could make Katie follow her somewhere . . . anywhere . . .
For the past five days, Heather had been desperately trying to read the signs, trying to figure out whether she and Katie were ever going to happen. But it was like reading tea leaves. There were signals, but what did they really mean?
Sure, Katie was really friendly to her lately. Ever since theyâd been paired up as lab partners, sheâd been smiling every time she passed Heather in the halls, making small talk in the cafeteria line, asking to borrow Heatherâs eyeliner in the restroom.
But was Katie flirting with her? Or just being nice? Did it mean something when Katie passed by at lunch and fixed the label in Heatherâs shirtâsomething other than Your label is out, you stupid geek ?
And what about all those guys Katie was nice to? Randall Devalier got at least as much face time with Katie as Heather did.
Now there was an awful thought. What if Katie went to the prom with a guy?
There was only one thing she knew for sure: Now that Katie was on her radar screen, Heather didnât want to lie to herself about being gay. Not that she was ready to let anyone else know. That would be way too scary. But at least she wasnât going to deny her own feelings inside the privacy of her own head.
The bell finally rang for the end of class. Heather leapt up, hoping to bump into Katie on the way out, but it didnât happen. Katie was gone pretty fast.
Marianna caught up with Heather in the hallway. âI saw who you were watching during class,â she announced with a knowing grin.
Heather froze. Her throat felt tight. This was the moment sheâd been trying to avoid. But Marianna was grinning, totally pleased with herself.
âWho?â
âTony.â Marianna beamed. âAnd I can see why. Heâs perfect for you!â
Tony? It took a second for Heather to even process the name. Tony Vilanch? Why on earth . . . ?
Oh, right. He was sitting two seats over from Katie.
âHmm,â Heather said, trying to bluff a mild interest even though all she could think was, Donât get carried away, Marianna .
She headed toward her locker on the way to lunch. Marianna followed.
âDonât you think heâs perfect for you?â Marianna sounded hurt that her brainstorm wasnât being met with jubilation. âI mean, seriously. Heâs the ultimate metrosexual. You and he have so much in common.â
âLike what?â
âOh, you know. Everything,â Marianna said. âHeâs on the staff of the lit mag, isnât he?â
âSo what?â
Heather stuffed her books in her locker and slammed it.
âI think he does illustrations,â Marianna said. âAnd you do layout for the yearbook. Youâre both arty.â
âYeah, but . . .â
âNo buts. Heâs perfect! Heâs just like you: great looking, sensitive . . .â
Marianna was on a roll, and there was no stopping her.
âHe hangs with the hipster crowd,â Heather said, not really complaining, but trying to prove that he wasnât just like her.
âMostly the filmmaking crowd,â Marianna corrected her. âBut heâs not so touch-me-not as the hard-core hipsters are. Also, big point: heâs available.â
They had reached the cafeteria, and Lisa Marie overheard the last part of the conversation. Naturally she jumped right in. âWhoâs available?â
Marianna rolled her eyes. âDonât get greedy, Iâm fixing Heather up for the prom.â
âFor the prom! Who said anything about the prom?â Heather gasped. She turned, pleading, to Lisa Marie. âSheâs trying to hook me up with Tony Vilanch.â It was said in a save-me tone of voice calculated to make Lisa Marie take her side, but it didnât work. Lisa Marie caught some kind of coded glance from Marianna.
I know what theyâre up to, Heather thought. It was obvious they
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