I'll Be Your Girl

“What the hell, Holloway?” the head cheerleader Elise Summers yells over as I walk onto the school grounds. Those girls that used to shun me because of my weight? Yeah, she’s one of them. I ignore her and keep walking, having learned over the years that confrontation is only necessary when I want it to be. Usually she just gives up and lets me go without a fuss, but apparently that’s not the case today. Suddenly she’s standing right in front of me, accompanied by another of her annoyingly attractive friends. And although I didn’t get my mother’s short genes, these girls are still taller than me. “Who was that?” Elise demands, placing her hands on her hips and trying to look threatening. Her clone copies her. So sad.

“Who was who?” I ask politely, flashing an innocent smile. She can’t scare me anymore.

“Don’t be a smart-ass. I know you were with Nick Jonas; we’ve all seen the photos,” she scowls. Wow, gossip travels fast.

“Why bother asking if you already knew?” I attempt to walk around her, but she steps into my path again.

“I want to know if the rumours are true. Is he really stupid enough to be dating you?”

“He’s not as stupid as you, to be training your team up in the middle of winter. Football season hasn’t even started yet, loser.” Yeah that’s right. Masterfully change the topic so I can get a quick escape. I’m so good at life.

“It’s called a squad,” Elise retorts, but I’m already walking away. “But hey! Does that mean you’re dating him or not?” Too late, idiot. You missed your shot. I silently gloat about my little victory all the way through my afternoon classes, and by the time I’ve finished my exam and I’m heading out to meet Nick, I’m still smiling.

That is, until I feel a hand on my shoulder, and I half-turn to find that its owner is Chad Milton, the guy who demands to sit next to me in every art class. I don’t know much about him except that he’s an awesome painter but wouldn’t have a clue what to do with a lead pencil and oh yeah, he’s got some major thing for me. No idea why - maybe it’s something to do with us kissing one time at Jess Carrie’s going away party, but what do I know? The point is, he’s a nice enough dude, just… I’m not interested.

His expression is wounded as I casually duck away from his hand. “Sup Chad?”

“Nick Jonas?” he questions, his voice taking on a slight whine. “I’ve been dumped for Nick Jonas?”

Say what? “Uh, we were never dating,” I remind him with a nervous chuckle, but he nods stubbornly.

“Yeah!” he counters. “You agreed to go out with me. Two days ago, remember? In art class?”

I cast my mind back to the conversation we had a few days ago. Well, less conversation as that involves input from two or more people, more him chattering away about one of his favourite bands. “They’re coming to Jersey next month,” he’d told me excitedly, which was met with an uninterested “mhmm” from me. I’d been working on a new sketch, focussing really hard on shading the light reflecting off shallow water, which was hard enough without Chad continually vomiting words into my ear. “I’ve heard they do really good concerts, so I got tickets. Say, you wouldn’t want to go with me, would you? I mean, as in… together. Just I have a spare ticket and I’d really love it if--”

“Sure, okay, whatever Chad,” I’d quipped, with only the intention of getting him out of the way. But now… now I realise what a huge mistake I’d made.

I glance piteously into Chad’s face as he stands before me, still pathetic enough to look hopeful. Poor guy. I’d feel more sympathy for him if I could, but I guess I’m just heartless like that. Oh well.

“Sorry you got the wrong idea Chad,” I sigh, then something suddenly occurs to me and I pull a face. “I don’t even like Coldplay.” The hope in his face disappears to be replaced by disappointment, and he looks at his shoes, his shoulders slumping.

“Oh, okay then,” he mumbles. We stand in silence for a moment, until the awkwardness becomes too much for me.

“I’m just going to… go,” I say slowly, then turn and hurry for Nick’s car, which is idling out the front of the school. This time as I slip into the passenger seat, I’m not self-conscious about the curious stares from my peers. I’m just glad to get away from the depression that is Chad Milton.

“Good day?” Nick asks as he pulls back onto the road.

I shrug. “I suppose. Now let’s get that dress.”