Free The Last Boy and Girl in the World by Siobhan Vivian

them. Rushing back to the open gym door, I almost slipped twice more. The other shoe had probably fallen out, I bet while Jesse was spinning me. I scanned the parking lot for it but I saw only glistening water, a shallow lake growing deeper by the second.
    â€œCan’t let you back out there, Keeley,” Coach Dean cautioned. I tried pleading with him, but he guided me aside and called out, “Slow down!” to more kids who were now following our lead and running through the rain toward the gym. Shaking his head, he hurried over to speak with Principal Bundy, but she had her phone pressed to one ear and her hand covering the other.
    And then I was surrounded by girls, chorusing how insanely romantic it was, me dancing in the rain with Jesse, like we were the stars of a movie. Emma from Algebra II, Trish from my study hall, June whose locker was next to mine. They applauded me, called me the MVP of Spring Formal.
    â€œHey, Keeley! Smile for yearbook!”
    Even though I was soaking wet, I grinned as best I could with my teeth chattering, and gave a goofy thumbs-up to David, the boy holding the camera. Luckily, the adrenaline running through me kept me from feeling the cold.
    Morgan slid through to my side. She was wet too, but not as wet as me. She had a wad of napkins in her hand. Shivering, I took half the stack and told her, “I’m sorry but I think I lost one of your shoes in the parking lot.” People laughed as if that were a joke.
    The briefest flash of disappointment crossed her face before she touched my arm and said, “It’s fine. We’ll come back tomorrow morning and look for it.”
    I glanced around. “Where’s Elise?”
    â€œShe went to get us some paper towels from the cafeteria.” Morgan put her hand on my back and said, “I’m going to take off my jacket. I’ll meet you in the bathroom.”
    â€œGot it.” I hurried to the bathroom, slapping five with a few more people before I pushed open the door.
    It was empty.
    Maybe it was because I was suddenly quiet that I finally noticed the pitter-patter sounds of water dripping off me and onto the floor. My jacket hung heavy, the wet down feathers like lead, and I felt the rain that had collected in my crappy rain boots sloshing around my feet.
    I leaned in to the mirror. My hair was a straight-up mess. The bun had uncoiled, leaving a soggy puff behind my left ear, and my braids had started to come undone. I quickly pulled out the bobby pins and ran my fingers through my hair. It was sticky from the hairspray. Then I turned to the paper towel dispenser and spun the crank fast, sending a spool of thin brown paper unfurling to the floor. I ripped it off and wiped my face clean, the paper immediately disintegrating into ropy bits. I started reapplying eyeliner, but my hands were shaking too badly, so I shoved it back into my purse and figured I’d just do a touch-up of lipstick and some blush.
    Elise came in with two rolls of paper towels. Actual paper towels, the white kind that people have in their kitchens. They felt as absorbent as beach towels compared to that brown paper crap.
    â€œThank God for you,” I said. “I think this stuff is actually just really thin pieces of cardboard.”
    â€œYou don’t look bad. You look wet, but not bad.”
    â€œI’ll take it,” I said, laughing.
    Then a song we knew, the one we’d likely be blasting all summer long, came pulsing through the tile walls. We screamed and hurried up, desperate to dance.
    â€œBundy better let us stay late,” I said, pulling out my lipstick.
    â€œYes! Yes! Keeley, you should ask her!” Elise said, leaning against one of the sinks.
    â€œYeah, right. Bundy hates me almost as much as I hate her.”
    â€œI don’t get it. You’re on honor roll every semester.”
    Even now, I still find that crazy. I’d been a very good student, mostly As and Bs, always on honor