"From the junior class," the dean continued. "Well, here's no surprise. Taylor Bell and Lance Reagan."
I cheered extra loud for Taylor, but as she walked past us, she hid behind her hair and kept her eyes trained on the floor. My spirits slumped along with her shoulders. I wished I could see her bounding up there all bubbly and excited. I missed the Taylor I'd met back in September.
"And finally, from the senior class..." Dean Marcus announced.
"Noelle Lange and Dash McCafferty," Diana recited with a slight eye roll and smile.
"What?" I said.
"They always win," Diana told me. "We're talking four semesters a year since seventh grade. Accept no substitutes."
Shocker.
"Ariana Osgood--"
There was an audible, chapelwide gasp, like we'd all just gone over the top of the highest hill on one massive roller coaster. Every single pair of eyes turned around to gape at Noelle, who was half out of her seat, and at Ariana, who was perched next to her as always, looking stunned. There was an awkward moment of suspended animation before Noelle plopped, more awkwardly than I've ever seen her do anything, back into the pew.
"And Dash McCafferty!" the dean finished.
When Dash got up, he looked deeply confused. Ariana whispered something to Noelle before sliding past her and joining Dash in the aisle. Together, they walked stiffly to the front of the
86
ch
apel. Anyone who was not watching Ariana was watching Noelle. She kept her eyes trained straight forward, but I could see her jaw clenching.
"What happened?" someone whispered.
"Noelle is going to throw a shit," someone else said.
Up on the stage, the dean lifted the jacket onto Ariana's shoulders. Never had I seen her smile so wide.
87
* * *
"How'd you do?" Constance asked me as we walked out of history class.
"Okay, I think."
I hugged my books to my chest and stepped sideways to get around a couple of the guys in my class. I just wanted out of here. Everywhere I went these days, I wanted out. Then I'd get to wherever I was going next and want out of there, too. At least I hadn't been forced to lie about the quiz. After my encounter with Josh the night before, I had been in a manic state of self-loathing and simultaneous euphoria that had made me more hyper than ten shots of espresso. With my desk light on half the night I had actually managed to study and absorb enough info to squeak by.
Thank God. Because after the head rush of the first-honors ceremony I had run to the post office to grab my grades. All B's. Every last one of them. Except for history. Barber, thanks to my stellar quiz grades, which I had only achieved due to Taylor's advice, had been forced to give me an A. Now that I had one, I
88
thought it might be nice to keep it. Maybe even earn another one somehow next semester. If I could just manage to stop obsessing about other things.
"So . . . what's the deal with you and Josh Hollis?" Constance asked.
"There's no deal with me and Josh," I lied.
I shoved open the door to the stairwell so hard I almost rearranged April Park's face. She scowled at me. Her founders' jacket was obviously lined with bravado. Already she was high on the instant fame.
"Sorry," I said.
Suddenly her face seemed to register who I was and she ducked past me without a word. Yeah. Billings Girl and Pearson widow trump first honors and founders' jacket, freshman. Keep walking.