6-freaking-thirty?

Social Committee meeting. Why else would I be up so early? And this meeting started at 6:30. I know we have a lot to do and I’m excited we got the dean’s approval, but really? Six-freaking-thirty?

I sit down in an empty seat next to Brad. Aiden is sitting with Whitney on one side of him and his sister on the other. He gives me a blazing smile and really his teeth alone are worth getting up for.

Brad reaches in his backpack, pulls out a Red Bull, and hands it to me.

“Ohmigawd, thank you,” I whisper. “You are so my new best friend.”

He grins then stands up to speak.

“Well, the good news is we got approval from the dean to start planning our first themed weekend. The bad news is we have a new member. Everyone say hey to Aiden.”

Brad chuckles and Aiden laughs and shakes his fist at Brad.

Is he freaking friends with everyone?

“So, our first weekend will be held in conjunction with the prospective student weekend, which means we’ll have to do it up right. Since we’ve already chosen our first theme, I’ll let Peyton and Aiden take over.

We chose a theme? Who did and when?

Aiden and Peyton both stand up. Aiden says, “We’re going with a Greek theme for our first weekend. Think Greek gods, togas, mythology.”

My eyes get huge. The God of all Hotties planned a Greek-themed weekend? Did he choose it so he can finally be fully in his element? Or does he still not know he’s a god? Maybe this will be his coming out party. When he can finally tell the world what he truly is.

He and Peyton go on and on about how they are going to get the art club to draw huge sketches of the gods. The theater tech club to work with the art club making Greek backdrops, which will hang in the student center. The drama club to do a play. We get to wear togas one night. The café will serve Greek food. The Greek mythology class will sell laurel wreaths to make money for an activity they are trying to fund. We’ll have Olympic-style competitions.

I’m not really listening. I’m daydreaming. Imaging Aiden in a toga and a gold laurel wreath.

They stop talking and Aiden hands out sheets of paper with the club or group we are in charge of.

Does he know I call him the God of all Hotties?

Ohmigawd. Now I’m so embarrassed.

I can barely look at him when he hands me a list.

I pretend to look for something in my black patent Jimmy Choo bag. I touch the colored rock Emery gave me when I left home. I keep moving it and Avery’s purple glitter marker into whichever bag I carry. Ivery’s Tinker Bell wand stays in my closet. I want to wish on it every morning, but I’m saving my wish for when I really need it.

Aiden stops in front of my desk and sets a piece of paper on it. I shut my purse and mess with the red over-the-knee socks that I wore today with a pair of black suede Bottega Veneta platform oxford pumps.

Peyton finishes passing out her lists, then says, “I’d like to talk about Homecoming. It’s only a few weeks away. I really wish that there was something we could do just for us.”

This is a much safer thing to talk about. And it makes me curious. So I ask, “What do you mean just for us? Isn’t Homecoming about us?”

She sighs. “No. It’s a big deal. Full of tradition. All the alumni come back and participate. We have to be on our best behavior the entire time. And the schedule is set in stone. The entire week is spirit week. We dress up each day. We have the voting for court, the parade, the pep rally and bonfire, the alumni tailgate, the game, the coronation, the alumni picnic, and then the dance. The alumni come to the dance.”

Brad says, “It’s a really busy weekend and fun, but Peyton’s right. The activities are geared toward the alumni. Our Welcome Back dance is always a blast, but you can’t bump and grind in front of the alumni or you get into trouble, so the music is kinda lame.”

“Why can’t we have our own dance?” I ask.

“They’d never let us,” Peyton sighs again. “Like I said, the weekend is a huge tradition. Been done this way for decades. All the alumni come back, bring their families. They incorporate the class reunions into it.”

“So we can’t change what’s in place?” Aiden asks.

“Right,” Peyton replies.

“So can we add to it?” I ask, completely understanding the direction Aiden was heading with his question.

“What do you mean?” Peyton says.

“Well, there is something you’re definitely missing.”

“What?”

“An after-party. We go to dinner, do the alumni dance, leave when it’s over, and then go to our own party.”

“What would we do? Where would we have it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we rent out a club, get a good DJ, change out of our pretty dresses into something more club appropriate.”

“As in, skimpy?” Logan says. “Hell, I’m a fan of the idea already.”

Peyton flirts, “Well, sure, dancing's hard work.”

Whitney scowls. “There’s no way the school would pay for all that.”

Peyton slumps down. She likes to dance as much as I do. “You’re probably right.”

“So why don’t we?” Aiden says, smiling at me.

“We what?” Whitney scoffs.

“We pay for it. Or get our parents to. Get sponsors or something.”

Brad says, “I don't know about your parents, but I’m pretty sure mine would be cool with it.”

Whitney surprises me when she agrees with Brad. “I think having a few people sponsor it is a good idea.” Then she spoils it when she looks at me and adds, “That way we can make it exclusive and only invite the coolest people.”

Which, I’m pretty sure, would not include me.

“No way, Whitney,” Aiden and Brad say at the same time. Brad continues. “If we want the dean to approve it, we need to invite everyone. If you want to have an exclusive party, you’ll have to do that on your own.”

Is it bad I almost want to applaud?

“Besides, if we have it at a club, we want the place packed.” I grin and think of something to make us all happy. “But, Whitney, that doesn't mean we can't have a special VIP area.”

“How would you decide who would get in there?” Peyton asks.

“Just like anything else in life. The biggest donors get the VIP treatment. We can have levels of giving once we figure out what it will cost. We’ll need to pay to rent the club, hire a sweet DJ, snacks for when we get there, lots of energy drinks. Then, later, we should serve breakfast.”

“That’s a lot to plan on such short notice. Plus, I don’t really want to be working,” Logan says.

