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WARNING: This hasn't been edited. Again! You know the drill. Find the nasty ones!
Chapter 32
Back in school on Monday morning I told my friends all about the very laid-back reaction of my parents. Strangely enough, I was still exhausted from the party weekend. Cleaning up had been more tiring than I would have ever imagined it to be. I could barely concentrate all morning long. At least I wasn’t alone with dealing with the after-party effects. Surprisingly, Emma was the one out of all of us who was in best shape.
At lunch time, Dinah had her I-have-gossip face on full display when she came to meet the rest of us at our table. Sure enough, as soon she sat down, she asked us her trademark question. “Hey, have you guys heard the latest?”
“Rachel is pregnant?” Emma guessed, shoving some tomatos to the very edge of her tray.
Dinah sighed. “No, she’s not.”
“In the movies, there’s always a girl who gets pregnant in high school,” my best friend grumbled. “What on earth has to happen for somebody to get knocked up here?” She waved her arms around, sending a piece of tomato that still had been sitting on her fork flying to the ground.
“Unprotected sex,” Aaron answered nonchalantly. All of us girls looked at him. “What? She asked!”
“No pregnancy,” Dinah declared firmly. She leaned over the table. “Nick and Summer had a huge fight right outside the school this morning,” she said in a low voice. “Don’t look!”
All of us looked at our cafeteria’s designated cheerleaders-and-jocks territory. The quarterback and his girlfriend were sitting right next to each other in their usual spots.
Nick and Summer? Fighting?
“What about?” Emma asked baffled.
“About him not respecting her. Her being too clingy,” Dinah explained. “It looks like their relationship is on the rocks.”
Nick and Summer? Wow. Before I had been introduced to drunken Nick, I would have never expected our golden, loved-up couple to have problems. But now, I wasn’t that surprised.
Oh boy. I really hoped it had nothing to do with our party. That would suck!
I glanced over at the two of them again. Whatever they had been fighting about, they had made up by now. They were both chatting with each other and their friends. Still. I could sense some sort of tension between the cheerleader and her boyfriend. Or maybe it was just the gossip manipulating my imagination.
After school, it was time for another winter ball committee meeting. James told us all about the latest developments, presented a timeline for things which needed to be done, and showed us the official posters.
“The sell-a-song is getting along nicely,” the student council president informed us. “We’ve already sold about a quarter of the available slots. And since several people have requested the same song, I offered them the option to share their song and dedication with other persons interested in the same song for a lower price.”
Ah, now won’t that make you feel special? Hearing ‘The following song is dedicated to Clara from Mark, to Sandra from Tim, to Eve from Adam, and to Jane from Tarzan’. Trust James to let his greed of gain ruin what was originally intended to be one of the most romantic moments in a teen couple relationship.
“So we might not even have to sell all of the songs,” he explained, scanning all committee members. “Which is good, since the DJ has a final say regarding the song selection. He doesn’t want to have only sappy love songs played all the time.”
His gaze rested remarkably longer on Dinah than on the rest of us ‘volunteers’. Yep, he definitely liked her.
“We have some kind of bidding going on for the last song of the evening,” he informed us. “It’s very high in demand.”
This was something Emma was interested in. “Who’s bidding for it? And can we see the list of the songs and dedications already sold?”
James shook his head, scowling at her. “This list is confidential. Only the DJ and I will know about the dedications and songs. Some people want to remain anonymous.”
Too bad. I would have loved to catch a glimpse, too.
“What about the decorations?” Dinah asked.
The list hogger immediately brightened up, smiling at her, bringing up his dimples. Oh, his beautiful, beautiful dimples. I still think it isn’t fair to have such nice dimples.
Luckily, I had found a method to keep my hormones in check when seeing them – and that happened more often lately. Maybe not the most academic approach, but ‘dimples’ rhymes with ‘pimples’. Instead of admiring his cute little cheek furrows, I imagine them to be nasty, purulent pimples. Disgusting. Revolting. And very effective! No more heart jumping. Thank god.
James kept smiling at our curly-haired friend. “The budget for the decorations is no problem. And I’ve already organized a storage room in the basement for us. We’ll talk about the details in the extra meeting for decorating team members only. Tomorrow. Same time, same room.”
I tried to suppress a groan. Two days of having to face James. I couldn’t wait for the stupid winter ball to be here and over already. Because then our duty as winter ball committee members was officially fulfilled and I could go back to a James-free life!
That is, if he didn’t decide to act on his feelings for Dinah. Oh please, don’t do that, James. I mean, he was an okay guy again, but old habits are hard to break. And I couldn’t just forgive and forget his behavior of the last few years that easily.
“That’s all for today,” James announced. “Thanks for your great work! And check your e-mails for the schedule.”
I was more than happy to leave school and James far behind me. Back home, I managed to somehow finish my homework before I planted myself in front of our TV on our couch. Only moments later, I fell asleep. My father had to wake me up and tell me to go to bed which I gladly did.
Never again will I host a party! It just wasn’t worth feeling like that.
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Living High School to the Fullest (Completed)
HumorSarah's senior year is coming up - and she decided to make the most of it. She is a girl on a mission: living high school to the fullest. Together with her best friend Emma she writes a bucket list for her last year in high school. Sarah is determ...
