Free Ditched by Robin Mellom Page A

the games to see them twirl. She was real y dedicated to tightness-of-shirt detail.
    “Wait, did you get those dyed ?” Brianna said as she looped her arm through Al yson’s. Then she wrinkled her 80

    nose like she’d just sniffed a jar of rubber cement.
    Unfortunately, the tone of her voice went up so high when she asked the question that it summoned al the other girls in the room to turn around and look at me. Some of them I knew. Katie from pre-calculus. April from history.
    Rose from drama. Suzette from detention (which I only got once because of excessive tardies—Ian and I sometimes listened to music in the parking lot a little too long). They all stared, waiting to find out my answer to Brianna’s question.
    These were not supportive stares.
    And this was beginning to feel familiar.
    But none of these girls at this party knew the truth of what had happened at Jimmy DeFranco’s party. Only what was dished out over lunch when school started.
    They glared at me as I pressed myself against Dan’s sink, just like they’d been glaring at me since Hailey and I’d started our kissing game. But as I looked around, a few of their looks weren’t the unsupportive kind—they were the feeling-sorry-for-me kind. Which thankful y made me feel like a human—not merely a lunchtime topic.
    I decided the best approach was a direct one. Answer her question honestly and keep good posture. “Yes,” I said, as I pul ed my shoulders back. “I dyed them.” Al yson tilted her head. Brianna laughed and said, “So you thought the prom theme was an Easter egg hunt?” Which I’m sure she said for Al yson’s enjoyment, since she was the head of the prom planning committee. And that 81

    meant Al yson took al of this way too seriously.
    I wished Hailey was standing there with me. She’d roll and deflect and make these girls run away crying about their own shoes. I wanted to confront them—tel them they were rude and stuck-up. But no, I ended up babbling on with details of my Highly Involved Mother Horror Story and how it was her idea for me to wear matching shoes, trying to get their sympathy, I guess.
    Brianna stared at me blankly. “Um, gasp?” Everyone laughed.
    Time to get even more direct.
    “At least they match my dress . Not another person.” I looked straight at their matching feet.
    Al yson stepped back, probably shocked at my direct comment. Hel , I was shocked by my direct comment.
    “They’re Jimmy Choos,” she said.
    “They’re not even yours?” I tried to play dumb.
    Brianna tightened her lips. “No. That’s the designer.” She lifted her dress to make sure I could see them in their entirety. “These are four hundred and fifty dol ar shoes.” I had no comeback. I was talking to girls who were wearing shoes that cost as much as a car payment. I desperately needed Ian. He was always quick with the witty replies. But he was nowhere in the vicinity.
    Al yson squinted at me. “Who are you looking for?” Direct. Keep being direct. Don’t back down. This wil al be over soon, and you can move on to the kissing part of the night 82

    without having to resort to rude remarks. “I’m trying to find Ian.”
    The vision of Ian and Al yson at the Sadie Hawkins Dance popped into my head, and al I could do was stare at her lips. The ones he said he’d stared at the whole night.
    Al yson perked up. “Ian. Ian Clark ?”
    “Yeah, he’s my—”
    “Where is he?” Al yson turned to Brianna. “I have to talk to him.”
    My voice cracked. “But we’re—”
    It was too late. Al yson waltzed out of the kitchen in pursuit of Ian. Brianna stepped up to me. “By the way . . .
    love the matching rose.”
    She spoke sarcasm with an accent of evil.
    But I had a sense of sarcasm too. Not highly developed, but it was there.
    I touched a petal on my corsage and said. “Thanks. I hope the Easter Bunny likes it.” She had a confused look on her face when I pushed past her.
    Al yson had to be stopped. Why was she