blurry | ✔️

chapter three

I spent the hour after school ended in the newspaper and yearbook classroom, my hands covered in glitter, my hair falling into face, incredibly frustrated at the poster lying on the desk in front of me. I'd promised Casey at the diner last night that I would help her with the Homecoming campaign, and she was in full class president mode, directing Emmy, Matt and me, along with the rest of the members of the school government to do this, and write this, and glue that.

"I don't need any sloppy jobs," Casey ordered. "Everybody be very careful."

"Casey," Matt said, leaning over to kiss her on the top of her head, "you're being neurotic again." Basketball season wasn't until winter, so Matt had his afternoons free to help Casey with whatever project she had embarked on next. The two had started dating the beginning of junior year, and it was serious. Casey described it as being something she'd never felt before. I didn't have the heart to tell her that high school relationships tended not to last, her head always full of romantic thoughts and wistful dreams that could have never possibly lived up to reality.

"I am not," Casey argued.

"Yes, you are," Emmy interjected, not looking up from the portrait she was drawing of our school mascot in orange marker. She was in her uniform from practice, even after skipping halfway through to come join us, one tan leg crossed over another, both of them running for miles beneath her short skirt, the toe of one bleach white tennis shoe tapping up and down through the air like she did when she was concentrating.

Casey ignored her and called out my name. "How's yours coming?" she asked, and I held it up in the air to show her.

"I think Casey's brain's gonna explode," Emmy said, laughing at my lack of a masterpiece—the Go, Tigers, go! had started off straight enough but had slowly began to slope down to the right, and each letter contained a drastically different amount of glitter.

But Casey was always the nice one. She split her time between student government, fundraising events for the school, and volunteer work at soup kitchens or animal shelters. She was beautiful, with unbelievably long eyelashes and dark red curly hair that bounced when she walked with as much energy as she herself had, and she never had a bad word to say about anybody. Not even in a situation like this, where I was clearly not an artist.

"I think," she said, choosing her words, a big smile plastered on her face, "that's it's quirky, you know? Kind of like how we all are."

"That's definitely what I was going for," I said, and Emmy laughed.

"You can tell her it's garbage, Case," Emmy said, and I threw a Sharpie at her, missing her head by inches.

I had just decided to completely give up on doing any more posters when the door came swinging open, crashing loudly against the wall, Melissa bounding through into the room, practically running. Her cheerleading uniform clung tightly to her body, unlike what Emmy's thin frame allowed.

"Emmy!" Melissa squealed, making a beeline right for the empty desk next to her, flopping down into it. It scraped along the floor. "You'll never guess what just happened."

"I have a feeling you're going to tell me," Emmy said.

"Okay," Melissa began, and I wanted to tune out the story, but she was not even ten feet away from me and couldn't talk quieter if she tried. "So we had just finished up the second routine, the one we're going to do at halftime, you know? Anyway, and we were taking a break, and the guys were on a water break, too, so I decided to take my chance, and I went up to Josh and asked him about the Homecoming dance, if he had a date yet and all that, super casual. And you know what he said?" She didn't give Emmy a chance to respond before she continued. "He said, 'Melissa, if you're free, I would love to take you to Homecoming.' Did you hear that? He would love to!"