The Flip Side Page 7

  Bobby gives me an apologetic smile. “Later.”

  “Yeah.” I’m disappointed and partly relieved, because, even knowing it might be a bad idea, I was about to apologize and give him my phone number. Nothing can happen between us this close to trials. Too much is at stake for me to risk a distraction. So it’s good that Kristine needed to talk with him before I made that mistake. Although, I suspect she wants to do more than just talk with him. It seems like she might have a little crush of her own on Bobby. Not that it should matter to me.

  I head for the door. Just before I step into the hallway, I glance back. Kristine has her hand on Bobby’s arm, stroking those fine biceps of his. Yep, she definitely wants more than conversation.

  When I walk out, I see Zoe leaning against a locker, her eyes big and bright. She hurries over and falls into step beside me.

  “So how was student council?” she asks.

  I glance over at her. I told her yesterday why I wouldn’t be able to join her for lunch. “Did you know Bobby Singh was on the student council?”

  “Of course I did.”

  “You didn’t think to mention it?”

  She grins. “I was afraid you’d get nervous, chicken out of going.” Her eyes widen, and she grabs my arm and staggers to a stop. “Wait a minute.”

  She peers into my face, our noses almost touching. “You’re wearing makeup. You do like him! I knew it. I knew I should have given him your number, that you were just playing hard to get.”

  “Zoe, I didn’t even know he was on the student council.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Then why are you wearing makeup?”

  The bigger question is why didn’t I go to the trouble of washing it off? Because I knew I was going to be late, minutes seemed to matter, and I didn’t think anyone would notice.

  “I had some extra time this morning and was just messing around.”

  “It looks really good. If I get invited to prom, will you help me with my makeup?”

  I want so much for her to get invited to prom. “Absolutely.”

  “Thanks.” She starts walking again. “So you and Bobby. How did that go?”

  “It was a little awkward,” I tell her. “You know, since I didn’t let you give him my number.”

  “I could still give it to him.”

  “Don’t. I have even less time now that I’m on the prom committee.”

  “How did that happen?”

  “Part of being on the student council.”

  “That is way cool. If you need any help, I’m free.”

  I smile at her enthusiasm, her willingness to help me out. “I’ll definitely keep that in mind.”

  “To have a role in creating the prom will make it extra special when we go.”

  We reach our lockers. “Family commitment, remember?”

  She wiggles her eyebrows. “Bobby Singh, remember?”

  Before I can comment, she dashes over to her locker. Chuckling at her one-track mind about going to prom, I begin to spin the dial on my combination lock. Zoe can’t honestly believe that Bobby Singh would ask me. We’ve talked a couple of times because our paths have crossed, but our conversations have hardly been prom worthy. And if he did ask—

  I shake my head to rid it of that thought. No way would he ask. No way am I going to prom. I’m on the committee. But that’s it. I don’t have time for anything else.

  Right?

  Chapter Ten

  * * *

  As I’m rushing to my locker before last period, I wish I were tall with long legs so I could cover a greater distance faster. It’s tiring trying to get from one building to the other in the allotted time. As I near my locker, though, my pace slows while my heart accelerates.

  Bobby Singh is leaning against the metal. When he sees me, he straightens, grins. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” I’d ask how he knew which locker was mine, except I’m pretty sure Zoe told him.

  “So student council,” he says. “Are you stalking me?”

  I roll my eyes. “No. And you showed up at my locker. I didn’t show up at yours.”

  “Good point. So, what did you do to get on Alto’s bad side?”

  I release a deep sigh, a little embarrassed to reveal the truth. “I did really bad on a test and need to bring up my grade, so he’s letting me sub for extra credit. I didn’t know you were on the student council.”

  “Most people don’t pay attention to the governing student body.”

  I scrunch up my face. “Do you really govern?”

  His laughter echoes around the lockers. “This school would fall apart if we didn’t give our full attention to prom.”

  “You really wanted the Prom Wars theme,” I say.

