My Senior Year of Awesome Read online

  Plus, I promised Jana to do whatever it takes to make sure we fill in our entire list before graduation. Who would have thought adding and multiplying long columns of numbers would be my only shot for a stupid varsity letter? I sigh heavily and flip through my practice worksheets.

  Back in January, I’d never have guessed how much winning a Senior Superlative Award and brainstorming a bunch of lame achievements would royally screw with my life.

  Fill It In – April 2nd

  Top Ten Ways to Cure Boredom

  (When You’re Stuck in the House Resting a Pulled Hamstring)

  1. Re-watch every episode of The Vampire Diaries.

  2. Write I Heart Andy over and over in the margins of your copybook.

  3. Write Mrs. Sadie Kosolowski and then decide no matter how much you love your future husband, there is no way you are taking his name.

  4. Word Finds. Lots of them.

  5. Catch up on Fill It In because you’ve been too busy to work on your daily lists.

  6. Paint your toenails black and then blue and then black again.

  7. Practice origami with cheap napkins.

  8. Memorize Jana’s lines for Audrey II in case she completely freaks out on opening night.

  9. Start thinking about college applications—just thinking, though.

  10. Call Andy’s cell phone (listed on the mathletes’ roster) and hang up before he answers. Repeat fifty times.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Two weeks after my hamstring pull, Mom notices my slight but persistent limp. Without bothering to ask my opinion, she books me an after school appointment with Dr. Kosolowski.

  “Mom. Please. Not Dr. K.,” I say when she breaks the news to me on my way out the door.

  “Why not? Do you want to see a female doctor now that you’re, er, mature?” Her gaze drops to my chest, as if she’s finally realizing I need to go bra shopping. Admittedly, I’m still on the small side, chest-wise, but I’d upgraded from a tank top five years ago. “If you have questions, I can ask for Adelaide, our nurse practitioner.”

  Not a medical question, I think. I just don’t want to discuss his son. Or talk about waffles. Or how great the Super K family is. The memory of the one meal I shared with Andy’s family floats into my mind, and I feel as if an imaginary hand is tugging a shoestring looped around my heart. To avoid Mom’s probing, I stick my head in the closet and root around for my spring jacket.

  “Dr. Kosolowski is the best in town,” she says, her voice muffled by the wool coat scratching the side of my face. “Plus, he knows you personally. In fact, last week he mentioned how you stopped by his house for breakfast one day. You’re friends with his son? Andrew?”

  Long pause. She’s fishing. Let her sink her hook in someone else, because I am not going there.

  “I’m late for school. Three-fifteen, right?” I locate my jacket, wrestle it off the hanger, and breeze out of the apartment.

  “Three-fifteen. Have a good day, Sadie.” She calls after me as I shuffle down the stairs, leaning on the railing to ease the pressure on my leg. She sounds heartbroken over my unwillingness to spill details. Since when is breakfast with Andy’s family such big news? I sigh and hoist my back pack higher on my shoulder. Guilt is a powerful tool in Mom’s arsenal.

  ***

  Dr. Kosolowski’s office always smells like extra-strength Lysol and rubbing alcohol. Stepping into the waiting room, I’m greeted by Day-Glo murals of monster-sized children painted on the walls. A mixture of hideous and cheery.

  A motion sensor bings, informing Mom of my arrival. She glances up from the stack of files on her desk. Between patients, she works on updating the office’s new computerized medical records system. Have I mentioned that my mother’s computer skills rival her medical expertise? Thankfully, she’s a people person.

  “Busy day?” I ask when she slides the glass window open and hands me a sign-in sheet.

  “You wouldn’t believe,” she says, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Another stomach bug hit the preschool. Dr. Tim is in room three.” In work, she refers to Andy’s dad by his kid-friendly name. He strives to be both approachable and pronounceable for his young patients. Her desk phone rings and Mom slides the glass partition back into place.

  I retrace my steps through the waiting room. Right as I reach the door to the examination area, it swings open and something large and solid barrels into me.

