Read What's Your Status? Online
Authors: Katie Finn
But we were in zero hour. The prom was five days away, and we had to have a song so that we could dance to it together. And whatever we picked, I would just insist that Tanner—the sophomore DJing the prom and the current bane of my existence—play it for us.
“What’s that?” Nate asked, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.
“Well,” I said, “I’ve been thinking that we need a song. And that it would be fun to pick one before the prom.” I smiled up at him, but he just stared down at me. “You know,” I said after a moment, “so that we can dance to it….”
Nate smiled. “No, I get the concept. I just don’t really do that.”
I blinked at him. “Dance?” I asked, trying not to panic but thinking that it was a bit late for him to be telling me this.
“No,” he said. “I dance. I mean have songs with people. I just don’t think it’s such a good idea.”
I took an involuntary step back, and my hands fell down from his neck. But I wasn’t “people.” I was his
girlfriend.
“Well,” I said, trying to understand, “why wouldn’t it be a good idea?”
Nate shrugged and stuck his hands in his pockets. “I’ve just had some issues with it in the past. And then if something should happen, the song is tainted forever. So I just think it’s better not to have one.”
I nodded as though I was considering this, but really,
I was just trying to process. What did he think was going to happen? And was Nate talking about some issues with a specific person? Who?
It hit me that Nate and I had never had the ex talk. This wasn’t a big deal for me, as he’d already known about Justin, and the rest of my relationships hadn’t been serious enough to merit any kind of discussion. And I knew that Nate had gone out with his friend Melissa until last summer. But I hadn’t thought it was a serious relationship—they were still really close. She was in his Friendverse Top 8, after all. I hadn’t met her yet, but there had been lots of talk about us all getting together and hanging out. But now, I wasn’t sure I wanted to do that. Suddenly, I felt like there was a lot to Nate I knew nothing about, even though five minutes earlier, I would have laughed at that idea.
“What,” I said, trying to keep my voice light, “what kind of issues? And, um, with whom?”
Nate smiled at me and put his arms around my waist again. “We don’t have to talk about this now.”
“But—” I started, as Nate leaned down and kissed me. “But I wanted to—” I managed to say before he kissed me again. “That is—” But he kept on kissing me, and really, it was a lot more fun than talking about exes. I pulled back for a moment. “We’re going to talk about this later,” I promised as I reached up and kissed him back.
Some time later, the penultimate bell sounded, startling me. Apparently, lost in makeout land, I’d managed to miss the warning bell. “Argh,” I said again, realizing that I was now going to be late for English.
“I know,” Nate said, cupping his hand underneath my chin. “I wish you didn’t have to go.”
“Well,” I said, dying to stay but knowing that every minute that was passing most likely meant a minute I’d have to spend in detention, “just wait until Saturday night. We can…” I paused. I was about to say “keep making out,” or “make out some more,” but both of those seemed kind of crass. So I just made a vague gesture with my hand. “You know.” I smiled up at Nate, who blinked down at me.
About a second later, the implications of what I’d just said came crashing down on me. Oh, no.
Oh, God.
“Wait,” Nate said, his brow furrowing. “What?”
“Oh,” I said. “Um.” I wasn’t sure what to say next. Saturday night was
prom night.
Prom night was when couples traditionally had sex for the first time. What had I just done? Had I just suggested to my boyfriend that we sleep together on prom night? With a
hand gesture
?
The final, Seriously-Get-To-Class-NOW bell sounded, and I looked over at the building, torn. Should I go to class, even though I was already late? Stay and try to explain to Nate what had just happened? What
had
just happened?
“You’d better go,” Nate said, looking a little bit dazed.
“Right,” I said. I looked at him, trying to figure out what
he
thought had just happened. “Okay.” I shouldered my bag and stretched up to kiss Nate just as he leaned down to kiss me, and we bumped noses. We tried again and managed a quick kiss, but it was really more like
a peck. It was awkward. And we never had awkward kisses. “Talk to you tonight?”
“Definitely,” he said. He gave me a smile but still seemed confused.
“Bye,” I said, turning and heading to the school building. When I pulled open the doors and turned back for a moment, Nate was still standing in the same spot, looking lost in thought.
What had I just done? As I hustled down the now-deserted halls of Putnam High School, I made a mental note to talk to Ruth about this as soon as possible.
As reality hit a second later, I slowed my steps and shook my head. Of course I wasn’t going to talk to Ruth about this. Not anymore.
Ruth Miller had been my BFF for the past nine years, ever since third grade. But two months earlier, everything had changed. I’d come back from spring break to find my Friendverse profile hacked into. Pretending to be me, the hacker had said terrible things, and had even broken up me and Justin—which, in retrospect, I was actually thankful for. After much sleuthing—and realizing that the hacker had mostly been reporting secrets I’d promised not to tell anyone—I’d found out, to my shock, that the hacker had been Ruth. She’d been helped with the technical part of the hacking by Frank “Hold the Frank” Dell. Dell had been the school’s go-to computer expert and had set up most of its databases. He had also kept copies of a lot of them and had been using this information to break into people’s lockers. I had found out about this, and his role in the hacking, and had
exposed him to Dr. Trent, the assistant headmaster. As a result, Dell had been expelled. From what I heard, he was now finishing junior year at some boarding school in New Hampshire that, coincidentally, also had a new auditorium. Ruth had been suspended for two weeks, and I had resolved never to share with other people what was said to me in confidence. But the hacking, and the subsequent fallout, had been the end of our friendship.
Ruth and I were now cordial to each other in the halls and in PE, the only class we had together. But somehow, that made it even worse. The superficial
Hi, how are you
s that we exchanged in passing only reminded me that we’d once been really close and had told each other everything. Now all we said to each other was
Fine, how are you?
And with prom looming, I was thinking about Ruth, and our broken friendship, even more than usual. In fourth grade, the two of us had dressed up as prom queens for Halloween, and we had always said that when we went to the prom for real, we’d re-create the picture. But it was clear now that was not going to happen.
And while I had Lisa and my friend Schuyler Watson, and was close with both of them, Lisa and Schuyler were really best friends with each other. Life without your own best friend, I had found in the past two months, was just very lonely. And I couldn’t get used to the situation. My impulse was always to talk to Ruth, before my brain would register a second later that that was no longer an option. And in the moment that followed, I would feel the loss of our friendship all over again.
Well, I would just have to talk to Schuyler and Lisa ASAP. Because, out of nowhere, Nate and I suddenly had issues. There was the song thing, and the possibly significant ex thing, and, most pressing of all, what I might have inadvertently suggested we do on prom night.
I had reached my English classroom and was—I checked my watch—fourteen minutes late. I sighed and pulled open the door.
Song: Lisztomania/Phoenix
Quote: “World domination. The same old dream.”
—James Bond,
Dr. No
mad_mac
Hates being late for class. And getting detention because of it.
KitKat → mad_mac
WHAT ABOUT THE PROM COMMITTEE MEETING?!
mad_mac → KitKat
I’ll be there! I might just be, um, fourteen minutes late.
Shy Time
Not understanding why we’re still getting this much homework. It’s MAY, after all!
Shy Time
Even though my phone keeps telling me it’s November 1967.