POPULAR (chapter seventeen: bachelors and bachelorettes)

Chapter Seventeen

Bachelors and Bachelorettes

We arrived early at Dance Fangdango and the School Auditorium was lit up with lights.  The theme of the prom was Vampires & Princesses, I’m not sure where we got that from but the boys voted for vampires and our committee voted for princesses, so the theme was a compromise. Perhaps that’s how all the best decisions are made. I’m not saying we should always compromise but sometimes we should. Like, if women ran the world, they’d be okay with compromising and there wouldn’t be any war. At least, I don’t think there would be.

   Flynn arrived with a girl on each arm, dressed as Dracula. Hilary was dressed as Ariel (from the Little Mermaid) and I went as Kate Middleton (in her shimmery blue engagement dress – it’s a very sophisticated look). The other real Princesses, well, they just came as themselves (an option we’d also had) and you couldn’t blame them. You might as well use your clique name while you have one. I’m with Oscar Wilde on social stuff. For example, Oscar Wilde was all, never knock society, only peeps who can’t get into it do that. That’s how I feel about the Princesses. Peeps who aren’t invited, well, they get a little snarky about us.

   Sometimes I think Ethan is a snob without realizing it. Just look at his initial reaction to my newest friend. Let’s face it, his house and family are the most famous and notable (and rich) in the whole district – even richer than mine. So I guess he hasn’t got much to be humble about. Oh, except Ethan is just a little bit withdrawn socially. For example, he re-iterated that he didn’t dance but was tagging along just to, “laugh at high school drama queens (like me) and enjoy the atmosphere.”  

   There were hundreds of tiny lights decorating the auditorium; a roof of stars covering a roomful of teenage dreams. The walls were draped in dark curtains framing a scene lit to emulate Dracula’s castle.  

    Ethan took a handful of food from the plates shaped like hands and walked over to the gaming area to play pool with some of his nerdy friends.

    As the dance got going, music played, lights twinkled, food was spread ready on trestle tables and the photo booths were rarely vacant. The disco balls were lighting the place like fireworks and the school auditorium looked like a vampire’s eighteenth century castle by the time the rest of our group arrived. The auditorium was stunning and tons of peeps congratulated me and Hills and the Princessses and the School Social Committee.

    It’s hard to believe the committees were really mean when they were in school but Phoebe told me they were. Mrs Teegan, Tory, Brook and Freya founded The Princess Society. It is kind of ironic they all got married at eighteen and became teen moms. This allowed them to simultaneously ‘look down upon’ their unmarried ‘sisters’ but Phoebe said (apart from their usual cattiness) they totally shone in their new roles as moms.

    Anyway, they always make a point of being nice to me because my mom is always in New York and rarely does school socials, so I have to put in the effort of two peeps, but that’s okay.

     Some teachers are hovering in the corner chatting to my art teacher, Ms Dash. Ms Dash is one of my toughest cases. I’m not sure what to do with her. She’s liked Mr Henry, our computer science teacher for years and neither of them are getting any younger since his divorce. I’ve tried everything. I texted myself about Ms Dash every day and realized I’d have to work harder and use a better plan to get them together.

    Ms Dash really is the nicest teacher ever and instead of being jealous of the Princesses she always encourages us to rise to our true potential. The only problem with Ms Dash is that she tends to tell the same story more than twice and has an unfortunate habit of laughing whenever she’s nervous.

    I see her now across the room, giggling profusely. I walk over and smile as I offer her some mini-chicken burger sliders and mention that Phoebe (previously a student) says “hi”. She says, “I remember your tutor, Honey. When Phoebe Harris came here, she was just about your age. To think she’s now married to Mark Knightly (Ms Dash gave a little giggle) and about to have her first child. What clever girls Phoebe and Mouche were.”

     A little tear came to Ms Dash’s  eye and I felt bad for making her sad by reminding her of her former student, Mouche, and all that is lost.

     In the interests of being social, I moved further from the group of teachers and on towards the group of boys who had turned up (with others) including, of all peeps, Flynn Elton. I thought it was best to pretend I’d overlooked Flynn’s previously bad  behavior. Let bygones be bygones.

     There is an old Chinese saying that goes something like, if you seek revenge, take two shovels. I guess that means even if you get back at the other person, you hurt yourself just as much in the process.

      Flynn really rubbed it in, though. It took all of my self-control not to pour a drink over him or announce his bad behavior to the world… not that anyone was listening. The music was loud and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves.   

    I noticed Flynn was with two girls. I shouldn’t say I don’t like them (‘cos that might be misconstrued as unfriendly) but I don’t.  Let’s just say Hestor Hill is, like her namesake from the Scarlett Letter, a real piece of work. Hester is dressed as Bella from Twilight. She was supposed to become a Princess in her freshman year but decided being a Princess was lame. She didn’t take any of our advice and wasn’t at all interested in any of the groups we support (Shar Pei Adoption, for example – only a truly mean girl wouldn’t want to be part of that!).

   Hester smiled at Flynn then frowned at me.

   Don’t you just hate it when girls do that? Act like the other girl is the problem, not the boy. Boys would never treat their former friends with such petty malice, would they? It’s not at all social. She must have heard all about Flynn and me. Whatever. I can’t be bothered with the negative emotions of girls who should know better.

   I’d moved around the entire room (or my section of it) and the dance was in full swing when Flynn Elton presented himself to me in total vampire mode – cape, fangs and all. He looked seriously hot, apart from the fangs, but it’s difficult for me to think about him like that anymore. Like a rare parrot, he’s revealed his true colors. Besides, there were tons of peeps making the floor like a mosh pit by then.    