  “Whoa,” says Andy, backing up to keep from bulldozing over me. If “whoa” counts as a real word, it’s the first time he’s spoken to me in weeks.

  “Sorry,” I mutter, then, “Are you sick?” I eye him suspiciously. I can’t risk catching anything contagious right now, especially a no holds barred, up-all-night stomach virus.

  “No, I just stopped by to pick up some samples for my brother. His allergies kicked in, and my dad wants to switch his medication. The office is on the way home from school, so …” he trails off and looks away from me, seeming upset over his inability to ignore my existence.

  “So you were being a good brother,” I finish.

  “Something like that. See you around.” He steps around me, into the waiting room. “Bye, Ms. Matthews,” I hear him call.

  Suck up.

  “Have a nice day, Andrew. Did you run into my daughter back there?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Literally. I hope she feels better soon,” Andy says. Sure he does. Cause it’s no fun torturing weak-limbed, short people.

  “Ah, there’s Sadie.” Dr. Kosolowski emerges from a room marked with his name in gold lettering and waves me deeper into the exam area. “Let’s take a look at your leg. Your mother is worried.”

  He smiles broadly, as if we’re sharing a secret joke. The memory of Dr. Tim frying up lumpy, fatty bacon in a nifty sweater vest flashes in my mind, and I cover my face with my hand to hide a nervous giggle. We crossed some sort of doctor/patient barrier over brunch. Did watching my participation in a waffle scarf-down change his opinion of me?

  He steps into a dark room and I follow. A clicking noise precedes a flood of light. “Hand-activated switches harbor bacteria,” he explains, as I blink at the brightness. “We use a no-touch system. Hop up on the table.”

  I attempt a hop, which turns into more of a backward plunk, setting off loads of crinkling paper action on top of the exam station. Dr. Kosowloski tests my reflexes with a mallet. Next, he contorts my knee in a variety of positions. He wraps up the exam by stretching out my leg.

  “Hmm,” he says, giving his professional opinion. “Walk for me.” I slide off the table and limp in a small circle.

  “Still bothering you, is it?”

  “A bit. Not too bad, though.”

  “Level two hamstring pulls can take four to six weeks to heal. I believe exercising through pain isn’t the best long-term solution for a young athlete like you. Is it imperative that you return to running this season?”

  “Not at all,” I say, doing a silent cheer and not bothering to correct his athlete label. “My non-athletic activities keep me busy.”

  “So I hear. Andy says you’re quite an impressive mathlete.”

  Okay, that statement came out of left field.

  “No one is as impressive as your son. He’s fearsome when it comes to calculus.”

  “You must make a great team, then,” Dr. Kosolowski responds, and I wonder if we’re talking solely about math. “Let your competitors focus on the big guy while you sneak up from behind and crush them with your intellect.”

  He shadow boxes around the exam room for emphasis. Now, see, Dr. Tim has a sense of humor. What is his son’s problem?

  “I’ll suggest your strategy to Mrs. McCaffrey.” I lean away as his right hook nearly connects with my jaw. “Maybe we can take this mathletes thing all the way to states. Nationals.”

  “Phenomenal. Just don’t overdo the victory parade on that leg of yours.” And with that piece of friendly medical advice and a scribbled note t
o Coach Jenkins excusing me from the track team, I am sent packing.

  ***

  As the end of April nears, tulips and daffodils push up from the ground, the sun rises before me on weekday mornings, and life settles into a new state of normal.

  Ben and Jana become an official couple. They are disgustingly cute together.

  Andy continues to treat me like a well-chewed piece of bubble gum clinging to the bottom of his extra-large high top.

  According to the always-reliable Out of Tune gossip column, Dom and Giuliana are dating again. Their relationship appears to be a casual one. On his end, at least.

  By the week before Spring Break, I am so ready for time off from play practice, math, and school in general. A full week without trigonometric functions. But, as luck would have it, at our final scheduled meet up before vacation, Mrs. McCaffrey announces our qualification for county competitions. To celebrate, she delivers a whole new binder of worksheets filled with problems for us.

