Popularity Contest

2

    My favorite thing about Fall is the weather. The crisp air, the scent of leaves and burning wood. I won't admit it out loud, but I also love football games. I love sitting in the bleachers with my friends, sipping hot chocolate and cheering like we know what's going on. Here in small town America, the high school football team is as close to famous as most people will ever get. And sadly, our Jefferson High Falcons aren't that good. At halftime, the score is 32-7 and we are not winning.
    "Snack time," Eva announces as the four of us stand up in almost unison and make our way down the bleachers.
    "I'm not getting a hot dog this time," Frankie says, once we're on the grass. "They make my breath smell so bad."
    "Who are you planning on kissing?" Kam jokes.
    I hear them tease each other and laugh but something draws my attention from the corner of my eye. I turn my head to the right and see a group of guys standing together. One has another in a headlock but it seems playful since the others are laughing. I scan their faces until I land on one I recognize and shockingly our eyes meet.
    Wyatt tips his chin up quickly and raises the coffee cup he's holding just slightly. I tell my mouth to smile but I'm not sure it does before nerves take over and I look away. I almost run right into the back of Frankie before I realize we've made it to the line at the snack stand.
    "Hello, Q? You in there?" Eva asks, waving her hands in front of my face.
    "Yeah, sorry. Zoned out."
    "Ok, she needs coffee," Kam says, pointing at me. "It's going to be easier than ever kicking your ass in the dance competition tonight if you're already tired."
    We move up in line and Eva recites our order, making sure she's not forgetting anything. Despite myself, I nonchalantly tuck my too long, chestnut hair behind my ear and look back to where I saw Wyatt.
    He's still there, laughing as the two who were wrestling fall on the ground. Even from here I can see how his eyes squint from the pressure of his cheeks. The way his brown hair moves fluidly in the wind makes it seem like he has his own Beyoncé fan.
    "I thought he wasn't that cute," Frankie says in my ear, making me jump a little.
    I turn back as Kam and Eva are up at the counter. Frankie is the only one who caught me. I try to hide my smile and shrug.
    "Your secret is safe," Frankie says, pretending to lock her lips with an imaginary key.
    "I mean it's no secret, he is attractive," I admit. "It's just, I'll probably never talk to him again so I might as well forget he even exists."
    "I don't know," Frankie says, holding out her hands as Eva turns to her with two cups and gives them to her. "Stranger things, Q."
    "I love that show," Kam says, turning toward us and stuffing her wallet back in her purse.
    "Don't we all," Frankie says, looking at me suspiciously.

