Date Me by Jillian Dodd Page B

right before halftime, but Whitney will wear hers for the entire game. Want to see a picture of Whitney’s dress?”
    “Sure,” I say. I’m sure it’s going to be gorgeous.
    We get to her room and she pulls up a photo of Whitney’s dress on her laptop. “So this is hers. What do you think of it?”
    I look at the dress. It’s a strapless nude-colored gown with a high slit up one leg. The entire bodice down to just above the knee is encrusted with very large multi-colored pastel jewels. Past the knee, the jewels are sprinkled sparsely down the nude colored mesh.
    “Wow. It’s, um, pretty bold. It looks more like a pageant dress to me. But it’s hard to tell until you see it on.”
    “It’s way over the top. Especially when you consider the way they want us to look. Wait ’til you see mine.”
    She clicks the mouse and up pops a photo of Peyton in a fully beaded gown. I can’t help it. I start laughing. “You look like you should be turning letters on a game show, not wearing a Homecoming crown!”
    She giggles with me. “That’s why I’m so excited to go shopping with you. I want a dress that’s me. This is not me. And it weighs about ten pounds.”
    “I think that’s why Whitney’s choice is such a shock. She dresses so conservatively. I’m surprised she would buy something like that.”
    “She said she wants to stand out.”
    “You stand out when a dress enhances your beauty. You have to wear the dress. The dress can’t wear you. That’s why so many people choose their Academy Awards dresses wrong. They look at the dress’s beauty, not their beauty in the dress.”
    Peyton gives me a mega-watt smile. One that is identical to her brother’s.
    “Exactly. That’s exactly what I want.”
    She clicks around and shows me some dresses she’s found online. Shows me a list of stores she’d like to go to.
    I show her the dress that I ordered last night online.
    “Oh, Keatyn, that dress is so you. It’s traditional, but the red is just a little more watermelon and the cutouts on the bodice are a really unique detail. It’s really pretty.”
    “Thanks. It’s a brand I’ve worn before, so I have a pretty good idea of how it will fit. I think it’s the one, but I’m going to look this weekend to see if I find anything better. And I need some cute outfits for our dress up days.”
    Peyton continues to click around on her computer. I decide to be brave and just ask what I’ve been wondering since the day Whitney called us glitter whores. “So what does Whitney have on you anyway?"
    “What do you mean?”
    “I just get the feeling that she’s holding something over your head.”
    She shakes her head. “I can't tell you. It's horrible. I'm so ashamed of myself."
    "At my old school, my best friend was a girl like Whitney. She threatened to tell everyone that my relationship with my perfect boyfriend was a sham because we hadn't had sex yet."
    "You didn't want people to know you were a virgin? Why not?"
    "Because we dated for a year and a half. Everyone thought we were doing it. She even thought we were until I slipped and told her one day. You shouldn't care, Peyton. If you don't care, then she can't hurt you. She loses her power over you.”
    "What she has on me is way worse."
    "Tell me. Get it off your chest. I promise you'll feel better."
    She squints her eyes at me and sizes me up. "You swear to god that you will never tell anyone?”
    I raise an eyebrow at her. "I'll do better than that. I'll pinkie swear." I hold my pinkie up and let her grab it.
    "Okay," she says. "So, not long after Cam and I broke up . . .” Her chest heaves.
    I can tell she's all torn up about this. Maybe it is worse.
    No, I . . . I’m sorry. I can't tell you."
    "Tell me. I promise I won't be shocked."
    She blurts out, "I slept with a teacher."
    My eyes get huge. I can't hide my shock. "I'm sorry. I am shocked. Who?"
    She sighs big. “Coach Kline.”
    “The hot Assistant Boys' Soccer coach?”
    She nods.
    “How did