   “So, Honey, do you want to par-tay?” Flynn asked, holding out his hand debonairly.

   “I don’t think so, Flynn,” I said frankly. “I’m busy making sure everyone else is having fun.”

   “Really?” He touched my shoulder and whispered into my ear. “Do you still have your knickers in a knot?”

    That’s the closest you’ll ever get to my underwear, I thought, as I gave him a withering look.

    “That’s sexual harassment, Flynn. But what is so much worse? Your costume is a total fail.”

   He’d modeled himself on Dracula and was even affecting a try hard British accent and had stolen a very British saying. Pretentious much?     

    “Flynn. I may have thought you were nice… once…. I’m over that now.”

    “Nice? You practically threw yourself at me in the department store!”

    “You wish! I think someone has a perception problem!”

    “Yeah baby, you.”

    Don’t you hate it when boys who’ve acted like total losers pretend it’s all about how you have acted?

   I shrugged him off.

   I just hate it when men rewrite history.

    You really have to assert yourself sometimes in the presence of others intent on bringing you down.

    Now, just because Flynn was clearly bad for mois didn’t mean I’d given up on him and Hilary or the goodness of boys in general. I brushed Flynn aside. (He actually moved on to Ms Dash. I happen to know he was angling for an A in History of Art and thought Ms Dash would be just the person to supply it). By now, Ty and Jess had pulled me onto the floor, but I was dancing so close that I heard every word Flynn said.

   “Oh Flynn, I never dance on these school occasions and never with students.” Ms Dash  looked longingly at Mr Henry and I knew she wished he’d make a move. He was pressing some formula into his calculator.

   “Oh, c’mon, it’d be fun,” Flynn pressed, determined to win a higher mark via flattery.

   “I don’t think so, Flynn. What would the faculty say? I’ve met little charmers like you before,” she smiled. “No is my final answer.”

   Flynn shrugged, it was her loss and he’d just have to find some other way to get the mark he wanted.

   Mrs Dash, ever the kind woman, noticed the only girl in the entire room who was seated alone. The girl was tapping her foot, looking like she’d love to be up on the dance floor.

   That girl was Hilary.

   The fault lay with me for encouraging her to trust Flynn and I felt bad that she was highlighted under disco lights, sitting isolated.

   Ms Dash smiled again at Flynn before he walked off and added, “I may not be dancing but that girl over there – Hilary – she’s in your class. I think she’d love to dance.”

   Flynn looked down his nose at Hilary from the length of the room. The music was a little quieter by then and the boys in the pool corner – the anti-socials like Ethan, had finished their game and were sipping drinks, observing the action taking place on my side of the room.

   “No,” Flynn said, “I’m so over this lame teen dance. Way over it…”

   The music stopped.

   “Besides, why would I want to dance with a girl no one else wanted?” Flynn added really loudly.

    The whole room heard his comment. I wanted the ground to swallow him up – I felt so bad for Hilary. Snubbed and made to look small, even at her prettiest and most social, all because of one mean, snobbish boy. How wrong could I have been? It was my entire fault. I’d been so… misdirected.

    The entire room was silent.

    Ethan, in all his cool jacket and jeans glory (he looked stunning under the strobe lights partly because he was naturally good-looking and also because he’d finally taken my wardrobe advice!) walked across the room while everyone else just stopped and stared. He made a beeline for Hilary, whispered something in her ear and she smiled and he took her hand.

   The music started.

   In seconds, they were dancing. Everyone stood and stared… for a moment.

   They made a great couple and I couldn’t believe what a great dancer Ethan was.

    Ethan showed up Flynn times a thousand. He acted like a true gentleman. Afterwards, I whispered to him, “you’ve been hiding your talent!”

   He just smiled, “I was right about Flynn.”

   “I know,” I conceded.

   I really was impressed by his amazing social skills and genuine kindness. He was so much more than just hot and witty. He was charming and cool at the same time. He was everything, in short, that Flynn wasn’t: mature and sensitive. Wow. Ethan was everything I hadn’t acknowledged until now.

    When the music stopped, Hilary was dancing in a group and Ethan moved off the dance floor.

   We stood near the trestle tables, sipping our sodas as we talked.

  “You look like a Princess tonight,” Ethan said.

   I smiled, “that’s the whole idea.”

   He paused for a moment and looked at me closely.

   “Do you want to dance?”

   I nodded, surprised. 

   Ethan held out his hand and it seemed like the whole room cleared as they played some old song from the eighties that was fully rocking. We even managed to get the jumps and the twists together. We laughed and talked when the music stopped.

   “I was so wrong about Flynn, Ethan. There is such a lack of…”

   “Maturity?”

   “Yes, maturity to him. I was wrong to try to set Hilary up with him. Rafe was the better man and now he’s not even at the dance.”

   I could tell Ethan was contemplating what I said from the little crinkle developing between his eyebrows.

   “You were wrong, but so was I. Hilary is one of the nicest girls I’ve met and she definitely improves once you get to know her better. Perhaps it’s your influence. I’m glad to hear you’re giving up matchmaking.”

   “Who told you that?”

   “No one, I just assumed you’d learned your lesson.”

   “Well, you assumed wrong. I already have a new project under way which I’m hoping you’ll become part of…” I gestured towards a hapless-looking Ms Dash.

   “Honey…” he said my name like a warning.

POPULAR by SUMMER DAY (chapter eighteen: the art gallery)

Chapter Eighteen

The Art Gallery

   The day of the field trip, a week after Dance Fangdango was the day I committed my second major social crime.  Our combined art and film class were all there, which is why Ethan was along for the ride, literally.

