Speed Dating by Natalie Standiford Page B

have minded,
     not much.
    But he just smiled. So she said, “I had a beautiful night, too, Eli. Thank you.” She opened the car door and said, “Good night,” before
     shutting it. He waited while she walked along the stone path to her front door. She opened the door and waved. He blinked
     his headlights, then drove off.
    That was the sexiest kiss I’ve ever had,
she thought as she leaned against the door. The energy from his lips still buzzed on hers, like that lip gloss that stings
     and is supposed to give you a puffier pout. Maybe it was the moon’s energy she felt in that kiss.
    He was a little weird. She knew that. And from what she’d heard so far, his family was beyond dysfunctional. But none of that
     mattered. He was Eli. She’d met him at 3:17. And she was a goner.

11
Dissection
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    To:     linaonme
    From: your daily horoscope
    HERE IS TODAY’S HOROSCOPE: CANCER: You’re perfectly happy sitting alone with a good book. This will come in handy when your
     social life withers away to nothing.
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Mood Swing
Current Mood: Don’t ask
    The third Speed Dating party was held at Vineland last Saturday, and scored another big success. Though this time, the crowd
     that signed up was a little different from before. The first two groups of Speed Daters were, for the most part, a fairly
     conventional crew. This time about half the participants werehardcore Goths, punks, or otherwise misfits. Interesting. But it worked.
    One guy a Draper student who shall remain nameless (because I can’t remember what his name was), showed up sporting a David
     Bowie Spiders from Mars look, complete with dyed-blond hair, space-blue spandex over a cadaverous frame, and a lightning bolt
     painted over one eye on his chalky face. At the first Speed Dating party he might have been a reject, but this time he had
     the Goth chicks swooning. A certain Rosewood Poetess was especially smitten, though she didn’t want to admit it. When her
     six minutes were up and she faced the prospect of losing David Bowie to a girl with a safety pin in her cheek, and the next
     boy in line was a yucky freshman wearing a cape, she decided to stop playing by the rules. She dug in and refused to let David
     Bowie go on to the next girl. “He’s mine for the rest of the party,” she declared. “You in the cape—go around me.”
    Safety Pin Girl refused to go along with this, and who can blame her? David Bowie was definitely the catch of this crowd,
     and Cape Boy the dud. True to her punk ethics, Safety Pin Girl took a swing at the Poetess, narrowly missing the ruby stud
     in her nose. The Poetess dropped all pretense of literary diffidence and slapped Safety in the face. Safety jumped to her
     feet, knocking her chair over, and dove on top of the poor Poetess, who didn’t have as much practice brawling as your typical
     punk girl gets on an average weekend night. Holly, Mads, and I had to breakup the fight before it got bloody, which doesn’t take long when you’re dealing with the heavily pierced. A few of the boys
     sprang to our aid. Not Bowie, though, perhaps he was afraid of smudging his lightning bolt. Safety and the Poetess were ejected,
     and the party proceeded. I later learned that the Poetess managed a glimpse of Bowie’s e-mail address and has been in touch
     with him. No news of an actual date yet. Maybe he’s too busy making contact with his home planet.
    I suggest that from now own we should hold Speed Dating parties for different segments of the high school population. What’s
     next—jocks and jockettes? Sk8ter Boyz and the chicks who love them? Hip-hop princes and princesses? The possibilities are
     endless.
    “Oh, Lina!” Autumn chased after Lina on the way to biology class. They were dissecting frogs that day. “Do you have a frog
     partner yet?”
    Lina kept walking. “Nice try, Autumn, but you can forget it. I’m stonewalling you. I’m not telling you anything, and we’re
     not going to be lab partners.