  “I really did.”

  “Thanks for backing up my Night in Paris idea.”

  “I thought it was a nice compromise. I promised Brandon that we’d hang some X-wing fighters from the ceiling.”

  I shake my head. “I wish I could see that. Kristine will have a fit.”

  “Probably. You don’t have a date to prom?”

  Without answering, I duck my head, slip past him, and start working the combination on my lock.

  He moves in beside me, leans a shoulder against someone else’s locker. “So about prom . . .”

  I hold my breath. He’s not going to ask me, is he? I barely know him. Anyway, I’d have to say no. It’s the weekend before trials in Detroit. I have to stay totally focused. But this is Bobby with the milk-chocolate eyes. A guy who actually made me glad that I had to spend some time in a student council meeting.

  “Or, more specifically, the prom venue. I was wondering if I could give you a ride to the rink Saturday.”

  Okay, he’s not asking to take me to prom. That’s for the best. It really is. Still, I can’t deny the disappointment that spreads through me. After working to make my expression neutral, I twist my head around to look at him. He appears very serious, also a little nervous.

  “Like Zoe, I’m not allowed to date until I’m sixteen.” Not that it’s ever come up in conversation with my parents, but knowing that I have the trials looming, I can pretty much guarantee what their answer will be. A resounding no. And it’s easier to say that I can’t date than to try to come up with a reason why I can’t go with him—the reason being that he would be a total distraction that I can’t afford right now. Gwen is right about that, because whenever he is near, I am thinking only about him.

  “It’s not a date. It’s just a ride for the student council scouting expedition. A non-date. I can pick you up at seven thirty.”

  “I need to check with my parents.”

  “Okay. Let me give you my number, and you can text me when you know.”

  I put him into my contacts.

  “I’d better scoot to gym,” he says with an adorable grin. “I have to run extra laps if I’m late.”

  I watch him dash down the hallway. I consider the non-date with Bobby Singh. Saturday night could turn out to be a lot more fun than I expected.

  • • •

  While my family sits around the table that night wolfing down eggplant Parmesan, I try to gauge the perfect moment to ask my parents about Saturday night. I keep running through different ways to approach the subject. With each one that I reject, my stomach knots up a little tighter. I feel like I’m at a competition or something. Best to just do it.

  “Mom, Dad, I was wondering if it would be okay if I go out Saturday night to check out a possible venue for prom.”

  Mom looks at me, her brow furrowed. “That seems an odd request.”

  In retrospect I probably should have started at the beginning. “It’s a student council thing.”

  “You’re not on the student council,” Josh says.

  I glare at him. “I’m filling in for extra U.S. government credit.”

  “Since when?” Dad asks.

  “Since today. I told Mom about it.” Belatedly, but still, I did tell her.


  “She did,” Mom confirms. “But do you really have time for this? Your grades are important, but I’m worried that you’re taking on too much. With the trials approaching—”

  “The student council meetings are at lunch, so they’re no big deal. This thing Saturday night is a onetime thing, only for a couple of hours, and you wouldn’t have to do anything. Bobby Singh offered to give me a ride.”

  “Bobby Singh!” Josh exclaims. “You’re going out with Bobby Singh?”

  “I’m not ‘going out’ with him.” I make quote marks in the air. “We’ll just be in the same car.”

  “Who’s Bobby Singh?” Dad asks.

  “Only the best wrestler at school,” Josh says. “Half the trophies in the wrestling trophy case have Bobby’s name engraved on them.”

  “Do you know him personally?” Dad asks.

  “Yeah. We have math together,” Josh answers. “He’s a nice guy. Popular. I can’t believe he’s taking you out.” He gives me a pointed look.

  “He’s not ‘taking me out.’ ” Air quotes again. “We have to look at a possible venue for the prom, and he said he’d give me a ride.” I dart a quick glance at Mom, then Dad. “So is it okay?”

  “I don’t know,” Dad says. “You’re a little young to be dating.”