   The gallery was kind of amazing, set in the grounds of some Beverly Hills director’s lush home. There was a park adjacent to the museum complete with water fountains and lakes. Instead of having individual lunches, I’d convinced Ms Dash to get some catering going and we could all have a food happening (i.e. picnic) like in the old days and take photos. It would be a good excuse for everyone to talk and discuss what they saw in the gallery, I argued. Ms Dash took some convincing. She’s not a natural socializer.

   Of course, most students would be more interested in discussing their social lives than the lives of ancient movie stars immortalized forever on film and in art archives, but Ms Dash didn’t need to know that.

   It would also be a good chance for Hilary and Rafe to talk and possibly sort things out, although I was wondering if that was a good idea. I’d noticed neither of them even looked at each other as we got on the school bus. They sat separately too, and although Hilary remained loyal to me, I had to ask myself why. The dance hadn’t been anything like I’d expected it to be although most of the students and teachers labeled it a resounding success.

    But I’d moved on.

   Ms Dash and Mr Henry were chatting on the bus. My ‘teacher love match’ project was coming to fruition.

    At midday, after we’d finished the morning tour, (complete with interactive film on the history of rom-coms and spaghetti westerns), the entire group went outside.

    At lunch, Rafe and Ethan were sitting opposite us, discussing an article they’d read about a new computer game. I thought, in the interests of socialization, Hilly and I would try to join in. Hilly smiled sweetly and so did Rafe but I noticed they didn’t talk as they munched on the delicious sandwiches and fruit salad I’d organized. Students were lolling about on the manicured ground and the whole midday scene resembled one from the cafeteria – just transported to a different place.

   Yes, you guessed it, peeps were becoming a bit cliquey.

   I noticed Ms Dash glance lovingly over at Mr Henry. He was silent but gave her a slight smile. Mr Henry then got up and wandered off to nowhere. Even though I encouraged Ms Dash to change her glasses over to contacts, wear shorter skirts and paint her nails, I noticed she really hadn’t taken my advice. Her man was in danger of straying…

   I was lolling on the steps after finishing my orange, when the conversation around me was obviously lagging in general. Princesses looked bored and Ms Dash suggested we pack up to go back to school early.

    Hester groaned and so did Flynn – they both liked any excuse to stay out of ‘structured environments’ which is why I would have thought Ms Dash’s art class would have been perfect for them. So, to avoid imminent transportation, Flynn was all like, “Ms Dash, you should wait until we’ve finished our game of truth or dare – c’mon Ms Dash , we’d love it if you played too, we need an extra person.”

    Jessica got to ask the first questions.

    “Truth,” Flynn said, like his words were of national importance.

   “Let’s see… what’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever done?” Jessica giggled.

    “Mmm… Let’s see; Oh not dancing with Hilary and Honey at Dance Fangdango  – I still regret it.”

    Hilary looked like she believed him. It was so obvious he wasn’t sincere. Hilary looked at the picnic blanket and I blushed. It was Flynn’s turn.

    “I was thinking about asking Honey something but she’s not really talking to me so… Ms Dash, please name the silliest thing you’ve ever done… there must be something…”

    Ms Dash colored up as well. She wasn’t used to being included in student games.

    Flynn looked at me and I turned the conversation back to Ms Dash.

    I suppose all adults have regrets – some more than others in the case of Ms Dash who has clearly been let down by love if the ripped hem of her skirt and lopsided reading glasses were anything to go by – but I really should have learned to keep my mouth shut after the previous weekend.

   Instead, I opened it to deflect comment and said, “Oh, but Ms Dash will be limited as to the amount since the game requires only one stupid thing…”

   I looked around expecting laughter to greet me but no one was smiling, except Flynn.

    In retrospect, Flynn’s smile was more like a smirk, even he knew I’d made a huge social gaffe that went beyond being marked low on my next assignment. Plus, I knew, even though the downcast and humiliated look on Ms Dash’s face told me I’d been mean, that Ms Dash would never let her personal feelings interfere with her work.

    The look on my teacher’s face spelt utter humiliation.

    Ms Dash looked so upset. As she stood up she announced, “yes, Honey, I suppose you are right. All these years I’ve spent helping other people’s children when I could have been raising a family of my own, I really must seem like quite a… foolish woman.”

   Ms Dash stumbled over the last words and I realized of all the lame-o things I’d done recently, from my stupid matchmaking blog to the re-education of Ethan Knightly, this was clearly the stupidest. But not only was it stupid, my comment was mean. I was suddenly the meanest girl in the school.  One of the groups had even filmed what I said.

    Ethan took the lead and stood up. He looked really cute in the mid-afternoon sun.

   “Ms Dash,” he said, changing the subject, “I’m completely over this childish game. I’d much rather talk to you about that lesson you gave on Picasso before he went weird – could I walk with you back to the bus? Your comments are so insightful.”

   Ms Dash smiled gratefully as Ethan moved over to her side of the circle and walked back to the bus with her.

   Everyone else in the party was silent until Rafe Martin said, “Well, I’m going to go back now too. This game sucks. I’m over it.”

   Even Hilly got up, looked at me regretfully and said, ‘Um… I think I’ll go too.’

   Flynn was left smirking by my side when he returned to gather his notes.

   “Wow, good one Honey. You sounded like a real nasty piece of work. Good to see you becoming the woman you were meant to be.”

   “Thanks very much,” I said, “you can talk.”

   “Too true, Honey, but I think you’ll find society by and large far more tolerant of the inadequacies of males than females. I don’t know why; it’s just the way the world is.”

   Honestly, he was acting so superior. Flynn was way more interested in seeing me brought down a peg than giving me good advice.

   I got up, just as Ethan was stomping back up the hill.