“That’s a good point. We need an event planner to just do it all.”

“Let’s get it approved first,” Brad says. Then he turns to me, “You’re up with the dean again.”

As Aiden and I are walking out, I say, “So why Greek and togas?”

He stops and looks at me. “I shouldn’t tell you this.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“Okay, fine. Don’t tell me.” I start to walk away.

He reaches out and puts his hand gently on my shoulder. Shivers run down to my toes.

“This sounds kind of stupid now, but that day when you kicked the soccer ball at my head, the way the sun was shining behind you all I really saw was your face, outlined by golden rays. You looked kinda like a goddess. I honestly thought I was dreaming. Then, when the soccer ball went whizzing by my head, I realized you were real. I’m glad you’re real.”

I laugh.

He says, “See, I knew you would think it was stupid.”

“Aiden.”

“What?”

“I’m laughing because before I knew your name, I had a nickname for you.”

He tightens his jaw and squints his eyes at me. “Do I even want to know?”

I smile and say, “Probably not, but let’s just say this themed weekend is very appropriate. If it turns out good, I’ll tell you. When you’re in your toga. Gold laurel wreath on your head.”

“I’ve never worn a toga, and I thought the wreaths were supposed to be green.”

“Not yours.”

Sucking your face.

Lunch

I sit at Dawson’s table. I call it Dawson’s table because I refuse to claim it as my own, even though I seem to sit here most days. The usual suspects are here: Ace, Jake, Whitney, Peyton, Tyrese, Bryce, and the other pretty girls who seem to have no desire to ever speak to me.

When we sit down, Whitney says to the table, “All this Social Committee crap has made me realize we need to get the hell out of here. I say next weekend we all drive up the coast. Stay somewhere fabulous. Relax all day, party all night.”

“That sounds awesome,” Jake says. I can see his mind running wild about being in a hotel room alone with Whitney.

The girls next to her all giggle, hold hands, and look at Whitney in awe, like she just announced she discovered a cure for cancer, not suggested a weekend away.

Peyton says, “Somewhere with a spa sounds incredible.”

Whitney says, “Of course, that’s how we’ll relax.”

Bryce and Tyrese say at the same time, “I’m in.”

Whitney turns to Dawson. “What about you, Dawes? You in?”

Dawson cocks his head and shrugs his shoulder. “Sure, why not.”

Whitney smiles and clasps her hands together indicating that it’s a done deal. “Mark your calendars and I’ll take care of everything else.”

I finish my lunch quickly and go off to do more campaigning.

When I hand out all the candy in my bag, I find Katie, Annie, and Maggie sitting with Riley and Dallas and some other guys.

I sit down next to Dallas.

“We’re going to the cave tonight,” he whispers to me. “I don’t care how much homework you have or how tired you are. You’re going. You, me, and Riley. Don’t invite anyone else. I mean, we can’t stop people from being there, but, you know, we don’t have to tell them we are going, and we don’t have to invite them. And that includes your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend. Stop calling him that.”

“I don’t care what you call him. I just want to talk to you without him sucking on your face.”

“Okay, fine.”

“Tonight, baby.” Riley grins at me.

“How’s the campaigning going?” Dallas asks me, Katie, and Maggie.

“It’s going great,” Maggie says. “It’s a great way to talk to everyone. We handed out a ton of candy, and I had three seniors ask for my number.”

“What do you think of my competition?” I ask Annie, who is probably the most informed.

“Well, I’d say your only real competition is Benjamin. He wants to be President someday, he’s very serious, and he would probably do a really good job. He’s talking about all sorts of important issues, like funding and economic change.”

“It’s freaking Student Council, people, he’s not going to affect funding or economic change here.”

“Well I don’t know, he just sounds good when he talks, and he’s kinda sexy, in that nerdy kind of way.”

Great.

I silently curse Bill Gates and all the other rich internet techno whiz geeks for making nerds in vogue.

Riley’s like, “The guy’s a douche.”

Dallas interrupts, “Riley and I have an idea that could get you more votes than the douche.”

“Really, what’s that?”

“Let’s shoot a video promoting your campaign. We can dress you all sexy, and then you can look like you’re going to undress, like those web domain commercials, and say if you vote for Keatyn, you will get a special access code to get on the web to see what happens next. All the guys would vote for you for sure. And most of the girls, too, just because they would want to see what you did.”

Riley’s like, “It’s a good plan, Kiki. YouTube’s where it’s at.”

“So, basically, I could vote for Benjamin, tell you I voted for me, then you’d give me the code?”

Dallas scrunches up his nose. “Oh, yeah, well, we might have to rework that.”

“And what would I do in the access code video?”

Riley says, “Well, uh, we thought maybe take your shirt off.”

“ARE YOU NUTS?!”

“Calm down, it was just an idea. We’re trying to help you here.”

“I’m not buying votes with nakedness. I’d probably get kicked out of school for that.”

Riley leans over and whispers in my ear, “Wouldn’t be the first time you did something that could get you kicked out.”

I punch him.

Dallas scratches his head. “We didn’t really think of that either.”

“How’s your speech coming?” Annie asks. “I think the speeches will be important.”

“My speech sucks.”

“Let me see it; I’ll work on it.”

So I give her my little cards.

Dawson comes up behind me and says, “If you’re done, let’s go outside.”

And I happily do.

We sit on our bench.

He kisses me sweetly and then a little not-so-sweetly.

“Dawes, we can’t kiss like this out here, or we’ll get in trouble.”

Kissing is pretty much okay, but sitting around seriously making out in public is sorta against school rules.

“I can’t help it. God, you’re sexy. I’m the luckiest guy at school. The library was amazing. Like, crazy amazing.”