Young Writers Society

Asteria

Just when I thought school couldn’t get any worse, I have to save Frey’s ass in class. It totally throws off my flirting groove. And now it’s lunchtime, so I really have to be on the ball. Remember? I get to (have to, according to Juno) eat with Ben James The Boy With Two Names. I can’t let Frey’s snaffoo with his inner gayness get in the way of my relationship with Ben James TBWTN. Oh, my God, here he comes now.

Ben James saunters down the hall, bookbag slung carelessly over one well-toned shoulder, held by one strong, deeply-veined hand, his feet stepping in time to my heartbeat.

Did I really just say that?

Dear God, I’ve become Juno.

“Hey, Asteria,” says Ben with a smile so inimitable, Mona Lisa would be jealous. I swear on my grandmother’s enormous nose, I have never seen such thick eyelashes. I mean, it’s not fair for guys to have awesome eyelashes. It’s not like they need them anyway. Wait, he just said something. What did he just say? Oh. Right.

“Hey, Ben,” I nearly stutter, almost walking into some stupid freshman’s open locker door. I trip over a backpack and nearly plant my face into the floor like a memorial to a long-dead school founder. Ben didn’t see me, right? Okay, good.

“Ready for lunch?” says a voice right next to me. It’s Ben. He saw. Kill me now. Please. Just. Do me a solid. Right here, right now, God, please kill me.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go,” I say, my voice climbing the scales. I hope Juno isn’t around to hear. She’d call me out on my baby-rabbit-on-helium Nervous Voice right in front of Ben without even knowing it. She does that.

So Ben and I walk, and for a while it’s too loud in the hallways to say anything. And that’s nice. I try not to steal glances to my right, but I can’t help but notice how absent he is. It’s like he doesn’t even notice that the Queen Bee of the school, the three-time Homecoming Queen and one (and soon to be two)-time Prom Queen is gliding along the floor like a Greek goddess right next to him.

It’s like he’s blind or something.

“What’s on your mind?” I say, bumping his shoulder as we exit the freshman-infested hallway. Ben doesn’t hear. I snap my fingers.

“Ben!”

“What, yeah, huh?” That idiot. That adorable idiot.

“I said, ‘What’s on your mind?’ and you didn’t respond,” I say, telling my annoyance firmly to stay out of my voice, damn it. “Where are you right now?”

“Just...thinking,” he says. I hear Juno talking across the courtyard. Ben’s head snaps around like he’s been bitch slapped into next Tuesday. Juno’s laughter fades away and Ben goes back to being all thoughtful. That was...weird.

“O...kay...” I say, trying to shake off what I think you already know might just be a possibility. I won’t give away any spoilers. No spoilers here.

Anyway, there are about forty-thousand high school movies with scenes dealing with cafeteria drama, and honestly, this school is no different. Yes, the cool Asians sit at one table together and the jocks sit together at another and the geeks sit together at yet another, and so on until you finally get up the social ladder to my world. Ben grabs a cheeseburger, and I take a salad, conforming to our usual stereotypes.

Henrietta had saved us a table, like the adorable minion she is. She waves us over.

“Hey, girl!” I say with a slightly fake smile. Henrietta makes me nauseous. Her tangled red hair always gets in the way of her mud-brown eyes that are framed by an inordinate number of freckles. Plus, she picks her nose when she thinks no one is looking. Ew.

“Hey, ‘Steria!” she chirps, patting the seat next to her like I’m some kind of deranged lapdog. She notices Ben at my heels and her stupid smile fades a little. That’s right, Henrietta. He’s mine. I toss my head just slightly (“Too proud,” Juno would say). Our trays clatter to the table as Ben and I sit down. The other minions join us.

“So, how was your summer, Asteria?” asks Lindsey Hambernut, a blonde who fits her stereotype better than her ass fits into that knock-off Michael Kors mini skirt monstrosity.

“It was fine,” I say vaguely. Oh yeah. Two months of A.A. meetings, dodging Juno’s pranks, keeping Frey straight at parties. Whoop dee doo. I remember my social obligation a little too late. “How was yours, Linds?”

“It was fabulous until I ran into You-Know-Who at the You-Know-What in the You-Know-Where,” she says just before taking a sip of her diet sugar-free Dr. Pepper. The other girls around the table nod knowingly. I have no idea what she’s talking about, but clearly Henrietta does, because her gasp is big enough to swallow the earth and its surrounding satellites. Henrietta has a big mouth, both figuratively and otherwise.

“NO!” she nearly shouts. “Tell me more!” And so the two dimwits dissolve into what seems to pass for an acceptably interesting conversation and the part of me that isn’t an airhead Queen Bee sighs with frustration–until Ben starts talking.

“So, Asteria,” he says, turning to me secretively. My knee starts to shake. Pull it together, Asteria, I think. “I was wondering if...” Here it is. The moment he asks me on an actual date. I close my eyes and wait...But his voice trails off. I look around for the source of his distraction. Juno sits at a table across the cafeteria, with Emma and Frey’s theatre friends. I snap my fingers again.

“Ben?”

“Oh, sorry,” he says, flustered. “Uh. Um. I was wondering if Juno's going to be at the Lock-In on Friday.”

What?

What?

This cannot be happening.