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“Dave and Tanya made it?” Armando asked with mock surprise. “I can't believe it! Who voted for them?” I chuckled at his joke. “It's a small school, dude.” Armando laughed as he gathered his things and left toward the men's locker room. I nodded to no one in particular.

Now that Armando was gone, I took the time to contemplate the exact accomplishment this was for me to be on homecoming court. Thirteen years of trying to fit in finally paid the price. It just goes to show that you don't need to hang out all the time after school. Just being a great guy with a great personality — and, in my case, good looks — is all it takes to be noticed. Even if you never get to see nighttime.

Or go to the dances.

I sighed with realization that this would be yet another dance I would have to miss due to my condition. Missing out on all of the other dances was fine by me, but this time, I actually
needed
to be there. I was a nominee. It was supposed to be a special night for me. But of course, I couldn't attend. All this work for absolutely nothing.

I sighed and moved away from the list on the wall, relapsing into another self-pity fest. Just as I was about to leave, Anjolie appeared by my side.

“Hey, Cameron.” She greeted me coolly, giving me a nod. “You looking at the list too?” She peered down the list and, finding her name, smiled in jubilation.

I quickly snapped out of my pity fest. “Uh, yeah,” I answered, giving her a sweet smile. “I made it on the court, too.” I leaned nonchalantly against the wall, hoping I looked at least a little bit cool.

She smiled knowingly, crossing her thin, pale arms. “Of course you made it on the court, Sloane.” She shoved my shoulder. “Mr. Big-Man-On-Campus.” Her sly smile was cunning yet alluring.

I giggled nervously. There were many pretty girls on the planet, but not very many
eerily
pretty girls. Anjolie was stunning. Her looks were ravishing. With her abundance of long, curly, white-blond locks and her large, white-gray, slanted eyes, she was every boy's fantasy. If I didn't like Olive so much then I'm pretty sure she'd be my fantasy as well.

“So, Sloane,” she said, placing a delicate hand onto her jutting hip, “how about me and you partner up for the court?”

By the way she was looking at me, I didn't feel like I had a choice. “Sure thing, Anjolie,” I said. Hudson and Armando were obviously partners, as well as Dave and Tanya. I had no choice but to partner with Anjolie. And even if I did have a choice, I think I would still choose her.

Anjolie smiled happily. “Okay, Cameron,” she said, “I'll see you at the rehearsal.” She winked at me and spun on her heel. Her white scarf was the last to disappear around the corner.

It took quite some time for me to finally get off the wall. It took even longer for me to remove the smile from my mouth. I get to be her partner. I imagined walking in the parade with her bony arm in mine, dazzling the crowd at the dance—

But then I sighed heavily, wondering when I'd get up the courage to tell her that I wouldn't be able to make it that night. But knowing me, I'd probably never get the courage.

Olive

I sat in study hall, frowning. I did
not
appreciate the way Cam — I'm sorry, Cam
eron
— had treated me that night. What was with the pet names? And how come he talked like that? And why in the world did he look as if he were put on a low contrast setting or something? His hair was white-blond and he had
gray
eyes. What was up with that?

“You look either constipated, or frustrated,” Hudson whispered, poking me with her orange pen.

I shrugged my shoulders, shaking my head. “I'm working on my seductive gaze,” I joked, pulling a forced smile onto my face.

Armando laughed out loud, his shoulders shaking and his eyes shutting. “That's funny, Olive. You're really funny,” he said in between bouts of laughter.

I smiled and shrugged. The good thing about Armando was that when he thought something was funny, he really showed you. You would think you were a stand-up comedian if you were ever stuck in a room with him.

“Quiet down back there!” the study hall teacher snapped from the front of the room.

Armando quickly zipped his lips and returned to his history homework. Hudson rolled her eyes and said, “So, are you going to Homecoming?”

Homecoming. Something I completely did
not
like thinking about, let alone talking about. Dances in general freaked me out. The thought of going through the process of asking someone and then having to color-coordinate outfits, and then the whole picture thing, and don't let me get started on the actual
dance
dance.

Hudson immediately pouted. “No!” she whined. “You
have
to go! You haven't ever gone to any Homecoming dance! You
have
to!” She clasped her brown hands together and begged.

I just shook my head. “Dances equal waste of time,” I said firmly. “And besides, I can't even dance.” Yes, I said it. I can't dance. Problem? I don't think so. Not all girls are supposed to know how to dance. So why can't I be one of them?

“That's funny,” Armando said, lifting his head up from his homework. “Cameron can't dance either. Hmm.” He tapped his chin pensively with his hand.

Hudson nodded her head, turning her gaze on me. “And Cameron hates dances, too. He never shows up to any of them. Odd.” She mimicked Armando's gesture, tapping her perfectly sculpted chin.

My face immediately started to sting with the burn of blush. “Since when are we talking about Cameron?” I asked lightly, flipping through my notebook, trying to avoid their glances.

“What if I told you Cameron was going to the dance?” Armando said, leaning into me. The smell of fresh soap and a hint of chlorine wafted up through my nostrils.

I still kept my eyes on the notebook, trying to keep my mouth from twitching into a shy smile.

