“You don’t know that. And wait, why can’t you tell me?”
“See? You want to know why,” Mickey said. “And I can’t tell you. I literally cannot tell you.”
I believed him—and it wasn’t just because I didn’t sense a lie. There was a sincerity in his voice that would be near impossible to duplicate.
“Some sort of legal gag order?” I asked.
Mickey smiled. “Definitely a gag order.”
“Huh,” I said, looking in the direction that Edon had disappeared. I couldn’t help but wonder what Edon had done to make Mickey and Bridgette so protective—and to have a judge issue a gag order.
“So, do you still want to know which guys want to go with you to Homecoming?” he said once we reached math class.
If Mickey was trying to distract me from the whole Edon thing, he succeeded. “Well, yeah. So, who do I have to pick from?”
Mickey grinned at me. “I’ll tell you after math.”
“Wait, you can’t just do that!”
But the jerk winked at me and ducked into class.
I dashed in after him only to be brought up short by Mr. O’Faolain standing just inside the door, handing everyone a white slip of paper as they entered. He smiled at me, making my heart race. After that first day in class, my reaction to Mr. O’Faolain had gone from boiling over to a slow simmer that bubbled up whenever he caught my eye. Which was weird, because I didn’t go for the light-haired, blue-eyed types. Now, if he had dark hair and honey-brown eyes… the thought snapped me out of whatever daze I’d been in. I grabbed the slip of paper and sped to my desk.
As I slid into my seat, Mr. O’Faolain said, “Class, it is time to vote for the homecoming court.” He held up the slip of paper. “Before you is your list of Homecoming court nominees. You are to vote for one. Please do so now.”
I pulled a pencil out of my backpack. I wouldn’t know any of these people, so I figured I’d circle the first name on the list.
Except that name was mine.
My gaze snapped over to Mickey, who wasn’t even looking at me. He’d already circled a name and held up his paper for Mr. O’Faolain to take.
“Mickey,” I whispered. He looked over at me. “Mickey, my name’s on the list.”
He nodded, his face a mask of neutrality.
“How did my name get on the list?”
Mickey looked away from me. “It only takes one student to nominate you.”
“But I don’t know anybody except for—"
“Ms. James, is there a problem?” Mr. O’Faolain asked from the front of the room. I wanted to say yes, but it wasn’t like he could strike my name off of the ballot. Instead, I shook my head before circling a random name on the ballot.
Mickey’s name caught my eye when I scanned the column for Homecoming King. Well, that kind of made sense. He was popular, for whatever reason. But me? This had to be someone’s idea of a joke. Who would…
Edon’s face flashed in my mind. He’d been certain I’d be part of the Homecoming court, but the only way he could have known for sure would have been if he’d nominated me—but that didn’t make sense because he told me not to be part of the homecoming court.
Mr. O’Faolain stopped at my desk, and I hastily circled Mickey’s name before handing him my slip.
Mr. O’Faolain’s fingers skimmed my hand, and my mind went blank as I looked up at him, staring into his perfect, blue eyes.
“Congratulations on being nominated,” he said, bending closer toward me, his lips so close to mine that I had a hard time remembering how to breathe. “Please know that you are permitted to choose anyone you would like to accompany you to homecoming, student or otherwise.”
I swallowed, unable to break myself away from his eyes, his lips. I found myself inching toward him, ready to climb up into his arms—
But Mickey grabbed me by my belt and planted me firmly back into my seat.
Mr. O’Faolain’s eyes snapped away from me as his hand jerked away from mine. And a wave of dizziness crashed down on me from the sudden loss of contact.
I took a few deep breaths, trying to get myself together again before I looked over at Mickey. His face might as well have been set in stone as he stared at Mr. O’Faolain’s retreating back.
Just as I was about to ask Mickey if our teacher had really just hinted at being date material—and if that was even legal—another wave of dizziness swept over me. I buried my head in my arms. Maybe I needed to eat.
I battled dizziness for the rest of class, eventually giving up and letting my head rest on my desk. When the bell rang, I told myself I was going to get up in just another minute.
“Rise and shine!”
I shot up like a can of over-shaken soda, banging my knee on the underside of my desk.
“Bridgette!” I said, holding my throbbing knee. “What the—don’t sneak up on me like that.”
“Didn’t have to. You had zero situational awareness.” She gave me a smile, but her eyes narrowed into censuring slits.
“So, have you thought about who you’d like to ask to Homecoming?” Bridgette asked, grabbing my backpack and tugging me toward the door. Ten minutes ago, a tug would have been enough to make me fall flat on my face, but I was relieved to find that my knees barely wobbled.
Which was weird because I hadn’t eaten anything yet.
I shook my head. “Mickey was going to tell me about a couple guys that wanted to ask me out, though.”
“Oh.” Bridgette tossed her loose blond hair out of her eyes. “Well, that’s easy. Everyone does. Just pick one so we can get to the fun stuff—like dress fitting.”
“Don’t you mean shopping?” I asked.
“No, Stuart’s making your dress. He’s a genius when it comes to gowns,
