6:59 (35 page)

****

“Why does it have to be
this
straight?” I asked Petra the next morning as I combed through my new bone straight hairdo.

“Do you want it to look like a lion's mane when straight?” Petra asked, pulling on jeans. “Or do you wanna look hot?” She shrugged on a gentle pink sweater.

I stared at myself in the mirror for a little longer before finally nodding. This morning, Petra had turned into my personal beautifier. She'd pulled out all of my “hot” outfits — skirts, leggings, tank tops — and coupled them with some of my more modest articles —.T-shirts, sweaters, jeans. Then she'd washed my hair for me — despite my protests — and straightened the entire thing. She'd even given me side-swept bangs. I completely refused all of her makeup choices until she'd given up and just applied mascara to my eyelashes. When I saw how boring I looked, she'd finished off the look with eye shadow and foundation.

When we finished, she tried turning me around like they did in all those movies, but I just shooed her away and looked at myself in the mirror. Wearing something Hudson would wear, I liked what I saw.

Petra, on the other hand, hated her new look. “I look like a grandma!” she cried, shielding her nude face. She'd worn the outfit of my choice — dark jeans and a purple V-neck sweater — and only applied mascara to her big eyes.
I
personally thought she looked great, and her age. “If I didn't love you, Anj, I would hate you. Let's go.” She grabbed my hand and led me out the door.

Cameron

The whole next week was now a routine for me. I would wake up, actually spend some time at breakfast with the lovebirds, watch some TV, and then leave with Olive once she came over. We would then go to school together, spend our free time in the hallways linked together, hang out whenever we'd see each other in the hallways, then we'd go home together. The two of us would hang out at my place or her place (after I made up with Abby) and then I'd spend my last hour doing my unfinished homework. Then we'd do the same thing the next day.

Everything was perfect and routine for the whole week, with no distractions or fights. It was all peachy. Only two things threw monkey wrenches into our happiness.

One being Anjolie and her new look. The first time I saw her walk down the hallways in her high heels and new outfit, I couldn't stop my jaw from hitting the floor. I mean, Anjolie is a very pretty person — one of the prettiest girls I've ever seen. But when she walked through those doors, I knew that even Hugh Hefner hasn't seen better looking. Her white-blond hair was bone straight, blown out long and thick. She'd worn a skirt and a clingy top that accentuated her curves. Her heels were higher than any I've ever seen and her legs went on for
miles
. Staring at her, I felt as if I were an extra in those movies, watching as the Plain Jane walked in slow motion down the hallway, donning her sexy new look. And when she passed me, her cinnamon smell engulfed me.

I nearly fainted.

It had taken me all week to get over her new look. Every day she would come in wearing new clothes and that
amazing
perfume. Whenever she'd talk to me, I couldn't even formulate words. Olive had to be the one to compliment her.

“
Cute
new look, Anjolie!” Olive had said, looking her up and down. “Where was this bombshell hiding all these years? My
goodness
.” She twirled Anjolie around allowing herself — and me — to take in her new look. “Is this a product of Midnight Models?” she asked.

Anjolie just shook her head. “No, it's my little sister. She's into fashion and stuff.” She smiled shyly.

Olive gave her the thumbs up. “Well, awesome. Who
wouldn't
want to go to Homecoming with you?”

And that was true. Anjolie ended up getting so many offers to go to the dance, even
I
was getting sick of it. What? So she decides to wear form-fitting clothing. Big deal.

But it was. It was a
huge
deal.

Anyway, enough about Anjolie's new look. The second thing that threw me off was when Olive decided she wanted to go to the dance.

“But I thought you hated dances,” I said as I drove her home on Friday. “I thought you hated
dancing
.” Her declaration to go to the dance was huge news! Since when did Olive want to attend a high school dance?

Olive sighed and stretched her arms. “I did hate dances,” she said. “Mostly because I couldn't dance and because I didn't have a date.”

