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M
y dream state lingers all week. I listen to the songs Noah burned over and over again, as if he’s burned them into my heart. They’re intense and full of passion.

“I still can’t believe he made this for me,” I tell my friends over lunch on Friday.

“Sounds like true love,” Emma growls, not even looking up from her nachos. “Do ya think we could talk about something other than Noah? Anything?”

Ouch. I feel like I’ve nicked myself shaving.

Raven must also feel the sting in Emma’s remark. “Seriously, Linds. He’s really into you. Everyone knows Noah isn’t like this for girls.”

I swish her words around in my mouth. I have so many questions about that comment. Like, what girls isn’t he like this for? Were there other girls who were into him, but he didn’t fall for? Has he told the hockey team I’m his girlfriend? Does Raven know because Randy’s told her? It sounds like it when she uses words like “everyone.”

I don’t want to sound stupid, so I just ask, “Like what?”

“You know, all Romeo. It’s not like you’re the first girl to like
him
. The team would die if they knew he made you a CD.” Raven dips one of Emma’s chips into the neon orange cheese sauce. “But,
you’re the first girl he likes back.”

I’m so nervous inside it’s hard to remember to eat. I look at the slice of pizza on my tray with only one bite taken out of it. I nod and take a big bite, but as I chew I wonder where Noah is in the cafeteria and if he wonders where I am.

Peter lumbers over with Randy, who thwaps Raven in the head with a notebook.

“Ouch.” She turns and sticks her tongue out at him.

Two strong arms circle me from behind.

“I know you’re coming to my game tomorrow, so I thought I’d come to the basketball game tonight and watch you dance.” Noah’s lips brush against my ear as he whispers.

My face feels as hot as if it were directly under one of those air dryers in the ladies’ room.

“And the dance after the game?” I ask, hanging the question I’ve been contemplating all week in the air.

“The dance?” Noah releases me, chomps a bite of my pizza, and then hands it to me. “You mean, here in the cafeteria? That dance? Do you girls dance?” he asks the table.

“Darlin’, you haven’t seen anything until you’ve seen
us
dance.” Melissa, who’s usually so quiet, lights up when it comes to dancing. I love that about her!

“Y’all have gotta be better than Peter and Noah.” Randy laughs. “These boys can’t feel the beat.”

“Sounds like we’ll have to have a dance contest.” Gracie smiles.

“I’m in, but just as a judge.” Noah laughs. “I’ll leave the cha-cha-cha-ing up to you!” He pecks me on the cheek and stands up. “See ya tonight, ladies.” He winks and walks away with his friends.

My skin tingles, like I’ve just applied astringent on my face.

“See ya tonight, ladies,” Emma echoes in a high-pitched nasally voice.

I don’t know why she’s being cruel, but I can’t take it. “What’s up, Em? Something bugging you?”

“Yeah, Miss Perfect. It may be all well and good that Prince Charming is singing you love songs and ready to dance with you at the royal ball, but it’s not like that for all of us ugly stepsisters.”

My anger turns to confusion. “Em?” I ask. The rest of the table is silent. Emma and I go way back. This is our battle.

Emma slouches in her chair with her eyes averted to the floor.

“Em?” I ask again. She doesn’t answer. “First of all, you are
not
an ugly stepsister. You are beautiful and talented, and I would kill for your hair! Secondly, if you don’t speak, Ariel, we’ll never know which prince you want to dance with.”

Emma’s lips curl in the slightest smile. She always pretended she was the Little Mermaid when we were little. Her eyes, however, stay focused on the dingy floor.

“Well, Peter is fairly cute, and I thought we kind of hit it off when the two of us defaulted on your and Noah’s parade,” she spits out the real issue, then shrugs. Fire creeps across her pale skin to match her hair.

“You like Peter!” Raven practically screams.

Emma rolls her eyes.

“Okay, girls.” Gracie steps in. “This is the deal.” She shifts her gaze around the table to recruit us into her plan. “We need to get Emma and Peter alone at the dance. Peter’s kind of quiet, and he always seems glued to Noah.” Gracie narrows her black eyes. “So, let’s push Lindsey and Noah together and off to the side. That gives Linds some time with her new flame, but more importantly, by getting Noah away from the crowd, it will give us a chance to nudge Peter toward Emma. It at least gives them a shot.” She wiggles her lower jaw back and forth. “Melissa, Raven, and I have to forfeit our own love lives — at least until we get Peter to dance with you, Emma.”

