Jenni James - Pride and Popularity

“No, I don’t have a date with him,” I grumbled. “I haven’t had a date with him since last month when you saw us.”

Taylor frowned. “Oops. I thought he would’ve been smart enough to ask you out again.”

I could have smacked him. “For your information I’m seeing someone.” I smiled smugly.

“Well, obviously you’re not seeing him tonight.” Why does Taylor make me want to resort to violence? “No, but he will most likely call me, which is just as good.” I turned to face Taylor. “Some guys work for a living, you know. They can’t spend every night on the town.”

“Oh . . . oh. So that’s why I’m not invited to your party, because I spend too much time on the town? Or wait! Is it because you think I don’t have a job?”

What? Where did that come from? I glanced at Madison and Alyssa, who both attempted to ignore us as they worked on their new charcoal-pencil assignments. Completely caught off guard, I took a moment to gather my thoughts and my art supplies before I answered Taylor.

Is he really jealous we’re not asking him to the party? I thought. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he sounded a tad hurt. That can’t be true. When has he ever wanted to hang out with us?

I looked over at Taylor. I guess he had decided to work on his project, too. The tense aura around him as he gathered his supplies proved he was still agitated and wanted an answer. But I didn’t know how to approach the subject.

“Taylor?” I said hesitantly.

“Yeah?” He stopped long enough to glance at me before he picked up his charcoal pencil and began to fill in the ears of a cat he had drawn yesterday.

Okay, so apparently this wasn’t going to be that easy. I tried again. “You’re not serious, are you?”

“About what?” Taylor answered without looking up.

Sheez. “About wanting an invite.”

“I didn’t say that. I just think it’s a little rude is all, talking about a big party that I’m not invited to, right in front of me.”

His eyes narrowed a bit. “So what’s the deal? Is there a reason you never include me or my friends?”

“Are you kidding me? Are you seriously saying you would want to come?”

“Why would you think I wouldn’t?” Taylor asked.

I tried to regain my composure and defend myself. There was no way he was leaving me speechless. “The whole reason we started these parties in the first place was because you and your friends never invited us to any of your parties. So why would we think you’d want to hang out with us? It’s not like you would feel comfortable anyway.”

“What does that mean?”

“Taylor, honestly, think about it. You and your friends at our party? They would freak out. Seriously. Not one of your friends would want to hang out with us.”

“What is up with you? Are you saying I’m a snob or something?”

“Taylor, this is a costume party. People are coming dressed up like something. This isn’t just a party where people hang out and drink and stuff.”

“I know. That’s what makes it sound so random and cool.”

“Maybe you don’t understand. If someone shows up not dressed in a costume they are shown the door, as in booted out of the party. This isn’t just like a thrown-together thing. We plan for months deciding on a theme and making the decorations. We spend money on this. The last thing we want is to invite someone that will make our guests feel uncomfortable.”

Taylor looked hurt. “You think I’m that guy? The one that’ll make everyone else uncomfortable?”

“No. I don’t.” I tried to smile. “You’re fine, Taylor. I mean everybody likes you. Seriously. But you’re asking us to include you and your friends. You definitely haven’t thought this through.”

“Sure I have,” he replied. “I’ve thought about it for three years.”

Why is this so hard for him to comprehend? “Let me try again.” I took a deep breath. “Kylie. You honestly think Kylie Russell would be happy dressing up and attending a party we have put together?”

“Yes.” He looked me right in the eyes.

“Really?” I stared back until he gave in.

“Okay. So probably not. But why wouldn’t you ask us—at least give us the opportunity to go?”

“So I can waste a perfectly good invitation? I think not.”

“I had no idea you were so judgmental. What gives?”

“Me, judgmental? Taylor, what gives with you? Why harp on this? You don’t really want to come to a party I’m hosting. You don’t want to hang out with me, or be my friend. You would die of boredom within the first ten minutes. What is up with you? Why are you so intent on—on driving me nuts? Stop worrying about stuff you don’t even really care about, please.”

“You don’t know what I care about. You can’t just make an assumption like that. You don’t even know me.”

“Taylor, yes, I do. I know exactly who you are and who you choose to hang with. All I have to do is look at your long list of girlfriends. Every one of them is like a cookie-cutter mold.”

“They are not!” he said angrily.

“Oh no?” I grinned, glad I was able to get under his skin. “Let’s ask someone, shall we? Who would know you better than anyone else in this room?” My eyes settled on Zack’s sister, Emmalee Bradford. Perfect. “Emma,” I called. Madison and Alyssa both looked up, obviously shocked at my nerve.

“Why are you doing this?” Taylor was clearly upset.

“To prove a point. Watch.” I smirked as Emma practically ran over to our table.

“Yes?” she said, smiling right at Taylor.

“Taylor and I were having a little discussion, and we need your expertise.”

“Really?” She giggled and flipped her hair.

