Promposal (7 page)

“So. Humiliating,” another replied.

David licked his lips. He peered around the room and seemed to realize he had a rapt audience witnessing his downfall. “Maybe we can talk about it somewhere else,” he offered in a quiet voice.

Karen's eyes flashed. “There's nothing to talk about,” she spat out. “I think you've embarrassed me enough for the moment, haven't you? My answer is
no
.
I don't want to go to prom with you. I don't like you like that.”

Camilla sucked in a shaky breath. “Poor David,” she said quietly.

I reached over and patted her leg. She had to be feeling torn right now, given how her own awkward promposal had been sprung on her last week. It was painfully evident Karen was irritated by the surprise, but David was our friend. He had tried so hard to do something sweet to ask her to prom.

David turned away from Karen and with deliberate, careful motions, tucked his hat and gloves back inside his bag. He moved
around the trio of girls and walked out the cafeteria door. Like his whole world hadn't fallen around his feet right then. In front of so many people who were by now texting everyone else, sending copies of the videos.

We spun back around to face the table and sat in depressed silence for a few moments. Karen and her girls moved toward their table in the corner. No one said a word to Karen or even looked at her. She kept her chin up and didn't talk to anyone.

“Why did you hold me back?” I asked Camilla. “I just wanted to help him.”

“This was his moment,” she said. “He wouldn't want to be emasculated by having someone rescue him. And I think Karen made herself look bad enough.” There was a hint of emotion in her voice, and when I turned to her, I saw her eyes welling up. “And
that
was the exact reason I couldn't say no to Zach. Because I would have looked like a megabitch like her.”

“But your no wouldn't have—”

“Holy shit.” Niecey shook her head and shot a look at her boyfriend. “That was intense. Poor David. He's gotta be hurting a lot right now.”

Ethan, who had been quiet, reached over and touched my forearm. “Hey, you and I still need to talk.”

I stood and gathered my stuff. I kept my eyes fixed on my tasks so Ethan couldn't see that the last thing I wanted to do was talk about what was bothering me. “I should go see David. Make sure he isn't jumping off a bridge or something.” After I managed to don a broad smile, I looked at him. “I'll catch you later, though, okay?”

His eyes peered into me, and he gave a brief nod.

I knew the best way to get him off my back, and it was going
to kill me to pull this card. But it was my only chance of escape. “When we get together, we'll start working on our strategies. For
things
.”

The tension around his eyes faded, and he got that dreamy look. “Yeah, that'll be great. Thanks.”

It was so hard to gather my pride and keep my chin up. To not smack him on the back of the head and demand he notice me as more than a friend. But this wasn't the time for that. I'd missed my time, and now it was too late.

I told the others bye and took off down the hall for David. If anyone knew the pains of a broken heart, if anyone could commiserate with him right now, it was me.

H
ey, Camilla. Did you hear the latest about Karen?” Michelle, the girl kitty-corner to me in psych, leaned forward to whisper to me. She played with the ends of her thick brown braid.

“Beyond what's already buzzing around? Nope.” I shook my head and settled into my seat. My stomach was still in knots over that whole debacle three days ago. Luckily, Joshua had hung out with David for a bit after the cafeteria rejection and had managed to get the poor guy to stop hiding out in the bathroom. But videos of the scene were everywhere, all over Facebook and Twitter. Almost couldn't escape it.

While there were a few random douchebags ripping on David for getting shot down, most of the vitriol was aimed at Karen, who seemed to have found herself suddenly infamous over her harsh public rejection. Part of me felt really bad for her, due to the extreme comments being lobbed her way online, but the other part thought she could have handled the whole issue with more care. Like, maybe not be such a bitch, and pull him aside to let him down quietly.

Something I probably should have thought of trying, instead of my nervous agreement to go with Zach. Sigh. Hindsight really was twenty-twenty.

“Well,” Michelle said, “my brother said that David's swim teammates swore not to ask her to prom because of how she treated him. And a couple of the other jock circles joined in as well. Some kind of bro solidarity, I guess.”

“Wow.” Blackballed. Karen had to be upset about that, for sure. What was she going to do?

