Bevan vs. Evan Read online

  “Yeah,” I said. “I guess. You’re right, it’s been a while. It sounds like you’ve been really busy.”

  Awkward pause.

  “So. Yeah,” he continued. “I was wondering if you wanted to, um, go bowling Friday night?”

  Bowling? How cute! Bevan had told me he’s only been bowling, like, once in his life. So I guess he’s not afraid to look stupid in front of me. I’d told him I’d show him a thing or two.

  “Yeah, I think I’m free,” I said (playing hard to get, ha-ha). “Let’s do it.”

  “Cool.”

  “Cool.”

  “So, I’ll see you at school tomorrow?” he asked.

  “Yep. I don’t plan on being a delinquent.”

  I was glad he called, but then, for some reason, I decided to go online and see who was there. And now I realize, I wasn’t just looking to see if “just anyone” was there. My mind had wandered to Evan. Before I had a chance to IM him, a message popped up on my screen. Here’s our convo:

  Evan: “Hey u!”

  My heart actually skipped a beat. What is happening to me?

  Maddy: “Hi!”

  Evan: “Whatchu up 2?”

  Maddy: “Meh. Not much. Just hangin’. Soooo tired.”

  Evan: “Grueling Grizzly practice?”

  Ugh. I hate lying, but I’m not ready to tell him about my plan to possibly try out for the Titans.

  Maddy: “Yuppers.”

  Evan: “.”

  Maddy: “Totes.”

  Evan: “U should relax. I’ll check on u l8r.”

  He is sooo sweet, thinking about me like that.

  We said good-bye and signed off. Finally! Time to really pass out. I closed my computer and went to take off my earrings. When I looked in the mirror, I saw that I was smiling ear to ear.

  And you know what? This smile isn’t from Bevan asking me out to go bowling. It’s from talking to Evan!!! Gah! Cray-zee-ness.

  Thursday, February 17

  Morning, outside Mr. Hobart’s classroom

  Song Level:

  Titans on My Mind

  This morning I was still in a pretty good mood from my convo with Evan last night, PLUS the fact that Bevan actually acknowledged that I exist and asked me out for tomorrow. Things were going well for little ol’ moi, Madison Hays. I ate a delish breakfast (Pop-Tarts all the way), tried to ignore the goofy way Mom was acting all morning (parents are weird), AND when we got in the car, my fave song was on the radio (I heart Bruno Mars). Not a bad start to the day, right?

  Sigh. Little did I know that surprises awaited me at the School of Doom. I sashayed through the big clonking doors at school and found myself face-to-face with a poster. It wasn’t just an ordinary poster—nothing like those neon-colored flyers that people throw all over the school’s walls advertising “Math Club Party!” or “Save the Lizards of Laos!” Nope. I was face-to-face with a poster for the annual Sunshine Dance that’s just three weeks away.

  Here’s the thing: The Sunshine Dance is a HUGE STINKING DEAL. This isn’t a girls-on-one-side-of-the-dance-floor-boys-on-the-other kind of dance. It’s the first serious dance anyone ever goes to at our school. This will be my first time going to it. Everyone knows that people will be dressed in their absolute best outfits, and EVERYONE who plans on going will be going with a date.

  As I stood there pondering my dilemma, two girls came skittering to a screeching halt in front of the poster.

  “Ohmigod!” one girl squealed. “Only a couple more weeks! And I don’t even have shoes yet!”

  Um. Shoes? I didn’t even remember it was HAPPENING until two seconds ago.

  “Seriously,” her friend said. “You better get shopping before they’re all out of cute stuff. I bought my dress and shoes months ago. And my dad reserved us a limo. Eeeeeee!”

  Dress? Shoes? LIMO? I am so behind.

  I walked in a daze toward my locker, wondering how I missed this. I’m sure people have been talking about this dance for weeks now, and I’ve just been oblivious. Really, how does something like this take me by surprise? Oh. Yeah. Right. Maybe it has something to do with my secret training for Titan tryouts. Guess I’ve been a little preoccupied (u think?) If there’s one thing I like more than anything (or at least as much as cheer), it is dreaming up an outfit for a fun occasion. And this is the occasion of occasions!

