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  I rolled my eyes and took it out of her hands. “Anything else?” I asked before walking outside.

  Abby shook her head. “Nope,” she said, filling a pot with water. “This is all me.” She set the pot on the stove and turned on the flame. Then she smiled at me. “Round eight.”

  I laughed and headed out the front door, checking my appearance on the way. There could be a chance (even a slim chance) Cameron would be out there. Or he could catch a glimpse of me from his window. I made sure I looked good just in case.

  But holding a trash bag wasn’t very attractive.

  I hurried down the driveway and to the edge of the road. I slung the bag into the gray bin, using all of my strength. When the bag left my hands, I let out a whoosh of air. That was heavy. Good thing I hadn’t dropped it or something.

  As I was turning to head back, I heard a front door close across the street. Cameron? Man, did I hope it was him and not his father. It was hard for me to keep myself from swiveling around and screaming, “Cameron!” I managed to turn slowly and look over my shoulder.

  Indeed it was him.

  He was wearing all black and was walking down the driveway. He held his phone and was clicking the screen intently.

  My heart was beating so loudly, I was surprised he didn’t think an earthquake was coming. I took a few deep breaths and then said, “Cameron?”

  He hadn’t heard me.

  I cleared my throat and tried again. “Cameron?” I called over to him, louder this time. My voice hadn’t cracked which was a plus.

  Cameron’s head jerked up and at me. I smiled and waved as nonchalantly as possible, willing myself to act normal.

  He stared at me for a second and then kept walking. His face went back down to his phone and his fingers back to the screen. He was ignoring me.

  My first thought was to run back into my house, screaming and crying. But I couldn’t do that. That was way too dramatic. But my next thought was to plop down right then and there and confess my love to him. No way.

  So I settled with calling out to him again. “Cameron, what’s up?” I hoped I didn’t sound needy. That would be the worst. No guys liked girls that kept bugging them. Apparently that was a major turn off.

  Cameron stopped walking and swiveled around. “My father got you calling me that?” he asked, his voice deeper than usual.

  My face twisted in confusion. “Calling you what?” I asked, taking a step in his direction. Why was he looking at me like that?

  Cameron’s eyebrows were pushed together in a look of disgust. “My name is Cam. Not Cameron.” His voice was bitter.

  I scratched my head. “But you said you hated it when people called you that,” I pointed out, recalling the many times where he would practically bite the hand off of anyone who referred to him as such.

  Cameron shook his head. “Don’t call me Cameron, alright?” He seemed super peeved and the last thing I wanted to do was get on his bad side.

  “Okay… Cam,” I agreed lightly, trying to brighten the mood. “What’re you up to tonight?” I stole a glance back at his dark clothing. My inference would be that he was either a) going to hang out with cool people, b) going to rob a bank, or c) going to rob a bank with cool people. Either one, I knew he did not expect me to join him.

  Cam rolled his eyes and stared toward his car, apparently impatient at my intrusion. “I can tell you one thing,” he said, meeting my eyes, “my plans don’t involve you, sweetheart.”

  Sweetheart? Since when did Cameron — I mean, Cam — call me sweetheart? I felt a blush blow across my cheeks. I didn’t know what was up with Cam but having him call me pet names wasn’t too bad.

  I quickly shook out of my daze. “Um… what exactly are those plans?” I asked, immediately regretting my asking. Why would he tell me? It’s probably some cool party he was invited to that didn’t include my presence. Now I put him in the situation where he’s going to have to let me down easy. Argh! I’ll be embarrassed for life!

  But Cam didn’t seem fazed by my asking. He actually seemed amused at my persistence. “Listen, angel face. You’re kinda wasting my time,” he answered with yet another pet name. “I’ve got some important things on my agenda that have got to be finished tonight.” He took a step towards me, his incredibly bright eyes peering into mine. “So if you’d just run along like a sweet little girl, then that’d be nice.”

  I stood there, watching him with confusion. “What’s wrong with your eyes?” I asked, cocking my head to the side. I knew that Cam had the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. Those eyes were ubiquitous in my dreams, both night dreams and daydreams.

