was.
“Oh, Macie, that’s so sweet of you. I think I’m just a little tired from the move this week and—”
“Katherine.” Macie’s voice stopped me. “Do I have to spell this out for you? We’re the cool kids. You’re the new girl. This is your invite.”
“You don’t even know me,” I said.
“I know enough,” she said. “Four-point-oh grade point average at Lithonia High School; daughter of Daysun Fraisure, lead litigator for Clarence, River, and DeKalb; first runner-up MissAtlanta Teen two years ago; winner Miss Georgia Teen last year.”
My eyes were wide, and I laughed a little in spite of myself. “But . . . how did you . . . ?”
“There’s an app for that,” she said, holding up her phone. “You’ve got quite a web presence, you know.”
I looked back at the school, then down at my watch.
“Come,” she said. “I’ve got a proposition for you.”
When I looked up, she was smiling at me again—this time with her eyes.
• • •
Krista and Beth were both in the booth already when I arrived at Marv’s Diner with Macie.
“Here she is,” Krista said. “Beth, Katherine. Katherine, Beth.”
I shook Beth’s hand. She looked up at me, and then over at Macie, and back at me. “Oh. My. God,” she said quietly. “You’re, like, twelve feet tall.”
We all laughed. “No,” I said. “I’m just wearing heels.”
“What are you talking about?” Beth’s eyes were wide, and she was shaking her head back and forth. “I already hate you. You’re, like, twice as tall as me.”
“And you’re gorgeous and smart and poised and confident,” said Macie. “My God, Katherine, now I hate you too.” She held my gaze for a minute, then burst into laughter. Beth and Krista joined her. I stood there blinking, confused.
Macie saw my expression and smiled, wiping her eyes.“Let me explain,” she said. “I’m running for student council president this fall. I’ve been on the fence about my running mate. I decided tonight that you’re it.”
“Macie.” I shook my head. “I’m going to be real busy with a couple of pageants to prepare for comin’ right up. I have a real shot at Miss Teen USA this year, and I’m countin’ on that scholarship money, so—”
“So you should do it,” Krista said, interrupting me.
When I looked over at her, she was boring holes through those cat’s-eye glasses, and that’s the first time I felt it—the way she looked at me like I was a commodity, like I was the prize to be won. That was the first time she made my skin crawl.
Macie just smiled at me and patted the booth next to her. “Sit,” she chirped. “Chat.”
I gingerly slid into the booth next to Macie. The waiter came and took our orders. Krista got coffee, Beth asked for a salad, Macie ordered a Diet Coke with a lime.
“What are you having, Katherine?” she asked me.
When I hesitated, Krista cut in. “Second thoughts!” she said, then brayed like my granddaddy’s donkey Moonshine did that night the skunk got into the barn when I was a little girl.
“I’m fine with water.” I smiled at the waiter.
When he left, Macie turned to me. “Elections are two weeks away. Nominations are due by the end of the day on Monday. I’ve been class president since ninth grade. Jillian always runs as my VP, but this year, we can run for studentcouncil, and I don’t want to risk running with her against the seniors. I’ve decided to make a change.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because if I’m going to win, I need the minority vote,” she said.
My brow creased as I tried to put these pieces together. “And they’ll vote for juniors like you and me because . . .”
“Because you’ve got the right heritage,” Macie said.
Her words hit me like Mississippi humidity on a hot summer day. That was it. I was done here. I stood up. “Macie, I may be from the South, but I did not just bump off the turnip truck yesterday. Don’t know who you think you’re talkin’
“Oh, Macie, that’s so sweet of you. I think I’m just a little tired from the move this week and—”
“Katherine.” Macie’s voice stopped me. “Do I have to spell this out for you? We’re the cool kids. You’re the new girl. This is your invite.”
“You don’t even know me,” I said.
“I know enough,” she said. “Four-point-oh grade point average at Lithonia High School; daughter of Daysun Fraisure, lead litigator for Clarence, River, and DeKalb; first runner-up MissAtlanta Teen two years ago; winner Miss Georgia Teen last year.”
My eyes were wide, and I laughed a little in spite of myself. “But . . . how did you . . . ?”
“There’s an app for that,” she said, holding up her phone. “You’ve got quite a web presence, you know.”
I looked back at the school, then down at my watch.
“Come,” she said. “I’ve got a proposition for you.”
When I looked up, she was smiling at me again—this time with her eyes.
• • •
Krista and Beth were both in the booth already when I arrived at Marv’s Diner with Macie.
“Here she is,” Krista said. “Beth, Katherine. Katherine, Beth.”
I shook Beth’s hand. She looked up at me, and then over at Macie, and back at me. “Oh. My. God,” she said quietly. “You’re, like, twelve feet tall.”
We all laughed. “No,” I said. “I’m just wearing heels.”
“What are you talking about?” Beth’s eyes were wide, and she was shaking her head back and forth. “I already hate you. You’re, like, twice as tall as me.”
“And you’re gorgeous and smart and poised and confident,” said Macie. “My God, Katherine, now I hate you too.” She held my gaze for a minute, then burst into laughter. Beth and Krista joined her. I stood there blinking, confused.
Macie saw my expression and smiled, wiping her eyes.“Let me explain,” she said. “I’m running for student council president this fall. I’ve been on the fence about my running mate. I decided tonight that you’re it.”
“Macie.” I shook my head. “I’m going to be real busy with a couple of pageants to prepare for comin’ right up. I have a real shot at Miss Teen USA this year, and I’m countin’ on that scholarship money, so—”
“So you should do it,” Krista said, interrupting me.
When I looked over at her, she was boring holes through those cat’s-eye glasses, and that’s the first time I felt it—the way she looked at me like I was a commodity, like I was the prize to be won. That was the first time she made my skin crawl.
Macie just smiled at me and patted the booth next to her. “Sit,” she chirped. “Chat.”
I gingerly slid into the booth next to Macie. The waiter came and took our orders. Krista got coffee, Beth asked for a salad, Macie ordered a Diet Coke with a lime.
“What are you having, Katherine?” she asked me.
When I hesitated, Krista cut in. “Second thoughts!” she said, then brayed like my granddaddy’s donkey Moonshine did that night the skunk got into the barn when I was a little girl.
“I’m fine with water.” I smiled at the waiter.
When he left, Macie turned to me. “Elections are two weeks away. Nominations are due by the end of the day on Monday. I’ve been class president since ninth grade. Jillian always runs as my VP, but this year, we can run for studentcouncil, and I don’t want to risk running with her against the seniors. I’ve decided to make a change.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because if I’m going to win, I need the minority vote,” she said.
My brow creased as I tried to put these pieces together. “And they’ll vote for juniors like you and me because . . .”
“Because you’ve got the right heritage,” Macie said.
Her words hit me like Mississippi humidity on a hot summer day. That was it. I was done here. I stood up. “Macie, I may be from the South, but I did not just bump off the turnip truck yesterday. Don’t know who you think you’re talkin’
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