Something True by Kieran Scott

me, but I ignored her. She was not worthy of my notice. At least, that was the image I was trying to project to the world.
    I walked past a couple of girls who were whispering about “the attack” on Monday, which was what everyone was now calling it, and casting suspicious glances at True. I wondered if it was possible, what people were saying—that True was somehow involved. Not that I would be surprised to find one more layer of weirdness about her. When I saw Wallace sitting on the bottom bleacher, I hesitated. I actually felt nervous, not that I would admit that to anyone, ever. But what if he hated me?
    Then Wallace looked up from his iPod and smiled. Which, okay, was a good sign, but . . . what was wrong with him? You didn’t smile at the person who completely ditched you as a best friend four years ago. You just didn’t.
    “What’s up, Ding Dong?” he asked in full voice, clearing off the area next to him. “I heard you were joining our ranks, but I didn’t dare believe it until right now.”
    A few girls nearby snickered.
    “Don’t call me that, Wall-E .” I sat down in a huff.
    “Someone’s in a mood,” he said, shaking his dark hair off his brows. He had these very dark-brown eyes that were soft like a puppy’s. Why he hid them with his hair I had no idea. “Shouldn’t you be psyched?” he asked. “Your beautiful face is plastered on every wall of the school.”
    I blushed slightly and flicked a speck off my sweater. “Whatever. No one’s going to vote for me if people think my boyfriend would rather hang out with True Olympia,” I said, shooting her a dirty look. Ugh. So much for ignoring her. I turned toward Wallace, putting my shoulder between me and True. “Did you see them at lunch today? Why does he want to slum it with the losers?”
    Wallace blinked. “Isn’t that kind of what you’re doing right now?”
    I froze. Awkward! “You are not a loser,” I said, with as much certainty as I could force into my voice.
    Wallace laughed and tapped at his iPad. “Yeah, right. That’s why you haven’t talked to me since seventh grade. Because I’m the coolest of the cool.”
    “Come on. Don’t say that,” I muttered.
    “Say what?” He lifted his shoulders. “The truth?”
    “Whatever.” I really didn’t want to talk about this. Not here. Not now. Okay, if we’re being honest? Not ever.
    “Yeah, whatever. And by the way, True’s not a loser. She’s a friend,” Wallace said, sliding his iPad aside on the next bleacher up. “So I’d appreciate it if you didn’t trash her in front of me.”
    Yeah. This was going well. “Well, I’m here. So what are we working on?”
    “We have the pancake breakfast this weekend,” Wallace said, handing me a list. “At the end of the meeting today, we’ll ask people to sign up to take care of each of these things with their football player. Why don’t you look it over and see if you can think of anything I missed?”
    I glanced down the page. Only one item had already been claimed. Next to “Place mats” he’d typed in “True & Orion.” Just seeing their names together like that made me taste bile.
    “Why does she get first pick?” I asked.
    “Apparently, that was the job your boyfriend wanted,” Wallace said, looking down at his iPad. “Don’t you want him to be happy?”
    What I wanted was for a huge lightning bolt to pierce the gym roof and fry True Olympia where she sat. Was that really too much to ask? Mercifully, my phone beeped. I dug it out of my bag and was relieved to see a text from Veronica. Someone from my normal life! At least, I was psyched until I read it.
    AT THE MALL! WHAT ABOUT THIS DRESS 4U?
    I had avoided dress shopping yesterday afternoon by claiming I had a Skype call scheduled with my mom, and I’d kind of hoped that Veronica would just forget about it and move on to something else. Apparently, I was not that lucky. The picture popped up, and I almost gagged. A headless mannequin was sporting a pink