“Just wondering,” I say with a shrug, but my heart is racing in my chest. It’s the best clue I’ve gotten so far. Not that I’ve tried that hard, but if he’s Mr. D… It could explain why he can move money around and bail me out, but he won’t meet me in person.
Quinn and Susanna arrive, cutting off any more conversation about it for now. Class starts, and we start our assignment, but pretty soon, the conversation turns to football, as usual.
“Are you going to the game again?” Dixie asks, back to her usual vivacious self. “That outfit you wore was crazy! I put a picture in the blog.”
“So I heard.”
“You’re so crazy,” she says, shaking her head. “You remind me of—”
I quirk a brow. “Of…?”
She waves a dismissive hand. “I can’t wait to see what you come up with this week. I mean, how can you top that?”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“You have to,” she squeals. “This is the last game before Thanksgiving break. And we have a new dance routine. Quinn choreographed it herself.”
I narrow my eyes at Dixie. On the surface, if you didn’t know better, you’d think she was just some gossipy dumb bitch. You’d never know her heart is broken for the boy she loves. In a weird way, she’s the biggest mystery in this school. She’s like a celebrity who’s always “on” in public, who has this persona, but you never know the real her, the girl underneath the public face. She spills the tea about everyone else, is in the know about every whisper and rumor, but until I stop and think about it, I never realized that there’s nothing about her in those posts.
I wonder if anyone ever thinks to ask her what’s going on with her, not just the latest gossip.
“Everyone thinks you’ve got balls,” Dixie says before I can turn the conversation.
“I can’t believe you made those signs,” Susanna says, though I can’t tell if she admires that or thinks I’m desperate. “I mean, the Waltons are obsessed—like, waiting by the phone for them to call. But you’re, like, aggressive.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” I say, holding up a hand. “I’m not pursuing Royal.”
She and the other girls exchange a look.
“Well, it got the point across that you’re his, that’s for sure,” Quinn says.
“So, you going to the game?” Dixie asks again, looking all excited, like I might give her more fodder for her blog this week.
“Yeah, no. Football’s not really my thing,” I admit.
I leave out the part about how it’s Femme Fight Friday, and I can’t afford to miss another week at the Slaughter Pen.
“But it’s a big game,” Quinn says, her eyes widening. “We’re playing Ridgedale.”
“I thought Faulkner High was the big game,” I say. Even I’ve heard about that game. You’d have to be blind not to know about it. But the other schools are just names to me.
“We have Quinn’s new dance routine,” Dixie offers.
I shrug. “It’d be cool to see y’all dance again, but I already have plans. Maybe another time.”
“How can you have plans?” Quinn asks. “Everyone will be at the game. I mean, besides Faulkner, it’s our biggest game. I’ve literally never missed the Ridgedale game. My parents like to tell me how they bundled me up in my stroller when I was six months old to come to this game. My dad’s a Ridgedale High alum, so they’re really into it.”
“You weren’t there every year,” Gloria says smugly, turning around from the next table, where she moved to work with one of her friends. “Why don’t you tell her about the year you were in a padded room?”
I raise a brow at Quinn, who sits frozen.
“No one here is talking to you,” I say to Gloria when it’s clear Quinn won’t speak up. “Mind your own business, evil little witch.”
“Looney Quinn from the looney bin,” Gloria sings, meeting my eyes and twirling a finger in a circle next to her ear in the universally acknowledged sign for crazy. She acts like I’m supposed to be in on this, but yet again, I find myself on the outside, not knowing any of anyone’s history. I’m kind of used to it by now, but it’s still annoying.
“So anyway,” I say, turning back and smiling at my table mates. “Y’all are on dance, so you actually have to go to all these things, don’t you?”
“Well, yeah,” Quinn says. “But I’d go even if I wasn’t on the team. What else is there to do on Friday night? Pretty much the whole town is shut down on Fridays.”