Revenge of the Homecoming Queen Read online

  “I’ll give you two some girl time,” Dad says, kissing me on the forehead. Dad always makes a quick getaway when he thinks Mom and I are going to start talking about periods or cramps. I guess tiaras fall into that category now, too.

  Besides my dad’s massive hang-up about money, my parents are like the coolest. They completely trust my judgment so I don’t really have a curfew. They give me a decent allowance (although I’ve been lobbying for a cost-of-living increase lately) that requires almost no actual chores, and they don’t give me the third degree about my life. They show just enough interest without being overbearing. I consider myself lucky, especially when I think that I could have ended up with Tobi’s parents. I pretty much had to pass a background check when we started being friends, and she can only stay out until ten on weekends. Her parents are lame with a capital L.

  “Do you want to talk about it some more?” Mom asks, hiding the price tags in a tissue, then tossing it in my garbage can.

  “I think we pretty much covered every angle.” We completely dissected my loss before Dad came in. We finally agreed that the contest was fixed, and tiara or no tiara, Angel is still a super skank. I love that my mom will call some girl she doesn’t even know a skank just to side with me. We have such an awesome relationship. I love that I don’t have to hide things from her like my friends do with their parents. We have the most honest mother-daughter relationship of anyone I know.

  Mom moves to step out my doorway.

  “Mom, did you go anywhere after work tonight?”

  “Nope. You know me, I’m a slave to the grind.” She laughs and closes my door.

  I hereby request that the last statement about honesty be stricken from the record.

  * * * *

  I decide to put the mama drama on the back burner for tonight. I have more pressing concerns right now as my car is seriously out of commission. I’m going to be forced to rely on Lucas and his hoopty to get to the bonfire. I grab my now-recharged phone (not making that mistake twice in one day) off my dresser and dial his number. It goes straight to voice mail, again. This is the third time I’ve called him since Rand dropped me off. I’m starting to get a little pissed. I even called his home phone and his mom said she gave him the message that I called earlier. He’s probably off planning another one of his immature pranks. I still can’t believe he pulled that crap voting Rand in. Sometimes I wonder why I’m dating such an idiot.

  My cell rings in my hand and Tobi’s number pops up. Sometimes I think she has some sort of weird ESP when I need her.

  “Can you come get me?” I whine, not bothering to say hi, because I mean really, why even bother with that anymore when everybody’s got caller ID.

  “What happened to Lucas and his busted-down chariot?” Tobi counters, not missing a beat.

  “Listen, I’ve had the worst day ever. Angel slashed my tire and I had to bum a ride with Rand in his Fry Daddy on wheels. My legs still haven’t recovered.”

  “He’s sweet, isn’t he?”

  Thoughts of Rand’s hand on the small of my back leading me out of the school fill my mind and I quickly push them out. “Yeah, I guess. Whatever. So can you pick me up or what?”

  “Sure, I’ll be there in ten,” she says, clicking off.

  I hang up and start to reapply my lip gloss. I purposefully left out the part about getting butterflies when Rand touched me. I mean, I can’t be attracted to him or anything because that’s just crazy. I think I was just feeling grateful, plus I’m just so tired from the day from hell. But even if I had told Tobi, she would never judge me. She’s all about people of different social status intermingling.

  * * * *

  Tobi and I pull up to the school and see the obvious handiwork of Comfort High’s rival, Maroon High. They have used black spray paint to scrawl “Flock the Seagulls” in huge letters across the entire brick front of the school. I bet Miss Hott is freaking out. I think it’s kind of funny actually, but I wouldn’t want to be the one standing outside in this freezing weather for hours sandblasting the message off the school. Tobi pulls her red pickup truck next to Rand’s joke of a car.

  “Can you believe this thing? He calls it Buzz.” I lay my hand on the hood of his car as we walk toward the giant fire in the sky.

  “That’s so cute that you both name your cars,” Tobi gushes as we near the outer edges of the massive crowd of hyper students. I put my arm out to stop her. I can’t stand it. I have to tell her about Rand’s strange comment.

  “He’s got a major crush on somebody,” I say, remembering Rand’s strange comment about not getting the girl he wants.