Benjamin strolled across the front of the room, wearing a pair of perfectly faded jeans and a dark gray T-shirt. My stupid heart did that fluttery thing when our eyes locked. With as much carelessness as I could fake, I turned my attention back to my notebook. After leaving that note in his locker with my number on it, I hadn't heard a peep from him. Not one text.

I was a class-A idiot, obviously. I'd read too much into our in-class interaction on Monday. God, I wished I could go back in time and just not respond at all. Maybe then I wouldn't feel so stupid.

Yet he'd taken the time to draw a sketch of my face. And give it to me. Why do that if he was just going to ignore what I wrote? Maybe I'd slipped the note into the wrong locker, or maybe he never saw it.

Should I ask?

Mrs. Brandwright rushed into the classroom and plopped her stuff down on the desk. “Sorry, guys,” she said in a rush. “I had to pop by the library, and then I got distracted talking to teachers. Anyway. I have some lecture material, and then I want you to break into your project groups and start making
plans for when you're doing your experiments. The clock is ticking!”

For the next twenty minutes, Mrs. Brandwright went over important notes on social mores and how they evolved over the decades as generations grew up and created new generations with new ideas. It was actually interesting to hear how different things were now from when she was a young kid, such as discussions of money, sex, religion, and politics in mixed-gender company being taboo. Time flew by.

“Okay, that's enough of that.” She wiped her chalk-covered hands and laughed when puffs of white floated to the ground. The class laughed too. “Man, do I get messy. Now it's your turn to group together and finalize your plans. As you do, please keep in mind the gender and age of your targets. As I've shown in the lecture, those might impact the reaction you get and are worth noting.” After giving us a few more reminders about when the project was due, plus suggestions on where we could go, she waved us into our groups.

We made our small circle again, and I grabbed a fresh piece of paper. Benjamin's knee brushed against my lower thigh, and I swallowed. Grabbed my pencil tighter to keep from leaning toward him.

“Well, Mrs. Brandwright had some good suggestions for where to go to meet a variety of people. Like a park, the mall, or a shopping plaza. Do you guys have a preference?” I looked at Carter, who shrugged. Eh, at least he was awake.

Benjamin rubbed his jaw without looking at me. “Mall would be fine.” He flipped his notebook open and began writing a few notes.

Okay. Succinct as ever. I shoved down the flare of disappointment in his deliberate lack of attention toward me. Obviously, he wanted to make sure I didn't get any further mixed signals.
Message received, dude.
I made a mental note to stop acting so interested in whatever he was doing.

“Mall it is, then.” I summed up what our chosen activities would be on the paper. “And what are our expected outcomes?” We were supposed to predict what we thought people would do, record the actual reactions, then compare and discuss it all.

“I think old people will freak out,” Carter offered with a mumble.

I gave an enthusiastic nod at him, glad he was actually participating for once. I wrote his answer down. “Yeah, probably so.”

“Probably get mixed reactions from younger people, but they might laugh more than anything,” Benjamin offered, his attention still focused on his notebook. The page now had the start of some ornate line work in the margins. As he lifted it to flip to a new page, I saw a book tucked underneath.

I couldn't help it; I tilted my head and peered at the title.
The Canterbury Tales,
written in a fancy swirling medieval script, and I saw the top of a woman's headdress near the upper-right corner. Interesting choice of reading material.

“Are you two free on Sunday?” Benjamin asked, and I blinked and looked away from his desk, guilty at having been caught staring, despite my promise to myself not five minutes ago. So much for acting disinterested in him. I was lame.

I nodded in response to his question.

Carter did as well. He sighed and leaned his head against his hand. Apparently, nodding was hard work for him.

“Let's meet at noon. In the food court.” Benjamin dropped his pen and leaned back in his chair, rubbed the back of his neck.

“Sounds good.” Curiosity burned in my belly as I peeked once again at the book on his desk. “What are you reading?” I asked, even though I obviously knew the answer. I nodded toward the book hidden under his notebook. The real question I wanted to ask was
why
,
but that seemed too open-ended and risky.

