Class Favorite by Taylor Morris

school, Kayla, not so much. Both were equally popular. Kirstie told me she was always nice, and sometimes people liked her, sometimes they thought she was a freak. “There’s no way of knowing,” she’d said. But I’d always been nice. Hadn’t I? How did my lunchroom brawl with Arlene fit into this?
    4. Boyfriend. In Hollywood, arm candy boys were always a bonus but not necessary. In Ladel, Rosemary didn’t have a boyfriend, but she was probably an exception. Being the girlfriend of someone popular must be an excellent way to get your name on the CF ballots. But do you have to be popular already to get the popular guy? And in the real world of Bowie, could Jason ever be mine?
    5. Poise. Even when being grilled on the Oscars red carpet about her personal life, Haden Prescott had not faltered; she graciously declined to answer such questions. Was it even possible for me to keep it together considering the levels of humility I’d been enduring since V-Day?
    6. Academics. Ugh. I hoped you didn’t have to be an Eric von Trieger—smartest person in our class—to be popular. Of course, Eric wasn’t really popular. People sort of respected him because he did so well in school, and sometimes he tutored kids. So, is intelligence moot? Many Hollywood actors were high school dropouts, but I didn’t respect that. (Hmm . . . funny reading this one as I purposely bombed my algebra quiz.)
    7. Confidence. Like Kirstie said, even if I don’t have any (which I don’t), I should at least fake it.
    8. How many friends you have! I’d lost one and gained another, but was that enough?
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    Leaving algebra, I took my list from my bag and got right up to Rosemary’s desk just as she gathered her books. She had smiled at me during class, so I told myself there was no reason to be intimidated by her.
    â€œHey, Rosemary,” I said enthusiastically. I kind of stood in front of her for a sec, then realized I was blocking her from getting out of the aisle. “Oh, sorry,” I offered.
    â€œThat’s okay,” she said, glancing blankly at me with herlong-lashed eyes. I made a mental note of her nude glossy lipstick. As she stepped around me, the smell of green apples wafted past me. How could she smell so good this late in the day?
    I followed her out the class door, and when she turned left she looked over her shoulder curiously to see me coming up behind her. I forced my instant fear of looking like a stalker out of my mind and focused on my first task: acting normal.
    â€œHey,” I said again.
    â€œHey.” She grinned, showing her pearl-white crooked front teeth, which, you know, actually looked pretty cute on her. I’d just assumed she’d had braces like everyone else . . . except me, of course.
    â€œHey, Kayla,” she said to my spit ’n’ sneeze victim, who was walking with Jessica.
    â€œText me!” Kayla called to Rosemary as she passed us, not even bothering to look at me.
    â€œSo,” I said, glancing back at them. I pressed on. “That quiz sucked, huh?”
    She gave a little “humph,” like something between a laugh and a hiccup. “I guess. Hi again, Jason,” she said as we passed him leaning against the lockers.
    Oh, yummy Jason . . .
    â€œâ€™S up, Rosemary,” he said. Did he just smile at me?
    â€œYeah,” I continued. “I hate pop quizzes,” which I immediatelyregretted saying because who likes any sort of quizzes, much less the pop kind?
    Rosemary politely stared ahead, so I quickly glanced down at my CF qualities list, then said, “Oh, hey, those are really cute jeans. Where’d you get them?”
    As we got to her locker and she started spinning her combination, she started to look downright suspicious of me or maybe just annoyed. But she kept answering my questions.
    â€œThe mall,” was her reply, which wasn’t a really revealing answer. I mean, everything