My fears were strengthened during lunch when Jessica sat as far from Mike as possible, chatting animatedly with Eric. Mike was unusually quiet, perhaps jealous that Eric might take what he'd denied.
Mike was still quiet as he walked me to class, the uncomfortable look on his face a bad sign. But he didn't broach104 the subject until I was in my seat and he was perched on my desk. As always, I was electrically aware of Fredward sitting close enough to touch, as distant as if he were merely an invention of my imagination.
"So," Mike said, looking at the floor, "Jessica asked me to the spring dance."
"That's great!" I made my voice bright and enthusiastic. "You'll have a lot of fun with Jessica."
"Well... " He floundered as he examined my smile, clearly not happy with my response. "I told her I had to think about it." I tried to suppress a smile at the thought of him thinking.
"Why would you do that?" My disapproval colored my tone, though I was relieved he hadn't given her an absolute no.
His face was bright red as he looked down again. Pity shook my resolve.
"I was wondering if... well, if you might be planning to ask me."
I paused for a minute, hating the wave of guilt that swept through me, the guilt that he was making me feel just by existing. But I saw from the corner of my eye, Fredward's head tilt reflexively in my direction.
"Mike, I think you should tell her yes," I said.
"Did you already ask someone?" Did Fredward notice how Mike's eyes flickered in his direction? I sure hoped so.
"No," I assured him, cursing the gods. "I'm not going to the dance at all. I hate dancing. Maybe you haven't noticed but I am clumsy and I hate my body, and I hate anything that reminds me of that."
104. Broach: any of various pointed or tapered tools, implements, or parts.
a: a spit for roasting meat,
b: a tool for tapping casks,
c: a cutting tool for removing material from metal or plastic to shape an outside surface or a hole