First Comes Like #Wattys2020

3

THREE

We're sitting in Ms Fitz' office, which is painted an odd shade of pink, Dean slouched in his chair and me with my arms crossed. Ms Fitz is sitting in the edge of her desk as she stares at us. I examine my nails with feigned interest. Honestly? This could not get more awkward.

"This an unusual selection for the Valentine's Week committee." She finally says with a subtle sigh, and I'm not going to argue with her. Of course it's unusual. I'm not sure how Ms Fitz would describe the usual selection but I'm sure that Dean and I don't fit it. "However, we want you to work as hard as you can and come up with some fresh new ideas. Something cool." Ms Fitz coughs out the last word.

It's like half of my brain is telling me to get up and run because hard work and I don't mix. The other half is telling me to keep my ass on that cushioned leather chair if I know what's good for me. I get a headache.

"One question." Dean says, "Why do we have to starting planning now? I mean, it's only January?" 

The look Ms Fitz gives Dean is almost threatening. Not almost. It is. I swallow a laugh. Dean thinks fast. "Because I want to know what to say to those delinquents who're complaining."

Wow. Smooth.

Ms Fitz's face softens. "I'll address that at next week's assembly." She says and when she's not looking Dean runs his hands down his face regretfully. I give him a look that says, Thanks a lot, in the most sarcastic way possible. He just shakes his head at me.

"I'm giving you to a free period to plan." Ms Fitz says as she gets up and walks to the door. "I'll be back." She might have well walked backwards out the office.

The door shuts behind her. I steal a look at Dean who's already texting on his phone. Unbelievable. He can NOT want to leave more than I do. I was missing Math which meant I was missing Cole. I pull out my phone too and pretend to text someone by stringing random sentences together with the word suggestions on my keyboard. So far Cole and cute are in all of them.

Five, then ten minutes pass. The office is silent except for the tap-tap-tapping of Dean's foot and my nails on my phone screen. I refuse to beg Dean to cooperate. He refuses to talk.

Fine.

I clear my throat loudly and make a point of showing him that I was as nonchalant as he is. Soon, we only have fifteen minutes left before Ms Fitz comes back. I wish wish wish that Ms Fitz didn't take this so seriously. Then I could enjoy the free period and blame our lack of planning on Dean. But. I can't.

I sigh and face him. "OK." I say loudly, just as he's about to put the second ear bud of his headphones in his ear. He stops and raises a dark eyebrow at me. "OK." I say again. "This isn't my personal business and it isn't yours either. So let's just do this for Ms Fitz or we're going to be in trouble."

Dean blinks at me. "I'm ready." he says, "I was waiting for you."

I half want to hit him but I mostly want to scream. I hate that he looks so smug. "OK." I say, as calmly as I can. "What are you thinking?"

Dean sits up in his chair and rests his elbows on his knees. "Honestly?" he says, all serious. Finally. I hover my pen over the paper Ms Fitz gave us and wait eagerly. Dean's ideas may suck, but right now, I was going to write anything. We could always 'fix' them later. "Honestly," Dean continues, "I'm thinking about how much I want a big juicy beef burger right about now."

I seriously can't take it anymore. I fling a pink eraser at him and he yelps as it goes soaring over his head. "Ow!" he says, like I threw a knife, "Hello! My beautiful face!"

Oh please.

"It didn't even it hit you." I mumble. Oh God, I wish it did. Dean scowls at me.

"It was a joke, Blythe."

"Sorry." I say, "Haha."

"And I'm sorry that you don't have a sense of humor." Dean rolls his eyes and stretches. I try not to pout. I do have a sense of humor. In fact, I'm funny. My mom said so. His watch beeps. "OK." he says, "We have that stupid Valentine's assembly every year. Write that down."

I make a list from Monday to Friday and write ASSEMBLY in caps next to Monday. The assembly is stupid but right now, that doesn't matter. I look at Dean expectantly and he frowns. "So you're not going to think of anything?"

"I've written stuff down." I say, bending the paper slightly towards me so he can't see what's on it.

"Sure." he says. He runs his fingers through his hair. Dean's hair is really dark and wavy, just like Mrs Pinkette. He's basically a masculine version of her, from those dark eyebrows to that thing she sometimes does with her nose. Dean's doing that right now. "We could have a mini fair on Tuesday, as a fund raiser, maybe like an open mic kinda thing and people do love songs and poems or whatever on Wednesday..."

"Too fast." I say, writing as fast as I can."Open mic..." Dean's ideas are really really good. Surprisingly. I try not to look too impressed. He groans exaggeratedly.

"For God's sake Blythe, try to keep up with me." Dean says, "Thursday is movie day and Friday is..." Deans eyes flick toward the ceiling, "Love from around the world. Like, romantic traditions."

"How did you think of all this?" I say, as I scribble quickly.

"I'm romantic." Dean says with a shrug, like he's trying to be humble about it. I'm about to make one of those smart-ass comments he warned me about in the car but then he leans over and takes a peep at the paper.

"You haven't written any ideas of your own!" Dean gives me a horrible condemning look. I try to deny it but Dean snatches the paper from the desk before I can. "You've only drawn some weird curves all over the edges of the paper."

They're Cs, Dean. Cs.

"You're weird." Dean says, like he hasn't said it before and like he isn't. Everyone's weird to someone else. It's what makes us different.

"And you're annoying.", I say. I take the paper back from Dean and smooth out the crinkles. "The dance is on Saturday. There. That's my idea."

"Very original." Dean says, looking annoyed. I fight the urge to say thanks, like I always do when someone's gives me a sarcastic compliment. "We have that every year." He shakes his head, "And it's always really lame."

I shrug. "I've never been."

"I took Steffie Walden in eight grade." Dean runs his hands through his hair again. With his cheeks growing pink and his furrowed eyebrows, I can tell it's something he regrets. There's silence. Then, 

"Why?"

I guess he means why I've never been. I shrug. "No one asked?" I say. It's actually not that. It's more like no one I wanted to ask asked. But I don't bother explain. Dean twirls his headphones around his finger thoughtfully.

"Maybe that's why hardly anyone goes to the dance in the first place." He says, "Maybe they don't have anyone the want to go with." 

That's probably true. The clock on the desk tick tocks away the time. Five minutes left. While I'm thinking about Dean's words, he picks up his phone. I stare at him double tap a couple times but then I've got an idea. It sounds so good in my head, I start babbling to Dean.

"What if we create an app or something, Mr Daniel could do it, and people put in info about themselves and then we match them with other people with similar interests and then they get to message each other and stuff but they never see each other's faces or know their names until..." I stop to breathe.

"Until the dance." Dean finishes. He gives me a half impressed look. "That's good Blythe." and then, "I didn't know you could think that fast." I roll my eyes at him.

"Whatever." I write my idea down. "There. We're done." I say, holding the paper up and shaking it in the air.

The bell rings to end first period. Right on time.