My Know-It-All Nemesis - Maggie Dallen Page 0,15

reflection again. “I thought it was cute.”

“It is cute,” Daphne said. “It’s adorable.”

I wrinkled my nose in her direction. Only Daphne was capable of making that word sound like an insult.

“If you’re going to this party tomorrow night to announce you’re running, you need to think very carefully about the image you’re projecting.”

I sniffed, toying with the edge of the skirt, which I’d managed to clean up into decent condition. “Does it look too cheap?”

Daphne rolled her eyes. “Dude, you bought it for fifty cents. It is cheap.” She shook her head. “But that’s not what I mean.”

I turned to face her image and caught her shoving a handful of popcorn in her mouth like she was watching Real Housewives on her screen and not her little sister trying on costumes. “Okay, I’ll bite. What do you mean?”

When Daphne hesitated, I stiffened. She only ever hesitated when she was afraid she was going to hurt my feelings.

“I mean, you want people to take you seriously, right?” She tilted her head to the side, and her gaze was unwavering even with two screens between them. “I know how much it gets to you when Miller doesn’t take you seriously—”

“It’s not just Miller,” I interrupted. I knew what she was trying to say, but my protest still seemed valid. This wasn’t about Miller—it was about my classmates.

Classmates who were making fun of me behind my back.

Classmates who thought I was cute and sweet and friendly, but who’ve never once asked me to a party.

Not that I wanted to party.

I didn’t.

I didn’t even want to go to tomorrow’s party, and I was the freakin’ co-host, whatever that meant.

“Daph, how exactly does one host a party?” I asked.

I saw her try to smother a smile. “Being the host means being in charge, the person people look up to,” she said.

I nodded. That I knew how to do, and my sister knew it. She’d always been good at speaking my language, phrasing things in a way I’d understand.

“I still need to talk to Miller, by the way.” I met my own gaze with pursed lips. “I need to figure out what, exactly, he’s up to.”

“Maybe he’s just trying to level the playing field,” Daphne offered.

My response was a bitter scoff.

“You barely know the guy,” Daphne started.

“I know enough.” I knew more than enough. Two years of being neck and neck, of being on opposite ends of every competition, and an ongoing rivalry—there was no better way to get to know a person.

If there was one thing I knew about Miller, it was that he was devious. Underhanded. There was no way he was offering to host this party with me out of the goodness of his heart. He probably had some sort of epic humiliation in store.

A vision of Carrie flashed through my head before I could shake it off.

Alright, fine, maybe I was a little paranoid, but when it came to Miller, it was always better to be prepared.

Which was why I needed to talk to him—without Mr. Gentry hovering around, and without a classroom full of people who worshiped the ground he walked on.

One party, and I was suddenly feeling the love from everyone too. I’d never had so many people go out of their way to talk to me in the halls before, not unless there was some sort of crisis that I needed to help sort out. A certain freshman year carwash disaster came to mind…

But no one had ever come up to me to gossip, or ask me what I would be wearing, or if I was dating the party’s main host.

I still couldn’t believe Mia Jackson had asked me that, right there in the parking lot on my way to the bus. Granted, I knew very well that Mia was angling for a spot on the newspaper staff, and I respected that—I truly did—but the question still had me reeling.

Me? And Miller?

Ew.

I mean, not to be childish about it, but…gross.

Sure, he was handsome. No one would ever deny that. It was an empirical fact. Miller Hardwell played on the football team, lived in The Heights, and was more attractive than the average man.

Fine, he was about twenty times more attractive than the average high school senior.

Empirically speaking, of course.

But that didn’t mean I was attracted to him, or that I ever could be. In order to be attracted to someone, I’d have to like them first. As a human being. It was imperative. That was just how I worked.