Episode 8

I nervously fiddle my fingers around the cup of lukewarm tea we luckily got a chance to grab on the way. We wait a few minutes in the car after parking near the school building for Jersey to rearrange his hair once more because otherwise he will get a panic attack and we will have to call the ambulance even though it is me who has to worry today.

"Is it too noticeable that we had a fun night?" Venus, sitting at the front seat beside Jersey, wonders while applying another layer of concealer to cover her eye bags.

Disregarding the fact that her panda mode is on, she still is on ease, comparing to me and Jersey who is now shaking the cramps off of his arms.

"What did you do to me yesterday?" He responds to her question with a personal complaint, his squeaky voice adds more pain to his tousled look.

"You," she accusingly points her index finger at him, "asked me to change your hairstyle. It's not my fault." She whines as they now start reminiscing the details.

I let out a meek giggle from the backseat at the memory of even crazier things, but I decide to keep them beneath the lock.

"Am I handsome?" Jersey suddenly asks when he finishes taming his hair and I instantly lift my eyes to check him out and give him an honest response. I fix my stare on him, nodding my head. I can't lie that he looks bad. In fact, he surpasses the word 'handsome' a good hundred times.

Remember how they say: beauty is for girls? Well, Jersey is an exception. With his amazingly defined facial features and the alluring charm whirling around his internal 'beauty nature', he could steal every girl's boyfriend with a wink of an eye. I have never seen him with a guy though and now I start to wonder what his boyfriend looks like.

"Are you single?" I unthinkingly blurt out, and the gravity of my words hits me only when Venus squirms around and shoots a dead stare at me.

"Yes. Why?" He smirks at me, his eyes meeting with my reflection in the car mirror as I try to laugh it off with some random excuses.

***

Venus cups a hand around her mouth and shouts out for us to find her in the tremendous hall that welcomes more and more people with each passing minute.

"Guys, let's take a picture!" Venus pulls me closer to her, at the same time tugging Jersey by the arm. She directs us to look at the camera lens before she clicks as we flash our happy faces. She then throws her back at one of those cozy seats placed in a line high above the center and contorts a foolish grin when she rolls herself on it, sinking into comfort as she remembers her peaceful sleep hours that were ruthlessly ruined by me.

I let my eyes lift up higher as I spot the silver blinks of projectors moving onto the red velvet curtains. The stage looks exceptionally good this evening and I can't wait for the moment I'll step on the surface of the majestic wooden board. The unnecessary lights turn off as the commotion fades away and the sound of a solemn melody rises up, indicating that the ceremony begins. We are left to watch the performance in the darkness while the only bright illumination that is working is above the pathway spreading between the seats.

After the introduction, they first call out our sports teams that got some serious achievements at the regional competitions last year, grabbing the guys from other schools by the throats. Nothing new though. There was no year our sports teams would now win anything. Our school is way too determined in preparations and often enough these guys are even free from some general classes which is good or bad... I don't know but what is evident for everyone is that school status is the main thing we should care about.

As one of our teachers said once: "If the school is not the best--the year is wasted."

That might be true, although sometimes they try way too hard to climb to the top of the recommendation chart and there is also the dark side of all this perfection that no one is allowed to talk about.

But maybe I will tell you about it later...

As predicted, the best titles will most likely be announced in the end, before closing the awarding part of the event and we will go celebrate later at the party. For this occasion, I'm even ready for the night move.

The guys scream their mottos just like true angry animals the couch teaches them to be and arrange in the group photo positions, smiling and tensing their muscles for the cameras hovering over them.

Later goes the best teachers award which means we are too close for the best student award. My palms start getting sweaty as I watch the hostess calling out the math teacher and he is too quick to appear.

Mr. Dawson, being the most active, 'genius' and handsome teacher he thinks he is, goes up to the stage in his stylish tuxedo, waving his hand like a president as he pushes his chest up and blows his lungs with pride. Only thirty-two years old and already the teacher of the year. He probably thinks he can do everything now.

Whoever walks next through the aisle smiles wide and radiates the aura of happiness that is hard to ignore so I keep my eyes glued to the stage in the anticipation of my time.

The music suddenly changes its classy rhythm to a slowed one and my name emits in the powerful sound from the microphone and resonates over the whole room, reaching the ceiling, the walls, and the throbbing knot inside of my chest.

"Now we are inviting to our stage Melanie Fisher-Sunley - a girl who has been waiting for this moment to prove everyone she is without a doubt a unique gem of our school."

"Venus. Venus!" I clasp my hands on my friend's shoulder, attempting to shake her off as I notice she ducked her head low in the sleep while no one watched over her. "You are gonna miss everything. Wake up, stupid."

She suddenly jumps up with her wild eyes fixed on me when I pinch her. She grabs the phone remembering that I asked her to film everything for my grandmom and pushes me out of the seats to the carpet that I'm supposed to walk through. I barely balance, saving myself from stumbling out on the aisle and drilling the hole in the floor with my big ass forehead when I on the way also clutch the lower patch of my dress with the shoe.

I lift my chin bravely, paying attention to my gait, trying to make it as exquisite as the models I watched on the fashion week shows do. As I walk ahead, my fingertips dive in the soft fabric of the white dress that perfectly contrasts with my extra tanned, almost chocolate skin and I can only imagine how beautifully the blings decorating it glow in the dimmed light from afar.

The whistles and shouts confront me from all sides and the wave of applause engulfs me from the back like a tsunami.

I didn't hear this much noise even when the hot basketball players came up to the stage and this makes a slight discomfort tickle through my skin... or better to say the first warning signal that spikes in my heart but I quickly stash his suspicious thought aside, awaking for the glorious moment once I step over the stairs.

"Stand there for some time." The male host leans to me as he motions his hand to a specific spot at the right corner while the female host-a girl in a red dress, announces other students to lift up the stage too.

Two meters away I see a boy with a familiar quirky hairstyle in a white casual shirt who was called before me. He keeps his head fixed straight ahead, standing all tall and confident.

So he is smart too!

When I lift the bottom of my dress slightly to walk up, I don't even take a second to glance in his face as I'm fully focused on myself. I just join him as I was told and in the minute of waiting take a courageous breathe to wander my eyes over the jubilant audience that from the stage floor looks like a swarm of bees.

Ah, these shoes are so uncomfortable. I can't wait to take my trophy and go to change already.

"Congratulation to a couple of the year! Shaden Brook and Melanie Sunley - a secret pair who gathered the most votes from all of you." The male host yells in his microphone with such a lively enthusiasm that forces the crowd to tear up from their seats and shout at the top of their lungs when he motions his arm to me and this boy as we awkwardly back off, exchanging a few weird looks in the process. Some people appear from backstage and tie the red ribbons over our shoulders. This sudden fuss paralyzes my limbs and makes me only stare in shock because I can't do anything about it but brainstorm myself.

What? Wait, wait. I didn't sign up for it. This must be a mistake.