Everyone tells me what happened wasn't my fault. When I'm being kind to myself, I agree, somewhat. The thing is - I have never told anyone the whole truth - I always leave something out.
I might not admit it, but I know what happened. I know - and it's killing me.
I can say, with total honesty, Ray Brauer was the furthest thing from my mind when I showed up at Wendy Havermeyer's party last Friday. I mean, I knew who Ray Brauer was, my high school only has two hundred kids, but I didn't really know anything about him. He was kind of a nobody - you know the kind? He just came to school and went home. I don't think we ever had a conversation even. He was just a face in the hall.
The only thing I was thinking about was Perry Kinsmith and the note he'd passed to me in math class.
It said, "Alaya, I hope you're going to Wendy's party tonight. I'm going to go and I was really hoping we could hang out there."
Since the first day of school after summer vacation, I've been getting up, taking a shower and putting on make-up for only one reason: to get Perry to ask me out.
Every morning I had agonized over my clothes, trying to gauge from his reaction (or lack of reaction) what he thought looked good on me. I heard from one of his friends that Perry liked girls who were smart, so over this semester I've brought my grades up from C's to low A's. My parent's think I'm learning to apply myself. Being parents, they also think they're doing something to make my grades go up. I see no reason to burst their bubble, so I let them think whatever they want.
I really have been applying myself, but it hasn't been to schoolwork. I'm applying myself to getting Perry to like me. My friend Sarah thinks I'm crazy. She yells at me all the time. She says I shouldn't be trying to be someone that I'm not just to get a boy to like me. Her parents are, like, hippies or something. She says I should just be myself. Don't get me wrong, I really like Sarah, she's really nice and fun to talk to, but boys don't even look in her direction, so I think I can be forgiven for not paying any attention to what she says.
Then, this past Monday, it finally worked. I was doing my super sexy walk to my desk when Perry looked up from his geometry book and smiled at me.
"Hi Alaya," he said. He was so cool.
I returned his smile, but I didn't say a word.
He was cool. I was cooler. This was advice my mom had given me. She says girls should always make boys think they like you more than you like them.
My mom totally knows how to get a man, she's had four husbands already.
Tuesday, Perry had repeated his greeting. Just like the first day, I nodded and kept walking. He had glanced back at me several times during class. He had never done that before, believe me, I would've noticed. Then, on Friday, he had said his usual 'hello,' except, this time, when he did it, he handed me the note.
I had already been invited to Wendy's party, but I hadn't originally intended to go. I was going to the movies to see Drone Wars instead. Well, that plan was out the window. A mutant dinosaur with a machine gun couldn't have kept me from Wendy's party after I got Perry's note.
Picking my outfit for the party turned out to be far more difficult to accomplish than raising my grades. I spent at least two hours on my make-up, a half-hour alone dealing with a stupid zit that popped up in the crease of my nose. As I took care of it, I tried to solve the riddle of the outfit. The party was supposed to start at like eight, I was still standing in front of the mirror at 8:15. Finally, at 8:30, I started to freak out that Perry was going to think I wasn't going to show up. He might even leave!
