Someone To Love. Melissa de La Cruz

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this LeFeber show. I have to find a way to get in, and Antonia probably isn’t going to be able to help this time. These girls have no idea how much his work means to me. LeFeber’s a brand name to them. When I look at his art, I get this feeling that he knows some deep secret about me though we’ve never met. It kills me to be so close and that I have to basically go through my crush’s ex—who obviously hates me—to meet him.

      Antonia is disturbed by my response. “Why didn’t you stand up for yourself? Do you want to be friends with those snake heads? Don’t tell me it’s because of LeFeber.”

      “I don’t know. It’s nothing,” I say, opening the door to the building. It’s getting close to the end of the passing period and the hallway is almost empty. My stomach churns. I shouldn’t have eaten so much this morning. The fat is making me feel sick. My energy is crashing from all the sugar in the iced coffee. The uncomfortable fullness nags at my mind. I feel like purging everything from my body to feel normal, but I fight it off.

      “Doesn’t seem like nothing,” she says.

      “Just drop it,” I say. “It’s not worth fighting over.”

      “I need you to do something for me,” Antonia says, changing the subject. “It’s a date. You’d just have to come with me.”

      “Um, no,” I say, not wanting to be a third wheel.

      “Don’t say no yet—you haven’t even heard me out. It’s not a big deal.”

      My stomach is in knots from the conversation with Felicity and seeing Jackson, but Antonia is my friend. She helped me get invited to the yacht party. I owe her a big one.

      “Okay, what?” I ask.

      “Don’t act so hurt. Geez...”

      “I’m sorry,” I say. “My mind is just on other things.”

      She smiles. “There’s one catch though.”

      “See? I knew something was up.”

      “I’m going out with a girl,” Antonia says. “Heather. Obviously.”

      A boy from our class hurries down the hallway to the room, nodding at us as he passes. Antonia pulls me toward the wall and begins to whisper. “Look, I want to go out with Heather. Remember I told you about her? The girl from the track team?”

      “Don’t get me wrong, Antonia. I’m totally cool with you going out with a girl. But I still don’t want to be your third wheel. It’ll be so awkward.”

      “I want to make her feel more comfortable.”

      “If she doesn’t want to go on a solo date, why can’t we just have a kick back or something? We could hang out at my house. Or yours.”

      “It’s not the same. We need to go out together. I want her to feel accepted. She hasn’t told anyone she’s gay. I just think she’s going to feel more comfortable going out as like a group of friends. It’ll lessen the pressure.”

      “I still don’t see how my going makes sense,” I say. “I don’t want to get in the way of your romance.”

      “Well...” Antonia hesitates. “There’s something else. My cousin Mika is coming into town that weekend and my parents said I had to take her out to do something, but that happens to be the night I agreed to go with Heather. I can’t get around it.”

      “So...” I cross my arms, waiting to hear the rest of Antonia’s story. I knew there was going to be more to her story. She always withholds information.

      “She’s a little weird. Chatty. And I don’t want her to totally take over the date. I need someone to entertain her,” she says, looking up at me with pleading eyes.

      The bell rings. I don’t want to be late for class.

      “When’s the date?” I ask.

      “End of next week,” Antonia says. “Plenty of time to think about it...”

      “All right,” I say.

      “All right?” She seems shocked I’ve already made up my mind.

      “If it’s all about making your date feel accepted, then I guess that’s a good thing.”

      “Exactly.” Antonia grabs my shoulder. “What could be wrong with that? I know of an all-ages place we can chill. Lots of people. Bands. Just hang out.”

      I guess it’s also a good way to avoid Mason and the rest of my family for at least part of the weekend. Mika can’t be that bad. I’ll just have to make small talk.

      “Yeah,” I say. “Sounds like a blast.”

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