to us,” Alexa continued. She turned with a fanatical gleam in her eye. “Now that Ryan’s been elected student president, she’ll fix it.”
I sat up straight at hearing this. “What?”
“This is going to be the best prom in the history of Acton-Concord High,” Alexa declared.
I grimaced. I never signed up to fix Prom. Actually, I didn’t want to be student president at all but somehow got nominated after spending a year coordinating all of the school’s charity drives and volunteer activities. Being the new girl at school last year, I thought throwing myself into various school programs would help me make friends. It worked a little too well. Not to mention, when someone asked for help, I couldn’t very well say “no.” With every “yes” I kept getting asked to do more, and with every “yes” I found it harder to say “no.”
Then, my aggressive campaign manager (Alexa) took over, and shortly thereafter, I’d found myself up on the winner’s throne after a landslide election. If becoming president was a popularity contest, I’d won because of Alexa’s.
She chattered on, “We’ll organize fund-raisers. There are plenty of parents we can guilt-trip into spending some extra cash. Sponsorships. I don’t care if we have corporate logos as table centerpieces—we can do it tastefully on the sides of vases of white roses—”
“I always thought white lilies would be better for Prom,” squeaked a varsity girl from our lacrosse team. The other girls at the table looked at her with surprise and respect. It was hard to stop a steamroller like Alexa after she got started.
Alexa beamed at the girl. “Great idea, Christine. White roses are so overdone.”
Ruddy-faced Christine glowed under the praise.
I chewed on my celery stick. “You’re a junior, Alexa. Why do you care about Prom?”
“Who are you going with, Ryan?” asked Ramanajan, a slender girl with braided, ebony hair, sitting beside Alexa. “Grey?”
“Ew,” I replied. “He’s my brother now.”
“Good,” Ramanajan said with satisfaction.
Alexa looked at me, rolling her eyes. I suppressed a laugh.
“But, Ryan, you barely know him and you’re going to be adopted, right? No blood relation.” Christine sighed. “Grey is so adorable. I slipped in the hallway once and he carried my backpack all the way to class.”
Alexa snorted in disgust. “Never say that in front of him. His ego is big enough.”
But she wouldn’t be distracted. Mischievous eyes fixed on me with determination. “Ramanajan is right. We have to find Ryan a date. She never even looks at any of the guys panting after her. How about one of Grey’s friends? Brian thinks you’re smoking hot.”
My stomach twisted. It was okay to look at guys from a distance, but I didn’t actually want one in my life. I pictured a boy lying on the floor of my Texas townhouse… his letterman jacket smeared with blood, his head ripped from his body, the cloying smell of iron and meat. He was murdered along with my mother. Somehow, I survived. Guilt bore down on me.
The dark memories must have colored my expression because Alexa reached out with her hand, a calming presence, and held my white knuckles.
I gave her a tight smile. “No letter-jackets.”
“Fine,” she sighed with exaggerated noise. With a little squeeze, she let my hand go. “But you’re severely limiting the pool.”
“Maybe you need to take another look at the pool,” I said.
“Really?” A perfectly arched, sandy-brown eyebrow rose. Alexa purred, “Methinks the girl may have a Prince Charming in sight. Now who could persuade our Goldilocks to even think about the ball?”
“You’re astonishingly bad at fairy tales, Lexa,” I muttered. “Goldilocks stole porridge from the three bears’ house. She couldn’t care less about Prince Charming.”
The girls at the table giggled.
Alexa took a big slurp of the lemonade she was drinking. “Well, this bear can tell you’re hiding something, sis. Never fear, I’ll figure it out. You can’t keep a secret from me—” A shadow crossed Alexa’s face for a fleeting second before she masked it with a grin. “I know things.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I turned my head to find Matt staring straight at us from the lunch line across the room.
Following my gaze to Matt, Alexa made a sound. “Ooh, is he new? And way better than Prince Charming.”
“Stop trying to dodge the question,” I said quickly. “Why are you interested in Prom?”
Alexa sniffed and flipped her shoulder-length hair. “If you must know, Grey’s friend, Joey, asked me to go.”
“Joey?” Ramanajan giggled. “Maybe you should drive, Lexa.”