
“Alec Mays.”
I drew a