“What love life?” Raven picks up the remains of her lunch and takes it over to the trash can.

“Poor, Rav.” I sigh dramatically. “The most athletic, exotic beauty in school with the enchanting drawl of a Southern belle. We really feel sorry for you.” I place my arm across my face in mock pity.

“Well, someone has to get the scholarships and play for the Olympic team.” Raven flashes a huge smile. “I guess it’s all about sacrifice, just like Scarlett O’Hara.” She sits back down at the table.

“Okay, Miss O’Hara.” Melissa giggles at Raven, then turns to the rest of us. “We need a plan.”

“We have to sit with the dance team for the first half of the game. We perform at halftime.” I take a sip of Diet Coke. “Mel and I can meet up with you during the second half, but I’ll need a major shower and primp session before the dance.”

“After third quarter we’ll hit the locker room.” Melissa nods.

“What are you wearing?” Gracie asks.

“I have this completely wild top I tricked my dad into paying for.” Emma leans back in her chair.

The bell rings. I love my friends, but I think I might really love Noah. In the middle of lunch in front of all the school, did he really put his arms around me? Did he really just take a bite of my pizza? Only people in my family do that! The dance is just hours away, and I have to perform before then.

B
eep beep beep.

I open the microwave and pull out my leftover pasta. Kristine walks into the kitchen smelling like an ashtray.

“Make some for me, too?” she asks.

“Sure. What time do you have to be at the game?”

“I don’t know. Six?” She stretches in a big yawn, which somehow accentuates her perfect body. “You?”

“Not until six thirty for inspection. We have to be in the gym at seven when the varsity game starts.” I open the microwave, pull out my pasta, and put a plate in for Kristine. “Are you going to the dance?”

“Mom thinks I am.” Kristine plops on a barstool and clanks a fork on the counter. “But I think Wes and I are going to find a place to be alone. You know?”

“Mmmm.” I nod, keeping my back to her. I can guess what they’ll do in their alone space, wherever that is. I think of Noah’s body pressing against mine on his couch. I flash to Pastor Ed’s match. I feel woozy.

“How are things with your hotshot hockey player?” Steam pours over Kristine’s face as she lifts the plastic wrap from her plate. It veils her expression.

“Good.” I can’t conceal my grin. I sit down next to her and
taste a bite of pasta layered with tangy artichokes and sundried tomatoes. “We’re meeting at the dance.”

“I know it’s kind of weird to talk about . . .” Kristine looks at me. “But if you’re going to sleep with him or if you already are, you really need to use protection.”

“I’m not going to — it’s not, it’s not like that,” I stammer. My face feels enveloped in steam too, but not from my pasta.

“Alright.” Kristine shrugs. “If I were you, I’d want to get my hands all over that hot hockey bod. But when it
is
like that, let me know. I’ll help you get what you need. Okay?”

I know Kristine is trying to be big sisterly and look out for me. She’s clearly not waiting until she’s married. Is Wes the right guy for her? Why and when did she decide to give up her virginity to him? Or did she sleep with someone else before him? I’m half-tempted to ask her what sex is like, but then I envision Ed’s fire and say a quick prayer under my breath.
Dear God, please keep Kristine from getting burned.
I feel the invisible imprints Noah’s hands left on my back and stand to get a fork.

“Okay,” I answer.

At school I rush into the music room with a plate of brownies. The thick cloud of aerosol hairspray and boot polish makes me cough.

“Wow, the Barbie doll brought in brownies,” Jill announces to the team. I bite my tongue. It’s not worth snapping back at her.

Girls crowd around the plate and thank me. I grab two brownies and scan the room for Melissa. She’s in the corner, zipping her boots.

“Hey.” She smiles.

“Want one?” I ask, holding out a brownie.

“No thanks. If there are any left, I’ll have one afterward.” She switches feet. “My luck, I’d get brownie all over my uniform and not pass inspection.”

I look over to the swarm. “The odds of you getting one afterward look slim.” I smile, but I don’t want to push her. Melissa has enough issues with food. She doesn’t need me complicating things for her. The rich fudgy smell wafting from the napkin is too enticing for me. I take a gooey, chocolaty bite.

“Mmmmmm. So . . .” I finish chewing my brownie. “I’ve been in such a rush to get dressed and polish my boots and iron and bake, I’m a little nervous.” I place my hand on my chest. “I can’t get my heart to slow down.”

“Take deep breaths.” Mel leans over and hugs me. “We still have five minutes until Todd shows up, and you are completely ready. Your hair looks darling, of course.”

