Best Kept Secret by Debra Moffitt Read Free Book Online

bolted out the door and down the sidewalk to Bet’s car. Just like my run, Bet had a soothing effect on me. Once we were in the backseat, she started talking a mile a minute.
    â€œLove your earrings!” she said.
    I was wearing miniature cowboy boot earrings that my mother bought me.
    â€œThey match these,” I said, pointing to my boots.
    Bet looked perfectly outfitted, as usual, in a red leather jacket and denim mini.
    â€œDon’t be a wallflower!” Bet’s mom called to us from the open car window as they drove away, not to return until ten thirty.
    Something about the word wallflower cracked us up. I had no idea what it meant until Bet told me that it meant a pretty girl who didn’t get asked to dance but instead just stood there decorating the wall. We decided that we looked so good we would be wallflowers if we were standing against the wall, chair-flowers if we were sitting down, and even restroom-flowers if nature called and we needed to go.
    There was a little bit of a line outside the main doors of the school, where a teacher was on ticket-taking duty. It was just long enough for me to take the deep breath I needed and steady myself for whatever was to come.

Fourteen
    You know how, in a dream, sometimes things are familiar but also not exactly right? Like you’re at home in your dream, but your backyard has turned into a zoo? This was the odd feeling I had as we made our way into the dance. The decorations committee had given the school lobby a makeover, so that everything looked kind of country.
    Normally, the lobby is big and empty, but tonight three long rows of tables were set up right as you walked in the door. The other half of the lobby was now a dance floor. The room was almost completely dark, except for the long hallway that led to the gym. And music was boom-boom-booming from the far end, making me wonder if Forrest had already taken the stage.
    Red-and-white-checked tablecloths covered the tables. Big hay bales were propped up against trophy cases and water fountains. This was in keeping with the old Sadie Hawkins theme of the dance. Remember Sadie, the cartoon girl whose father created a special day for her to catch a husband? Even though the format of the Backward Dance had changed, the decorations committee didn’t have time to change direction. They already bought all the hay and had the tablecloths from last year.
    â€œLook, I’m a punch-bowl-flower,” I yelled to Bet over the music. I held up my plastic cup to catch the stream of red juice flowing from the punch fountain.
    But when I looked up to ask Bet if she wanted some, she didn’t answer. I followed her eyes to the far end of the lobby, and saw what she had been staring at: Piper and Forrest were walking down the lighted corridor together.
    It felt like they were traveling toward me in slow motion, the two of them looking casually glamorous. They were heading toward the DJ, stage, and dance floor. A gaggle of people trailed them, lugging drums, guitars, and a web of cords and black boxes. I noted the song playing at that moment. One of those happy, bouncy songs that I despised. Bubblegum music, my mother called it.
    I felt a tap on my shoulder.
    â€œHey, Jemma.”
    It was Jake Austen.
    â€œOh, hi, Jake.”
    Everyone kept telling me Jake liked me. He was smart and pretty cute, but on my crushometer, he set off not one spark.
    â€œDid you want to get some punch?” he said, somehow not noticing the full, sixteen-ounce cup I was holding.
    â€œNope, I’ve got plenty,” I said, raising my cup to him in a sort of “Cheers” gesture.
    â€œOh, well. Okay,” Jake said, and stood there a moment too long before walking away.
    â€œHe so likes you,” Bet said.
    â€œHe’s nice, I guess. But I don’t feel sick to my stomach when he’s around.”
    â€œThat’s how you know you like someone?” Bet asked.
    â€œSo far, that’s been the