   “I forgot my cell. C’mon, Honey, everyone is leaving.”

   At first I thought he had forgiven me but the scowl on his face said he hadn’t.

   As we walked back to the bus he started talking and wouldn’t stop. “I’m really ashamed to be your friend right now, Honey. That teacher has been your mentor since you were in grade school. She’s always talking to my cousin about how she loves teaching us and how much it means to her. You are so… so privileged and full of yourself you should set a good example, not a bad one.”

   Ethan turned away from me and I never felt more alone in my life. Honestly, it was like I was Eponine on stage before she sings On my Own; I was that alone.

POPULAR by SUMMER DAY (chapter twenty-one: clarity)

Chapter Nineteen

My Friend, Myself

   I felt so belittled when we got back to school. Bad news travels fast, especially via the internet. Everyone had seen my stupid social gaffe. Peeps stared at me. They whispered behind their hands. Supposedly Flynn had embellished the story, adding that I was ‘keeping private notes’ about all the ‘social disasters’ of other people.

    I wasn’t used to being the object of social derision. From the looks on their faces, you could tell they weren’t saying anything nice. I even heard a much meaner girl than me say, “just because she has perfectly straight glossy blonde hair and blue eyes and wears too much lip gloss, she thinks she’s better then everyone. Even Ms Dash, who’s the nicest and best teacher in the world, won’t want anything to do with her now.”

   And another girl, her friend, agreed with her.

  Loads of kids even turned their backs on me. Ms Dash might be a frump, but she’s way popular, far more popular than me at the moment.

   I trudged to the school exit after leaving study hall early (I felt like a pariah) and walked all the way home alone. I was a total wreck. I flicked on the afternoon entertainment news. I threw myself on my bed with a box of cookies and vowed to make amends in every way possible.

   Starting with Ms Dash: I’d take her a gift of her fave candy and apologize. I’d offer to do all the cleaning up after every claymation class. Then, I’d go on to apologize to Hilary, Rafe and maybe even Ethan.    

   Let’s face it, Ethan Knightly has used all of my digressions as an excuse to set me straight. It’s pretty clear what he thinks of me. Maybe an apology would be pointless. I should make him wait – perhaps forever. I fluffed my pillow and bit the top off a salted caramel; it helped me feel less miserable.

    For some reason, the thought of never talking to Ethan again bothered me immensely. I had this pretty film montage playing in my head like the end of those fabtastic Twilight films: Ethan and me throwing food at each other as toddlers, splashing each other in the wading pool, moving onto the ocean when Phoebe and Mark took us swimming with Wednesday and her Daddy coming along. It was like my whole life – days and days spent growing up with Ethan – spun a golden filmic montage through my mind and the thought that Ethan didn’t want to know me, well, frankly? It was more than I could bear. 

POPULAR by SUMMER DAY (chapter twenty: a new match)

Chapter Twenty

A New Match

   The next day, my entire art class ignored me. I was shunned just like Hester Prynne from The Scarlet Letter. Well, maybe not just like her but you know what I mean. I didn’t have to actually wear a scarlet letter but I might as well have had ‘mean girl’ tattooed on my forehead.

    When everyone was in their groups, working, I took time out to apologize to my teacher.

    At first Ms Dash didn’t smile. Then professionalism took over as I spoke.

   “I just wanted to say how sorry I am that I was so impolite to you during the field trip – I didn’t mean to be, I was just trying to show off in front of that boy…” I whispered as I handed my project preview sketches in.

    Ms Dash didn’t respond for a moment or stop what she was doing – sorting  brushes – and I thought perhaps she never would as I stood there feeling small.

    Then she looked over at me and frowned.

    “I know you didn’t mean it, Honey. Teachers are not supposed to have favorite students but if we did, I’d have to say you have always been one of my nicest and best natured students. I’ve known you since you were in preschool. I know you didn’t mean it but it was hurtful. I’m sorry it happened but I’m a grown up and I’m over it.”         Then, Ms Dash leant toward my ear in a whisper as she handed me my previous assignment, “Besides, I always knew you liked that boy.”

    I glanced at the front page of my essay as she spoke.

    I got an A minus. I didn’t think Ms Dash would let her personal opinion affect her professional one. To be honest, I was surprised to earn more than a B plus because I hadn’t worked as hard on that project as I should have.

    “Flynn Elton?” I shrugged incredulously, “Oh, he’s just a friend… maybe an ex-friend.”

    “I was talking about Ethan Knightly,” she whispered.

    “Oh, he’s just my neighbor…”

    “Are you sure?” Ms Dash asked with a smile on her face. Just because she was older didn’t make her wiser. Or did it?

    After class, which was a very stimulating mix of painting and collage, I told Ms Dash how fashionable she was looking today, loud enough so that everyone else could hear. Then I gifted her the two tickets I’d brought her, to travel in style to the local cinema (I’d arranged for Mr Henry to meet her there), in an envelope on her desk.

  Then, of course, it was time for me to talk to Hilary about the Winter Dance I was helping to organize.

   By then, Flynn had started hanging out every day with a new group – one filled with ex-princesses and other daughters of other fathers who owned half of Bel Air, and I felt very bad for Hilary.

    We’d arranged to go swimming at my place one afternoon towards the end of the semester, when it happened. Hilary surprised me first. I’d decided to broach the subject of my matchmaking enterprises with her early. I’d thought of a way to get Rafe Martin interested in her again and wanted her permission to try to help. I really thought I needed to be open and honest with my friend, after last time.  

   Hilary had grown in confidence and style ever since Rafe had shown interest. It was a pity, I thought, that girls needed guys to make them feel stronger within themselves.