  I started to mentally flip through the pages of dresses that I’ve been dying to design but haven’t had a reason to wear. (I’ve got quite a catalog up there.)

  Suddenly, a voice interrupted me. “So did you see the posters are finally up?”

  I turned to see Lanie, fighting hard to not be at all excited about the dance of the year. Dances and ordinary social events are not Lanie’s thing. HOWEVER, I know that deep down, Lanie Marks is just as excited as, say, Clementine Prescott is at the idea of getting glammed up (in Lanie’s own way, of course) and maybe dancing with a boy. She is human, after all (or at least I think so).

  “Yeah,” I said, fiddling with my locker combination to jumble up the code. “Did you know this was coming so soon? Because those posters are the first I’ve heard of it.”

  Lanie rolled her eyes. “Have you been living under a pom-pom? It’s all anyone ever talks about these days. The excitement must be infectious or something, because brace yourself—I think I want to go.”

  “I can just see it now, you entering the dance in a sparkly hot-pink dress and breaking it down to a techno beat.”

  Lanie laughed. “Right. That’s exactly what’ll happen. So . . .” She looked at me expectantly. “I assume you’ll be going with B?”

  Funny . . . with all my excitement about the dress-up part of the dance, I hadn’t even thought about the whole date part.

  “Well, actually . . . not as of yet,” I said, shaking my head with a frown. It seems I’m not the only one who’s on Sunshine Dance delay. Hmph.

  Lanie made a face like it was no biggie. “Well, you know Bevan. He’s probably just been so into his sports that the dance hasn’t made it to his brain yet.”

  I chewed the inside of my lip, trying to think back to our conversation last night. Why hadn’t he just asked me then? Maybe he wanted to wait for our bowling date to ask me in person. . . .

  “The good news is, he finally asked me to go out on another date. I was starting to think he’d forgotten my screen name.”

  “Ooh, that’s good,” said Lanie, perking up. “Definitely a step in the dance direction,” she added.

  She must have seen me looking all distant because she quickly said, “Remember, he’s a dude. Dudes don’t live for things like dances. Not like girls do.” She lowered her eyes. “I mean, girls except for me.”

  “Okay, Miss I-Think-I-Want-to-Go,” I snarked.

  Just then we saw everyone scurrying to class. “Guess we should mosey on to Torture Session Number One,” I said.

  Lanie patted me on the back. “He’ll ask you, don’t worry.”

  “Yeah, yeah . . . we’ll see.”

  I was almost the last person to arrive at Mr. Hobart’s class, and everyone knows that Mr. H is a total dragon about people being late. I once heard about this one kid who was always late. Mr. H made him solve every problem in a math book before he was allowed to leave detention. He actually made the kid come back the next afternoon to finish up! I’m actually surprised Mr. H didn’t just make him spend the night. Imagine, having to spend a night with Mr. Hobart. Talk about a nightmare sleepover!

  I took my usual seat three rows from the front of the classroom. It’s been my seat this whole year. The rule is, once you choose your seat on the first day, it becomes your designated spot (unofficially), so you better like it. I don’t make up the rules; it’s just the way it is here in Port Angeles. Katie and Clem, who are also in my class (lucky me!), have always sat diagonal from me. But lately, they’ve both moved to the extra chairs in the last row of the classroom. (Apparently, rules don’t apply to them.) I have a feeling it has something to do with me, because
whenever Clem and Katie walk by, they snicker as they pass me, and practically sprint to their new seats. It’s like I’m the kid who peed in her pants who everyone else wants to avoid.

  Right after I sat down, Katie and Clem walked into class. Of course, THEY didn’t seem to be in any kind of rush. Mr. Hobart has a soft spot for the Titans, so they sauntered in, taking their time. Clementine actually stopped by the window to gaze at her reflection and fluff her hair. Ugh.

  So then, they both purposely walked past MY desk, which is totally unnecessary. As Clementine passed me, she mumbled “Ew,” and Katie laughed.

  I can’t stand it anymore. WHY, OH WHY, AM I THEIR NEW FAVORITE PUNCHING BAG?