  She just stares at me. Then she pushes her neck forward and bulges her eyes out, not a good look on her.

  “What?”

  “You’re freaking kidding me, right?” she asks.

  “Tobi, what is your major malfunction tonight?” I am seriously starting to regret bringing this up with her.

  “Oh. My. God!” She flings her arms around dramatically. This is very un-Tobi-like behavior. “Aspen, for somebody with a photographic memory, you are the dumbest person I have ever met.”

  “Hey, I don’t have to put up … ”

  “It’s you! He has a crush on you!” Tobi screams while still flinging her arms around wildly. Seriously, I don’t know what has gotten into her.

  “You’re crazy.” I glance around to make sure no one is overhearing this absurd conversation.

  “Rand has been completely infatuated with you since you convinced him in first grade he was lactose intolerant so you could have his chocolate milk. He studies every move you make. He adores you! How can you not have known this?”

  “I think I would know if someone had been in love with me, for like ever.”

  “One would think,” she replies sarcastically.

  “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. We never had this conversation.”

  “Fine, but you be careful with him. He’s got it bad,” she warns me.

  This whole conversation is disturbing on so many levels. Rand in love with me for years? How could I have been so unobservant? I guess it does explain how he had the cheeseburger info and the strange comment in the car. I hope I didn’t get his hopes up by letting him spend time with me today.

  I drag Tobi over to Cookie so that she can see the damage Angel did with her own eyes. When I circle around to the left rear tire, it has already been replaced with my spare. How weird. My dad was with me the entire time and he hadn’t planned on changing out the tire until morning. Aww, it was Lucas. How sweet. That’s why he didn’t have his cell on, because he was out here freezing his butt off changing my tire. I’m so lucky to have such a caring boyfriend. I hope he doesn’t think this gets him off the hook to buy me something though.

  “Look, Tobi. Lucas changed my tire for me. Isn’t he sweet?”

  “If he were any sweeter, I’d be diabetic,” she answers back in a sugarcoated sarcastic voice. Tobi doesn’t have much use for Lucas. She thinks he is a brain-dead jock who thinks with his penis. I remind her that describes half of our school.

  “Be nice.” I shove against her. “Let’s go find Lucas, so I can thank him properly.”

  “Actually, I think I’m going over this way for a minute.” She turns into the crowd leaving me by myself. Great, is anyone not going to ditch me today? I circle the outer ring of students, trying to find Lucas. I’m not big on crowds, and tend toward massive claustrophobia in certain situations, so I’m not going in until I spot him. While scanning the crowd I make eye contact with Rand; he smiles and holds up his hand. I put on a plastic grin and wave back.

  He’s decided to conform to Miss Hott’s request that everyone wear school colors. Somehow this does not surprise me. I don’t have respect for people that violate rules of fashion just to conform for others. And let’s face it, wearing a summer color like turquoise in the fall just isn’t right unless you’re me. Fashion-wise, I can get away with anything. But I have to admit that turquoise isn’t a horribl
e color for him. As my eyes move up, I see his ridiculous black stocking cap pulled down over his ears and forehead. Jammed atop the curl-filled hat is his gold crown. He puts his finger up as if signaling me to wait. I stand still until I see him turn around to make his way over, then I bolt. After the bomb that Tobi just dropped on me, it would be totally awkward talking to him. Besides, I don’t need to be seen chatting it up with the biggest geek in school. Angel would have a field day with that whole scene. Speaking of Angel, I wonder where that scary beyotch is? We need to have words about my tire.

  “Let’s hear it for the Seagulls,” Coach Buchanan screams as the entire football team breaks through a huge paper likeness of a Maroon Bulldog. The first stud pushing through the paper pup is none other than my AWOL boyfriend. I forgot all about the stupid football introductions, like everyone here doesn’t already know all the players. Lucas looks hot, as usual, in his number ten football jersey.

