We Could Be Dreamers

11

The Virginia Woolf project is done. Triple-checked, polished, and submitted.

So I'm pretty surprised when Brooke texts me out of the blue and asks if I want to hang out during lunch. 

The bell rings, and I get out of math class as soon as possible. I was stuck with Tyler for another one of those annoying assignments, but rather than spend even one second more with him, I just scribble down random numbers and pass it in. 

I still can't fucking believe Tyler said those things. 

I make my way through the busy hallway, heading to that English classroom we worked in before. When I get to the classroom, though, Brooke and Jason aren't there. I double-check the text, and then glance around the room. I'm definitely in the right place. They're just late.

I step into the room reluctantly and take a seat on the couch we were on before. The classroom's a bit more full this time. I can't help but feel a bit out of place—everyone here is either pastel and soft or dressed to crack skulls. There's pretty much no in between. I stand out pretty obviously in my jeans and gray hoodie. Which is ironic, considering I wear this kind of thing specifically so that I won't stand out. 

Fortunately, I don't have to wait for too long. After a couple minutes, Brooke and Jason walk through the door and head straight for the couch, sitting down next to me. 

"Hey!" Brooke beams. 

"Um, hi." I return the smile. "So..." I trail off, trying to figure out what to say. "Um. What's going on? Is there something wrong with the project?"

"Huh?" She asks. "No. It's fine. Submitted. Why?"

"I was just wondering why you..." a small smile starts to curl across my lips. If the project's all done, that means Brooke didn't text me to work on the project. She texted me just to text me. "Never mind," I say quickly, scooting even further into the corner of the couch and folding my arms over my knees. "Um. So how are you guys?" 

"Doing okay," Brooke replies, leaning her head against Jason's chest. Her eyes glint. "Did you hear prom's coming up?"

"Yeah," I reply, trying to ignore the swarm of butterflies fluttering restlessly in the pit of my stomach as I watch Jason wrap his arms around her. "Are you guys going?"

"Of course we're going!" Jason grins. "Why would we not go?" 

"Fair enough," I agree, but it seems pretty obvious why someone wouldn't go. Prom is noisy and cluttered and overpriced and suits are annoying. 

Brooke smiles too, but it's a bit less enthusiastic than Jason's. "It's gonna be so much fun!" She beams. 

"Um, yeah," I agree, realizing that I've pretty much roped myself into going to prom this year. Hopefully I can convince Sam to go with me. Prom seems like the kind of emotional ordeal I wouldn't be able to survive without my best friend. 

The lunch period goes by quickly, faded in a frayed blur of chatter about prom and school and some rom-com Brooke's obsessed with. I still feel a bit out of place, but less and less so as the time passes by. I'm actually starting to feel... kind of comfortable around them. 

And at one point Brooke smiles at me—this bright, luminous smile that would normally have me stuttering or melting or blushing. 

But instead of turning into a mushy mess, I just laugh and joke back, and things move on.