Not That Kind Of Girl. Siobhan Vivian

      “Okay, maybe on the surface he hates you,” Spencer conceded. “But I bet it goes deeper than that.” She tapped a finger on her lips a few times, thinking. “He could never get a girl like you. You are so out of his league, it kills him. And all that frustration bubbles up and makes him act the way he does. Honestly, it’s textbook boy.”

      It was nice to hear Spencer say such complimentary things about me, even though she had no idea what she was talking about. But it was also sort of unnerving, listening to her analyze me and Mike like that. What could she possibly know about sexual tension? She was only fourteen.

      I zipped up my bag and hoisted it onto my shoulders. I didn’t want to be the last one in the library and appear irresponsible. But Spencer leaned against the sink next to mine, blocking my way to the door. She clearly wanted to talk. And maybe it would be cool to be the girl everyone was waiting for. To make a dramatic entrance. I guessed I could spare a couple more minutes.

      “So, Spencer. How are your classes going?” I asked.

      “Pretty good. I like everything, except for History of Modern Civilization.”

      “I took that freshman year. It’s not actually that hard, so long as you keep up with the reading.”

      “It’s not so much the work as it is the teacher,” Spencer groaned.

      “What? Are you kidding? Ms. Bee is awesome. She’s the best teacher in our entire school.”

      Spencer looked doubtful. “She doesn’t like me.”

      “I’m sure she does,” I said. But really, there was a part of me that wondered if Spencer might be right. Ms. Bee was a tough teacher, and she was hardest on the girls. I liked that about her, but she definitely wasn’t going to pander to Spencer’s underwear-flashing antics. “You just have to show her that you care about learning. If she thinks that you aren’t interested, then she won’t be interested in you.” I was afraid that was Spencer’s biggest problem. She was concentrating on the wrong things. “Have you joined any clubs?”

      “Not yet. I’m still evaluating my options.” It was a weird thing to say, because what did Spencer need to evaluate? If you wanted to join a club, you did. There were no limits on that kind of thing. “I really wish our school had a dance team.”

      “Well, if you join student council, you could propose that to the school board.”

      “Really? Students have the power to do that?” she asked, and I nodded. “That’s awesome. Maybe I’ll come to the first meeting. It’s tomorrow, right?”

      “It’s today. In about five minutes, actually.” How did she not know this? Spencer had been in the library on Friday, when Ms. Bee announced the meeting. And there were signs posted all over the hallways. I’d hung them up myself.

      She pouted. “Shoot. My mom’s supposed to take me to the dance studio on Main to sign up for some classes.”

      “Don’t worry,” I told her. “You can still be involved in student council, even if you miss today’s meeting.” I smiled. “And you know me, so you’ve got the inside track.”

      “Ooh! Then you’re the perfect person to ask. Is it true that we get to wear normal clothes on pep rally day? I heard someone say that in the hallway.”

      “Yes, so long as you’ve got on school colors.”

      “Cool. A few of my friends and I were thinking about designing our own T-shirts. You know, to show school spirit.”

      Her enthusiasm was a pleasant surprise. “You should definitely meet up with your class rep. We’re going to be deciding them today at the meeting, so I don’t know who it is yet, but find me tomorrow and I’ll tell you. He or she will be in charge of organizing the hall decorations for the freshman class. I’m sure your help would be appreciated. Pep rallies are sort of a big deal here.” I felt for the note cards in my chest pocket. “And I have something pretty exciting planned for this year’s festivities. Seriously. It’s going to be epic.”

      “Cool.” Spencer bit her lip. “I’m sorry, Natalie. I feel like I’m letting you down or something. I wish I could come today.”

      I wished she could, too. Not that being involved with dance wasn’t a good thing. But I had a feeling that Spencer could benefit from a more traditional school activity. One without sexy costumes. “Well, I’m going to be late. And that wouldn’t look good at all.”

      Spencer let out a deep, happy sigh. “I still can’t believe how lucky I am that you were my babysitter, and now I’m like automatically friends with the student council president. Honestly, it doesn’t get much better than that.”

      I felt myself blushing.

      “Break a leg, Natalie!” she said, throwing up her hand for a high five.

      I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had one. When I slapped Spencer’s hand, it made the best sound.

CHAPTER EIGHT

      Heads turned when I entered the library. I was still a few minutes early, but the room was already full. Several wooden tables had been pushed together to make one huge rectangle. I scanned for a vacant seat, until I remembered that mine was the one at the very front of the room.

      “Where’ve you been?” Autumn asked.

      “I was talking to Spencer in the bathroom, trying to get her to join student council. I think it could be really beneficial for her.” And then I had a great idea. “You should talk to her, Autumn. Tell her how good this was for you.”

      Her mouth wrinkled up. “What do you mean?”

      I could tell she was getting mad, and I guessed this wasn’t the best time to get into a conversation about the Fish Sticks incident. “Never mind,” I said.

      I thought about asking someone to move, so Autumn could sit near me at the front of the room, but before I could, she took a chair in the last row, near the door. Which sucked, but was probably for the best. I didn’t want to look like I was playing favorites with my best friend. And if she had really wanted to sit up front, she would have run for vice president, like I’d suggested.

      Dipak fought with the plastic window shades, pulling until they snapped up, exposing the library to a weak September sunlight. Outside, the tops of the trees — fiery reds and oranges and yellows — blazed through the thick leaded glass. Martin leaned over and whispered, “There are a lot of kids here, don’t you think?”

      I nodded, and tried not to focus on the tiny flake of dandruff floating in a tuft of Martin’s wiry black hair.

      Ms. Bee shut the doors and the talking quieted. She nodded at me to begin. I stood up and cupped my note cards in my hand.

      “Hello, everyone. Thanks for coming,” I said, projecting my voice as best as I could, and then flipped to the next card. I probably should have written more than a sentence on each one, but my handwriting was really bad, and I wanted to make sure I could read it. “I am thrilled to have been voted president of student council at Ross Academy, and I call this, our first meeting, to order.” A few people clapped, which felt good.

      “It’s going to be a very busy and exciting year, with lots of expectations on our shoulders. Everyone who participated in student council last year knows that I have enormous shoes to fill.” I went on to proudly list the many accomplishments of Will Branch, our most recent president. In addition to his regular student council duties, Will also established a senior lounge with leather couches, filibustered the banning of The Chocolate War by storming a secret school board meeting with a Gandhi-inspired sit-in, and coordinated a student-teacher basketball game to raise money for a freshman with leukemia.

      Will had set the bar high, but I was going to aim higher. “Rest assured,” I said, “I have innovative ideas of my own.