Chapter Seventeen

       “And then, he kissed me goodnight… on the cheek. Do you think that means he didn’t have a good time?” Alice asked, as she finished telling me the occurrences of a recent date.

       “Yeah, totally,” I agreed, not really listening to what she was saying. 

       For some reason, my mind was still fixated on the kiss I had shared with Dylan. It was like no other, and I couldn’t get it out of my head. If I had told the girls of our little encounter, they would’ve legitimately killed me. It was so… different from anything I had ever experienced- indescribable, really.

       “Liz!” Alice said, sounding annoyed, “Were you even listening?”

       “No,” I replied honestly.

     “Lately, you’ve been acting weird. It’s about a boy, isn’t it?" she said freakishly on target, as we entered the lab where our science class was being held. I was quiet, neither saying anything, nor wanting to bring anything up. “Ah! It is a boy! Who? A new crush? An old lover? A one-night stand? Justin Bieber?"

       “No, no, no, and definitely not!” I said, shuddering at the Bieber remark.

       “Come on! The Biebs is beautiful, and finally legal! Even if we’re not.”

       “Yeah, he’s not really my type,” I rolled my eyes.

       “So, then what is?” a masculine voice questioned, coming up behind me.

       “I prefer Americans; ya know, staying loyal to the country and all,” I said, twirling around to smile at the intruder of our conversation, Eric.

       “I’m an American,” he winked.

       “Oh. My. Gosh!” Alice all but shrieked. “It’s Eric, isn’t it?”

       “What about me?” he asked, taking an interest in the mention of his name.

       “Liz has a crush on you,” she informed him from out of nowhere.

      “I never said that!” I objected strongly, not desiring to bring up the real reason behind my odd behavior.

       “It’s okay if you do,” he said smugly.

       “I don’t!” I let out an exasperated sigh.

    “That’s a shame, considering I may or may not have developed a slight attraction for you,” he verbalized, as the three of us walked over to the table we normally sat at.

       “Do you?” I raised a brow.

       “Maybe,” he smirked.

       “Eric Wilson has a crush. Huh. I honestly never thought I’d see the day it happen ag-” Eric clamped a hand over Alice’s mouth before she could finish her observation, leaving me wondering what she was going to say.

       He smiled innocently at me, before asking a question I generally had the tendency for automatically saying, “No,” to. “Liz, will you go on a date with me?”

       “If you answer anything but yes I will kill you in your sleep with a sharp object!” Alice threatened.

       “I think for myself, thank you very much,” I said, knowing what I needed to do. 

       “Liz?” Eric prompted nervously.

      “Where and when?” I asked, receiving a sharp pinch on the arm from Alice. “Ouch! What was that for?!”

       “Sorry, just making sure you weren’t dreaming,” she explained.

       “Tonight, and it’s a surprise,” he replied hopefully.

       “Sounds fun,” I mused.

       “That it does,” he agreed.

       “And what would my attire have to consist of?” I questioned, earning a bored look from Alice. 

      “Jeans you don’t mind getting dirty, a T-shirt, and sneakers,” he said uneasily, sitting down in his designated space.

       “One last question,” I said, sitting down next to him. “What time are you picking me up?”

       He grinned widely, and I thought I also sensed relief wash over his face. “Six.” I smiled back at him and nodded, solidifying the arrangement.

       “You guys honestly make such an attractive couple!” Alice squealed.

       “Uh, we’re not dating,” I pointed out nervously.

       “No, you’re not, but maybe when Eric grows some balls and tells-”

       “Alice, don’t,” Eric warned, cutting her off for the second time.

       “Do you promise that you eventually will?” she inquired sternly.

       “Probably, or, the way my luck is, he will,” Eric shrugged.

       Alice opened her mouth to add something to this rivetingly confusing conversation, but was cut off a third time. “Good morning, class,” our chemistry teacher, Dr. Dunner greeted.

    “Good morning, Dr. Dunner,” was echoed through the class in a monotone, empty, and tired response.

     “Today, we will be simulating carbon atoms by making models out of foam and toothpicks,” he informed us. “You each will be split up into groups of four and expected to work well together.”

       “Why do I have a feeling he got this project out of a middle school’s curriculum?” I whispered to no one in particular.

       “Because he probably did,” Eric mumbled quietly.

