Chapter Eight

After dinner, I slipped under the fence between my house and the Jenkin's to join Anna in the hammock. But when she saw me, she jumped up in a raw panic before I could even think about stretching out beside her.

She stole Sabrina's car and sped to the nearest shop to get supplies for prom planning and 'date equipment' whatever the hell that was. This left me in the Jenkin's back yard and in the hammock all by myself as I waited for her return.

The patio door to the garden slid open. I saw Sabrina's grey sweatpants first and then the same black and large t-shirt she put me in the night of the party.

"Anna, I'm making some tea, do you want any?" she called out while staring down at her phone.

"Anna can't come to the phone right now. She's driving."

Sabrina shifted her attention from her phone to me and walked around the pool and across the yard until she stood in front of me with her hands jammed into her pockets.

The silence stretched on as I rocked back and forth in the hammock, and she didn't even blink. They unintentionally hypnotized me so that my eyes remained open for far too long as well. Clearing my throat, I forced my eyelids to close at least the once.

"You're going to stand there and stare at me, saying nothing?" I asked. When she did nothing but rock back and forth on her heels with a subtle eyebrow raised, I sighed. "Sabrina. Seriously. Stop looking at me."

"I'm looking to see if you've suffered from brain damage. No visible indents . . ." She stepped forward and brushed my hair out from my face. "Nothing here either."

" . . . Do I even want to know why?"

"I have detention for the next two weeks."

"Congratulations? That was our plan?"

"What was my other condition, Sam?" she asked and but didn't let me answer because she placed a finger over my lips, muffling my words. "It seems you have short term memory loss because I remember explicitly saying that I get to choose your date to prom."

I shoved her hand away and relaxed back into the hammock with my hands behind my head. "I haven't forgotten, Sabrina."

"Well, Samantha, is it true that you have a date tonight?"

"Don't think that's any of your business, to be honest," I said.

"With Maisie Adams?"

"Lalala," I sang, covering my ears.

"Don't ignore me," she said. "Samantha."

I couldn't even remember the last time she'd called me by my full name. "Fine. Yes. God. I have a date tonight. Your sister is helping me get ready after we do some prom prep. Are you happy?"

Sabrina grabbed hold of the hammock and climbed in the opposite side, so she faced me. "Maisie Adams?" she repeated.

"Yeah. Maisie. What's wrong with Maisie?"

"You should be asking what isn't wrong with Maisie." Sabrina scowled. "This is a prank, isn't it? You know who she isn't, don't you?"

"Name one thing wrong with Maisie."

"She has pink hair."

" . . . We both know she has awesome hair."

"Have you seen her twitter? It's been a shrine to you for the last twenty-four hours. That's not normal."

"Oh no, a teenage girl posts about her feelings online. How out of line!"

"There's something off about that girl. I have an excellent radar for that sort of thing. Trust me. You don't know her."

"That's right. I don't really know her, Sabrina," I admitted and gave her room to stretch out her legs and relax instead of curling up into herself into a ball of stress. "That's the point in dating, right? Like I said to your sister, it's one date. No big deal."

Sabrina did stretch out, but there was nothing about her posture that suggested that she was getting any calmer. In fact, she seemed more wired with her vacant expression and teeth digging into her lower lip. "Have you seen her tweets?"

I inhaled and threw my hands over my face. "No. Watching You really hits home how our generation is a bunch of stalkers."

"I'm a reader of available content, nothing like creepy Joe," she said. "At least read a few of them."

"Fine," I cried. "Go on then. Read me them."

"When you're looking good, and you expect your crush to notice, but she doesn't."

"Aw. Kinda cute?"

"Update on crush AKA as Milkman. I'm taking her out. Or she's taking me out. She put up with my rambling and liked it?" Sabrina readout. "Milkman? Milkman? Now that goes to show her lack of creativity. Do you not think so?"

Well, there was no way I was claiming credit to that obviously awesome nickname anymore. "Sabrina."

"You're starting to see the picture of her character now," Sabrina said. "But do you know how often this girl gets crushes? It's at least fifteen a week. You're one in fifteen. A statistic. Doesn't that mean something to you?"

"So there's no possible way that she'll like me after the date. Is that what you're saying? That I'm not going to stand out enough from all her probably fictional crushes to stand a chance?"

Sabrina locked her phone and tapped her finger against the screen. "I never said that."

"Why do you care, Sabrina? We're not friends. Not anymore."

"You wound me," she said. "But there's one tweet that I didn't show you because I thought I wouldn't have to, but here it is. 2020 is the year I get laid on Valentine's day."

I faltered. That was the big reveal? "I'm not seeing a problem with that."

Sabrina slapped the phone repeatedly into the palm of her hand. "Don't you want your first time to be special?"

"My first time?" I said only to buy myself time because this conversation was definitely not where I thought it was going. Discussing sex with Sabrina? In another context, maybe it would've been cool but not like this. "I never said I'd do it. But even if I were to, how is that any of your business?"