I glanced at her. “But you
don't
know how to dance and you
don't
have a date.” I desperately hoped that the next words coming out of her mouth had nothing to do with Cam. But, knowing Olive, they definitely did.

“Cam has been teaching me how to dance all week,” she said, combing her fingers through her thick, dark hair. “He says I'm dancing like a pro these days.”

I cleared my throat, avoiding getting angry at her. That was one thing I hated the most — when guys blew up on girls. I understood arguments and disagreements, but I despised it when guys freaked out on girls. It just wasn't right. So I behaved myself. I decided to take a few deep breaths before asking, “All week?”

Olive nodded nonchalantly. “Yeah. I told him about the dance and he wanted to make sure his date felt comfortable on the dance floor.”

More deep breaths. “His date?” I asked, my voice cracking.

She nodded again as if this wasn't tearing me up inside. “Yes! Just think, this will be our
first
dance — and as a couple! And, as a bonus, Cam actually knows how to dance so you'll look good out there.”

I slammed a little too heavily on the brakes when we reached a red light. “Wait, so what you're saying is
Cam
is going to go to Homecoming as
me
?” My mind was spinning so fast; I felt as if I were on a hijacked merry-go-round. This is
not
how I pictured my first dance to be. Not at all.

Olive was laughing. “This so reminds me of those "twins" movies when they'd switch places! This is classic!” She wiped her eyes.

I forced a smile. “So he's going to the dance?” I asked again.

“Yup,” she said. “He already picked out his suit. I'm wearing a royal blue dress and he's wearing a black suit with a royal blue tie. He bought everything himself.”

“How?” I asked, fuming from this conversation.

“His new job at your dad's agency pays
a lot
. That's how he could afford it.”

“When can he work? Doesn't he have to do missions?”

“He doesn't do them anymore. He says they put you in danger. Isn't that nice?” She flashed a bright, carefree smile at me, unaware of the anger boiling inside me. She had this whole thing planned out then, huh? And she decided to tell me all of this the day before the dance. I wanted to scream.

“What are you getting all mad for?” Olive asked, finally noticing the fire blowing out of my ears. “You really weren't going to find a way to go to the dance?” She looked shocked.

I shook my head. “I just wasn't going to go.”

“But you're on the court! How would that look if you were a no-show? You should be happy Cam is doing this for you. It will be the first time he's been in a school.”

She was right. I should be happy that I would be able to show myself — even if it wasn't really me. That way, people wouldn't think I was rude for not representing those that voted for me. I
had
to go to the dance.

But that meant that Cam would be in control of my actions that night. Whoever he talked to, whoever he danced with, whoever he made contact with would think he was really me. I had to
pray
that he wouldn't mess things up.

And as for him going with my girlfriend, well, I guess that made sense. Olive and I were a couple — everyone knew that now. If Olive didn't show up, then it would look like I hadn't asked her. If Olive or Cam showed up with another date, it would look like we broke up. If
I
didn't show up and
she
did, I'd look like an idiot who didn't appreciate his girlfriend or his school. No matter what, I had to be seen with Olive on my arm at that dance. And Cam would have to do that for me.

So as much as I completely disapproved, I had to swallow my jealousy and play along. “So Cam knows how to dance?” I asked.

Cam

I finished knotting the royal blue tie around my neck, smiling at myself in the mirror. “Well,
hello
, Mr. Hot-Stuff,” I greeted my image, flexing my biceps.

“You look legit, my man,” Armando commented, opening up the contact lens box he brought me. Dressed in a neatly tailored suit, his hair slicked back behind his ears, he looked like a million bucks. He handed me the light blue contact lenses. “Pop these in and you're good to go.”

I took the box and stared at the contact lenses, knowing that if it were a few weeks ago, I would have ditched the lenses and rocked my own gray eyes.

But this was Cameron's body — and he didn't have gray eyes.

