Mark My Words

23 | Guardian Of The Dance

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Rosalie combed her hand through her half-pony, tangling her fingers in the curls as she looked over at Dylan and wondered why Joanna's response was directed at him. Joanna saw my name on there, right? She must have—that girl has a radar for anything Rosalie-Mason-related, she thought, mindlessly opening her notebook and readying for class.

Class went on as little more than background noise to Rosalie's internal panic. They probably meant to put Rose Jason on the list again, she rationalized, and could already picture Whitney Vascquez's reaction to people having nominated Rosalie as one of the Queens. After what happened Sunday during hall-decorating, she doubted Whitney would ever be happy to see Rosalie set foot in the Stud.Co. office again.

Rosalie didn't know Rose Jason all that well—in fact, she'd never seen the girl in person, or at least remembered having passed her in the hallways—but based on her popularity, Rosalie was a far less qualified candidate than Rose was. She flicked through the list of Queen nominations near the end of class, and sighed at the end of it. No Rose Jason.

I feel bad having taken her spot, Rosalie thought. She must hate me.

Harper Winters was on the list, though, which provided... some relief. She was a sweetheart, and an obvious choice for Queen. Chances were, Rosalie wouldn't even win the poll.

She voted for Harper and continued on to the Kings' list as the bell rang. She absently folded her notebook up and stuffed it into her backpack. Ashton Harwood was on the list—go figure. Nothing new there. As was Lennie Pittmen. Most of the athletes, honestly.

Couldn't they be bothered to have a little more variety? she thought as she skimmed her eyes over Joanna Spencer's name, and stopped short.

She scrolled back up.

Joanna Spencer.

Rosalie looked up and stared at Joanna, who stood over her desk then with a dull look on her face.

"Football guys bullied a bunch of geeks into hijacking the poll," Joanna said, gesturing to the very proud, very arrogant Dylan Cox sitting on a desk nearby. Dylan raised a hand to her. "They put my name on there."

"You're kidding," Rosalie gasped. "They can't do that."

"We can... and we did," Dylan said, swinging over with a grin. "We're gonna rig the system. I'm already threatening everyone who votes for Ashton."

"Honestly, with all the hype of Pittmen getting kicked in the balls, he might beat me," Joanna said, and Rosalie was struggling to breathe with this knowledge. Joanna Spencer was on the Kings' list. "And with Rosalie being the ball-kicker, she might actually beat Harper."

"No! No, no way," Rosalie said, raising her fingers in a cross to ward away that bad juju. "I'm getting my name taken off the poll."

"I'm sure everyone's already voted. Either they're voting first hour, or second hour, and then the rest of the week is just us twiddling our thumbs," Dylan said, making a show to wiggle his thumbs in the air. Rosalie stared in horror, a hand on her forehead. "Aw, don't look so dismal."

"I didn't know you knew that word," Joanna said, impressed.

Dylan feigned offense. "I've learned a thing or two in my years here at the esteemed Bradshaw."