    It wasn’t always like this, I thought, but often it was. I never intended to be needy for male approval but I wondered if my matchmaking projects were encouraging the romantic delusions of other girls. Maybe Ethan had a point.

    Once Rafe backed off and especially after Flynn dumped her, Hilary went back into her shell. It was mostly my fault. I’d wanted to help.

     While I contemplated what to do next, I wasn’t expecting the change that came over Hilary while she was away at band camp. Or her surprise announcement.   

   Hilary was dressed to the nines when she arrived at my house one afternoon, a week after I’d been socially ostracized. My friend even dropped her entourage at the door. I noticed two princesses who normally hung out with me were hanging out more and more exclusively with Hilary to the exclusion of me. This was so wrong. My influence had been usurped. The influencee had become the influencer. Was I on some of my nana’s Xanax or did I hear Hilary give style tips to an unfortunate freshman in the school hallway yesterday?

    This sight of Hilary draped in make-up and designer clothes made me wonder silently. What had I created?

     A fashion victim? A rival? A monster?

    Hilary sashayed into my living room in thigh high boots, a too-short designer dress and way more make-up than even I’d ever encouraged her to wear. In short, she was dressed like a rich girl who hung out on street corners. It was all so attention seeking, all to be… noticed. All to be… like me?

   Even her jacket looked familiar. Because it was mine! Did that mean I looked like a harlot when I wore it? Or was I just being too judgmental?

   Maybe. I heard a designer on one of those TV fashion shows say that girls who wear mini-skirts look cheap. He was way more judgmental than me.

   I considered this predicament. I’d be happy to take the credit for turning my friend fashionable and popular just as long as she didn’t self-sabotage by looking like a tramp (or become as popular as me). This was something she was in no current danger of, in light of recent events. She’d already usurped me by popular vote. Apparently she’d formed a band of her own during camp.

   I’d noticed (that morning) my phone and social networking sites were practically friend free. What had I done? What had Hilary done? Surely it wasn’t just the incident with Ms Dash?

  “Oh, I told everyone how you helped me.”

  “Huh?”

  “I just told them how you helped me tap into my inner power and resourcefulness.”    I knew this would be misinterpreted by others as me being ‘unhelpful’. What had I done? I looked at Hilary, my friend, my foe.

   I’d helped create a girl in my own image.

    Arggghhhh!

    Hilary hardly looked up as she fended off myriad texts and calls while I made us snacks to take out to the pool. We needed to talk. What had happened to my newest almost-bestie? My partial creation? Hilary was not only social and popular, Hilary looked like me. Hilary sounded like me. Hilary was mean.

    “So, whaddup Princess Honey?” Hilary asked sarcastically.

    “What do you mean?”

    “Well, since you failed to destroy my social life I thought you might be busily sabotaging the social lives of others…”

    “No, that’s not what I meant…”

   “And, I mean, c’mon, taking a shot at Ms Dash? Really? I’ve told our entire group – I don’t think your former friends are very impressed with your little matchmaking guide. But, I made a copy on disc and I’m keeping it for future reference…” Hilary waved the disc in my face just as I reached for it.

   “Oh the rest of the group has already seen it. Don’t worry, we’ve agreed not to show it to the boys – out of loyalty.”

   The color drained out of my face.

   “Just kidding,” she said, handing me the disc. I would never do that to you. But now you know how it feels to be manipulated. I’m just glad it helped me discover my true love… because ultimately, if you love someone, it doesn’t matter what anyone else says or does….”

   “Of course not,” I offered. “I’m so happy for you and...”

    Hilary smiled.

   “I knew you would be, Honey. I just know, deep down, you really are a nice girl  even though some of the Princesses have expressed their doubts.”

   They could talk.

   Hilary talked about the Princesses as if they were her friends when we both knew they were mine. Perhaps her new love Rafe Martin would keep her on an even keel.

    We removed our ballet flats and dangled our feet in the pool.   

   “I’m so glad you guys are together now,” I offered, as Hillary finished off my open box of caramels. “How did it happen?”

   “Well, it hasn’t happened yet. But, I’m sure it’s going to. I knew the first time I saw him…”

   “Really?  I know, I never should have suggested Flynn. You guys were perfect for each other.”

   “Too true. Flynn so wasn’t worth it but I’m finding him to be a much better friend than a potential boyfriend… He even suggested my perfect match.”

   Oh so a guy’s suggestion was better than a girl’s? Typical. Flynn was now friends with Hilly? Even after he’d stopped speaking to me? Was he on glue? Hello.

   “…And then, after that first meeting, well, he really saved me from public embarrassment – something I am eternally grateful for.”

   “I know, Rafe was so sociable at the picnic…”

   “Rafe? The picnic? I’m not talking about Rafe Martin and the Ms Dash picnic. I’m talking about Ethan Knightly and the Dance Fangdango.”

    Ethan Knightly?

   This was too much; way too much. My face went red and it was all I could do to stop myself pinching her, stomping on her feet, pulling her hair and pushing her into the water fully clothed.

    Hilary had set her sights on Ethan Knightly?

    I knew then, I’d truly created my nemesis.

    I had to get her out of the house as fast as possible and go and see Phoebe, who, being older and wiser and in possession of one Knightly already, would surely know what to do.

     I controlled myself until after Hilary left, then I rushed next door.

     Phoebe was playing music to the baby with ear phones on her belly.

     I started telling her everything from the start about Hilary, Flynn and even Ethan. Suddenly I burst into floods of tears. She listened before she spoke.

  “So, you were most upset when all your friends blanked you or when Hilary told you about her interest in Ethan?” Phoebe asked.

