#GirlsShitToo

Scared of Rejection :(

During English, most of the class revealed that they had seen my revised dress code, and they applauded me for it. Ms. Brooks said, "I'm glad to see you're learning the fun of revision, Dallas."

"I really am."

Valerie told me, "That stuff about the ribbon is complete crap. Has Mr. Runsberger seen the prom dresses they sell? They aren't immodest; they're classy."

"I know," I said. "And they're totally hot. Unfortunately, the 'modesty' section was the one section where Runsberger was not budging. He hesitated enough to omit his 'no brightly colored shoes' rule. Sorry; I tried."

"You tried, and you won!" said Adree, coming up beside me. "Aren't you so happy?"

"For sure," I said, though it was half-hearted happiness. I wanted to tell her I'd been happier last weekend when she'd kissed me. That I'd be happy if she'd go to prom with me. But I didn't.

Right after English, Benny suggested, "Maybe we should just ask Sydney and Adree together."

"Ugh, I don't know," I said, watching Adree exit the classroom.

"Time's a-ticking," said Alex.

"It doesn't really seem like she's into me like that."

"Maybe you just can't tell."

I hadn't told any of them that she did seem to be into me, or at least she had been the past weekend when she'd kissed me, until this week, when she'd gone cold and friendzoney.

I knew I was the one who was supposed to ask her to prom, but I didn't want to. My reason was selfish: rejection scared me. My idea that she was a closet bisexual and wanted to stay that way scared me.

Wednesday morning, Mom told me there was another article in the paper. Runsberger had finally offered his comments on the whole dress code situation, saying, "Some students brought to my attention that the dress code seemed unfair with regards to what boys were allowed to wear versus what girls were allowed to wear, and so I invited one of them, Ms. Delaney, to work with me to come up with an alternate dress code. While I think the students' efforts to change the dress code were a bit dramatic, I was open to listening to their complaints and coming up with a solution. Hopefully, the next time something like this happens, we can skip the fame-seeking petitions and just work things out in the office."

Clenching my fists together was all I could do to keep myself from calling that journalist and telling them I had tried to work things out in the office and that Runsberger had totally denied me. And now the rest of the world would think we used the petition and the vlog for attention more than anything else. To make a mountain out of what could have been a molehill. When he was the mountain maker. He was a tricky dude; I wondered if he would ever change. Maybe if he ever learned that dominating everyone all the time wasn't the way to go, he would. But he seemed like one of those people who would never be able to hear the music in the noise, never be able to understand the importance of acknowledging that girls shit, that we are all equals. He liked his traditions and he liked being on top. And he probably liked country music.

That day in English, Adree and I kept looking at each other then looking away, like we didn't know what to say. I whispered to Benny that I needed more time to think about his suggestion, and he seemed relieved; he probably feared rejection, too.

Then Wonderful Wednesday happened.