“Nice life,” Jasmin turned and shot back at Vivian.
Scarlet was so grateful for Jasmin’s sticking up for her, and at that moment, she loved her more than ever. But at the same time, she really didn’t want to spark a huge confrontation. She just wanted this day to move on.
“At least I have one,” Vivian snapped back.
“At least she has a boyfriend,” Maria snapped back. “Oh, that’s right, I forgot: you don’t. Was it supposed to be Blake?”
Scarlet glanced back and saw Vivian’s face turn a shade of purple. She was apoplectic. It was obvious that Maria had hit her with the lowest blow of all.
Scarlet was mortified. She hated Vivian, but she definitely didn’t want to provoke her like that—
especially since she didn’t even know if she and Blake were officially dating. She’d made a mistake the other night when she introduced him to her family as her boyfriend—but she had been caught off guard by all of them there, and got nervous, and it just blurted out. She was encouraged he hadn’t corrected her—but also nervous that maybe by announcing it like that she might have pushed him away, with too much too soon—especially since they hadn’t talked about it. They’d only been on a few dates, and she still wasn’t really sure where they stood.
But here her friends were, announcing in front of everyone that Blake was her boyfriend and not Vivian’s. It made Scarlet more nervous than ever that this could put Blake on the spot and drive him away; because even though their date was great, she still wasn’t really sure how Blake really felt about her. And a part of her was worried that Blake might actually like Vivian—that rubbing it in her face like this might put her into overdrive and force her to do all she could to try to steal Blake away for good.
“Please guys,” Scarlet said, grabbing Maria’s shoulder and guiding her away, ushering them down the hall.
They turned the corner and reached their lockers, and Scarlet hurried over to hers, quickly opening the lock, throwing her books in and taking out other books she needed. The inside of her locker was covered with cutouts from magazines, a huge collage of pictures that she loved.
Scarlet sighed, trying to gather her thoughts. This day was already ridiculous. It was like a whirlwind. She just wanted to get home, get into bed, curl up with a book, Ruth by her side, and not think about any of this. She felt like she was in a white-hot spotlight, and just wanted to get out of it.
The bell rang, and as Scarlet closed her locker she spotted Blake. Her heart beat faster. He was standing at his locker, about ten rows away. He still hadn’t noticed her.
“Go talk to him,” whispered Jasmin, gently prodding her back.
That was the prod that Scarlet needed. Without thinking, she took a few steps his way. Her heart was racing.
They’d had such a nice night at the movies. Blake had bought her popcorn and had walked her home, like a gentleman. Scarlet had wondered if he was going to kiss her, and for a moment it seemed like he would. But then it seemed like he’d gotten nervous, and at the last second he kissed her on the cheek instead.
It left Scarlet wondering if he was really into her. Apparently, Scarlet discovered later, he had texted her the following day—but of course, that was the day, of all days, that she had to get sick and go AWOL. She was suddenly flooded with panic as she just realized she’d never replied to his text. Now he must think she’d blown him off.
“Hey,” she said, and could hear her own voice trembling.
A few feet away, he turned and looked at her. For a moment, his eyes lit up with joy; but then they clouded over with something like confusion, or hesitation. She couldn’t tell what.
“Hey,” he said back, sounding surprised. “Are you okay?”
Scarlet felt herself flush.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“I heard you were like missing or something.”
“No, just my mom freaking out,” Scarlet said, putting on her best smile. “Parents.” Blake nodded, and slowly smiled. But his expression was inscrutable, and she couldn’t tell if he bought it or not. He stood there kind of silent, not igniting any more conversation. She began to worry.
“I texted you yesterday,” he said.
Scarlet’s heart pounded. He was upset about that.
“Yeah I’m so sorry,” she said. “I didn’t have my phone all day,” she said.
But she feared he might think she was lying. Who didn’t have their phone on them all day? She hoped he believed her.
“Well yeah, that’s cool,” he said, sounding noncommittal.
They stood there in silence, and it was getting awkward. On the one hand, she sensed that he liked her; on the other, he seemed unsure, maybe still hurt about the text. She wanted to make things right, but she didn’t know how. Most of all, she wanted to go to the dance with him on Friday—and really wanted him to ask her, and for it to be official that they were boyfriend and girlfriend.
Especially before Vivian could try anything.
Scarlet stood there, silently willing for him to say the words: Will you go to the dance with me on Friday? She imagined the sound of his voice, his expression as he asked it.
But as they stood, there was just more silence. She felt herself filling with dread.
The bell rang again, and kids began to disperse in every direction. Scarlet’s heart sank, as she sensed he was about to head off to class.
But to her surprise, he didn’t leave. Instead, he stood there, even as everyone else was swarming around him. He cleared his throat.
“So…um…are you like going to the dance on Friday?” he asked.
Scarlet’s heart swelled with relief. It was a huge moment for her, the moment she finally realized he liked her. She heard the shaking in his voice and she realized that he was just nervous. Just like her.
“Well, I—” she began.
“There you are,” came the voice.
Scarlet wanted to die. There, in front of her, appeared Vivian, slithering up to Blake, wrapping one arm around his.
Blake looked over at her, surprised, ambivalent, clearly unsure how to react.
“I have something really important to talk to you about,” Vivian said. “Will you walk me to class?”
Blake stood there, looking back and forth between Vivian and Scarlet, looking trapped, like a deer in the headlights. He looked like he didn’t know what to do.