Intensity

Eight

Homecoming. It was like the before-party for Prom. And Homecoming week was like the before-party for Homecoming. The school held a very nice Homecoming week. The week before the dance was full of fun activities for students and faculty alike to participate in.

            There was spirit week. This week, Monday was pajama day, Tuesday was twin day, Wednesday was crazy hair day, Thursday was team spirit day (football teams), and Friday was the day to show your love for the school.

            I didn’t participate in any of the activities. Last year Oliver and I did the twin day thing, but this year there was no Oliver to do it with. He and Cait did though. It was “Good Twin”, “Bad Twin” for them. I grinned and bore it though. I was trying to be supportive of them.

            Ricky came and hung out with me almost every day since our steamy make out session in his car. He met my dad (even though he didn’t introduce himself as my boyfriend. He wasn’t exactly like that…yet) and step-mom but had yet to formally meet my mother.

            I didn’t see much of Oliver anymore. He was always with Cait. Cait this, Cait that. He texted me, sure, but he could never find the time to hang out with me anymore. Every day it was Cait’s place. I wondered if they were having sex. Me and Ricky weren’t. And I missed him like crazy. I wanted to call him, but every time I did he could only talk for a few minutes. And I could hear Cait in the background, talking bad about me.

            Obviously, Cait and I weren’t getting along any better. If anything, we were getting along worse. In the hallways one day, I heard Oliver mention my name, and she referred to me as “Ricky’s hoe.” And I did not hear him defend me. And that made me mad.

            Ricky was telling me to forget about him. If he couldn’t make time to see me, then he didn’t deserve to have me as his friend. If he was picking some girl he’d known for three weeks over me then he was worthless. Ricky saying that didn’t make me feel better. In fact, it made me feel a little worse. Okay, a lot worse. It made me feel worthless. Like Oliver had never really been my friend at all.

            On Thursday, the day before Homecoming and the football game, the school held a bonfire like it did every year. I dressed warmly as the weather was growing more and more cold each week, and Ricky came and picked me up. We drove with the radio playing the Red Hot Chili Peppers quietly, talking about the dance.

            “My foster father let me borrow a tux,” Ricky announced to me. “It’s a little big, but it will work. Do you have a dress?”

            I nodded. “Yeah, my mom went and I went and got it a few weeks ago, before I really knew you. I was gonna go by myself…but then you came along.”

            I smiled at him, and he smiled back at me. “And I’m glad I did,” Ricky said, and squeezed my thigh. Looking forward he asked, “Have you heard from him?”

            “No,” I said tersely. “Not all week. I’m about ready to go over to his house and bitch him out.”

            Ricky shook his head. “No, don’t do that. It’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

            “What, yelling at him or being his friend?”

            “Both,” said Ricky with a sigh. “I just…I don’t want him to hurt you. More than he has already, I mean.”

            “I know,” I replied. “He’s my best friend, though. I’ve known him for so long. He knows like, everything about me. It’s hard…to let that go.”