   “Well… Ethan! I know, it’s ridiculous, isn’t it?”

   “I suppose so…”

   “I mean, since most of the time I get so annoyed with Ethan and we do argue a lot…”

   “Oh, I’ve noticed… but… ”

    “What?’

    “Well,” Phoebe said, putting her pen down (she’d been filling out forms for one of her teenage clients but realized this conversation needed my full attention), “it’s just that I don’t think you’ll be arguing together much longer…”

   “What do you mean?”

   “Ethan’s going to boarding school at Hallowed Halls after summer for senior year.”

   “What? Ethan is going away?”

   “Not very far. It’ll be good for him, he wants to go to Harvard, you know.”

   “I know.”

   “His dad thinks he has too many distractions in the city.”

    It occurred to me now, how much I’d miss Ethan.

    I’d miss him climbing through my window, jumping into my pool, eating my food, watching my flat screen and diverting the attention of my so-called friends. I’d miss him laughing at me as I planned new matches. I’d miss his smile, his sunglasses, the fact that he always let me beat him when we swam the length of the pool. I’d miss him for so many reasons but most of all – this one:

    Ethan was the best friend I’d ever had. He was the only person around me (apart from Phoebe) who I hadn’t scared off with my bossiness, my busy body-ness, my chatter, my opinions, my unintentionally mean girl ways. He was the only boy who cared enough to offer me advice. He was not only my best friend, he was now my only friend. That’s if he was still talking to me.

    I was so annoyed with Hilary – not for stealing my social contacts or my so- called image – not for getting her own back or telling me where to go - but for trying to steal Ethan! How could she? Didn’t she know Ethan was special? Ethan was off limits, because, it finally occurred to me that night as I was doing our profiles:

Honey Jane Woodhouse

Age: mid-teens ( a girl should always add some mystery to her age)

Height: 166cm – more in heels.

Weight: normal

Previous dates: mostly rejected before advancement

Hobbies: matchmaking, swimming, socializing

Goals: to remain happy and look after my father when he needs me

Sign: Leo

Compatibility: needs a strong Sagittarian

Ethan Knightly

Age: sixteen

Height: 178cm (and growing!)

Weight: nicely muscular

Previous dates: various, has a lot to learn about women.

Hobbies: computer games, getting straight A’s, soccer etc.

Goals: to go to a good college.

Sign: Sagittarius

Compatibility: needs a Leo

    Although I’d been misguided, misdirected, maybe even misinformed in the past; this time I was right.

    Ethan and I were a perfect match.

    Together, we’d be not only popular (although I’d learned the hard way that popularity might not be the most worthy pursuit) - but right.

POPULAR by SUMMER DAY (chapter twenty-one: clarity)

Chapter Twenty-one

Clarity

    I felt like such an imperfect teenage girl of a human being.

    I knew I had to snap out of it. Nobody’s flawless. Some peeps put down girls enough – there is no sense in doing it to ourselves. We all make mistakes.

    It is important to be kind to our minds and bodies. To that end, I did an extra twenty minutes of yoga and read my first self-help article the next morning. I’d researched the background and credentials of the author of the article. Always do your research.

    After ten minutes I got bored.

     Why read self-help when you could actually write it?

     Sometimes experience is the best teacher. I totally opened up my lap top and wrote on my blog about all I’d learned so far. After all, I had experience now. I’d learned to have empathy for those less fortunate. I’d learned about being kind and treating others as you would wish to be treated. Most of all, I’d learned about myself, about being ready in mind and body to love the one you are meant to love – you just have to find him first. I’d also learned there are tons of worthy pursuits for a girl without spending every moment seeking the perfect match.

    I know, I know. I’ve been way harsh about myself and others. But that’s all in the past. Every day is a new beginning. We all need to be kinder to each other.

    I’ll start again, I thought. I meant well. I’m not totally flawed. Not a total nasty mean girl. I did what many people do. I made a mistake, over and over again. So, I made lots of mistakes.

   Platitudes, I know. To make everything worse, I was having a seriously one-sided love affair with Ethan. I had become very self-conscious in his company. When he came around to hang out that afternoon, I couldn’t laugh at his usual teenage boy behavior. I had to pretend I was interested in his stupid computer games and jokes.

    It was difficult to show my true feelings. I’m not going to lie, but it is very important the man show his hand first. You are always a step behind if you don’t let the boy do the wooing in my opinion. I’m totally old fashioned that way. I don’t believe in being the pursuer. Initially, boys need an opportunity to impress you. They are the hunters. End of.   

   Now, where was I? I wasn’t going to lie to Ethan about my true feelings.

   That’s a lie, really. Of course I was going to lie. To myself. That’s not nearly as bad as lying to others. I told myself I was in control, that Ethan wasn’t that great, just another boy.

   But it didn’t work. As I sat on the couch contemplating my potential love interest, I knew I’d been wrong. He wasn’t a dork or a geek or a bore. His computer games were totally educational (if a little addictive). Ethan was way smart. Smarter than me, maybe. How was that possible? How would I ever be worthy? But why would a man I love cause me self-doubt? Maybe I was wrong to love Ethan. Had my romance gone pear shaped before it had even begun?

   Ethan started behaving with his usual disinterest around me.  Did this mean I’d have to convince Ethan of his attraction to me? How would that ever work? Plus, I’d have to convince him to wait for me, at least until after I’d finished high school. A few months age difference can be a big deal at our age.

    He barely looked up and smiled at me today, even though I’d worn my best jeans and brightest top. I wondered if all my transgressions – my social faux paus - had finally put him off. To make matters worse, he even left early after telling me I was acting, ‘weird’.

