Ki$$ & $ell

Ki$$ & $ell: Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

“You’re going to Homecoming with Ryder Diggs!”

            I covered my ears as McCartney let out the first of several high-pitched shrieks. Glancing around, I was embarrassed to find that everyone was staring at us with annoyed looks on their faces. I immediately regretted my decision to tell my best friend about Ryder while we were in public. We’d stopped at the smoothie shop to get an early morning pick-me-up, but after hearing McCartney’s screeching—which I was convinced only dogs and other small animals could hear—I think it was safe to say that I was officially awake.

            “Jeez, Cart. Way to make a scene,” I said, before apologizing to those around us.

            “That’s your fault, sister soldier. You can’t drop a bomb on me like that and expect me to act like it’s not the biggest news I’ve ever heard in my entire life,” she said. Placing her hand up to her mouth and faking a dramatic yawn, she looked at me tiredly. “Oh, you’re going to Homecoming with the hottest celeb in the universe? You think that’s impressive? Try going Han Solo like me.”

McCartney’s sarcasm was not appreciated, though I could kind of understand her point. This thing with Ryder was certainly the highlight of my fourteen years so far. I probably would’ve reacted similarly if I’d been in her shoes. Possibly even worse.

            “Okay, okay,” I said, giving in and smiling. “I admit, it’s pretty freaking cool.”

            McCartney shook her head, squinting her chocolate brown eyes at me accusingly. “You little mother humper,” she swore under her breath. “How did this happen? More importantly, why isn’t it happening to me?”

            I knew she didn’t really mean it, but I stepped ahead of her in line and paid for both our smoothies to try and “smooth” things over anyway. We both ordered the “Monkey Business,” a drink we’d been getting since the second grade. It was a combo of chocolate, peanut butter and banana, and it was delicious. I watched as McCartney immediately shoved the straw into her mouth and slurped away at the mixture like she was mad at it. Only, I knew her annoyance should’ve been directed at me. When she still refused to speak to me, I launched into my explanation.

            “He called me up out of the blue, Cart. I didn’t even think it was him at first. I mean, I called him a butt-much,” I said, recalling this horrifying bit of the story. “Anyways, we ended up just shooting the breeze, talking about the eBay thing and Kristi being a be-yotch, and then I mentioned that I was on the Homecoming committee. He started to talk about all the stuff he’d missed out on because he was so busy getting famous, and so I jokingly told him he should go to the dance with me and…he said yes.”

            “You’re shitting me, right? All you had to do was ask him and he said yes? And you weren’t even being serious about it? This is so unfair! Where’s my celebrity Prince Charming?” McCartney whined. Suddenly her face softened and she turned her head sharply to look at me. “Do any of his super-hot, super-famous friends want to go to Homecoming with me? I would be excellent arm candy, you know.”

            I burst out laughing, almost snorting “Monkey Business” out of my nose in the process. “I don’t know, McCartney. Part of me doesn’t even believe he’s actually gonna show.”

            “Just ask him next time you talk, okay? Promise me you’ll put it out there,” she pleaded. If she could’ve gotten on her knees to beg at my feet without getting her white jeans dirty, I was pretty sure she would’ve done it, just to prove how much the request meant.