I plucked up each one, sighing as I inserted the contacts. Once they were in, I stared again at myself, realizing that the contacts weren't the only thing different about me this evening. Without the gel, my hair was limp, falling over my forehead in wisps of whitish, blondish strands — the color change would just have to work. I also skipped my nightly tan; Cameron never fake-baked. Now, finally spritzing on some of his cologne — not the expensive one I usually wear — I was Cameron Sloane, ready for his first dance.

Armando's hands came down hard on my shoulders, interrupting my mental dialogue. “I think you're ready,” he said and gave me a bright smile.

I returned his smile. “More than ready, dude,” I responded.

We headed down the stairs, joining Cameron's dad and Mila at the bottom of the staircase. They
oohed
and
aahed
at us like most parents do. But unlike most parents, they had professional photographers snapping away at us, the flashy lights consuming the entire room.

“You guys look awesome,” Cameron's dad praised, patting the both of us on the back. “Hottest guys in L.A., I tell you that.” His eyes crinkled at the corners as he took in our fancy attire. I felt sort of uncomfortable in this suit. Usually, when I'm clad in a suit, it's for the missions, not school dances.

I smiled in response to Mr. Sloane's praises, unable to say anything else because, right at the moment, Hudson appeared at the top of the staircase. We stared in awe as she descended the stairs.

She was dressed in a purple evening gown that was sprinkled with zillions of jewels and diamonds. Her hair was heavily teased and fell down her back in luscious curls. She almost looked like a purple Cinderella, if you asked me.

She smiled for the cameras and joined Armando, who was waiting on the bottom of the steps with his mouth gaping in astonishment. “Oh, stop gawking at me like that,” she said, thwapping Armando's shoulder and smiling playfully.

Armando just shook his head in amazement. “It's
Homecoming
, Hudson,” he said, ruffling the fabric of her dress, “not
prom
.” He rolled his eyes at the word.

Hudson shrugging was her response to his eye-roll. “Hey, it's Los Angeles. People do it big here,” she explained, twisting a finger through her ringlets. “To us, Homecoming is like prom and prom is like a wedding and a wedding is like a—”

“
Please
don't remind me,” Armando said, interrupting her words with a kiss. “We'll cross that super-expensive bridge when we get there.” Hudson giggled.

Suddenly, the smell of cinnamon encased my nostrils. Turning my head to the right, I saw that Anjolie had already descended the stairs, standing next to me in her ruby-red dress. I didn't even notice her entrance; she was that quiet.

“You look lovely, Anjolie,” Mila was saying, even though all of our attention was still on Hudson's dress. I immediately felt bad. While everyone was listening to Armando and Hudson's conversation, no one stopped to gaze at Anjolie's appearance.

“Lookin' hot, Anj,” I offered, squeezing her shoulder. Hudson and Armando joined in the praise, but Anjolie just gave us half-hearted smiles, apparently still hurt from our lack of attention.

I was about to praise her some more, but was struck silent as I saw Olive begin to make her way down the stairs. She looked absolutely stunning in her silk, royal blue dress and diamond jewelry. The dress clung to her curves, stopping mid-thigh, showing off her shiny, brown legs. She topped her outfit off with crystalline stilettos. Her hair fell down her back in voluminous curls, framing her beautiful face.

It wasn't long before I couldn't help my jaw from dropping to the floor. “Holy moly” was my only response to her when she joined me at the bottom of the staircase.

She giggled and took my hand in hers, planting a kiss on my stunned lips. “You look like a deer caught in headlights,” she said, batting her super long eyelashes at me. When I didn't respond, she just shook her head and grabbed my hand, leading me over to the photo shoot area.

****

After pictures, we hopped into the limo, deciding that it was about time we headed out. In the car, I noticed the video camera in Anjolie's hand. “What's with the camcorder?” I asked, rubbing my hand up and down Olive's leg.

Anjolie shrugged, taking a sip of her drink. “I'm taping the dance for Cameron,” she said, and began playing with the buttons on the camera.