“It's for English, but I read it last year during Christmas break.
The Canterbury Tales
.
” Benjamin was in advanced English, whereas I was in honors. Different curriculum material. “Have you read it? It's written in Middle English, but it comes with a translation.” He took it out and showed me the cover, with a bunch of medieval people riding horses across a hilly landscape.

Apparently, all I needed to do to get him to talk was discuss books. Interesting. “No, our English teacher is firmly contemporary.” Ms. Wickliffe preferred for our class to read more modern material, from the twentieth century on. No translations needed in hopes that we'd enjoy the reading more. Plus, as a hard-core feminist, she was super vocal about avoiding the works of dead white guys as much as possible.

His shrug was casual, but I saw a flare of something deeper in his eyes. “It's actually funny. Lots of bawdy old jokes. ‘The Wife of Bath's Tale' is one of my favorites.”

“That sounds cool. Did you—” I stopped myself right in the nick of time from blurting out to ask if he'd gotten the note with my number. What was with me?

He blinked. “Did I what?”

I shook my head. “Nothing. Never mind.” If he did get it, I didn't
want to know why he didn't reply. And if he didn't get it for some reason, maybe it was better that way.

He stared at me for a moment, and I fought the urge to squirm. I just kept my chin up and stared back, like nothing was bothering me. This guy had to suspect he was getting to me, and for some stubborn reason, I didn't want him to know.

After a moment, I saw the edges of a smile creep across his face. “Okay. Be mysterious, then.” He gave a quick nod.

I heard a slight snore, and we both turned our heads to see Carter drooping, head hitting the desk. Benjamin's eyes connected with mine again, this time in obvious mutual amusement. My breath caught in my throat at the way his eyes danced. I found myself wanting to know more about this guy. Who he was and why he liked reading such an odd collection of books.

The bell rang. My pulse raced with a strong stutter when I realized I was going to see him on Sunday. Though it was a school project, it would be in a casual environment. A chance to get to know him a little better.

Neither he nor I moved from our desks, though Carter awoke with a snort and gathered his stuff.

“Have a great weekend!” Mrs. Brandwright said as she gathered her belongings too and then followed students out the door.

Benjamin eyed me for a moment longer, and I could tell that he wanted to say something. Instead, he grabbed his belongings and stood. With a quick nod at me, he headed out of the room.

God, that guy was driving me nuts! Looking at me, not looking at me. Talking to me, then not talking to me. Was it any wonder I was so utterly confused? Maybe I should talk to Joshua, see what
he thought. He had a wiener; surely he could help translate Man Language for me.

My phone vibrated. I groaned and dug it out of my pocket. Zach had backed off texting as much after I promised we'd talk on the phone this weekend about prom plans, but I'd managed to avoid the date issue so far.

But it wasn't Zach. It was a number I didn't recognize.

I'll be at the mall at 11:30 Sunday. If you want, we can grab lunch and strategize beforehand.

The air locked in my chest. It was Benjamin. Had to be—I hadn't given Carter my number. So he
had
gotten my note.

And he wanted to meet with me before our group meeting.

What did that mean? Was it really just about the project, or was there something else?

Only one way to find out. My stupid fingers trembled like crazy as I typed out,
Okay, see you then.

I gathered my stuff and walked out of the classroom. Because I'd dawdled so long, the halls were empty except for a few other stragglers. Normally, I'd find Joshua and we'd walk home together, but I knew he was staying late today, so I meandered to my locker. Gathered my things. Walked down the hallway, my feet thudding across the slick gray tiles.

About twenty feet away, I realized I'd headed right to the library. I couldn't blame my subconscious for it; I knew I wanted to check out
The Canterbury Tales
and see what it was all about.

I looked up its code on our library computer and went to the right spot. Found several editions of the book and looked for one with a fairly easy-to-read translation. I gripped the paperback and made my way to the checkout desk right before the library
closed for the weekend. I could read a chapter or two before Sunday, like the one on the Wife of Bath, and it might give us something to talk about if conversation turned awkward. God knew Carter wasn't going to be any help in that department, if he even showed up.