“Thanks.” I smile. I inhale and exhale and close my eyes for just a minute, facing Melissa, so none of the other girls think I’m nutty. I’m so jittery. I don’t like this feeling.

Slow down
, a voice says inside my head.
Talk to Me. Melissa understands.

God always pops in when I need Him. I feel awkward saying this to Melissa, but I think I’m supposed to.

“How about we pray?” I ask.

Melissa nods and holds out her hands. Even in her gloves, her fingers feel like icicles.

“Dear Jesus, please help us to do our best out there tonight. Help our dancing and everything we do serve You. Amen.”

“Amen,” Melissa echoes. “That was great, Linds. I don’t know why I never thought to pray before.”

“I don’t know. It just came to me.” I feel better. I’m less shaky and more relaxed. “I have another idea.” I smile. “Let’s
trade our gloves for good luck.”

“You’re kooky.” Melissa rolls her eyes, but starts pulling the white gloves we wear to perform off her spindly fingers.

“Well, Kristine says the cheerleaders trade pompoms for good luck. Why can’t we have our own thing?”

“I like it.” She smiles.

I tug on her gloves. The extra fabric to accommodate her elongated fingers flaps at the end of my hands. Meanwhile she tugs on my petite pair, and they don’t quite cover her hands. We start giggling as Todd opens the doors.

Clap! Clap! Clap!

“Inspection in ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, Stacey, where are you, blow your whistle, three, two, one.”

Our captain, Stacey, jumps to attention and tweets her silver whistle, sending a shrill signal through the room. We hurl ourselves into line, standing at attention with our arms flat against our sides, our shoulders rolled back, our chins in the air, and our feet in third position, right heels imbedded in left insteps.

The room is silent except for our heavy breathing and Todd’s shoes slowly creeping past each of us, pausing to ensure we are immaculate and identical.

“Jill, more hairspray, you have some flyaways.” He inches down the line. I sense it, even though I don’t dare look. We’re not even supposed to move our eyes.

“Katie, your heels need a touch-up.”

“Melissa, a little flair in the hair. Lindsey, help her.”

Tweet tweet tweet tweet.
“Dismissed,” Stacey bellows.

“You have fifteen minutes to fix your flaws and hit the ladies’ room. We’ll line up at precisely 6:55 p.m.” Todd meanders to the brownies. “Yummmmmy!” he says, sampling one. “My compliments to the cook.”

“Lindsey brought ’em,” J.T. mumbles, but I’m on to Melissa’s hair.

“I hate getting singled out.” Even Melissa’s freckles are blushing.

“It’s all right. Come on, I have an extra bow.”

W
e sit with the pep band behind the basketball players for the first half of the game. I spot Noah on the other side of the gym in the student section. He and a bunch of his buddies are all wearing their hockey jerseys and goofing around. I struggle to make eye contact. He seems too into his friends to notice me. And then it’s halftime.

We line up beside the bleachers and march into the middle of the gymnasium floor. Our boots echo like playground balls bouncing as we parade in front of the stands. We strike our opening pose and wait.

Boom boom boom!
Everything comes alive. The sound system blares our music, and we kick and lean and jump and snap. I am the music, and I am a smile, and my heart beats with the music, and there is no Noah or crowd or Kristine to worry about or outfits to pick out or homework to finish or Dad to miss. Then it’s over. The music stops, and we freeze, smiles plastered to our faces. Sweat dribbles from my forehead down my fiery face. My insides feel like an erupting volcano. My heartbeat is the lava trying to push out and overflow.

Tweet tweet tweet tweet
. We obey the whistle’s commands and march out of the gym. Once we’re past the eyes of the audience, we melt and hug and cheer. Melissa and I run to the girls’ room.
I splash cold water on my face, trying to bring down my body temp.

“That was awesome!” I exclaim.

“We totally nailed that routine.” Melissa wipes her face with a paper towel. “I think it’s the first time we got the timing on the fan perfect.” She slurps water from the faucet. “Ready?”

Raven and Emma sit in their usual spot. Unfortunately it’s rows and rows away from Noah.

“Where’s Gracie?” Melissa asks, scooching next to Emma on the bleachers.

“She went to get a snack with Drew.” Emma slides over to make room for us.

“We’re winning!” Raven says, keeping her eyes trained on the court. “Beau just scored, Mel!”

Melissa squeals and claps her hands.