  Spring break homework. Super. And ninety-nine percent of the questions read as if written in a foreign language. But I’m willing to be a one per center if it gets me a varsity letter.

  “Let’s have a short session today. We can try a timed test,” Mrs. McCaffrey suggests. “Who can solve the most equations in ten minutes?”

  “Andy.” The team shouts in unison. Our captain turns bright red, like a huge tomato with blond curls. Ignoring our response, Mrs. McCaffrey sets a timer on the smart board, and I begin checking off any problem I feel capable of at least attempting. I settle on line thirty, with only one x and one y to solve. Dom leans over and taps me on the shoulder.

  “Hey, hot stuff.”

  When I turn toward him, the overpowering scent of his body spray accosts my nose. Nasty. Then, the thought crosses my mind that I no longer remember what Andy smelled like when we kissed, and I feel a dull pang of regret.

  “Are you taking Giuliana to the prom?” I ask, hoping to distract him before he makes a huge scene at my expense.

  “No clue. Why, do you need a date?” His right eyebrow rises, transforming his expression into something more sinister.

  I scratch out the next step of my equation, pretending not to hear the question.

  “I bet Mathman over there is free. Did he propose to you yet? Yo. AK.” A wicked grin splits Dom’s face. At the sound of his name, Andy looks up from his paper and levels his gaze at me. A hush falls over the room. Pencils pause as everyone takes time off from logic problems to tune into the latest episode of my Dom and Andy soap opera. Behind me, Jana snaps her bubble gum, warning me not to escalate the already tense situation.

  “Shut up, Altomeri,” Andy says, his voice low, but filled with daggers. Geez, Dominic hit a sore spot. Andy didn’t even sound this mad when he found his name on the Fill It In list.

  “Pi R squared to you too, buddy,” Dominic shoots back. “Sadie, if you need a real man to take you to the prom, feel free to ask me, babe. I’m sure you can convince me to make myself available.”

  Jana digs her pencil in the center of my back, likely encouraging me to go along with Dom’s suggestion. Doubling with her and Ben would be fun, but Dom’s offer to make himself available is nowhere near the prom invitation of my dreams. A girl has to have some basic standards.

  I shake my head and offer him a polite smile. “No, thanks, Dom. You should take your girlfriend. I’m sure she’d be disappointed if you went to the prom without her.”

  “Ah, she’ll get over it.” Dom shrugs and goes back to solving functions. In the front of the classroom, the smart board chirps.

  “Okay, timed test is over. Hand in your worksheets on the way out. I’ll check everyone’s answers over vacation,” Mrs. McCaffrey says.

  “Sounds like you’ve got some wild spring break plans, Mrs. M.,” Dom says.

  “With a strawberry daiquiri in hand,” she adds, her face twisting into smile. I scrape back my chair, rushing to extricate myself from this latest Dom/Andy disaster and pass Mrs. McCaffrey my nearly blank paper before high-tailing it out of the room. When Andy silently passes my locker, I duck and cover, pretending to search through the mess for a lost text book. The hallway lights blink off, leaving me alone in the dark. Jana is long past the days of waiting around for me. Not with Ben waiting for her.

  “You know, I’m really proud of you, Sadie.” Mrs. McCaffrey steps out of her classroom.

  I slam my locker door closed. “Proud of me? Why?”

  “Because I see the way most girls look at Dominic. If he’d offered to take anyone else in that room to the prom, they would have jumped at the chance. But, I think you see what’s inside of him. You look beyond his physical—um—characteristics.”

  I have to smile at Mrs. McCaffrey’s choice of words. I wonder how often the topic of cute high school guys comes up in the faculty lunch room.

  “So, are you saying I did the right thing?”

  Mrs. McCaffrey pats my shoulder. “Definitely. If you were to ask my opinion, I would recommend that you hold out for the best man. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time.”