      “And Grace you’ll be with Eric, Alice, and Elizabeth,” Dr. Dunner said at the front of the room. The three of us immediately snapped to attention at the mention of our names, wondering what had happened.

      A girl with orange hair who always glared at me when I passed her in the halls grudgingly walked over to our table, sitting next to Eric, and making an evident point to stay away from Alice. All I knew about her was that her name was Grace and that she didn’t like me.

       “Hi,” Eric said awkwardly. “Have you met Liz yet?”

      “No, but judging by her clothes and poor choice in friends I don’t really need to,” the girl who had been assigned to our table said, causing Alice to shoot up, staggering over her seated form.

     “Listen, skank, just because you’re a bitch doesn’t give you a right to act like one to someone awesome who you know nothing about, like Liz!” Alice raged.

       “Oh yeah? Well, I’m sure she’s just another boyfriend-stealing slut like the rest of you!” Grace said, the volume level of her voice increasing.

       “Hi, I’m Elizabeth Turner, but you can call me Liz,” I said, sticking my hand out in an attempt to stop this heated conversation before it escalated into something more physical.

       “Gracie Scott, but don’t call me at all. I don’t like you, or you’re perfect fucking face,” she scowled at me, making no move to shake my hand.

       “Gracie, please, stop,” Eric requested.

      “Oh, shut up, Eric! If you wanted to talk to me you would’ve back in freshman year instead of just ignoring me when I asked you out!” she rolled her eyes. I had a feeling the foam and toothpicks were going to have to wait.

       “I don’t date,” Eric defended firmly.

       “And yet, you’re all over the blondie just like you were with-”

       “Look, Gracie, I’m sorry for how I treated you, but can we all just get through this class peacefully?” Eric pleaded desperately.

      “You really like her, don’t you? Damn, why do you always fall for the innocent ones? Blonde hair, blue eyes, size two, how cliché can you get?” she scoffed.

       “Liz is different, her looks have nothing to do with why I like her,” he defended.

       “Oh, really?” she said, unconvinced. “So, say Liz was Goth, or fat, or, I don’t know, like, a tomboy--you’re telling me you would still like her?”

     “Yeah, Eric, say I was a tomboy,” I said, realizing how close I was to crossing the border and exposing the one thing I couldn’t: the truth, “would you still like me?”

     “I don’t like to think about hypotheticals; I like dealing with real life. In my real life, you’re a very beautiful girl who wears nice clothing, is smart, clever, and funny; you’re not a tomboy, so why even consider it?” he said, getting himself out of the mess pretty well.

        “Oh, by the way, her shoes are fake,” Grace informed him.

      “Fake?” I questioned, looking down at my shoes to see which ones I had mindlessly put on this morning. They were a silver pair of heels with spikes on the toe and pointy, heal part. My mom had slipped them into my closet a few weeks ago; apparently, Kit only made five thousand of them or something.

    “Yeah, those are three thousand dollar Lawson shoes. No way in hell are they real--they’re knockoffs,” she explained logically, leaving my mind in a muddle of perplexity.

        “Knockoffs? What’s that?” I asked, having no clue what the word meant.

        “Fake, forgeries, copies, like your shoes,” she said, rolling her eyes once again.

        “She doesn’t know who you’re mom is, does she?” Alice inquired quietly.

       “Evidently not,” I sighed, not wanting to be a namedropping asshole by bringing either my mother or Kit’s name into the conversation.

        “What the fuck does your trophy wife of a mother have to do with your shoes?” Grace spat.

        “My mom is Monica Turner,” I said, instantly hating myself.

       “Like as in the president of Lawson? Not a chance in the world!” she said. “I so don’t believe you!”

        “You don’t have to,” I shrugged, “besides, what’s the use in arguing over something as stupid as shoes, honestly? Can we please just focus on our assignment?”

        “I agree with Liz,” Eric proclaimed.

        “Of course you do,” Grace muttered sourly.

        After fifty more eye rolls, a few crude comments involving the words “slut” and “bitch”, and only two mini-blowups between Gracie and Alice, we had finally completed our fail at an attempt of a model. Spending the entire class period with Grace gave me a sense of why the girls didn’t like her; she wasn’t exactly…sociable. I had a large hunch that Grace and I weren’t exactly destined to be the best of friends.