  The cheerleaders, affectionately known as the Seagals, I usually just refer to them as the sluts, fan their pom-poms out for the boys to run through and that’s when I spot her. Angel, head cheerleader of the Seagals, looking quite the picture of innocence. To an outsider she would appear to be a fun-loving, hurkey-jumping, perfectly normal member of our student body. But I know the truth. That Seagal is a psycho. As I’m plotting how to confront her, I notice her expression change from innocent to a sexy smirk. She and Lucas have their eyes locked on each other. If I didn’t want to completely destroy Angel before, I sure as hell do now. I try making my way closer to the line of football players to make my presence known and interrupt the “I wanna hook up” eyes these two are giving each other. I can’t seem to break through and there are so many people I’m starting to freak out a bit. I decide to edge closer to the fire to get warm. I’ll just have to deal with Lucas later.

  “Pretty chilly tonight, huh?” I hear a familiar voice ask from behind me.

  “Illinois weather, what are you gonna do?” I answer back to Rand, who is now standing beside me.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t wear a coat. Here, take mine.” He tries to hand me the black fleece jacket he has on over his turquoise crewneck sweater.

  I put my hand out to stop him. The last thing I need is to be seen exchanging clothes with Rand. It would probably end up on the front of the school newspaper with some witty caption like “Princess warms up to king.” Besides, I so don’t do fleece. “I’m fine, really.” This is a total lie. I’m freezing my girly bits off. I scoot closer to the fire.

  “Helluva a fire, huh?” Rand is obviously trying to make small talk. But he does have a point. The flames from the fire are at least ten feet tall. Someone has suspended a stuffed bulldog above the flames and the fire licks at its paws.

  “Pretty amazing what you can do with wood and a few matches these days.”

  “You don’t want to be seen talking to me, do you?”

  God, when he puts it that way he makes me sound like a bitch. I am not a bitch; I may be a little bit materialistic with a tendency to place a person’s value on their outward appearance, but I’m not a bitch. A bitch is someone who is just downright mean for no good reason. I’m being mean to Rand because he is geeky and being seen talking to him is likely to affect my popularity. But … he fixed my hot chocolate … and he did let me stay warm in his car until my parents got home … plus he knows I defiled Angel’s locker … and as far as I know he hasn’t told anyone about seeing Mom’s car … so I guess I could be a little bit nicer. Besides, nobody is paying any attention to us now anyway since Coach Buchanan just started lowering the poor stuffed canine to his fate toward the flames. Everyone is chanting “burn the bulldogs” over and over like possessed zombies. I guess I just don’t have enough school spirit.

  “How about those Seagals, huh? They’re like Energizer Bunnies on crack.” He points to the five pigtailed bimbos in the shortest cheerleading skirts imaginable, jumping up and down. Angel even tried to put pigtails in her short black hair. They look more like horns. How can Lucas find her even remotely attractive? It’s revolting.

  “What? You mean I’ve found a man who is immune to the charms of Angel and her zombie cult of Seagals?” I ask, amazed.

  “I don’t have anything against her personally, but I’ve seen her do things to purposely get under your skin. You definitely have reason not to like her.”

  Wow, it feels so great to be validated in my hatred for Angel. Maybe Rand isn’t so bad after all.

  Rand gently takes my arm and guides me over to sit on a bale of hay.

  “No, I really shouldn’t.” I continue standing next to him while he sits.

  “Just when I thought we were getting to be friends,” he replies, looking sad.

  “No, I just meant I shouldn’t sit on the hay. I’m deathly allergic to it. To all of this stuff actually. I’ve also got asthma and it doesn’t mix well with my pea-sized lungs.” I point to the smoke from the fire and the corn husks twirling above the flames and the hay. “I’m usually okay if I take a shower as soon as I get home, but I’ve broken out in hives from sitting on it before.”

  “That sucks. So no hayrides for you at Halloween, huh?”

  “Not unless I want to end up in the ER with an oxygen mask strapped around my face.”

  “You’d look kind of cute in an oxygen mask.” He gives me a cheesy grin.

  I decide to ignore his comment even though he is obviously hitting on me. It’s not his fault. I look exceptionally good tonight. This pumpkin-colored sweater is just really doing it for me.

  “Shouldn’t you be getting up there?” I remind him, pointing toward the stage where Angel is standing. The smile she has plastered on her face actually looks real. Maybe she’s accepted Rand being king after all. Her tiara is crooked from too many hurkeys. She blows the crowd kisses as Coach introduces her as this year’s queen. Yuck, what a waste of a tiara!

