“Well, this comes with part of the territory. And just think, being a glorified arts and crafts teacher could get you into college, so there is that.” He shrugs.
“I highly doubt the Ivy Leagues are checking into how well I can make a homecoming nomination ballot out of felt and pipe cleaners,” I grumble.
We’re on our free period and up to our elbows in homecoming decor, ticket-making, nominations, and everything else having to do with the most popular school event on the fall calendar. Not only does the game garner hundreds more fans than normal, including alumni, but the dance is the biggest social gathering in the first two marking periods. Everyone tries to secure a date, girls drop hundreds of dollars on hair and makeup, over-sexed teens gather in the school gym to grind on each other until their parents come to pick them up in the carpool lane out front of the school. It’s all fun and games, except for the two of us who have to do all the manual labor and typically get no thanks whatsoever.
Oh well, hopefully, Nate is right and this pays off when it comes to college acceptance letters.
“Hey, what happened the other night?” Nate’s voice is meant to sound naive, but I know he’s playing at something.
“What do you mean?” I ask, faking just as much innocence.
He’s not making eye contact, and so I know he’s trying to suss out my feelings on the situation without coming out and saying it.
“Sawyer drove you home? I couldn’t get over to you and Laura to stop it before it just happened.”
I glue a piece of ribbon to the ballot box. Some senior girl is going to be homecoming queen, her name picked out of this box, but it’s not going to be me.
“Yeah.” I don’t elaborate, and I know I won’t get off that easy, but it’s worth a shot.
“Oh, come on, you have to give me more than that.” He gives me a stern look.
Sighing, I roll my eyes. “He drove me home because Laur got drunk, and because she weirdly pushed me into it. Then … well, I think he wanted to prove some point or something. I’m not sure either of us did, though, but we came out of that car ride despising each other just as much as always.”
Nate cocks his head to the side, weighing my response.
“Is there a reason the kid keeps coming for you? Do I need to just blow him or something? Do you need to blow him? He’s messing with our class cabinet decisions now, and honey, I’m not saying no if I got him in a dark room—”
My hands go flying up. “Oh my God, no! No one is bribing anyone with sexual favors. We are not those kinds of politicians, Nate. No one needs a blue dress floating around.”
He chuckles at my reference. “Fine, but you do know I think Bill Clinton was a fox back in the day. Hell, he’s kind of a fox now.”
“And that would be a felony, my friend.” I bop him on the nose with a pipe cleaner.
We’re both silent for a second, gluing and cutting, before Nate speaks again.
“I didn’t know you back then like I do now. But I remember the fallout being epic. It’s all anyone around here talked about for months. So what the hell did he do?”
Funny, that most people think Sawyer and I hating each other had been his fault. I guess it’s easy to assume, since he’s the king of the popular crowd now and I’m just a nerdy plebeian.
“Actually, it was me. I blew up our friendship,” I say quietly.
Nate sounds surprised. “You? Why?”
I explain the seven minutes in heaven story, because maybe he hadn’t gotten all the details. I assumed everyone in school knew what happened in that basement.
“Yeah, I kind of knew all of that. But why did you do it?” my friend asks after I finish.
My stomach twists into a knot. I’ve never revealed this secret to anyone except for Laura. I’m not sure how Nate will respond, and the more people who know, even if I trust them, the bigger this whole shit storm could get.
But Nate is sitting there assessing me, and I really do want to talk to someone about this. It feels like it’s coming to a head, this thing between Sawyer and I, and I need direction on how to proceed.
“A couple of days before that party, I was in Sawyer’s room waiting for him while he did something. Showered, maybe? Or maybe his mom had asked him to do something. I can’t remember what it was now. Anyway, I was snooping, I guess. And I found a list. A pros and cons list. About whether or not he should give dating me a shot.”
The pair of scissors Nate is holding go clattering to the ground. “Um, what? What! You found a pros and cons list, about yourself, in that boy’s desk? I mean, it must have been bad if you two hate each other this much.”
My heart stings just thinking about his scrawled handwriting on that three-ring notebook paper. “You could say that. It was extremely honest, to say the least. Calling out my looks, my popularity, and how it would affect him. Called me rude. It was all surface-level shit, and that almost hurt more. Because we had been so close.”
Nate glances down at his shoes. “Shit, Blair, I’m sorry. That sounds terrible. What a dick. Honestly, if he even needed a list, he never understood what a fucking spectacular person you are.”
Gulping down the emotion in my throat, I choked out,
“Thanks, boo.” I try to cover up the sadness by blowing him a kiss.
“Wait, but you never said anything to him about it?”
I shake my head, a little embarrassed. Nate and I may be seventeen, but we don’t typically act like it. Out of the
