The Optimist

three

2 Weeks Later

Mid-year prom is eight hours away.

The school buzzes with anticipation, and most of the girls I'd seen have their arms clung to their--I assume-prom dates. I, of course, am drowned in a new series, the Divergent trilogy.

Again.

Even though it's the third time I've read the time-taking books, I'm halfway through Insurgent and it's too indulging. When I flip the page to chapter eight, guess who, ambles over to my table?

"Hey." He mumbles, but cheerfully, of course.

I keep rereading the sentence over and try to balance ignoring him and reading at the same time. "It's mid-tear prom night." He says. Low chatter fills the lunch room comfortably as he scoots closer to the table. My table. "And I'm all alone."

I raise my eyebrow, curiously, and he laughs. How in the world does Mr. Advice-Giver-To-Everyone have no friends? Or frankly, a date?

I've spent two weeks practically ignoring him, barely answering his questions. Now, it's time to make conversation, because I can't ignore him, and it finally hit me that his presence is inevitable as long as I'm here, sitting at the peer-less round table. Maybe I'll seriously need him one day, but he'll ignore me just a easy as I did him. So, it's time to talk.

"That's not my fault." I say nonchalantly. I pretend to read, skimming over the words carelessly and he laughs a loud. "Actually," he says, "-it is."

"How?" I question. I sit my book down. My brain hurt anyway, so I decided to take a (rare) break from reading. The only time I don't read is dinner time, because I'm practically banned from it. That's when I don't talk, either. What's there to talk about when your basically lonely.. in a good way?

"Because we're the only girl and guy left." He says. Then he grins. He pulls out a crumpled paper and lay it on the table between the both of us, and it's mostly turned my way so I can read it. I take a quick glance at it before picking it up. It reads the lists of students and their prom dates. How the heck did he get access to that?

What am I saying? He's practically every teacher's pet, the janitor's only friend, and the school's overall most well-liked student besides Johanna. He has access to everything he wants. But who knew there was a prom list?

"Every student told me who they were going with." He replies to my mental question. "Except for one girl. She doesn't speak though, and I'm afraid she won't tell me because she doesn't ever smile or talk to me. I don't think she's going to the mid-year, but that'll waste of her junior year, right? I do believe I can change that, and hopefully her, too." He simply sugarcoats everything in a few sentences before shooting one of his infamous, gorgeous grins at me. "Maybe she'll smile."

"I like her. She sounds like.. me." I say.

"It's obvious."

Silence again.

The conversation went nowhere. My one failed attempt to make conversation, and it ends just as quickly as it began. He pulls a huge, old fashioned camera from his dingy, ripped satchet that sprawls across his chest. I thought only girls where those, but who am I kidding? He's Jacob Perez, afraid of nothing, especially when it comes to fashion.

The only reason he isn't bullied is because he's so well liked.

"Wait, so like, girls don't actually coo over you, Mr. Advice-Guy?" I say, revving up the conversation as best as I can. I want to laugh, but I hold in my composure. "Enough that they don't ask you and your Afro puff of out to prom?" He laughs for a full minute and shakes his head.

I swear I see him wipe away an unexposed tear from his eye before he finally calms down, taking a bite of his apple. I left my book down for to long, I thought. I pick it up but he snatches it before I can. He clutches onto it and chuckles at my nervous blushing.

"I'm pretty sure that's because of the lice I had in sixth grade. Remember?" He says. I remember. Who could forget? Jealous Chresanto (it was literally his nickname) spread around the school that Jacob had lice because Jacob had girls.. and he didn't. They're friends now , but back then, that made J. Chresanto angry. And when he was angry, everyone was, because he'd spit insults at you like your an anorexic girl wanting to become even skinnier.

"Yeah." I say, forcing the thoughts of J. Chresanto to the back of my mind.

"Even though they all knew it was a rumor, people still avoided me anyway." He sounds sad, but I doubt that's his mood. I'm at loss of words, thanks to my case of anti-social ness hitting at me.

"Sorry." I mumble, not knowing what else to say.

"That's the most you've said to me, ever." He says. He does a small dance in his seat and involuntarily, I giggle, revealing my the top row of my straight knotted (not perfect, but who cares?) teeth. It find it strangely funny for no reason at all, but I felt the sudden impulse to laugh. It feels good.

Jacob quickly snaps a picture before I realize what I'm doing. my eyes widen and I quickly halt my humor moment and watch as he inspects the picture over with curious eyes. including a smile of his own. "Delete it." I mutter, hiding my face with the book. A smile tugs at my lips, but I defeat it and frown.

"What was that?' I lift my face up behind the inside of the book enough for my eyes to scan him, holding a cupped hand around his ear. "What was that?" He smiles.

"Delete the photo, Jacob. Please?" I beg, feeling my voice crack, but I'm not sad, just embarrassed and slightly annoyed. He glances at the photo one more time. He smirks at it, and I shut the book on the table. Lightly.

"I'll do anything!" I blurt unintentionally.

Silence.

He rubs his chin slowly and then grins. "Anything?" The sly smirk never fades and he pulls up the 'delete photo' option and his finger lingers over the last button. The delete button.

"Don't get cocky." I mutter. Who knows what the school's favorite little optimist is thinking? Bad thoughts? I laugh under my breath.

"Then go to prom with me."

I sit for a full minute, thinking of all the possibilities. I contemplate and watch Jacob's eye droop for literally, a second, and then I nod unwillingly. I'll regret this, l'm sure of it.

"Fine." I say, giving in. I drop my vision to my book. He nods in satisfaction, rising from his seated position in the hard plastic chair.

"Yes!" He cheers triumphantly as the first bell rings before I can say anything. "Me, you, East Mall by 5. We'll have three hours. Don't be late!" He calls and disappears into the crowd of high schoolers.

I sigh and slump into my seat, frowning. Everyone knows I'll look like an awkward, ugly fool standing at the dance floor slumped over. Or maybe even embarrass myself by chugging down a hot dog and looking fat, when Lord knows I just have a feisty appetite and high metabolism.

I try to avoid reality, knowing I'm the exact definition of a stick. What if I don't find a dress that fits? What if it slips while I'm dancing?

If I dance.

I tug my books in my backpack, sighing deeply as I haul it over my left shoulder. It stoops my posture a bit and I exit the cafeteria.

All I know, is that I'll be a major disappointment to Jacob with the high possibility that I'll ruin his prom..