Outcast by Susan Oloier Read Free Book Online

silent, then turned to the mirror as if speaking to herself. “You wouldn’t understand.”
    “Try me.”
    “Is it too much to ask to want to be accepted? To be popular? To be a little bit like her?”
    “I don’t want to be like her,” I said. “I hate her.
    Grace rolled her eyes at her reflection.
    “Why can’t you just be happy being yourself?” I asked.
    “Because…” But a series of sobs completed her sentence.
    I pushed the paper towels at her, but she let them flutter to the floor like broken butterfly wings.
    She stared at me for a long time. I knew she wanted me to sympathize and support her every word, but I couldn’t. “Why don’t you go back to the dance and leave me alone?”
    “So you can cry in here all night? No way.”
    Her anger heated up. “Just go!”
    I wanted to give her a hug, but for the first time she didn’t seem to want any part of it. I knew Grace craved popularity. But I didn’t understand her. She was being over-the-top. All I meant to do was help, and this was the treatment I received. I stormed away and returned to the dance. I really just wanted to go home.
    The anger lodged in my throat. I couldn’t believe Grace—my best friend—would take things out on me. I wasn’t the one who made the comment. I wasn’t the one who showed up as Chad ’s date. And I wasn’t the one who sent her to the bathroom crying.
    I returned to the gym, hovering on the sidelines against the wall. Becca was hidden in a far corner, lip-locked with Carl. His hand slid over the cup of her bra. I wondered where the chaperones were when you needed them. Then I noticed Trina sidling up flirtatiously to Chad who stood without his date. She touched his arm while batting her mascara-coated eyelashes at him. What a slut!  Even though I stood there alone, my hatred for Trina kept me company. I conjured up thoughts of hurting her even more than she’d injured Grace. I imagined the humiliation she might feel if her dress, like snakeskin, was suddenly shed in front of the entire school. I pictured hacking her sun-bleached tresses away with gardening shears. I visualized stuffing her into one of the lockers in the darkened Phys-Ed changing room and leaving her there for the entire weekend. I plunged so deeply into my anger that I was unaware of the passage of time until a tap on my shoulder pulled me back to reality. It was Chad . I glanced right and left, sure that someone else must have wanted my attention, like the gym teacher or the janitor. I gaped, speechless. His eyes were warm and sweet.
    “Noelle, right?”
    I nodded, scraping to find my lost words.
    “Wanna dance?”
    Dance? He had to be kidding. Why would he want to dance with me? I looked around for his date, for Trina, for his laughing friends who dared him to ask me. No one was in sight. He shifted uncomfortably.
    “What about your date?”
    “She doesn’t care.” He noticed my puzzled look. “We’re just friends.”
    “Oh.”
    “So…you want to?”
    I was so distracted by Chad actually talking to me that I lost track of my capacity to think.
    “What?”
    “Dance.” He smiled, apparently amused by my absent-mindedness.
    I felt an obligation to go after Grace who was probably still hunkered down in the bathroom. But I really wanted to dance with Chad .
    “Sure.”
    As we slipped onto the dance floor, I expected a bucket of pig’s blood to spill on my head. But nothing like that happened. Oxygen by Colbie Caillat played. It felt surreal. Chad held me close, and I stared into the crescent moon of his neck. He smelled like a mixture of sweat and Romance . I danced with a boy one other time in grade school gym class, a forced episode of square dancing. This was different. In three minutes, I lost myself completely. Chad , a boy I didn’t even know, exercised hypnotic powers over me and mesmerized me with his charm.
    As the music died, I noticed Trina’s eyes crawling all over me. I stayed near Chad , wanting Trina to wallow in