  “I hope you’re right, Mrs. McCaffrey. The prom is only a month away, and I have no idea how I’m going to find a date.”

  But actually, I’m starting to realize that I do.

  Fill It In – April 20th

  Top Ten Ways to Snag a Prom Date

  1. Call 1-800-Prom-Date. (What? That’s not a thing?)

  2. Tape a list of the Top 10 Reasons to Go to Prom with Sadie on his locker. Because I rock at list writing.

  3. Stand outside of his house with a poster.

  4. Write on his windshield with that cool car paint.

  5. Ask your best friend to ask him for you because you’re a huge chicken.

  6. Be poetic. Roses are Red, Violets are Blue, Let’s Go to Prom and Get Married, Too.

  7. Hijack the school’s intercom system and make a public request during morning announcements.

  8. Math Equation. You + Sadie = Best Prom Ever.

  9. Ask Jana how to say “please go to the prom with me” in Spanish. That way, if he rejects me, only a limited number of people will understand.

  10. Text Bombardment.

  Chapter Twenty

  “I need your help with a PPD,” I say when Jana calls later that night.

  “PPD? Blech. Sounds gross.”

  “Potential Prom Date, Jana. I have someone in mind.”

  “Thank Goodness, chica, ‘cause you’re running out of time.”

  “Yeah, and I have one tiny problem. He doesn’t like me anymore.”

  “Are you talking about Andy?” she asks. “He so likes you.”

  “No, Jana. He has quite clearly said that he does not like me. Multiple times.” I speak slowly into the phone to emphasize the seriousness of my predicament.

  “What Andy says and what he means are two completely different things. He says he hates you because he feels used. And he’s embarrassed because he liked kissing you, but he thinks you just did it for some stupid list.”

  “I did do it for the list. But I didn’t hate kissing him.”

  “Then why didn’t you tell him the truth?”

  I sigh. “Because everything with Andy seems momentous. He would expect something. And after that ridiculous Super Superlative vote, I feel like everyone expects something. It’s too much pressure. Why can’t kissing someone be fun?”

  “Kissing someone and marrying them are two very different things. Kissing Ben is lots of fun.” I hear the smile in Jana’s voice.

  “I know, I know. And by the time I realized I wanted something with Andy, he hated me. Now when I see him, he’s griping about how I used him for a list or dropping me on my ass after I ripped apart my hamstring.”

  “You know, if Andy didn’t care so much, he wouldn’t complain so much. He would have laughed about the double snogging the way Dominic did.”

  Jana’s observation sends me bounding off my bed and
circling around the apartment in a state of extreme excitement. “You are so right. Finally, something makes sense!”

  “And there’s the light bulb.”

  “I need to fix this. Operation ‘Get Sadie A Prom Date’ is on.”

  Jana laughs softly through the phone. “Poor Andy. He doesn’t have a chance, does he?”

  “Nope. He picked the wrong girl to pretend to hate but secretly like.”

  ***

  The next morning I intercept Jana at her locker before Ben gets to her. Colette is present as well, a big smile on her face, happy to be included in any conversation revolving around Andy.

  “Do we have a plan?” Jana asks, anxious to move on and spend a few minutes with Ben before homeroom.

  I frown. “Not really. Spring break is next week, and I don’t even know if Andy’s going out of town. Should we just wait until after?”

  Jana swats my arm. “No way. You cannot lose almost two weeks. The prom vultures are circling your man.”

  My stomach turns at the thought of losing Andy to a junior or sophomore who’s simply using him for a chance to attend the senior prom. “What should I do? He won’t talk to me.”

  “He’ll talk to me,” Colette offers in her mini-mouse voice. “Why don’t I ask him if he has plans for next week? At least you’ll know that much.”

  “Would you, Colette?” I ask.

  “Sure, but I’ll need something in return.”

  “Little sister, you drive a hard bargain,” Jana says.

  “What do you want?” I ask, my shoulders sagging. Paybacks with Colette are never fun.