  Cam rubbed at his eyes in annoyance. “There’s nothing wrong with my eyes, chick! Alright?” He raked a tense hand through his spiky white-blond (white-blond?) hair. “What’s wrong with you people?”

  I stared at him, contemplating whether I should answer the question or let it remain rhetorical. But I didn’t have a chance to decide. Cam was already making his way over to his car, never looking back.

  I watched as he hopped into his silver sports car and raced away into the night, leaving me standing there stranded on the lawn.

  Chapter Seven

  Cameron

  Monday morning, I stared at the names listed on the sheet for homecoming court. I was completely surprised to see my name on it. But at the same time I was completely satisfied. I guess finally talking to people paid off. Look where it landed me.

  “Et tú, Cameron?” Armando asked. He came up behind me and clapped me on the back. “You made it on court as well?”

  I shrugged innocently, trying to avoid my so craved for response of “I DID! I DID! I DID!” Instead, I cocked my head to the side and said in a humble way, “It still surprises me, dude.”

  Armando chuckled in response, shoving my shoulder. “It doesn’t surprise me! You belong on that list, my man!” He seemed happier to see me on the list than himself. But that was just Armando. Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky.

  I clapped him on the back as well. “Hey, you made it on the list, too. Congrats to you, my friend.” His being on the list wasn’t much of a surprise either. To put it humbly, the two of us kind of rolled with the hot shots of the school. There was no doubt he would be on the list.

  Armando just sighed. “Come on,” he said, “you know I was just voted in because of my girlfriend. Why else would everyone vote for the new guy in town?” He asked this with genuine modesty. Any accomplishment he had, he would always credit it to either Hudson or her father. Sometimes it was annoying.

  I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Or they voted you because you’re, I don’t know, six foot four with good looks and a gazillion championship swimming medals to your name,” I said truthfully. Armando was seen as a god around here.

  But he just sighed, ceasing to absorb any of my compliments. He was never good at receiving those either. He was just too humble.

  I glanced back at the list, looking for any other nominees. Besides me, Armando, and Hudson; a girl named Anjolie Rivers, my friend Dave Smith, and his girlfriend Tanya White were included on the list. No surprise there. Dave and Tanya practically ruled the school since junior high. It would be an even bigger astonishment if they weren’t on the list.

  “Dave and Tanya made it?” Armando asked with mock surprise. “I can’t believe it! Who voted for them?” I chuckled at his joke. “It’s a small school, dude.” Armando laughed as he gathered his things and left toward the men’s locker room. I nodded to no one in particular.

  Now that Armando was gone, I took the time to contemplate the exact accomplishment this was for me to be on homecoming court. Thirteen years of trying to fit in finally paid the price. It just goes to show that you don’t need to hang out all the time after school. Just being a great guy with a great personality — and, in my case, good looks — is all it takes to be noticed. Even if you never get to see nighttime.

  Or go to the dances.

  I sighed with realization that this would be yet another dance I would ha
ve to miss due to my condition. Missing out on all of the other dances was fine by me, but this time, I actually needed to be there. I was a nominee. It was supposed to be a special night for me. But of course, I couldn't attend. All this work for absolutely nothing.

  I sighed and moved away from the list on the wall, relapsing into another self-pity fest. Just as I was about to leave, Anjolie appeared by my side.

  “Hey, Cameron.” She greeted me coolly, giving me a nod. “You looking at the list too?” She peered down the list and, finding her name, smiled in jubilation.

  I quickly snapped out of my pity fest. “Uh, yeah,” I answered, giving her a sweet smile. “I made it on the court, too.” I leaned nonchalantly against the wall, hoping I looked at least a little bit cool.

  She smiled knowingly, crossing her thin, pale arms. “Of course you made it on the court, Sloane.” She shoved my shoulder. “Mr. Big-Man-On-Campus.” Her sly smile was cunning yet alluring.

