Viola in Reel Life by Adriana Trigiani Page A

our tables and seats and sit in the same ones every night. All the girls do. It’s part of a routine now, and it reminds us that we depend upon one another now, and whatever makes us feel secure is best.
    Marisol and I wave to our neighbors from down the hall.
    “Did you hear about Missie Cannon on Third South?” Marisol whispers. “She went home to Pennsylvania.”
    “What happened?”
    “She was caught drinking.”
    “You’re kidding.”
    “Nope. She’s in tenth grade and she snuck in a bunch of wine coolers and gave them out and somebody reported her.”
    Marisol and I lift our trays and snake through the round tables to our roommates.
    “Okay, we’re all going to this.” Romy holds up a flyer.
     
    DANCE
Freshman girls are invited to attend!
November 15, 2009
     
    Grabeel Sharpe Academy for Boys
Lakewood
Buses depart at 6 p.m.
     
    “I am not going to Drab Dull for a dance,” I tell the girls as I put down my tray and backpack.
    “What’s Drab Dull?” Romy asks.
    “It’s like the law of the jungle at PA,” I explain. “I hear the upperclassmen say it all the time. Finally I asked one of them what it was, and she explained that’s what generations of girls have called our brother school. So count me out. I’m not going.”
    “Oh, probably some disgruntled girl got burned by a Grabeel Sharpe guy a hundred years ago, and she started a campaign to diss the school forever. Guys can be idiots. But not all guys,” Suzanne says diplomatically.
    I’m not about to explain the real reasons I won’t get on that bus and go to their dance. They do not need to know that I will never go to a dance until I can go with the likes of Tag Nachmanoff. I don’t settle in any other area of my life when it comes to excellence, so why should I lower my standards when it comes to boys? I don’t use a crap camera, I don’t eat junk, and I’m not going to a dance where the boys are bores.
    “You snap judge,” Marisol says to me.
    “I do not,” I say, taken aback.
    “Viola, you totally snap judge. You thought Mrs. Carleton was a fashion disaster because she wears Land’s End khakis.”
    “I modified my position when she wore Levi’s.”
    “I know. But you still had a week where you were doubting everything she said in class because she didn’t dress cool.”
    “You make me sound awful.”
    “If the yellow patent leather flats fit…,” Suzanne jokes.
    “I haven’t worn them since the first day,” I say defensively.
    “Everybody makes mistakes,” Romy says. “Even you.”
    “Okay, okay. I suck. I get it.”
    “Not in every way. Just in your snap judging,” Marisol says kindly.
    “Viola is slightly sheltered,” Suzanne says in a matter-of-fact tone.
    “What does that mean?” I’m almost shouting, my anxiety level on orange.
    “Oh, don’t worry about it. It just means that you’re an only child, and you don’t have siblings who push you to do things.”
    “Okay. Fair enough.” I shrug.
    “Look, here’s the deal about boys,” Suzanne begins.
    Marisol, Romy, and I lean in, because in our universe, Suzanne is The Great and Tall Blond One, who knows much more than we do about the intricacies of romantic relationships. She’s definitely got the upper hand when it comes to boys and there are two reasons for that. One, she has two older brothers who are hot and in college, and two, pretty girls like Suzanne are pursued, so they get to pick the boys they want first. It’s not like they ever pine, because they don’t have time to. They’re too busy fielding offers. I guarantee you that Suzanne does not have a Tag Nachmanoff-style crush on any boy in Chicago. She is way too cool to waste her time on something that might never happen. So when it comes to boys, dances, and the players at Drab Dull Academy, we have to defer to Suzanne. She has an inside track.
    “It’s not like you have to go out with these guys or even see them every day. This is a dance . It’s a chance to shake things up and