    "You threw," I shout, pointing at Kam. "I never beat you, you let me win!"
    Kam holds her hands up, palms out. Her curly, dark hair is pulled into a ponytail and her matching tank top and shorts pajama set would be embarrassing on anybody else. "I didn't let you, I'm not that kind of girl. You just beat me, Q."
    Eva and Frankie clap for me. "That's what happens when you dance like no one's watching," Eva exclaims.
    "Or like someone is watching," Frankie says, emphasis on someone. I shoot her a look where she lounges on the couch in a baggy T-shirt and sweatpants. Her hair splayed across the cushions.
    "This calls for a celebration," Eva says, before bounding out of the living room and into the kitchen.
    I look back at Frankie and widen my eyes. She widens hers too but smiles, playfully challenging me.
    Eva reappears with a bottle of wine and does a little hip shake, her short black hair swaying. "For the champion," she says, holding out the bottle to me.
    "This is your moms," I say, obviously. Last year for Eva's birthday, her mom bought us wine coolers and we all had one each. That's the only time I've ever had alcohol.
    "She won't notice," Eva says, waving her empty hand in the air. "She has like four bottles in there."
    "I'm down," Frankie says, getting up from the couch and taking the bottle from Eva. She puts the bottle to her lips and tilts her head back. She swallows and wipes her mouth with the back of her forearm. "Next?"
    Eva takes it back and takes a small sip. She squints her eyes and sticks out her tongue before holding the bottle out again.
    Kam shrugs and takes it from her. She smells it first, looks through the opening with one eye then gingerly tilts the bottle back. "That's actually kind of good," she says.
    "Come on champ," Eva says to me. "It's just us, we're not going anywhere."
    "We'll make sure you don't drunk message anyone," Frankie says with a sly smile.
    I roll my eyes and take the bottle. It tastes like sour juice which I guess technically it is. It's not terrible.
    "That a girl," Frankie says, grabbing the bottle from me and taking another drink.
    "Who's next on the roster?" Eva asks, walking over to the coffee table where we have our match up score sheet which actually means nothing because after four rounds we forget it's even there. "Oh, me against Kam."
    Kam and Eva grab the controllers and take their places in front of the TV. I sit on the couch next to Frankie and pull out my phone.
    "No drunk texting," Frankie jokes.
    "I'm not drunk," I say.
    "Not yet," she says, trying to put the bottle to my lips.
    I push it away, laughing. "You're drunk."
    "Not yet," she repeats, taking another sip. "You should try," she says.
    "Try what?" I ask, confused.
    "To talk to him again," Frankie says, her voice quieter. I know who she's talking about.
    "There's no point," I say, scrolling through Instagram but not really seeing anything. "We're from two different worlds. Band is the only thing we have in common and he's only there because he has to be."
    "He might surprise you," Frankie says, tilting her head. "Plus, you're a kick ass person. Anyone would be lucky to get to know you."
    "Aw, Frank," I say, turning to look at her. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said."
    She holds up the wine bottle. "I blame the alcohol."
    I swipe the bottle from her and take a quick drink before setting it on the coffee table.
    Frankie protests but I distract her by shoving my phone in her face. Wyatt's Instagram profile is as perfect as you would expect it to be. His profile picture is a candid of him laughing, his bio says JHS '21 and most of his other pictures are sports related. Even the ones where he's not in a uniform, he's posing with teammates for an award ceremony or a victory party.
    "Wowee," Frankie whistles.
    "No one like this would ever like someone like me," I say softly. Normally, I would never say something like that out loud. Now I'm blaming the alcohol, too.
    "Q, let me tell you. Every time I have a crush on someone, it seems like a waste of time and usually it is because they're straight. Hellish, wannabe hick, small town that we live in doesn't offer many other options," she says, trying to make a joke but I hear the truth in it. "But a few times, people surprise you. Maybe they like you back, they just can't be out because their parents are Christian ass holes. Maybe they're not sure what they are but they know they like making out with you."
    Frankie gets a far off look on her face like she's remembering something before she shakes it off. "Point is, you never know until you try. Maybe Wyatt's a douche bag and he blows you off, maybe he's actually nice and you two become high school sweethearts. Maybe it's something in between but you won't know unless you give it a shot."
    "Thank you," I say, squeezing her arm. "And I'm sorry about our hellish, wannabe hick, small town."
    Frankie shrugs. "Luckily, there's a big world out there and I'll be smack dab in the middle of it pretty soon."
    "Anywhere is bigger than here," I say.
    The song ends and Kam and Eva high five before turning to us. "What are you talking about?" Eva asks.
    "The lack of available ass around here," Frankie says, leaning up for the wine bottle again.
    Eva snatches it before she can grab it. "You're up, melodrama," she says to Frankie.
    Frankie rolls her eyes but stands up and faces the tv next to Eva.
    We play for a few more hours before putting on a movie we've all seen a dozen times. I find myself clicking back to Wyatt's profile every once in a while. I scroll down pretty far and see a picture of him and a blonde girl. The caption is just a smiley face emoji and it was posted last year. Still I look at this girl and can instantly tell that we're nothing alike. She's blonde, blue eyed, bone thin and clearly popular. I have brown hair, brown eyes, more meat on my bones than I'd like and I'm so far down on the high school hierarchy, most people don't even know I'm there.
    Wyatt would never even be friends with me, not to mention something more. Tomorrow, when the wine is out of my system, I'll forget everything I thought tonight and go back to living my quiet, nonexistent existence.