I nodded, realizing that Cameron would most likely want to see this dance. I wanted to smack my forehead, angry at myself for not thinking of that idea first. Here I was, attending his dance with not a care in the world, while Cameron's stuck, sleeping in my head, unable to do a thing about it. I sighed, making a promise to myself that I would make it up to Cameron one day. If I could help it, he'd attend a dance if it's the last thing he does.

I watched as Anjolie opened up the camcorder and began filming us in the limo. “Everyone, say hi to Cameron!” she said, smiling as she panned the camera around the car.

“Hiiiiii!” everyone responded, waving into the camera.

“Sorry you couldn't be here, Cameron!” Armando called into the camera.

“Yeah, we wish you could be here with us,” Hudson said, pouting her full lips.

“You're totally missing out,” Olive said. “But Cam's here, so he'll keep us company.” She cuddled up into me, her eyes still on the camera.

“Yeah, man, but don't worry, I got this,” I said into the camera, giving him a thumbs-up. “I'll get you that crown.” I didn't know what else to say.

Anjolie then spun the camera over to herself and smiled into it. “We're thinking about you Cameron,” she said gently, and then closed the camera.

Her words rang repeatedly through my head, like a song stuck on repeat.

When we finally got to the dance, I was amazed at how many faces I saw packed into the large ballroom. I don't think I've ever seen so many teenagers in one room before. There had to be at least a thousand kids there, all crowded around in their super expensive outfits, eating, drinking, dancing, and hanging out.

“Let's dance!” Hudson cried out, grabbing Armando's hand and leading him to the dance floor.

I watched the two of them make their way through the crowds and settle on the dance floor, moving their bodies to the rhythm of the music. Soon, the song was engulfing my own limbs, and I was suddenly bobbing around to the music as well.

Olive laughed and grabbed my shoulder. “If you wanted to dance, you should have said so.” She led me over to the dance floor and soon we began dancing around with Armando and Hudson.

While we danced I looked around at all of the kids, trying to spot the ones I'd seen in Cameron's yearbooks. A lot of them were there, all dressed like movie stars on the red carpet. I also noticed the typical wallflowers lining the walls and glancing around at the couples on the dance floor. I felt sorry for them, realizing that if it hadn't been for me, Olive would've been one of those lonely kids hiding in the shadows. They were probably just like Olive — embarrassed by their dance moves but still yearning to attend the dance. I made a note to invite them onto the dance floor when I got the chance.

“Loving what you're seeing?” Olive asked, drawing my attention back to her pretty face.

In response, I smiled and kissed her, saying, “I certainly do.”

She giggled and we continued dancing, the songs changing every few minutes or so. I was having a blast out there, dancing my heart out and pumping my fists to the music. I was digging the whole club vibe this dance had going on; I was feeling more and more comfortable with each passing minute.

After a half a dozen songs, Olive called it quits and led me over to our table which was occupied by Armando, Hudson, Anjolie, and two super-tan, super-plastic kids. I nodded at everyone, taking a seat between Olive and Armando.

“Saw you out there, Cameron,” Armando called over the music. “You were really living it up!” In the dim lighting, his smile contrasted profoundly with the rest of him.

I nodded, smiling at his compliment. “What can I say? Dancing is what I do.”

Armando laughed and sipped his drink. “Understatement of the year, my friend,” he said, clapping me on the back.

I laughed and focused back on Olive, wrapping an arm around her slender shoulders. “Did I tell you that you look absolutely stunning tonight?” I asked, nibbling on her earlobe.

She smiled, cooing at my words. “Only, like, a million times,” she answered, interlacing her fingers with mine.

“Well, apparently not enough, then.” I ran a hand through her chocolate locks, coming to a rest at the bare space between her shoulder blades. I went to kiss her, but froze when I saw Anjolie's camera lens pointed directly at us.