I try not to look where Noah’s sitting. If he wants to find me, he can. I pay extra attention to my friends and laugh extra hard at their stories. I don’t want him to think I’m needy, and I do love my friends. But there’s a pit in my stomach.

Just like we planned, Melissa and I shower after third quarter. I hate showering in the communal locker room with my loofah on a metal peg outside the flimsy white curtain. It smells like rust and Clorox. I cringe as my bare feet trek across the slippery floor where hundreds of unknown feet have trod. It’s even worse, once I’m clean, and I’m forced to retrace my steps across the slimy tiles.

Luckily, I have lots to distract me — mostly Noah, and how I want to look perfect for him tonight. He didn’t notice me at the game, but he will at the dance. After sliding my flatiron through my hair and then through Melissa’s, I shellac the last coat of shimmer on my lips.

We leave the locker room and head to the darkened cafeteria.
The room is heavy with sweat and perfume. All the tables and chairs have been stacked against the walls to create a makeshift dance floor. A DJ is set up near the lunch line, and neon lights flash from his sound system.

“Did they say where they’d meet us?” Melissa shouts over the blaring tunes.

I bop my head to the music. “No! I’ll text Em.” I whip out my fuchsia phone and type.

WHERE R U

Melissa and I meander around the perimeter jammed with jumping, swaying, and stomping students — a sea of jeans and hair and sweat. My legs itch to dance and jam, but we have to find our friends first. A minute later my phone vibrates in my pocket.

BY BLU LOX

“They’re by the blue lockers.” I grab Melissa’s hand and drag her though the crowd. “This way!”

Gracie is all smiles, swaying near Drew, Emma’s practicing her head banging, red curls flying everywhere, and Raven is doing some slick move with her perfectly toned body.

“I have
got
to learn how to do that!” I grab Raven’s elbow.

“Hi, guys!” Melissa yells.

I wave to everyone and focus on imitating Raven. Soon she has me swiveling my hips and moving my arms like hers.

“This one’s my favorite!” Raven squeals when the song we’re dancing to morphs into another tune.

I practice the move she taught me and blend it with some of my own. I edge over to Melissa, coaxing her to do it with me. A strong warm arm pulls me close. I know it’s him without looking.

“Okay, so you girls really can dance!” Peter shouts, grabbing Emma’s hand and twirling her around. I cheer inside for Emma. Peter’s usually so quiet.

Noah leans over and kisses my cheek. He smells like mint, but also of beer. So that’s why Peter’s so outgoing tonight. I didn’t know Noah drank. The print of his lips on my cheek tingles.

“You look awesome!” Noah whispers in my ear as he pulls his lips away. “How’d I get such a hot girlfriend?”

My insides feel like a bottle of nail polish being shaken to mix the color. Upside down: I’m disgusted that Noah drinks. I mean, lots of people at school do; I just didn’t know he did. It caught me off guard, and, well, I’m disappointed. Right side up: I’m excited. I love it when Noah calls me his girlfriend, and I’m giddy that he thinks I’m hot. I wouldn’t want him to think I was dumpy or plain or even just “cute.” I’m relieved he came to find me. I was a little worried about his lack of attention during the game. I feel angry and happy all at once. Luckily, I don’t have to say a word. No one’s talking — just jamming.

We dance and dance. My heart pumps so fast I feel like there’s not enough oxygen in the crowded cafeteria for my lungs.

“I need some air!” I scream at Noah. He nods and takes my hand. We’re not allowed to leave the cafeteria and then reenter the dance — school rules. So he pulls me to the back of the cafeteria near one of the stacks of tables. He leans me against the wall and kisses me full on the lips. It’s like I lit a sparkler. The colors whirl around me. I pull away.

“Sorry, Charlie. No PDA. Dance team rules.” I pant, shaking my finger at him like a child walking through the house with muddy shoes.

“What’s PDA?” Noah asks. “And who’s Charlie? Should I be jealous?”

“Funny!” I slap him playfully on the arm. “Public Display of Affection.” I inhale some fresh air, relieved to be out of the mob for a moment. “Todd, our coach, assigns demerits to anyone caught
in the act of PDA — enough that I’d have to skip a performance.”

“Demerits?” Noah asks, leaning in to kiss my ear.

“Yeah, points against us.” I playfully push him away. “You know, like if we forget part of our uniform or are late to practice. It’s a point system of punishment.” He’s still looking at me like I have fifteen purple eyes. “Like in hockey, what happens if you forget your stick or you’re late?”

