Making Out by Megan Stine

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 they’d been paired up as lab partners, she’d been smiling every time she passed Heather in the halls, making small talk in the cafeteria line, asking to borrow Heather’s 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 Heather’s shirt—something 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 didn’t 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 wasn’t 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 didn’t happen. Katie was gone pretty fast.
    Marianna caught up with Heather in the hallway. “I saw who you were watching during class,” she announced with a knowing grin.
    Heather froze. Her throat felt tight. This was the moment she’d been trying to avoid. But Marianna was grinning, totally pleased with herself.
    â€œWho?”
    â€œTony.” Marianna beamed. “And I can see why. He’s perfect for you!”
    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.
    â€œHmm,” Heather said, trying to bluff a mild interest even though all she could think was, Don’t get carried away, Marianna .
    She headed toward her locker on the way to lunch. Marianna followed.
    â€œDon’t you think he’s perfect for you?” Marianna sounded hurt that her brainstorm wasn’t being met with jubilation. “I mean, seriously. He’s the ultimate metrosexual. You and he have so much in common.”
    â€œLike what?”
    â€œOh, you know. Everything,” Marianna said. “He’s on the staff of the lit mag, isn’t he?”
    â€œSo what?”
    Heather stuffed her books in her locker and slammed it.
    â€œI think he does illustrations,” Marianna said. “And you do layout for the yearbook. You’re both arty.”
    â€œYeah, but . . .”
    â€œNo buts. He’s perfect! He’s just like you: great looking, sensitive . . .”
    Marianna was on a roll, and there was no stopping her.
    â€œHe hangs with the hipster crowd,” Heather said, not really complaining, but trying to prove that he wasn’t just like her.
    â€œMostly the filmmaking crowd,” Marianna corrected her. “But he’s not so touch-me-not as the hard-core hipsters are. Also, big point: he’s available.”
    They had reached the cafeteria, and Lisa Marie overheard the last part of the conversation. Naturally she jumped right in. “Who’s available?”
    Marianna rolled her eyes. “Don’t get greedy, I’m fixing Heather up for the prom.”
    â€œFor the prom! Who said anything about the prom?” Heather gasped. She turned, pleading, to Lisa Marie. “She’s trying to hook me up with Tony Vilanch.” It was said in a save-me tone of voice calculated to make Lisa Marie take her side, but it didn’t work. Lisa Marie caught some kind of coded glance from Marianna.
    I know what they’re up to, Heather thought. It was obvious they