Blushing, I shot away from Olive, grabbing Armando's drink and sipping from it nervously. I almost got caught making out with Cameron's girlfriend. His own girlfriend. On his special night. If I was trying to give Cameron's life back, this wasn't a very good way to do it.

“Why so blushy-blushy, Sloane?” the tan, plastic-looking girl from across the table asked me. “She
is
your girlfriend, isn't she?” She smirked with her full lips and tossed her golden-brown hair over her orange shoulder, eyeing me viciously.

With incredible haste, I mentally scanned Cameron's yearbook, trying to match her face with the ones I saw.
Please don't be a freshman
, I begged silently, knowing that I completely skipped that section earlier when Armando showed up with the contacts. I had tried to memorize every face, but it was too difficult.
Everyone
resembled plastic dolls at this high school.

“Mind your own business, Tanya,” Olive snapped, rolling her eyes.

Tanya
!
Dave and Tanya
!

“No one was talking to you, Olive,” Dave spat, coming to his girlfriend's rescue. He slung his arm over her shoulder and glared at us.

Olive just looked away, crossing her arms. I knew Dave and Tanya were the “mean kids” that every high school had, but I couldn't feel the intimidation that everyone seemed to feel. I mean,
come on
!
They
were the bad guys? They couldn't kill a fly if it landed under their fly-swatter!

“Oh,
you're
so big and bad, Dave,” I said, rolling my eyes and wiggling my fingers. I, too, slung an arm around Olive's shoulders, sitting back and shooting a cocky grin at him.

Dave's little glare did nothing to dissolve my smug persona. Noticing this, he huffed like a little child. “Your words, not mine,” he retorted, crossing his arms.

I scoffed, flinging a rolled up napkin in his direction. He dodged it, glaring at me with wide, green eyes. “Get lost,” I said, rolling my eyes.

And surprisingly, they did just that, gathering their things and stalking off toward the punch table.

Armando clapped me on the back, laughing hysterically. “Okay, that was weird,” he said in between spurts of laughter. Hudson and Olive laughed as well, shaking their heads at my actions.

I shrugged innocently. “What?” I asked, meeting their eyes.

But all they could do was shake their heads.

I was just about starving when the principal made his way up to the podium to announce Homecoming king and queen. Stuffing my face with chocolate desserts, I reluctantly followed Armando and Hudson up to the stage, my hands full of pastries. On our way there, Hudson was practicing her surprise face, her eyes and mouth repeatedly forming the shape of an
O
as she continued to switch expressions. I would've laughed if I hadn't noticed how serious she was about this.

As I watched Hudson's manic expressions, Armando took the pastries away from me, scolding me in his Spanish language. “Are you
trying
to embarrass yourself?” he whispered, flipping each into the nearest trashcan.

I shrugged. “I'm hungry, dude,” I said, wiping my hands on my pants. “Sue me.”

Armando just rolled his eyes and pushed me onto the stage. Once up there, I was joined by Anjolie, the camera still in her hand as she videotaped the crowd staring up at us. I saw her turn the camera to her face and say, “Can you say
stage fright
?” and giggle coyly. By the way she was conversing and laughing with the camera, it was as if the camera itself were her date. I almost felt bad for her. But when I saw Olive's smiling face in the crowd, waving at me, the feelings all but disappeared from my body.

“What a lovely night we are pleased to have on this enchanting day,” the principal was saying as he addressed the crowd. I tuned him out as he went on to comment about other things and thank the teachers and Homecoming committee for the dance. Frankly, I don't know why he decided to choose this specific moment to make his lame-o speech. No one cared about who supplied the refreshments — they just wanted to know who were king and queen!

“Nervous, Cameron?” Dave asked me, fixing his bowtie. He was smiling at the crowd, apparently believing that the voting polls were still open and that his smile alone would earn him more votes. What an idiot.

“Not even the slightest bit,” I said, mimicking his smiles and even adding a few waves — you know, just to get on his nerves.