  I giggled nervously. There were many pretty girls on the planet, but not very many eerily pretty girls. Anjolie was stunning. Her looks were ravishing. With her abundance of long, curly, white-blond locks and her large, white-gray, slanted eyes, she was every boy’s fantasy. If I didn’t like Olive so much then I’m pretty sure she’d be my fantasy as well.

  “So, Sloane,” she said, placing a delicate hand onto her jutting hip, “how about me and you partner up for the court?”

  By the way she was looking at me, I didn’t feel like I had a choice. “Sure thing, Anjolie,” I said. Hudson and Armando were obviously partners, as well as Dave and Tanya. I had no choice but to partner with Anjolie. And even if I did have a choice, I think I would still choose her.

  Anjolie smiled happily. “Okay, Cameron,” she said, “I’ll see you at the rehearsal.” She winked at me and spun on her heel. Her white scarf was the last to disappear around the corner.

  It took quite some time for me to finally get off the wall. It took even longer for me to remove the smile from my mouth. I get to be her partner. I imagined walking in the parade with her bony arm in mine, dazzling the crowd at the dance—

  But then I sighed heavily, wondering when I’d get up the courage to tell her that I wouldn’t be able to make it that night. But knowing me, I’d probably never get the courage.

  ****

  It seemed like Olive was ignoring me all day. When I would see her in the hallway, she would haul it out of sight in a nanosecond. She would hardly acknowledge my presence in class and she would barely keep up any of my conversations.

  And she kept calling me Cam.

  “Olive, you know I hate it when people call me Cam,” I said as sweetly as I could after hearing her call me Cam for the umpteenth time that day. I could’ve sworn I’d made it clear to her the day I told her about my pet peeves. Of all people, she should know.

  “Sorry, Cam, but you told me to call you that a few nights ago, so I’m sticking to it,” she snapped.

  I gasped in shock. Two things astounded me in that one sentence alone. One, why was she snapping at me? Two, when in the world did she talk to me — at night?

  “Uh… when exactly was that?” I asked, scratching the back of my head in irritation. I could not for the life of me remember talking to her after school. And if I couldn’t remember, then of course this so-called conversation had to take place after blackout time — a.k.a. seven o’clock.

  “I don’t know,” she said, placing her Spanish book onto one of her locker shelves. “Like, seven fifteen Wednesday night?” she answered.

  Olive was talking to me? Wednesday night? But I was blacked out! How could she have talked to me? Sweat began to gather on my forehead.

  I tried my best to play it cool. “Uh, I was probably not myself that night?” I said, my answer more like a question. How was I supposed to explain my talking to her at seven fifteen at night?

  Olive just rolled her eyes and shut her locker. “Okie dokie,” she said, not meeting my eyes again.

  I sighed and walked away. Just play it cool, Cameron. Just play it cool.

  But how could I if the girl I liked was talking to my unconscious body?

  Chapter Eight

  Olive

  I sat in study hall, frowning. I did not appreciate the way Cam — I’m sorry, Cameron — had treated me that night. What was with the pet names? And how come he talked like that? And why in the world did he look as if he were put on a low contrast setting or something? His hair was white-blond and he had gray eyes. What was up with that?

  “You look either constipated, or frustrated,” Hudson whispered, poking me with her orange pen.

  I shrugged my shoulders, shaking my head. “I’m working on my seductive gaze,” I joked, pulling a forced smile onto my face.

  Armando laughed out loud, his shoulders shaking and his eyes shutting. “That’s funny, Olive. You’re really funny,” he said in between bouts of laughter.

  I smiled and shrugged. The good thing about Armando was that when he thought something was funny, he really showed you. You would think you were a stand-up comedian if you were ever stuck in a room with him.

  “Quiet down back there!” the study hall teacher snapped from the front of the room.

  Armando quickly zipped his lips and returned to his history homework. Hudson rolled her eyes and said, “So, are you going to Homecoming?”

  Homecoming. Something I completely did not like thinking about, let alone talking about. Dances in general freaked me out. The thought of going through the process of asking someone and then having to color-coordinate outfits, and then the whole picture thing, and don’t let me get started on the actual dance dance.

