Hard to Get by Emma Carlson Berne

staring at me, the game controllers slack in their hands.
    â€œWell, okay!” I said, backing toward the door. “Nice meeting you, Joseph. I mean, seeing you. Wait, um, no, it was fine seeing you.” I laughed weakly. “Yeah, that’s what I mean, fine. And you guys, too. Fine seeing you, too. Okay! Bye!”
    I fled.
    Safe in the upstairs hallway, I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans and dabbed at the dampness on my upper lip. If that scene was a harbinger of my new life, I might not survive junior year. But whatever. That was only practice. I’d be fine.
    By eight, everything was set. The pizza had been successfully guarded from Joseph and the guys, and Becca and I were stationed by the front door. I had decided I needed all the help I could get, so I was wearing my dullest outfit: plain gray T-shirt, khakis, no jewelry, flip-flops. No makeup, just ChapStick. I pulled my hair into a ponytail. When I looked in thefoyer mirror, I almost fell asleep, I looked so boring.
    Becca, on the other hand, looked like a dark-haired Gwyneth Paltrow or something. She was wearing a silky cream-colored tank top with a draped front, black capri leggings, and sequin-encrusted cream ballet flats. Giant silver hoops dangled from her ears, almost brushing her shoulders. I felt like a third-grader standing next to her.
    â€œOh my God, I’m so excited!” Kelly squealed from the top of the stairs. She was wearing a black tank dress and espadrilles that laced halfway up her calves, and of course, she looked amazing too, like those surfer girls who were always posing with their boards on the beach.
    â€œVal, stop fidgeting,” Becca said. She leaned closer to the hall mirror and swiped her lips with MAC Lipglass, carefully blotting the edges with a forefinger.
    â€œI can’t help it,” I muttered, wiping my sweaty palms on my khakis for the millionth time. “This is going to be weird.”
    Becca looked at me in the mirror. “Don’t chicken out, Val.” Behind her, Kelly paused on the bottom step, listening.
    â€œNo, of course not,” I declared, forcingmyself to stop fiddling with my ponytail. “You know I wouldn’t do that. I haven’t even started yet.”
    â€œGood,” Becca said. She closed the lip gloss tube with a snap and tossed it into her bag.
    â€œI don’t know, Val.” Kelly came forward. “It’s hard to believe you’re actually going to get through an entire night and not flirt with anyone, even once .”
    I swallowed. Just then, the doorbell rang. From behind the frosted glass of the door, I could see a cluster of shadowy figures. I took a deep breath. “Look, remember who you’re talking to, girls. The GNBP is going to be awesome. And I’m in it to the end, of course.”
    â€œWhat’s up, Val?” Brent yelled, as I opened the door. He and Logan stood on the porch, with a little knot of people behind him clutching bags of chips and six-packs of Coke. Brent stepped into the foyer and reached out to give me his usual bear hug.
    I backed up quickly, bumping into Kelly, who caught my arm. “Hi, Brent.” I kept my voice neutral, but my mind was buzzing. Okay, Brent, let’s see … Kelly’s boyfriend. Attached. So therefore, not a GNBPthreat. Okay to hug, my GNBP computer advised. I reached out to hug Brent back, but he had already brushed past me into the living room. I must have looked confused because Kelly patted my arm.
    â€œOkay?” she asked.
    I nodded tentatively. Then I forced a big smile. “Fine!” I said brightly.
    By eleven o’clock, Kelly’s was packed with everyone I knew from school and a whole bunch I didn’t. The Killers were wailing from the iPod dock on the coffee table, and Kelly’s nacho dip—this time made without help from the fire department—was taking a serious beating. A huge red-faced guy yanked open the doors leading to the