Jenni James - Pride and Popularity

“After four-wheeling Wednesday night? I already have that day off.”

“Um, okay. I just have to be home by ten 10:00.”

“Oh, yeah, you have a curfew,” Blake said. “I forget that you’re younger than I think you are.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. You seem older to me, you know?”

Oh my gosh, he’s so awesome. “I wish I was older.” “How old are you, anyway? Eighteen? Nineteen?” “Really?” I giggled again. “I’m seventeen, weirdo.”

He laughed his deep laugh. “Oh, someone just walked into the hotel. I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you Wednesday then, okay?”

“Yep. It’s a deal. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye.” He sounded rushed.

“Bye.” A guy totally called me from work. How romantic is that? 

By Monday it was official. School was now in swing. It was a full-fledged spiral of activity. The initial shock of the new school year was over—as far as teachers were concerned, that is. By the afternoon my homework load had doubled. It was all I could do to finish in time to make it to the dance studio a bit early.

My first class started at 5:00. I had hoped to get there at 4:00 to review a bit before the students came. As it was, the earliest I could get there was 4:30, which gave me just enough time to stretch before a little girl came in.

“Miss Chloe,” she exclaimed as she ran to throw her arms around my knees. “You’re back!”

It was the first welcome I’d had, since Ms. Chavez’s class had already started by the time I showed up. I leaned over and hugged Gracie. “Hello, Gracie. I’ve missed you. How are you, sweetie?”

She ignored me completely as she turned back to face her mother. “See, Mom! I told you Miss Chloe would come back. I told you.”

Mrs. Littleton chuckled. “Yes, you did. Glad to see you’re back, Chloe. Gracie has really missed you.”

“It’s good to be back.” I grinned. “Okay. Come on, missy. Let’s get those slippers on.”

“I’ll be here in about an hour,” Gracie’s mom said.

Gracie and I told her goodbye before we hurried over to the bench to get ready.

Thank goodness my first class was a small, beginner one— there were only six children in the class. I actually got to review with them. By the time class was over, I had a rough idea of how I wanted to teach the intermediate class. They had continued on without me during the summer, so I used their hour to evaluate their skill levels.

Once 7:00 rolled around, I began to wonder why I had ever left the studio. The children from both classes were so excited to see me, it was like I was a celebrity or something.

The classes went by much faster than I expected them to. Before I knew it, it was time to go. I walked through the room and picked up a few stray items of clothing, then put away the stereo and the classical CDs. I grabbed my bag and put my jeans and T-shirt on over my tights and leotard. Next, I slipped my feet into my Vans and switched off the lights. I waved goodbye through the window to Mrs. Chavez as I passed the room where she was teaching adult tap dance. She quickly returned my wave.

As I walked toward the Volvo, I felt as if I had just started a new chapter in my life. I couldn’t explain the feeling other than it was like a routine had just begun.

And begun it had. I had forgotten how busy life was when I had a job. The days and weeks passed unbelievably quickly, blurring together in a sort of pleasant monotony. I mean, there was an odd day here or there, like on the Wednesday when Blake took me dancing after four-wheeling. We didn’t go anywhere— he just turned on his headlights and cranked up the radio. It was so wonderful to dance with him under the stars, even if it was on uneven ground and we laughed more than we actually danced. We stumbled and pitched into each other the whole time. It was a lot of fun and way more than made up for Collin’s attempt at a date. Other than that, due mostly to conflicting work schedules, Blake and I hadn’t been on a date again. And it was already October.

Even Taylor felt the stress of our senior year, and he buckled down more and actually completed his artwork on time. Of course, that didn’t stop him from still, well, being Taylor. Apart from the initial tease session I knew was due on that first Monday after Collin’s date, Taylor basically stopped taunting me and started boring us by bragging about Kylie Russell. But as much as that annoyed me, it was better than when he turned his attention toward me. As a matter of fact, it wasn’t until plans for our annual Halloween party were announced that Taylor really remembered that Madison, Alyssa, and I existed, other than to act as the audience to his B-rated soap opera.

The Halloween party was all my friends and I could think about. We had lost track of time due to our hectic schedules—my dance classes plus filming and sending off my ASU admission DVD, Maddi’s volleyball practice and games, and Alyssa’s orchestra practice. So we only had a week to get the invites out or there wouldn’t be enough notice for people to make it.

Not to brag or anything, but our Halloween parties had become a bit of a legend over the past few years. Well, in our crowd, that is. I’m sure none of the top tier of high school social hierarchy would’ve had much fun. Our parties are never something a reality TV show would be interested in filming. We’re normal teenagers, okay? Normal teenagers whose parents would kill us if we dared to throw a party like that.

So, way back when I first moved to Farmington, Maddi, Alyssa, and I waited and waited to be invited to one of the cool parties. All summer long we waited. And then it was like a light bulb went off and we decided, why wait for something that may never happen? Why not host our own amazing party for everyone the popular crowd did not deign to invite to their parties? It was like an underground resistance—a boycott of the “in crowd,” if you will—proof that you didn’t have to be the coolest kid in school to have fun. Thus our annual themed Halloween party was born, and we’d had one for the last three years. One year, we all dressed up as pirates and went in search of real treasure. Madison’s father had us split into teams and follow clues around the city. It was so cool. We got a lot of funny looks, but we didn’t care. Maddi’s father actually buried the treasure in the sand at one of the parks and we had to find it. Crazy, huh?

This year our theme was favorite vintage TV shows, and everyone was supposed to dress up as a character. We planned to have a lot of different games and contests that would revolve around the theme.

Since the party was at my house this year, it was my turn to make the invites. I had made a sample that looked just like a vintage TV. I brought it to show the girls in art so we could have time to really look it over and decide what needed to change. After Ms. Bailey called roll, I presented it with a flourish,

“Ta-da,” I exclaimed as I dramatically dropped my attempt at a TV-shaped invitation on the table.

Madison, Alyssa, and even Taylor leaned over to see it. The TV screen read:

Madison, Alyssa, & Chloe’s Annual Halloween Party

What’s On: Vintage TV shows

Show Time: Friday, October 29, 7:00 p.m.

Station: Chloe’s house

TV Directory: 4329 Meryton Street

Channel Dial: 555-5467

Advert: RSVP to advertise you’re coming by the 19th

Alyssa gasped. “Wow, Chloe, that looks so awesome!”

“I love the way you used TV language instead of the ‘where,’ ‘when,’ and ‘at’ stuff,” Madison said.

“Okay, um, what is up with the grey bobby pin and the tin foil at the tips?” Taylor asked.

“That’s supposed to be a vintage TV antenna,” I said defensively. “Get it? See, the bobby pin is spread out like a V.”

Taylor chuckled. “I think it makes it look like a Martian.”

“Don’t listen to him, Chloe,” Madison said. “Taylor’s just jealous because he’s not invited.”

Surprisingly, Alyssa came to my defense too. “Yeah. He’s a boy anyway. His opinion doesn’t count. I think it looks fabulous.”

Both girls mock-glared at Taylor until he gave up.

“All right, all right.” He grinned as he raised his hands in a “don’t shoot” gesture. “I can see when I’m out numbered.” He turned to me and half bowed. “Chloe, I apologize. On second thought, it does look like a TV—Martian.”