  Hudson immediately pouted. “No!” she whined. “You have to go! You haven’t ever gone to any Homecoming dance! You have to!” She clasped her brown hands together and begged.

  I just shook my head. “Dances equal waste of time,” I said firmly. “And besides, I can’t even dance.” Yes, I said it. I can’t dance. Problem? I don’t think so. Not all girls are supposed to know how to dance. So why can’t I be one of them?

  “That’s funny,” Armando said, lifting his head up from his homework. “Cameron can’t dance either. Hmm.” He tapped his chin pensively with his hand.

  Hudson nodded her head, turning her gaze on me. “And Cameron hates dances, too. He never shows up to any of them. Odd.” She mimicked Armando’s gesture, tapping her perfectly sculpted chin.

  My face immediately started to sting with the burn of blush. “Since when are we talking about Cameron?” I asked lightly, flipping through my notebook, trying to avoid their glances.

  “What if I told you Cameron was going to the dance?” Armando said, leaning into me. The smell of fresh soap and a hint of chlorine wafted up through my nostrils.

  I still kept my eyes on the notebook, trying to keep my mouth from twitching into a shy smile.

  “He’s going?” Hudson asked — well, more like gasped. She covered her mouth with her slender hand. Her hot pink nails sparkled. I looked down at my own bitten down nails and tucked them into my palm.

  Armando nodded his head, pulling away from me. “Yup,” he said to Hudson, but loud enough for me to hear. “He’s on Homecoming court.”

  My head jerked up at that. Armando was smirking at me, nodding his head. “Cameron was voted on?” I asked, not bothering to hide my shock.

  “Well of course he was, girl,” Hudson said, gazing at me. “Your little friend is, well, kinda popular.”

  I nodded. Now he was. But he wasn’t always popular. He used to be shy and friendless. Like me.

  “Who is he partnering up with?” Hudson asked, looking in her sleek black compact to fix her makeup.

  Armando shrugged. “Well Dave and Tanya are of course together,” he said. Then he smiled. “And so are we.” He leaned over, pushed the compact away, and placed a kiss on Hudson’s perfectly glossed lips. When he pulled away, he said, “So that leaves Cameron and… and Anjolie.”

  “Who said my name?” Anjo
lie said, whipping her head around. Her curly white-blonde hair poured down her back as she stared at the three of us. “Could’ve sworn I heard my name in this general direction.” She motioned with her long bony white hands.

  Hudson waved at Anjolie with a flick of her fingers. “Hey, Anj,” she said sweetly. “We were just talking about Homecoming. You’re on the court, right?”

  Anjolie stood up and dragged her chair to our table. She sat herself directly in front of me. “Yeah, I’m on that. You two are on it, too?”

  Hudson nodded. “Yeah, we are,” she said cheerily. She smiled broadly. “This is going to be so fun, right?”

  Anjolie shrugged her shoulders and tugged at the ends of her flowing white scarf. “I mean, I guess so,” she said. “I have to partner with Cameron, though.” She frowned with her light pink lips.

  “What’s wrong with that?” Armando asked, closing his history book. He then reached across the table and grabbed Hudson’s homework. Unsurprisingly, he began doing that too.

  Anjolie sighed and then looked directly at me. “Everyone else on the court is going out. The two of us would have to put on a pretty good show to have at least a tiny chance at winning, you know?” Her cat-like gray eyes peered at me.

  I tried opening my mouth to answer, but it was as if I had superglue in between my lips. Say something, I willed myself. But all I could do was nod and force out a measly, “Mhm.”

  “Don’t let that discourage you though,” Hudson said sweetly. “Everyone has an equal chance at winning. You’ll be fine.” She was lying of course. Everyone knew she and Armando were going to win — just like how everyone knew the difference between night and day.

  Anjolie shrugged and bit her lip. “Yup,” she said.

  The four of us sat staring at the desk for a few seconds before Anjolie cleared her throat and said, “Well, I’m bored.” She stood up and dragged her chair. “Talk to you guys later.”