Art Geeks and Prom Queens by Alyson Noël Read Free Book Online

quickly fold my arms across my chest and say, “Um, I think I better go change now.”
    And he just stands there looking at me with his mouth kind of open like he’s about to say something, but I leave before he can.
     
    As he’s driving me home we’re mostly quiet, but I’m not sure if it’s because he’s tired from the surfing or if he’s embarrassed because just ten minutes ago I was pretty much topless in his kitchen. And when we finally get to my house, he looks at me and says, “See you tomorrow.”
    And I go, “Okay.” And it’s like I can feel him watching me as I walk to the door, but when I look back, he drives away.
    As I walk in the house I’m braced for my mom’s inevitable inquisition. So I quickly pop a breath mint and run through my made-up story. But when I go into the kitchen I see I won’t have to use it.
    “Oh, good, I want you to meet my daughter, Rio.” My mom is sitting at the white, plastic, temporary kitchen table across from some lady who I’ve never met but looks strangely familiar.
    “Rio, this is Kristi’s mother, Katrina. We’re in yogalates together.”
    Oh, god, that’s why she looks so familiar. She’s like Kristi with fake boobs and Botox. “Hey,” I say, noticing that she’s staring at me almost as hard as her daughter does.
    “Were you working on the Winter Formal decorations, too?” And then without even waiting for a response she looks at my mom and says, “The girls are so excited about the dance! You should see the adorable dress Kristi’s wearing.” She shakes her head and smiles at me, and I smile back, kind of. “Did you get your dress yet?” she asks.
    And before I can even answer, my mom says, “Well, Rio’s still getting settled in. This is only her third day of school.” Jeez, she sounds so defensive, like she’s embarrassed or something.
    They both turn and look at me, but I just stand there and shrug. I mean, what am I supposed to do? Apologize for not being an “IT” girl?
    “Mom, I’ve got a ton of homework, so I’m gonna go upstairs,” I say, ignoring the disappointed look in her eyes, because it’s nothing new, I’m always disappointing her. “Nice meeting you, Mrs. Wood.”
    “You too! I’ll tell Kristi you said hi,” she singsongs.
    “You do that,” I say, heading for the stairs.
    Then my mom goes, “Rio, why is your hair wet?”
    But I just keep climbing, ignoring the question.

Nine
    The next day in Art I’m still feeling really embarrassed about the very unfortunate
Girls Gone Wild
incident in Jas’s kitchen. But he’s acting totally normal toward me, so I guess if he can pretend it never happened, then I can, too.
    I’ve decided to do my art project on beauty. But not beauty like you’re probably thinking. Not in the usual way of a heavily made-up pop star or a perfectly cultivated rose. But in how it can be found in the unexpected, like in the curve of a teacup, or the dance of a light object caught in the wind.
    So I tell Ms. Tate, and after she approves and is walking back to her desk, Jas looks up from sketching and goes, “You’re beautiful.”
    Just like that.
    Then he goes right back to his project and doesn’t say anything else for the rest of class.
     
    “You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.
You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.
You’re beautiful. Yo
—”
     
    It’s like a mantra in my head. All through Calculus, all through Economics, on the field at lunch when we all just quietly doze in thesun. It keeps running through my head, over and over again, like on continuous play.
    He looked up and said, “You’re beautiful.” And then he looked down again.
    But what exactly did he mean? Was it just an observation? Was he just being nice?
    Or does he
like me
like me?
     
    When I got home later that day I ran into my room and threw my books down onto—
my bed?
    There’s a bed in my room. Which I know is not