  It’s not like I expected us to be trading friendship bracelets after we got back from our little bonding episode in New York. But I thought Katie and I had an understanding about Titan tryouts. We shared stuff with each other. Secrets. I know she hasn’t told anyone on her team about her trying out for dance school. Does she think maybe I told someone and this is her way of getting back at me? Why did she even offer to train me in the first place, and say all that nice stuff about what a good cheerleader I am, if she planned on acting this way once we got back to school? It doesn’t make an ounce of sense.

  Anyway, I decided to try to find out what her big problemo was. When Mr. Hobart was busy writing out an extremely long and complicated equation (his favorite kind) on the blackboard, I took my chance. I quickly wrote a little note to Katie and ripped it out of my binder.

  I passed it to the person behind me and motioned for that person to pass it to Katie. Katie saw me point to her, and she actually didn’t make a face. It looked like she was impatient to get the note. Weird! I watched the note make its way toward the back of the classroom, when of course, Clementine grabbed it. Katie looked scared for a minute. But as soon as Clementine turned to hand it to her, Katie’s expression quickly went from fear to disgust. It was like I was watching a little switch go on. A switch that says “Act Mean to Maddy Now!”

  That’s when I realized that maybe Katie doesn’t want to treat me this way. Maybe it’s all just an act. But still, I don’t know the reason behind it.

  Katie read the letter as Clementine watched her. Katie folded it back up, shrugged, and made the “crazy in the head” motion with her finger and shoved it into her pocket. Obvs she was calling me loco.

  It’s beyond ridiculous!

  After class I put my books in my bag and waited for Katie to walk past me. I was going to grab her and tell her we need to talk, but she flew out of class like someone had planted a stink bomb. Or, actually, like the stink bomb was me.

  Katie wasn’t going to let me talk to her. At all. I am fuming! She has a lot of nerve! I need to catch Lanes before lunch and tell her what’s going on—I don’t want to do it when Evan’s around. Not because I like keeping secrets from him, but I know he’s friends with Katie so . . . more later!

  AFTER LUNCH, IN THE CAF

  Even though I texted Lanes that this was an emergenceeee, and that she should meet me as early as she could at lunch, she was NOT THERE! Some friend SHE is (I joke, I joke). I hope she has a good excuse for leaving me hangin’. Like, maybe she fell into her locker by mistake and got trapped inside?

  Or maybe a pack of wild emo kids kidnapped her and gave her those huge, obnoxious bangs they all wear, and she couldn’t see her way to the cafeteria?

  Whatever. I’m annoyed that she’s not here for her BFF in my time of need.

  Feeling alone and friendless (okay, I’m being dramatic), I made my way to the lunch line. It was a good day in terms of lunch choices: pasta bar or build-your-own baked potato. I didn’t think either of those choices allowed for the mean cafeteria ladies to throw slime, monkey guts, or mystery meat into the recipes (unlike when they serve Bratwurst Surprise). Yum!

  I was waiting in line for my fettuccine Alfredo with a splash of tomato sauce (delish!) when Evan popped up behind me in line. I’m pretty much always happy to see Evan, but today I was hoping to get to Lanie before he showed.

  “So,” he asked. “What’ll it be?” He pointed to the different lunch options. “Door number one or door number two?”

  “Oh, I’m all about the pasta bar. Baked potato? Eh.”

  He grabbed a lunch tray from the edge of the counter. “Well, me, I love taking a baked potato with all the fixins’ and melting everything together in the microwave.” He winked. “It’s my special secret.”

  I patted him on the back. “Be careful, buddy,” I whispered. “People on line might hear you.”

  “Good call. You always have my back,” he said, smiling at me. “Literally.”

  And not to say that Evan doesn’t smile when we’re together, but this smile looked a little different from his usual. He seemed downright giddy.

  “Duh, what are friends for?” I said.

  “Speaking of . . . friend, we haven’t hung out in a while.”

  I could sense Evan getting a little nervous. Like he was afraid I might say I was busy with Bevan. Which has definitely happened in the past, so I guess I understand.

  “I know! What’s up with that?” I asked innocently.

  Evan shrugged. “Anyway, you want to, like, um—” He took a breath. “You wanna hang out sometime this week? Maybe tonight, after practice and stuff?”

