Chase & Adrienne

8

ADRIENNE 

WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON

Why do people wear skirts again?  I lose track of how many times I ask myself this throughout the course of the day. All morning, I tug at the hem, trying to make it cover more of my legs. This is a futile pursuit. I think of all the popular girls I often look at with disdain because of their short skirts. At this point, I just feel bad for them. It's definitely more of a commitment than I thought. 

Chase joins me in the lunch line like he always does, and this brings me a little comfort. Things haven't changed too much. We talk about the NBA game that was on last night, minus our usual playful banter. Our conversation doesn't travel any deeper than Stephen Curry's stats. 

As we walk over to the lunch table, I feel someone touch my arm. I see Luke standing next to me, an easy grin across his face. Chase stops next to me, and I feel him stiffen. 

"Come sit with us," Luke prods. Chase snickers. 

"Sorry, man. Not interested in sitting at the loser table," Chase sneers. 

"This is awkward," Luke says, an edge in his voice, "but I was talking to Adrienne. Sorry, Chase. There's only room for one more."

Chase rolls his eyes, taking steps toward our normal table. "C'mon, Adrienne."

He whirls around as soon as he realizes that I'm not following immediately after him. When his eyes meet mine, he has betrayal written all over his face. 

I swallow hard. "I'll sit with you guys tomorrow, okay?" I offer. 

Chase blinks a couple times out of utter disbelief before walking away without saying a word. Immediately, I'm punched in the face by guilt. I watch Chase slide into a chair next to Danny, the one next to his empty. 

Luke takes my tray and carries it over to his table. I follow closely behind him. Walking behind him like this, I realize how muscular his shoulders are. Immediately, though, I compare him to Chase, recognizing the inch or two that Chase has on Luke. 

When we get to Luke's table, it is teeming with guys in puffy  Letterman jackets and girls in skimpy cheerleading uniforms. No one at the table has food in front of them, and suddenly, I'm overcome with self-consciousness. 

"Guys, Adrienne. Adrienne, guys," Luke says, making a hasty introduction. He places my tray next to one of the cheerleaders and sits down next to it. I slide in hesitantly. I start to eat my applesauce when one of the cheerleaders grab hold of my wrist intensely. I stop. 

"Ew, Adrienne. Don't eat that stuff," she says, grabbing my tray and dumping it in the trash can next to the table. The other girls chirp quiet encouragements. 

"Thanks..." I tell her. 

"So, Adrienne, want to hang out after tonight?" Luke asks. Everyone else jumps into their own conversations. 

"Actually, I can't. I'm gonna go buy my homecoming dress today." I say. "I'm going with Renee and Carmen."

"Who's that?" the girl who threw away my food asks me. There is judgment in her eyes. I try not to focus on how loudly she is smacking her gum. 

"They're my---"

"Penny, they're those weird girls in our math class," someone else interrupts. "The stupid ones who don't know how to pick out clothes for themselves."

"Oh, Adrienne," Penny moans, making a face. "Courtney's right. Do not let them help you pick out a dress." 

"They're not that bad," I say defensively. 

"Yeah, neither are moms, but you don't let them tell you what to wear, like your little 'friends' do," Courtney cuts back. 

"Cool it, Courtney," Luke pipes up. "You're being a bitch."

Part of me is grateful that he defended me. The other part of me is caught off guard that he would say something like that to one of his so-called friends. Immediately, Courtney shuts her mouth and purses her lips. 

"Don't worry about your dress," Luke says. "Just get something sexy." He flashes me a grin, all teeth, before turning to a blonde guy on his right to talk sports. 

For the rest of the lunch period, I sit there awkwardly while the cheerleaders gossip about virtually everyone in the room, some of them dangerously within earshot, and the guys tell dirty jokes. 

At one point, I glance over at my table. Andre is holding his fork in his teeth, scooping up some food and aiming it at Danny's mouth. Renee, Carmen, and Chase are doubled over with laughter. I even giggle a little bit. The food slips off of Andre's fork and onto Danny's lap. Cue harder laughter. I look on until they all get up to leave, waiting until the very last person is done eating. 

I watch as Chase scrapes his applesauce into the trashcan.