We were sitting on the top row of bleachers in the gymnasium, and Ruth handed me one of the posters she’d made for the occasion.
¡FABIÁN ES FUEGO! her poster read in sparkling blue and red letters (our school colors). She also made one for me that said GO FABIÁN! in neon orange. I think neon orange may be my new power color.
“You’re welcome,” Ruth sniffed. She seemed in a huffy mood despite my excellent band prank. You’d think she’d be more grateful. As soon as the bell rang after band, I’d followed Matty to the auditorium to see if he would say hi to me again, but he stayed in deep conversation with someone who was also in the fall play.
“Parvin, you were supposed to come over and help me make posters today, remember?” Ruth asked. “And help me strategize how to respond to Naomi!”
Oh no. I’d completely spaced. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to get Matty to talk to me again. I only have, like, three weeks until Homecoming.”
Ruth snatched back the poster she’d made for me. “So? I like someone now, too, but you don’t see me ditching you.”
“I know, I know.” I hung my head. Balancing boys and friends was tougher than I’d realized. “Forgive me? I promise I’ll make it up to you somehow.”
Ruth eyed the candy in my open backpack. “You can make it up to me right now, if you want.”
I handed her my bag of peanut butter cups. She gave me back the poster. Just then, the lights in the gymnasium dimmed.
I lifted the poster as Fabián sauntered onto the dance floor sporting a baseball jersey, black pants, and a baseball cap. The rest of the dance team followed close behind him in similar outfits.
“WHOOO!” We cheered like complete fangirls. Luckily, I’d already cased the joint to make sure Matty wasn’t here. I could scream my head off and he’d never know.
The music started, and the whole group pounded the air with their fists as they began their routine. They moved like one organism, their hips swaying in time to the music, their feet slamming on the floor.
I noticed green-haired Austin sitting in the front row. The team formed a V, with Fabián at the front of the formation. He broke his serious concentration to give Austin a wink.
“Oh my gosh!” Ruth exclaimed. “Did you see that?”
Just then, the music changed to a faster song. Suddenly, Fabián’s wrists were whirling above him, each hand like a flag that was moving in fast circles.
“This is called voguing,” Ruth whispered to me.
“I know what voguing is,” I snapped back. I had no idea what voguing was.
The dancing reached a fever pitch, the moves quicker without losing control. It was honestly mesmerizing. I held my poster up higher. Fabián was so good I couldn’t believe he sat at the same lunch table as us. We were not worthy.
With a giant boom, the song finished, and Fabián did a move where he tucked his right leg under himself like he was doing a quad stretch, then fell backward onto the floor. “Nice death drop!” a nearby parent shouted to another dad. Ruth and I went nuts.
“WOOOOO-HOOOOO!” we screamed, not caring that we were making a scene. How could I pretend to be Quiet Parvin now? My friend was going to win a Golden Globe, or whatever they gave to dancers.
“Fabián, WILL YOU MARRY ME!” I shouted.
“I WANT YOUR BABIES!” Ruth shrieked back.
“Thank you, freshman dance team!” an announcer said, ushering them offstage. Fabián blew us a kiss, and we pretended to melt in our seats. Austin looked up at us from the bottom bleacher and frowned.
That’s right, Austin, Fabián’s a hot commodity. You wanna get to him? You have to make it through us.
Just kidding.
But seriously, though, Austin. If you hurt him, I’ll kill you.
■ ■ ■ MY ROOM 9:30 P.M.
I felt bad about ditching Ruth this afternoon, but it was a necessary sacrifice in the name of Homecoming. Yessenia’s party had gone well, yet my mission to get Matty had stalled. With less than three weeks to get a date, it was time to make a progress report so I could see what the next steps were. Waiting around for him after school wasn’t going to cut it anymore.
ACTIONABLE MATTY FUMERO STEPS:
Have him initiate a conversation with me (This has happened twice now—thanks to Yessenia’s party last weekend.)
Talk for longer than two minutes (Done!)
Laugh at one of his jokes (Done . . . though I’m not sure they were jokes.)
Compliment him on something (Shoot—I forgot to compliment him on his suit at the party! Will do next time.)
Make physical contact (Check!)
Have sustained eye contact (Need to work on this.)
?? (Maybe this should be something like, “Give a Mysterious Smile,” like all the women in the movies.)
??? (I’ll add “Go on a date with Matty” here. People go on dates before they go to dances together, right? We need a date first.)
Go to Homecoming together, make Wesley jealous, etc., etc.
Wednesday HALLWAY 9:45 A.M.
“Naomi asked me to hang out this Saturday,” Ruth said, eyes panicked.
“But . . . that’s a good thing, Ruth. She wants to spend time with you. You only met her a couple days ago, right?”
“But what if we run out of things to talk about? Or she realizes I’m not cool or . . . or . . .”
“Or what?”
Ruth dropped her voice. “Or not gay enough.”
“What?” I shouted. “What do you mean, not gay enough?”
“SHHH!” Ruth spluttered furiously. Somehow Ruth’s shhh carried through the entire freshman hallway in that way that whispers sometimes do. People stopped talking to look at us.
“Nothing to see here, folks,” I said, waving them on like a traffic cop. “Move along.”
I turned back to Ruth. “What do you mean, not gay enough?” I murmured. “You don’t