“If you forget your stick? You better not forget your stick! If you’re late? Either way, it’s a bunch of nasty drills, like sprints on the ice.” He shrugs. “I get it.” He takes his forearm and wipes sweat from his brow. His cheeks are rosy, and he is so handsome that I want him to kiss me like that again and again.

“So, no kissing in school?”

I nod.

“So, where can we go so I can kiss you?” he asks in a voice so low I barely hear him.

“I can’t leave the dance. My mom’s picking us up.” I smile, somewhat relieved. What would happen if we left together? Wow, is he cute!

He shakes his head all nervous like. “Linds, you look so sexy, and you go dancing like that, and you expect me to keep my hands off you?” He ruffles his hair. “This isn’t easy.”

“I’m sorry. I want to kiss you. That was so . . . niiiiccce.” I draw out the word and tilt my head sideways. I don’t want him to think I’m not interested. “But, I guess it’s kind of like what Ed was talking about. Even though it feels good, some things are just against the rules, whether they’re Todd’s or God’s.” I laugh at my unintentional rhyme. “And, it’s not worth it. I mean, can you imagine if you couldn’t play tomorrow because someone saw you kiss me? That’s what would it would be like for me.”

Noah steps back. “I never thought of it that way, Linds.” He
grabs my hand and stands next to me, shoulder to shoulder. “I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t mean to put you in that position.” His free hand fidgets with his hair. “You’re just so amazing, and I think about you all the time.”

“I think about you too,” I say.

“Really?”

“Noah!” I punch him in the arm. “Of course, like always. I was so bummed my friends weren’t sitting near you at the game, and I picked out this outfit because I hoped you would like it, and I can still feel where you kissed me.” The words tumble out of my mouth too fast.

“About the game . . .” Noah looks down. “The guys all went out drinking before, and I had a beer — one beer. I feel so stupid. I didn’t want you to think I was into drinking or anything, so I avoided you during the game, hoping they’d sober up and I wouldn’t stink.” He turns and looks at me. “You were great out there, by the way. I am so crazy about you, Lindsey Kraus.”

My smile explodes from my heart. “Me, you.” I squeeze his hand. Wow! I am so blown away by him. I want him to realize how much I like him too, but I’m agitated. I don’t want this to go in the wrong direction. Dance team and demerits are one reason to slow things down, but there’s more.

“Noah, I love kissing you, and the other night at your house — wow! That threw me over the top. But, remember what Pastor Ed said about the fire. I mean, I can’t go
there
.”

I watch Noah’s Adam’s apple bob up and down. “Sure, Linds. I get it.” He swallows again. “Wow, will it be hard, because you’re so gorgeous and, don’t get me wrong, so much more. I mean, I love being with you, because you’re you and the gorgeous part is just a bonus.” He squeezes my hand tightly.

Good thing it’s dark in here, so he can’t see me blushing.

“I mean I’ve done it before. It’s not like if we don’t, I’ll get hazed by the hockey team for still being a virgin. That’s not why I’m in this, Linds. You’re great. I don’t ever want to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

The flip-flops are back. He agrees. He respects me. He’s sorry. He
loves
being with me. He didn’t actually say he loved me, but it was close, wasn’t it? He’s not a virgin!

“You’ve done it before!” I feel stretched like a face from the comics imprinted on a piece of Silly Putty, taut and distorted.

Noah nods, not like this is a big confession, just a fact, like he told me what number’s on his jersey.

“Who . . . ?” I start to ask, but can’t finish my sentence because my mouth will not close from this
o
shape.

“Isabelle Parker.” He shrugs.

“Isabelle Parker!” I scream. Isabelle is tall, dark, and curvy with thick black eyelashes. She is my polar opposite. I think of my chest so flat that I can buy clothes from the kids’ department. She could be in the
Sports Illustrated
swimsuit edition with her measurements, and she dresses so everyone at school knows it. I instantly hate her. Just like that. One minute ago, she was just another student — someone whose name I knew and nothing else. Now she’s the enemy. She and Noah shared something that he and I have never shared. What did he see in her? Well, other than the obvious.

“Did you guys go out?” I ask. I couldn’t remember them being an item. Hadn’t he said he’d never had a girlfriend before? Or did Gracie say that? Or Raven?

“It doesn’t matter.” Noah places his amazingly soft, warm hand on my cheek. “It doesn’t matter at all. I didn’t even know you, Linds. It’s you I’m crazy about. Not her.”