“He's
going
?” Hudson asked — well, more like
gasped
. She covered her mouth with her slender hand. Her hot pink nails sparkled. I looked down at my own bitten down nails and tucked them into my palm.

Armando nodded his head, pulling away from me. “Yup,” he said to Hudson, but loud enough for me to hear. “He's on
Homecoming court
.”

My head jerked up at that. Armando was smirking at me, nodding his head. “Cameron was voted on?” I asked, not bothering to hide my shock.

“Well of
course
he was, girl,” Hudson said, gazing at me. “Your little friend is, well, kinda popular.”

I nodded.
Now
he was. But he wasn't always popular. He used to be shy and friendless. Like me.

“Who is he partnering up with?” Hudson asked, looking in her sleek black compact to fix her makeup.

Armando shrugged. “Well Dave and Tanya are of course together,” he said. Then he smiled. “And so are we.” He leaned over, pushed the compact away, and placed a kiss on Hudson's perfectly glossed lips. When he pulled away, he said, “So that leaves Cameron and… and Anjolie.”

“Who said my name?” Anjolie said, whipping her head around. Her curly white-blonde hair poured down her back as she stared at the three of us. “Could've sworn I heard my name in this general direction.” She motioned with her long bony white hands.

Hudson waved at Anjolie with a flick of her fingers. “Hey, Anj,” she said sweetly. “We were just talking about Homecoming. You're on the court, right?”

Anjolie stood up and dragged her chair to our table. She sat herself directly in front of me. “Yeah, I'm on that. You two are on it, too?”

Hudson nodded. “Yeah, we are,” she said cheerily. She smiled broadly. “This is going to be so
fun
, right?”

Anjolie shrugged her shoulders and tugged at the ends of her flowing white scarf. “I mean, I guess so,” she said. “I have to partner with Cameron, though.” She frowned with her light pink lips.

“What's wrong with that?” Armando asked, closing his history book. He then reached across the table and grabbed Hudson's homework. Unsurprisingly, he began doing that too.

Anjolie sighed and then looked directly at me. “Everyone else on the court is going out. The two of us would have to put on a pretty good show to have at least a
tiny
chance at winning, you know?” Her cat-like gray eyes peered at me.

I tried opening my mouth to answer, but it was as if I had superglue in between my lips.
Say something
, I willed myself. But all I could do was nod and force out a measly, “Mhm.”

“Don't let that discourage you though,” Hudson said sweetly. “Everyone has an equal chance at winning. You'll be fine.” She was lying of course. Everyone knew she and Armando were going to win — just like how everyone knew the difference between night and day.

Anjolie shrugged and bit her lip. “Yup,” she said.

The four of us sat staring at the desk for a few seconds before Anjolie cleared her throat and said, “Well, I'm bored.” She stood up and dragged her chair. “Talk to you guys later.”

Hudson and Armando nodded goodbye but all I could do was go, “Mhm,” again.

Anjolie

I couldn't believe I was on Homecoming court. Who in their right mind would vote for me? I mean, I was just a normal teenage girl.

Well, not entirely.

But on the surface I was. I went to school, took notes, ate lunch, and then came home. What made me special enough to get voted on?

“You look all angelic,” Petra said to me when I asked her about it. She and I were sitting around at home, doing homework. “Nobody around here looks like you, Anj.” She pulled out her gum and stuck it on her middle school math book. Disgusting.

I slid off my glasses and cleaned them on my shirt. “So, basically you're saying they voted me on because of my looks?” I slid my glasses on, feeling a little down for some reason.

Petra nodded, scraping her black bob into a tiny ponytail. “Why
else
would they vote you in? It's not like you're the biggest comedian at your high school.” Her Jersey accent was thicker than cottage cheese.

I sighed and watched her squeeze lip gloss on her already glossed lips. Peter, her twin brother, made a face. “That's not all, Anjolie,” he said, sitting up. He, too, had the shiny black hair, large, slanted brown eyes, and the Jersey accent. “You're also pretty cool, too.”

That would be cool to hear if he weren't a seventh grader. I mean, I have nothing against seventh graders, but a young person's opinion is a little invalid in my eyes.

Petra made a face at Peter and grabbed her gum off the withering textbook. She smashed it back into her mouth. “I'm done doing homework. Anyone wanna hit the shore before Papsie comes back?” She tugged down her tiny shorts.

Peter got off the couch and checked out his hair in the mirror. After making sure it was perfectly blown out, he nodded and slipped on his flip-flops. “Yea, lemme call the others and we'll hang.”

“Wait!” I said, springing up from the floor. “What about the rest? You can't expect me to take care of
all
of them.” I nodded at their homework splayed all over the place. “And what about your homework?”

“Oh, Anj, don't play mother right now,” Petra said, flicking her hair out of its tiny ponytail. She never seemed to be satisfied with it up or down. “We'll finish it when we get back. Tell Papsie and Mommy that we're out. They won't care.”

“Yeah, and the others know what food is. Just give them food and they'll sleep again,” Peter said, texting on his newest phone. “Stop acting like you don't know what to do. You may be adopted and all that, but that don't mean you can't hold up the fort, big sis.” He flashed me a smile and then leapt out the front door.

Petra adjusted her skimpy tank top and slid on huge sunglasses. “See ya when I see ya, big sis,” she said and followed after Peter.