    I needed to clear my head. I decided to go for a walk around my neighborhood. I wondered if Ethan would ever be into mois.

    Perhaps he only saw me as the girl next door, just a friend, not a girlfriend at all. I wondered way too much because by the time I walked into him on the pavement leading up the hill between our co-existing houses, I was all red in the face and puffy from crying. It was just heinous that he’d seen me like this. I put my hand over my face, pretending to shield my complexion from the sun and ran in the opposite direction.

    I’d been really emotional and PM-essing about Ethan going away when I hadn’t even wanted him at my school in the first place.

    Besides, I was pretty sure Ethan might not even want to spend summer swimming and hanging out with me now that I was a social pariah.

    I was still Honey Woodhouse but without the allure of being Miss Popular, I felt like nothing. At that moment I noticed Ethan running after me. When Ethan tried to stop and talk to me on the pavement I just got all teary again and blanked him and rushed off into the nearby public library.   

POPULAR by SUMMER DAY (Step Into Tomorrow: chapter twenty-two)

Chapter Twenty-two

Step Into Tomorrow    

    I wound up hovering near the returns shoot all by myself.

    It was quiet inside, of course. I was reminded me of that ancient scene in Doctor Zhivago when Lara and Yuri meet again in the library after being apart for so long. It’s such a great classic, romantic movie. But where was my yummy Yuri in real life ?

    I’d left Ethan standing in the street. How could I have come to the local library expecting to find him?

    I didn’t. I’d come here to hide.

    What had come over me? Running away from true love maybe?

    Here I was, in Sunrise library, acting like a total nerd, acting like… Rafe Martin.

    And there he was, sitting in the corner. When he looked up and saw me I noticed even Rafe Martin looked down again quickly. He pretended he didn’t know me.  

     I was shunned in my own neighborhood. I stood by the wall, seriously, and for the first time since I was six, I walked into the stacks and cried.

    “Honey?” I stopped sniffing, wiped my eyes and turned around. He put his hand on my shoulder.

    It was Rafe, through all my unintended meanness, the object of my derision had reached out to me.   

     “What’s up?”

     “I was just…” I picked up a copy of How to Forge the Right Teen Path and Follow Your Teenage Bliss.

    “Looking for this?” He asked.

     “Kind of...”

    I wiped my eyes again. I didn’t think I’d been noticeably shedding tears until Rafe handed me a tissue.

    “I told Hilary the ‘misunderstanding’ about the dance, well, it was all my fault…” I sniffed.

    “Oh, it’s okay. I just texted her. We’re going to the movies on the weekend. She explained everything – how she was sorry and how she’d regretted not hanging out with me earlier… She said she thought she’d liked someone else but that was just for a moment.”

    “So she…” I realized Hilary had changed her mind, ignored my advice and made the first move. Maybe she’d just pretended to want Ethan to annoy me. Actually, it was the second move because Rafe had approached her in the first instance, but whatever. It served me right.

    “That’s great,” I said. “That’s so great that you guys are getting together… maybe.”

    Rafe smiled.

    “Honestly, I used to intensely dislike you Honey Woodhouse. But, if it hadn’t been for you, I don’t think Hilary and I would have overcome our obstacles in the first place. I wanted to take her to the dance but I never thought about her beyond the point of that. You made me think long and hard about why I was disappointed that she rejected me. I even went away for the weekend to forget her. I liked her heaps more than I even realized. Don’t blame yourself, Honey. You may be out of fashion now, but tomorrow it will all be different, you’ll see.”

    Who’d have thought Rafe would have turned into the emotive voice of sunshine? Nothing was as I expected. Still, it was nice of him to try.

    “I gotta go,” I said. Everyone else’s teen worlds were coming together just as mine was falling apart; but I could never begrudge Rafe and Hilary their happiness.

    “Are you sure you’re okay now?” he asked.

    “I’m going to be,” I said.

     Then, like magic, as I walked into the sunshine (just like one of my favorite literary characters of all time - Ponyboy Curtis - from The Outsiders) and walked into tomorrow, a certain boy was there to meet me.

   “What’s up?” Ethan asked indifferently. “C’mon, you’re acting really weird. Let’s go home.”

    I wondered if Ethan would come over to go swimming at my place, as usual, the next morning. Maybe he’d even act as if nothing had happened between us. And let’s face it, nothing had. Perhaps him liking me was just all in my over-active imagination. My little romance was over before it had even begun. I did what any smart heroine from a true romance does… I took to languishing once again, on my antique, chaise lounge (the one Phoebe gifted me years ago). It was re-covered only recently in pink velvet-like material. I pulled my mohair blanket over me and read.

    I was obsessing over another great SE Hinton novel Phoebe had recommended to me – That Was Then This is Now, effectively still sulking in my room. It suddenly occurred to me that drowning my sorrows over lost romance and yet another hot marshmallow-laden chocolate was perhaps not the way to mend fences. Isolation would not help me get over being rejected by my besties, my friends, my social networks but mostly the boy next door.

   I shrugged.

   It was so obvious Ethan was just using me for my facilities. He loved my swimming pool, my game boy, my flat screen, even my tennis court. I was so spoiled, why wouldn’t he? Still, there was no sense in being a huffy little princess about it. Nobody likes a girl who can’t put on a happy face. Then it occurred to me that Ethan had all of those facilities next door. We were a pair of spoiled teens and yet I couldn’t get it together emotionally. Suddenly I was filled with more self-doubt. It must have been because my parents had over protected me. They had a distant marriage and my mom is an obsessive vacationer, but at least they tried. No, it wasn’t about them. It was all about me; too much about me. I got up and added extra hours to my roster the following week to help out at the animal shelter.