  “It’s not a date,” I insist. “The entire student council will be there.”

  Mom laughs. “If you were thirty, your dad would think you were too young to be dating. But I do have to wonder if you really need to go at all. Saturday evening is usually when you get a chance to relax.”

  “This will help improve my government grade, and it definitely won’t be stressful.” I’m not sure that last part is true, but after talking with Bobby today, I really want to spend some time with him. “He’ll pick me up at around seven thirty.”

  “That does sound like a date,” Dad says, his eyes suspicious.

  “It’s not,” I assure him.

  “I suppose if it’s just a couple of hours, it’ll be okay,” Mom says.

  “But this Bobby Singh has to come into the house,” Dad adds. “I want to meet him.”

  I refrain from rolling my eyes. “Okay. I’ll let him know.”

  As soon as I can after dinner, I escape to my room so that I can text Bobby to let him know I can go. I’ve just picked up my phone when there’s a rap on my door and it opens.

  I glower at Josh. “Why do you knock when you don’t wait for me to answer?”

  “To warn you that I’m coming in.” He closes the door and leans against it. “Bobby Singh? Really?”

  I shrug. “His friend Michael likes Zoe, and that’s how I met Bobby.”

  “And you didn’t know he’s sort of a big deal?”

  “Well, I do now. But we’re only hanging out because of student council.”

  He grins. “If you’re looking for normal, hanging out with Bobby Singh definitely isn’t it. Everyone knows who he is.”

  “I didn’t.”

  He shakes his head. “You need to get your head out of the gymnastics clouds every now and then.”

  “Hence Saturday night.”

  “You might not think it’s a date, but I’m betting that Bobby does.”

  “He said it wasn’t.”

  He opens the door, steps out, and then peers back in. “Of course he did.”

  He closes the door, and my heart does this little double somersault in my chest. Bobby said it wasn’t, but did he say that just to get me to say yes? I wouldn’t be totally disappointed if Bobby wanted it to be a date, but then I hear Coach Rachel and Gwen in my head, telling me to avoid boys and stay focused. Bobby is definitely hot enough to be a distraction.

  I text him.

  Saturday night is a go, but you have to come in to meet my dad even tho it’s not a date. Sorry.

  No problem.

  See you then.

  If not before.

  I don’t know what to say to that, so I just set my phone aside. I’ve never really developed any flirtation skills, since there has been an absence of boys interested in me. I think about searching for tips on the Internet but cast that notion aside. I don’t have time for that. I have to focus on my history homework.

  But before I can get through the assigned chapter, another text lights up my screen. This time it’s Zoe.

  You & Bobby on Saturday!!!

  How did you know?

  Michael. How did you get your parents to say yes to a date? Need tips.

  I wonder exactly what Bobby told Michael. Not a date. Has to do w/student council.

  She texts a sad face, then a happy one. Michael asked me to go to prom. Mom ok’d it. Can you believe it?!?

  Can’t believe you didn’t lead w/that! Great news! I’m happy for you! And going to prom is a date.

  Not a date. An exception. According to Mom. Will you help me find a dress?

  Absolutely!

  She texts a string of happy faces.

  I set my phone aside and return to history. Another text lights up my screen. Bobby.

  Pressure is on to make prom a success. Michael’s taking Zoe.

  I heard. Don’t think Kristine will allow prom not to be the best.

  True.

  I almost ask him if he’s going, but I don’t really want to know. I told him I was too busy. No way he’ll ask me.

  What are you doing right now? he asks.

  Studying for history. Gotta get back to it. Sorry!

  No prob. See you Saturday.

  Saturday. I hit send and silence my phone, then stuff it into a drawer where I can’t see it. Out of sight, out of mind, right? There’s just one problem. . . .

  Phone or no phone, I can’t seem to stop thinking about Bobby Singh.