“Well, since I figure you know Taylor more than anyone else in this room, due to the fact that he has spent so much time at your house, could you please list the qualities he looks for in a girl?” 

“Oh my gosh. Are you serious?” Emma wrenched her eyes away from Taylor. “Like, that is so easy!”

“Emma, you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Taylor said.

Taylor is so naive if he seriously thinks Emma would throw away a chance at getting his attention all to herself.

Emma giggled again. “Don’t worry, I want to. Besides, you’re forgetting I’m the one who wrote it down for you guys last summer, remember?”

I thought Taylor had seen a ghost, his face was so white. Apparently, he did remember.

“You actually made a list of qualities Taylor wants in a girl?” I asked sweetly. She probably has the thing memorized.

“Yeah. I wrote a separate list down for Taylor and Zack.”

Alyssa raised her head at the mention of Zack.

“They each wanted a legible list of the qualities of their perfect girl,” Emma went on, “so that way they could—”

“Emma!” Taylor bellowed. “Don’t worry. No one needs to know why we wanted them. We’re good.”

“Oh?” Emma frowned at Taylor. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no,” I reassured her. “He’s just been a little on edge.” The look I gave Taylor dared him to contradict me. I was surprised at the intent stare he gave me in return, almost like a challenge. What is he trying to say? Am I wrong about him? Will what Emma says surprise me? I pulled my eyes away from his and smiled at Emma. “Go ahead. We’re ready.” Madison and Alyssa were all ears.

Emma turned back to Taylor. “Your list said your perfect girl had to be funny.” She began to tick off the list on her fingers. “She had to be smart. She had to be beautiful. She had to have long hair. She had to be adventurous. She had to be talented. She had to be athletic. She had to—”

Good grief!

“Okay, Emma,” interrupted Taylor, “you can stop now.”

“Don’t be silly, Taylor.” She giggled. “There’s more! She had to be talkative. She had to like children. She had to be independent. She had to be trustworthy. She had to—”

What kind of a guy has a list like that for one girl? Talk about pressure. I couldn’t bear to hear the rest of the list. “Whoa! Okay, Emma. We get the idea. Apparently Taylor’s idea of the perfect girl is an imaginary one.”

Taylor looked amused. “Are you saying there’s not a girl out there with all those qualities?”

“If there is I’ve never met her,” I responded, looking at Maddi and Alyssa. “Have you?” I asked them. Both shook their heads.

“You’ve never met a girl like that—” Emma imitated my sweet smile “—because you don’t hang out with the people we do. Right, Taylor?”

I turned toward Emma, my mouth hanging open. Uh, ouch. Wow. Why did she say that? Oh my gosh! Of course—she thinks she fits the list. She probably does fit it! I wonder if Taylor has noticed.

I decided to be nice to Emma. “So have any of your girlfriends been this ideal girl?” I asked Taylor.

“No,” he answered matter-of-factly.

I looked at Emma, who was smiling down at Taylor, then asked him, “And have you met a girl who you think fits that description?” I could see Emma actually hold her breath as she waited for his response. Silly girl.

“I—uh,” he started. When he didn’t say more, I turned back toward him. My eyes were captured once again by the energy in his.

What? What are you trying to say to me?

“I—uh,” he tried again. His gaze settled on his hands. “I—I may have.” He looked at me again. “I mean, I think so. I don’t know.”

Emma’s breath released in an audible whoosh above my head, reminding me of her presence—and more importantly, her desire to capture Taylor’s heart.

“You know what I think?” I grinned at Taylor as I tried to shake off the odd feeling of unease that had come over me. “I think you have met her.”

“You—you do?” he asked, his eyes wide. He bit his lip, turned, and stared numbly at his drawing.

My smile began to crack. He was taking this way too seriously. “Ye–ah. I think she’s someone closer than you kno–ow,” I chanted lightly to catch his attention again. It worked. He glanced up, and as I looked in his eyes, the meaning there almost took my breath away. Entranced, I stared a moment before recalling where I was and that Emma was beside me. Taylor’s smile began to grow and light up his whole face. I tore my eyes from his to glance at Emma and signal she was the girl I had talked of. When I looked back at him, the smile was gone. In fact, his face was completely bereft of emotion. Absolutely blank.

“Emma, what are you doing over there?” Ms. Bailey interrupted.

“I, uh . . .” Emma looked around nervously.

“She was helping me, Ms. Bailey,” I answered, smiling at Emma.

“Okay. Go sit back down, Emma,” Ms. B. ordered. “The next time you have a problem, Chloe, I would be glad to help you.”

“Thanks,” I said sheepishly. For a brief moment I paused as I picked up my charcoal pencil. I turned my head a little and perused Taylor’s dark hair as he bent over his picture. What can he be thinking? I followed his shoulder and arm down to the paper he was working on. Cats. He is drawing cats. What guy chooses cats for his subject in art class? That is so weird. Lions or tigers I could understand, but cats? I couldn’t help myself. I had to ask.