    Now, others have been taken care of, so what about me? Just then, the doorbell rang. It was Ethan.  Maria let him in.

    I snapped shut my lap top.

    I found my most fabulous swimsuit and some gloss. I grabbed the large, floppy hat that totally made me look like a glamorous movie star from the sixties and added sunglasses. Who said just because I don’t have social form any more, I shouldn’t be fabulous anyway?

   Splash.

   I swan dived into the pool. Who cared if I felt more like a duck? After a few minutes there was another splash in the water.

   Ethan swam up to me as I bobbed my head up.

   “I’ll race you underwater,” he said.

   Ethan let me win. As he surfaced, I spoke:

   “I suppose you’ve heard all about my social pariah-ism. How even the Princesses might be voting me out of my own club for being a mean, conniving matchmaker.”

   “I don’t think you’re mean – maybe a matchmaker.”    

    Huh?

   “My good matches are only by default, even you said so.”

   “I kind of lied.”

   The waterfall chugged in the background of our conversation.

   “Well, color me in. You must’ve saved the best match for last.”

   “Which one are you talking about? Ariel’s? Gigi’s?”

   “Ours.”

   If it’s possible to blush red in water, I did.

   “Race you to the waterfall…   winner gets… dinner,” he said, to deflect his embarrassing comment no doubt.

    I took off. This time, I thought about what he’d said underwater. I thought about every memory I had of him and they were all good – mostly. When they weren’t, it was just because Ethan was the only one of my peers who cared enough (or dared enough - maybe) to tell me the truth. This time, I considered letting him win but thought better of it.

    Then the strangest thing happened during the race, for the first time. We were level until mid-way, then Ethan forged ahead, beating me, just by a few seconds, to the far side. Our hands reached out almost simultaneously, but his fingers touched the wall faster.

   We were both puffed when the race ended. In our underwater world, I looked over through the haziness. While I held my breath, Ethan reached through the blue and kissed me.

   “You must have known,” he said when we surfaced, “that there has never been anyone in the history of Sunrise quite like you, Honey Woodhouse.”

    “And you should know, Ethan Knightly, that I used to be afraid of water, until we met.”

    We stood in the shallow end of the pool; under the waterfall, kissing. Ethan was taller but we matched perfectly. It was an awesome first kiss that led to a spectacular second one.  

    I have no idea what Phoebe or Dad or the dogs thought of our mushy display of emotion. I have no idea what my friends might say in future because they’re not talking to me - yet. Wednesday’s trying to mediate but so far, they’ve voted Hilary as the next head of the Princesses. I guess you reap what you sow.

     As Ethan and I lay side by side on our sun lounges, sunglasses on, cool factor in hand, I checked the temptation to connect the charger to my cell phone to see if any of my ‘friends’ had decided to start texting me again. As Sunrise got busy for the afternoon and all the unmade couples and match made couples and friendships fought for, lost and won, sorted themselves out, alone and together, Ethan and I finally made sense.

     Somehow, we were right.

     Or maybe we were just right now… 

    “Honey,” Ethan asked, “If we go to different colleges…”

    “As I’m sure we could,” I added… “after all, it’s probably more likely I will get accepted into Harvard than you…”

    “As I said, if we do… do you think you might want to marry me even if we don’t see each other much for the next few years?”

    “Well, you never know, Ethan,” I said as I looked up from my novel. “You’ll have to think about that when you decide to propose to me in a few years.”

     He smiled again.

    “Stranger things have happened,” I added as Ethan Knightly splashed me with some water. I smiled in return. It’s wild how a match happens like that, like ours, just when we least expected it; with no planning at all. I think one day, I’ll be able to tell our grandchildren all about how we met when we were neighbors and how we really didn’t like each other much at first… then we became friends and then… well, I think you know the rest. But I’ll let Phoebe tell you anyway.

POPULAR by SUMMER DAY (Epilogue by Phoebe Knightly)

Epilogue by Phoebe Knightly

Post college graduation

    It was a perfect day when Ethan and Honey got married.

    At first, we were all going to go to the most exclusive hotel in town for the reception but Honey wanted to have it at home, around the pool, near long trestle tables covered in food and drinks and lights, near the waterfall where she and Ethan fell in love.

   Honey had six bridesmaids but the head bridesmaids were me and Wednesday (Mouche’s half-sister) and little Emily Mouche, my daughter,  who was the flower girl.

    I couldn’t help but think of my best friend forever and how much Mouche would have loved such a beautiful day. 

    Mark and I gave a huge hug to Mouche and Jet Campbell’s daughter – my goddaughter, Sienna – such an adorable girl and a great ballet dancer. I’m not sure if she’ll join a dance company, but she’s so good, I think she’ll be asked to join one of the top companies if she wants to make dance her career.  It’s likely she’ll do whatever she sets her mind on  – just like Honey and Wednesday and my little Emily Mouche who is already making her opinions felt on a consistent basis.

    I don’t see enough of Sienna since she and Jet live in New York City (should I say Boston here – would they have moved from NYC or stayed?)  but when we get together it is as if she never left. Sienna loves Wednesday and Honey and Emily Mouche as well.

    It was wonderful to all be together again: the Knightlys, the Campbells and the Woodhouses. We celebrated until midnight over long trestle tables laden with flowers, ribbons, food and lights. Honey brought us all together like a lucky charm.  

    I never saw a couple (in recent years) more in love – although they denied it. Right up until the week before they actually got married. Honey was trying to over organize everything.  I told her she was in danger of becoming a bridezilla, so she stopped.

   “You are so right, Phoebe. I just want everything to be as perfect as possible.”

    And it was.