  • • •

  I’m tying up my hair in the locker room at Gold Star when my phone pings. I check the clock on the wall. I officially have ten minutes before practice starts, and Gwen isn’t in the locker room yet. Sometimes she stays between practices to do school at the gym, but she must have gone back to the Gundersens’ today.

  I hazard a glance at my phone, and my heart gives a little lurch, not a thoroughly unpleasant sensation. It’s Bobby.

  Hey, I wondered if you wanted to grab a burger Saturday before we go to the rink.

  I would, but I’m afraid I’d be stepping onto a slippery slope, moving close to date territory. My parents might rethink letting me get a ride with Bobby.

  Thanks, but my family already has dinner plans.

  Not a lie, exactly. We do have plans. We plan to eat dinner.

  Okay, it was just a thought.

  A good thought. I glance at the clock on my phone. Almost time for practice. Where’s Gwen? Sorry I can’t do it.

  No problem. What are you doing now?

  I stare at the screen. I don’t want to tell him what I’m doing, but I do need to end this conversation. I settle for: Hanging out with some friends. I need to go.

  Later.

  I silence my phone and toss it into my locker, but I’m smiling as I jog out onto the gym floor. To my surprise Gwen’s already out there, working on beam with Coach Chris.

  “Am I late to the party?” I call to them from the floor.

  Gwen stands on the beam with her hands on her hips. “No, I just had a personal with Coach Chris today. Needed some help with a couple of things. You’re good.”

  “Warm up, Charlie, and get over here with us,” Coach says. “All right, Gwen. Let’s see that series again.”

  After a few fast laps around the gym floor, I join them at the beam.

  “Why don’t you start with vault today?” Coach says. “I want to see how you’re doing with your Amanar.”

  To get an Olympic placement I desperately need the level of difficulty that the round-off onto the board followed by a back handspring onto and over the vault into a two-and-a-half twisting layout will give me. I’ve been working on this one for a while. The challenge is that I have to get enough height so that I have time for a
ll the twisting before I land on the mat.

  Another challenge is that vault is my least favorite apparatus. I figure that’s probably because an awkward landing following a vault routine caused me to break my ankle when I was eight. Sometimes memories of that experience will mess with my head when I’m flying in the air, and make me doubt my ability to land solidly.

  But not today. Today I shove all those doubts away as I race up the runway. I hit the springboard, sail up, land perfectly on the vault, push myself off, and go high enough that I can get all my twists in before I land with a thud, my feet positioned perfectly, with no wobbling or sidestepping. I end with my presentation—arms straight up, back slightly arched, every part of my body in perfect alignment.

  Then I make a fist and jab it through the air. “Yes!”

  I start to leave the mat, and come up short at the sight of Coach standing there with his arms crossed. “Not bad,” he says. “Let’s see you do it again.”

  • • •

  “How was practice?” Mom asks as soon as I slide into the passenger seat. It’s her usual greeting.

  “Fantastic! Best practice ever! I not only nailed my Amanar, but I also managed a decent full twisting double dismount from the bars. I was on fire. Before we get to trials, Coach Chris thinks I can pull off a full twisting double back. You know, where I’m rotating backward instead of forward.”

  “That’s fantastic.”

  “I know, right? It will up my difficulty . . . and I need all the points I can get. I mean, Gwen’s Kovacs is putting her through the roof. I feel like if I can at least meet or exceed the bar she has set, then I increase my chances of making the team. I mean, there are only five positions on the team. Every point is going to count.” I know Gwen isn’t the only competition I have to face, but she is recognized as one of the best in the world. I use her as my mark.

  Mom eases the car out of its parking spot. “Wow.”

  “What?”

  Mom shakes her head, but she’s smiling, too. “I’m glad you and Gwen have each other. You really push each other to be your best.”

  We do push each other, but it’s a friendly competition. I want Gwen to make the Olympic team almost as much as I want to make it myself. I know how hard she works and want her to have every success. After today’s practice I’m in a very positive frame of mind. I think we’ll both make the team. There’s nothing to stop us.