signaling an end to my Woodlawn High Skin debut. And I was feeling down. Not only was I wearing a magical popularity suit, but Kylie Frank's feverish Sam Klein search had also, inadvertently, triggered a viral marketing campaign. And it all amounted to a big nothing. The Sam Klein buzz around school was still more mosquito than queen bee.
I was hopeless. The pen was uncapped but the page was still empty. The redraft of my life was suffering from major writer's block.
"Well, if it isn't the girl of the hour," Gwen said, coming up behind me, "Seriously, what's going on?"
"What do you mean?" I asked carefully, shoving my head inside my locker as far as it would go. Some conversations were just best conducted without any sort of eye contact.
108
"I mean, why did Señora Reynolds have to pass a 'no se habla Sam Klein' rule in my Spanish class?"
"She did?" I asked, trying to sound surprised. Gwen nodded. "Yep. And Kylie Frank started a fire in chemistry."
"Really?" I swallowed.
"She was passing around your yearbook picture and accidentally knocked over her Bunsen burner. Mrs. Hecht had to break out the extinguisher and everything." Gwen eyed me skeptically. "Why would Kylie Frank care about you-or your yearbook picture?"
"Gee, thanks," I said, trying to look indignant despite the fact that Gwen's suspicion more than made sense. "That's a really nice thing to say."
"C'mon, Sam," she pushed. "You know what I mean."
I stared at my feet, too ashamed to tell the truth. Gwen wouldn't understand. She'd hate me.
And she'd be completely justified.
Give it back, I thought. The words flashed red through my brain. It doesn't even work, so just give it back.
I could have stopped it all there. I could have closed the shoe box, relinquishing my almost-hold on the stilettos. I'd taken them out for a practice spin-and fallen flat on my face. Forget Keds. I was more of an orthotics girl.
109
But I wasn't ready for the return. I was willing to tough it out. Blisters, calluses, the works. No pain, no gain.
I shrugged. "I have no idea. Maybe it's, like, a neighborhood thing."
Gwen stared at me pointedly, as if waiting for an "I'm a big fat liar" thought bubble to burst out of my mouth. Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Did you do something to your hair?"
"No, why?"
"I don't know," Gwen said in a voice laced with skepticism. "You just look different."
Great, I thought. My first day in the Skin and all it gets me is twin interrogations from my mother and my best friend, two people who hate popularity about as much as I hate math.
She glanced down at her watch. "Whatever. Let's go. I'm making osso bucco for dinner and need to stop at Whole Foods on the way home."
I took a tentative step forward, then froze as a fresh problem presented itself to me.
I couldn't go home.
Well, I could, but Kylie would definitely be waiting for me...and it'd be really nice to delay that particular confrontation for as long as possible. Like, till the next millennium.
"Listen," I said to Gwen. "You go ahead without me. I have some research to do in the library."
"Research? For what?"
110
"History," I said, talking fast. "Call me later, okay? Hope the osso-whatever turns out great."
"Uh, fine," Gwen said, squinting at me like I was some sort of strange, possibly poisonous mushroom. "I'll see you tomorrow."
I watched her walk away, feeling like something uncomfortable had just started between us. I wasn't exactly sure what it was, but I knew I was the one who'd started it.
Twenty minutes later, I was doing something I'd never, ever done before. I was attending an actual school event. Since I'd chosen randomly and said event hadn't actually started yet, I couldn't, at that moment, give any specifics. But I had a feeling whatever I was about to watch was sports-related. The fact that I was sitting in the bleachers staring at the field was a pretty big giveaway.
It wasn't like I was anti-extracurricular or anything. But freshman year Gwen had vowed
I was hopeless. The pen was uncapped but the page was still empty. The redraft of my life was suffering from major writer's block.
"Well, if it isn't the girl of the hour," Gwen said, coming up behind me, "Seriously, what's going on?"
"What do you mean?" I asked carefully, shoving my head inside my locker as far as it would go. Some conversations were just best conducted without any sort of eye contact.
108
"I mean, why did Señora Reynolds have to pass a 'no se habla Sam Klein' rule in my Spanish class?"
"She did?" I asked, trying to sound surprised. Gwen nodded. "Yep. And Kylie Frank started a fire in chemistry."
"Really?" I swallowed.
"She was passing around your yearbook picture and accidentally knocked over her Bunsen burner. Mrs. Hecht had to break out the extinguisher and everything." Gwen eyed me skeptically. "Why would Kylie Frank care about you-or your yearbook picture?"
"Gee, thanks," I said, trying to look indignant despite the fact that Gwen's suspicion more than made sense. "That's a really nice thing to say."
"C'mon, Sam," she pushed. "You know what I mean."
I stared at my feet, too ashamed to tell the truth. Gwen wouldn't understand. She'd hate me.
And she'd be completely justified.
Give it back, I thought. The words flashed red through my brain. It doesn't even work, so just give it back.
I could have stopped it all there. I could have closed the shoe box, relinquishing my almost-hold on the stilettos. I'd taken them out for a practice spin-and fallen flat on my face. Forget Keds. I was more of an orthotics girl.
109
But I wasn't ready for the return. I was willing to tough it out. Blisters, calluses, the works. No pain, no gain.
I shrugged. "I have no idea. Maybe it's, like, a neighborhood thing."
Gwen stared at me pointedly, as if waiting for an "I'm a big fat liar" thought bubble to burst out of my mouth. Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Did you do something to your hair?"
"No, why?"
"I don't know," Gwen said in a voice laced with skepticism. "You just look different."
Great, I thought. My first day in the Skin and all it gets me is twin interrogations from my mother and my best friend, two people who hate popularity about as much as I hate math.
She glanced down at her watch. "Whatever. Let's go. I'm making osso bucco for dinner and need to stop at Whole Foods on the way home."
I took a tentative step forward, then froze as a fresh problem presented itself to me.
I couldn't go home.
Well, I could, but Kylie would definitely be waiting for me...and it'd be really nice to delay that particular confrontation for as long as possible. Like, till the next millennium.
"Listen," I said to Gwen. "You go ahead without me. I have some research to do in the library."
"Research? For what?"
110
"History," I said, talking fast. "Call me later, okay? Hope the osso-whatever turns out great."
"Uh, fine," Gwen said, squinting at me like I was some sort of strange, possibly poisonous mushroom. "I'll see you tomorrow."
I watched her walk away, feeling like something uncomfortable had just started between us. I wasn't exactly sure what it was, but I knew I was the one who'd started it.
Twenty minutes later, I was doing something I'd never, ever done before. I was attending an actual school event. Since I'd chosen randomly and said event hadn't actually started yet, I couldn't, at that moment, give any specifics. But I had a feeling whatever I was about to watch was sports-related. The fact that I was sitting in the bleachers staring at the field was a pretty big giveaway.
It wasn't like I was anti-extracurricular or anything. But freshman year Gwen had vowed
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