  Obviously Evan and I had hung out once or twice (or try hundreds) of times. But THIS time, the way he asked felt different. I felt different. Literally, my heart was booming out of my chest at the idea of hanging out just the two of us. Bizarro.

  “Um, yeah! That would be cool.”

  Inside my head I did a little “V Is for Victory” dance. Something good finally happened today!

  We made our way to our usual table, and lo and behold, there was Lanes.

  Lanie looked from Evan to me, and then back to Evan. “Whoa, did I just miss something? Why are you both blushing? Did you both, like, trip over milk on the way over here?”

  Ack! Awkward. Must change subject fast.

  “Excuse me, missy, but is there a reason you didn’t answer my text before?”

  Lanie held up her phone and rolled her eyes. “I would have, if my phone hadn’t just coughed its last breath.”

  Oops.

  I sat down and mixed my marinara sauce around my plate until the whole thing was a pinkish-rose color. It was a pasta masterpiece!

  “So,” said Lanie. “Is anyone else here going to barf if one more person mentions the stupid Sunshine Dance?”

  As soon as the words escaped her mouth, I caught Evan looking at me, but when he saw me notice, he coughed and looked away.

  “I’ve kind of had other problems to deal with today,” I said.

  Lanie turned to me, with a concerned expression on her face. “Oh yeah? Dish.”

  But I didn’t want Evan to hear me whine about Katie. Foot in mouth much? “Oh, just some dumb quiz I was so not prepared for at all in Hobart’s class.”

  “Really?” asked Evan. “I didn’t have a quiz in mine.”

  “Um, uh,” I stammered. “It was a special quiz. Just for our class. Because most people didn’t do their homework.” I tried to smile but knew it looked insincere.

  It was a good thing Lanie wasn’t done with her I-Hate-the-Sunshine-Dance speech.

  “I just feel like the whole school has a one-track mind these days. I can’t even go to the bathroom without hearing about someone’s stupid dress or date.”

  Again, at the word “date,” Evan stole another glance at me. T.G. Lanie didn’t notice these awkward eye contact exchanges!

  “Yeah, it is a little out of control,” I agreed.

  “Luckily, guys don’t have to worry about dresses and stuff like that,” said Evan.

  “You are lucky,” said Lanie. “It’s totally different for guys.”

  “And you can go alone and no one will think you’re a loser, because guys are the ones who ask the girls,” I added.

  “True. And even though dances are la
me, it would still be nice to not always have to go to them alone,” Lanie agreed.

  “Lanes, the last dance we went to was our recital for ballroom dance class, when we were, like, seven. And I think I was your date.”

  Evan laughed, which made a piece of his rigatoni fly out of his mouth onto the table. “Now that is something I would have paid to see.”

  Lanie rolled her eyes. “Trust me, only Maddy was good at it. I looked like a total spazz.”

  I slapped Lanie on the shoulder. “Nah, you were great!”

  “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, I’m thinking I’m not gonna go to this thing after all.”

  She tried to say it like it was so not a big deal, but I know Lanie.

  “Lanes!” Evan and I said at the same time. “C’mon.”

  Lanie crossed her arms over her chest. “I can see it now. I’ll be sitting on the bleachers next to Abby Lincoln while everyone else slow-dances to Florence and the Machine.”

  Side note: Abby Lincoln is the gawkiest girl in our class. She’s notorious for wearing these awful sweaters with kittens on them, every day WITHOUT fail. Like the kind your aunt would buy you for your birthday that you would never be caught dead in. She has only one friend in the entire school, and she’s imaginary. I think her name is Penny.

  Poor Lanie was on her way to Downersville. I had to jump in before she did something drastic. Like stage a protest against all dances.

  “Lanes, let’s not talk about dates and stuff like that. What about outfits? Aren’t you excited to wear something so totally Lane-tastic that no one else would have the imagination to put together?”

  Lanie looked at me from the corner of her eye. “Hmm. Good point. I do like getting dressed up. . . .”

  Evan rose from the table, his tray in hand. “All right. Girl-talk time. See you later!”

  We waved good-bye to Evan.

  Lanie turned to face me. “Let’s say I do go to this horrible dance. What do you think would work better? Tuxedo pants and a vintage 1940s-style top? Or should I go more traditional with a velvet pantsuit? Fitted, of course.”