  “Oops, don’t want to miss my intro. By the way, I’m going to recycle your old tire. I hope that’s okay. See ya.” He goes flying past me practically tripping and landing in the fire.

  Then suddenly his words sink in. I’m going to recycle your old tire. Rand changed my tire, not Lucas. This officially puts Lucas back into the doghouse big-time.

  “And now the moment you’ve all been waiting for, this year’s king, Rand Bachrach,” Coach screams into the microphone with bulging eyes. I guess that burning pup got the coach all riled up. It’s kind of fun sitting back watching everyone make total asses out of themselves. Students buzzing on school spirit are dancing dangerously close to the fire. The school will be lucky if someone doesn’t get maimed tonight. Rand bounces on stage just in time. Angel bolts off the stage as soon as Rand gets on. How rude! Rand doesn’t seem to notice or if he does, he doesn’t care. Which is pretty cool. Everyone starts his signature chant again, “Rand, Rand, you’re our man.” He stands there looking embarrassed pulling on his stocking cap. I have to admit he is sort of adorable, for a geek.

  “Where’s all your school spirit?” Tobi slams against my shoulder.

  “This is about as excited as I get. Don’t get me wrong. I want the Seagulls to beat the crap out of the Bulldogs. I just don’t think me painting my face is gonna get the job done.” We both start cracking up at the mere thought of me wearing face paint. As if!

  Tobi suddenly gets serious, and says, “Aspen, don’t kill the messenger, but I saw Angel locking eyes with Lucas during the intro … ”

  “Oh, I know. I saw it, too. They’re both going to get it.”

  “That’s not the worst part. I just saw them heading toward the school.”

  “What? Are you freaking kidding me?” I shove my way through the crowd. Claustrophobia be damned. I’ve got a Seagal to exterminate.

  “Do you want me to come with you?” She pulls on my sleeve.

  “No, I need to do this alone.” Unfortunately for Lucas and Angel it is a rather long walk back up to the school. I am pretty much plotting their deaths the entire way. I know Lu
cas wouldn’t cheat on me. I mean, please, who in their right mind would cheat on me with her? But I’m also not blind. I recognize the powers that females wield over horny teenage boys. I’ve been known to wield my own powers from time to time. I can’t wait to see the look on Angel’s face when I break up her little attempt to make Lucas stray. Damn. She really has it out for me.

  As I reach the parking lot I start to feel a familiar tugging sensation in my chest. My asthma. The smoke, hay, and all the Lucas drama have wreaked havoc on my mediocre respiratory system. But I’m no amateur; I’ve been dealing with this since I was seven. I know that I just need to calm down and pace myself until I can get to my locker to get my spare inhaler. Damn that Angel for getting me so upset.

  As I breathe in the cold October air it refreshes me a little, but when I let it back out I hear a tiny whistle. It’s never good when I start wheezing. I try to distract myself by thinking about something pleasant like my fabulous new homecoming dress. A simple black velvet tank dress with a pale pink ribbon weaved through the waist. I’m going to look fantastic. It’s not working. I’m almost to the west entrance of the school. I’m wheezing heavy now, and with the little strength I have left, I fling the door open.

  I don’t even care about finding Lucas and Angel now. I just want to get to my locker. The lockers are assigned in alphabetical order. I entered the school on the Z end, and I’m a B, so I’ve still got to make it down the long hallway. The school is deserted even though I know that Lucas and Angel are in here somewhere. I hope they come out right this minute and see me struggling for every breath, wheezing like I smoke three packs a day, and feel eternally guilty for whatever they’re up to. But they don’t, and it’s starting to feel like someone is sitting on my chest. My legs feel rubbery, and my vision is starting to get blurry. I’ve never had an attack like this before. I wonder briefly if I might die as I struggle to get air into my tightened esophagus. I hope Mom buries me in my homecoming dress. I hope Angel feels so responsible for my death and has so much self-loathing that she becomes a stripper. I hope Lucas picks up dog poop for a living. Finally, I stumble to my locker. I rest my face against the cool metal knowing everything is going to be all right. I remove the unlocked padlock and slide the handle up. I reach on the shelf above my books where I always keep my inhaler and feel nothing but picture frames.