"Hello? If you're sleeping with her on Valentine's Day, that is prom night—side note that was a good choice of date, I approve, but that date is reserved for a . . . date of my choice for you."

I tried to keep my cool. "I'll double book."

"No. That doesn't work for me."

"Wait. I never said she'd be my date anyway . . ."

"Now you're thinking about it. I gave you the idea."

"Well . . ."

"Sam!"

"Look, I'm sure this is in some way you looking out for me, and I sincerely thank you for looking after me in your room and destroying Gerald and Jack's phone. But Maisie? She's harmless. I think I can handle this situation by myself."

"Is that your final decision?"

"Yes."

"Okay." Sabrina nodded and got out of the hammock and headed inside.

"That's it?"

"I have someone to call. A more pressing issue."

"Who?" I asked. "Wait. That's none of my business."

Sabrina turned around and walked backwards. "Parker. I need to fill her in on the prom theme and coordinate our attire. You know, arrangements to make."

Oh shit. Why was my stomach swirling like that? Right. After Sabrina got off the hammock, it was rocking a bit too much. "Alright, Sabrina."

"Alright, Sam."

It was probably a bad idea to ask if the option for tea was still available, so I remained quiet. She dialled numbers on her phone, put it up to her ear and headed back inside the house, sliding the patio door shut.

It was at least fifteen minutes later that Anna pulled into the driveway and carried a bunch of plastic bags out of the car and into the house. It was almost like she'd forgotten that I was waiting for her. Another ten minutes later, she came outside, eyes wide. Yeah, she had most definitely forgotten about me.

My feelings weren't hurt or anything.

Anna forced me up from the hammock and beckoned me over to the picnic table, settling down supplies of paper and colouring pencils on the table.

"It's a good thing I brought this plastic knife out here," Anna said, slicing it through the air. "Tension is cut."

"I feel better already," I said.

"You're moody. Sabrina's moody. You had a fight."

"Nah," I said eventually. "Just discussing our plans for prom."

Sabrina was being silly. She knew nothing about Maisie to give me advice.

I settled my head down on the table and peered up at Anna.

She settled a hand on my forearm. "If you say so."

"Yep. I do."

"Now tell me the real story."

"I don't know, she read me some of Maisie's tweets," I started.

"Yikes."

"Said her pink hair was stupid."

"Sabrina thinks purple and pink hair is the biggest insult," she informed me.

"And Maisie can't be my date because I promised Sabrina she could choose and apparently I can't double book."

" . . . How can you double book?"

"For after . . ."

"Oh. Oooh. Right. So you messed up Sabrina's plans, that's what you're telling me."

"Basically."

"And?" she prompted.

"And she's partnering up with Parker for prom queen. You know, being her date."

Anna smirked a little. "That was part of the argument how?"

"It wasn't," I denied.

"If you say so." She removed her hand from my arm and uncapped a highlighter and tossed it in my direction. I was beginning to hate that phrase coming from her because it always implied she didn't believe me.

I nodded to the plastic bag on her lap. "What do you have there?"

"Red cardboard. We're making arrows."

"Oooh. Cool."

"So you're going to be down the hallway, recording Parker as she shoots Sabrina and posting that cute content online? You know, I didn't realize how much work you're going to put into both the prom committee and Sabrina's campaign for prom queen."

"I—What? She knows the theme in advance. That's all I promised."

Anna thumbed behind her. "I heard her telling Parker . . ."

"Oh shit."

"Forget about that. Let's focus on your date tonight."

"How does one date act on a date, exactly? Like how would I act differently to say how me and you are at a bowling alley."

Anna handed me the scissors. "You know . . . prolonged eye contact. Show her how to bowl. Let her show you how to bowl if she offers. Cute stuff like that."

" . . . But you showed me how to bowl."

She lowered her gaze to the glitter. 'You kept throwing the ball in the gutter, and we were wasting good money renting those shoes and taking up the lanes."

"But that wasn't romantic. That was just you needing to have good competition."

"Did I hold you longer than necessary?"

"You showed me at least thirteen times. I counted."

"And was it necessary?"

" . . . Yes." I may have needed the support for that long. "Alright. Point taken."

But the main point was that I had real experience with bowling now, thanks to Anna. That was one trick up my sleeve for the date this evening. After that, though? How long were bowling games anyway? Was it expected to play more than one game? Should I have asked if we were going to do anything else after the game like getting something to eat?

Anna threw a shitty arrow into my forehead and pointed to the crumbled cardboard in my hands.

Then, of course, there was Sabrina. She planned on me being her campaign manager, her own personal hype girl for her and her date. A fangirl. A promoter of the two of them. It was my idea in the first place . . . but did I need to be so involved in their love affair?

My answer came in the form of Anna's huff of laughter at my terrible arrow.

Yes. It was worth it.