He chuckled charmingly. “Well, you should be,” he said through smiling teeth. “Everyone knows you're only up here 'cause of your newfound looks. Without them, you'd still be that loser kid reading some history book in the corner of the library.”

“And what are you up here for? For being a little freak?” I retorted.

He chuckled and patted me on the back. “Face it, Sloane. You and Anjolie don't even belong here. This Homecoming court is for the big dogs, and, well, you're nothing but a stupid little puppy.” He finished with a wave at a few admiring girls.

I frowned, contemplating silently in my head at his words. I could've done one of two things at that moment — either socked him in the face and pushed him off the stage, or be like Cameron and hold my composure.

I decided on the latter — but with a little twist.

Smiling innocently at the crowd, I grabbed onto the back of his neck, squeezing with the might of a thousand suns. He yelped silently, struggling to maintain his bright smile. “Now you listen here, you piece of
crap
,” I said through smiling teeth. “You're messing with the wrong guy, alright? You wanna dance? We'll dance. But right now is neither the time nor place.” I released him, giving him a little shove. He glared at me as he rubbed his neck. I continued to smile at the crowd but managed a deathly glare in his direction. “Don't worry; there'll be enough time for me to break your legs
after
I win Homecoming King.”

See? Composure.

Before Dave could spit out any more of his idiotic threats, the principal began to announce king and queen. “This year's Homecoming Queen is…” He opened up a small envelope that was handed to him by some small freshman. “…Hudson Mendoza!”

Hudson gasped dramatically and covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide, her mouth gaping like the crowned winner of a beauty pageant. Everyone clapped as the principal placed the diamond encrusted crown — weren't those supposed to be fake? — on her head and handed her a bouquet of flowers. She smiled and waved at the crowd, going to stand at the side and wait for her king.

The principal then grabbed up the king's crown, the extravagant jewels and velvet flashing in the brilliant lights. That thing looked like it cost more than a newborn child. “The king, ladies and gentleman, is…” he opened the envelope, “Cameron Sloane!”

Who's the man? I am.

Shooting a cocky grin at that stupid Dave guy, I saddled over to the principal and bent my knees, allowing him to place the heavy crown onto my head. I tried not to appear too excited, but I couldn't hold back the happy smile that was plastered onto my face. What a lucky guy that Cameron was.

The principal patted me on the back and handed me my pimp staff. “Good job, Cameron,” he congratulated. “All that studying and hard work, and you still win the hearts of the school. I'm proud of you, Mr. Soon-To-Be-Valedictorian.” He gave me a nod and gestured over to Hudson, indicating that it was time for our dance.

I thanked the principal and then high-fived Armando and hugged Anjolie. They seemed really happy for me, smiling as if it were their own child winning his own award. I smiled at them before joining Hudson and leading her to the dance floor. I even managed a humble smile in Dave and Tanya's red faces, avoiding the ruder gesture of flipping them off.

When Hudson and I got onto the dance floor, I took her into my arms and we began swaying to the slow music while everyone watched from the crowd.

Hudson and I met eyes and smiled shyly at one another, knowing that this was the first time the two of us were ever this close. Trying to diminish the awkwardness of the situation, I contorted my face into a funny expression, and she laughed, tossing her head back with amusement.

“You are never serious, Cam,” she said, looking at me with her smiling mahogany eyes.

I shrugged a little, cocking my head to the side. “What's to be serious about?” I asked coyly.

She just shook her head, smiling as she looked away from me, looking through the crowds. When she spotted Armando staring back at us with stern eyes, she sighed and rolled her eyes. “Even at a dance, he's still jealous,” she said softly.

I looked over at him and gave him the nod. He returned the gesture, but his eyes still remained on Hudson. “What's he think we're gonna do? Make out?”

I was joking, but Hudson answered seriously. “Yes.”

I looked at her, shooting her with a confused expression. “Why would I do that? You're
his
girlfriend!” I mean, Hudson was hot and all, but I had my own girl waiting for me in the crowd.