Chameleon ✔️

22 envelopes

          Having all of the cards on the table certainly changes mine and Eli's relationship. Whereas we'd formerly practiced cautiousness and hesitancy — or I had, at least — we are now sort of, well, freer. My mindset is that I've only one week left of school — finals week — and two weeks left until I graduate. Dad electronically signed a lease on an apartment in Iowa (I guess he's not planning on staying there for quite so long, either), and we're getting on the road as soon as I receive my diploma. So why shouldn't I let Eli hold my hand between classes? Why shouldn't I let him kiss me on the cheek as he drops me off at English? Why shouldn't I let him carry my physics book for me or stand so closely behind me as we recite The Pledge in homeroom, bent slightly forward, that I can feel his warm breath on the back of my neck? Who cares if my "name" is suddenly in people's mouths? For once in my life, I don't. We've only got twelve days left to get it right, and nothing else matters any more.

On Monday, we take our second, fourth, and fifth hour finals. English is simple because our final isn't cumulative; it's merely forty-five multiple choice questions on Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, which I read in grade nine recreationally, and I'd skimmed through it last night to refresh my memory. Spanish is a little more difficult, as I, nor anyone in my class of seniors, is fluent. But the thing is that Ms. Torres has several posters and things lining the walls cataloguing conjugated verbs and such that I think she "accidentally" keeps uncovered so we'll utilize them. So despite the serious lack of studying I've been doing amidst everything else that's been going on the past couple of weeks, I feel pretty hopeful about a B-.

As for gym class, there is no final. We have the choice to dress out and play dodgeball or dress out and do stretches, so it ends up divided between males and females almost equally. The game of dodgeball quickly morphs into an all-against-all, survival of the fittest one, and the stretching into the girls gossipping chattily and me studying for physics.

I don't have any classes with Stef, but I look for her in the halls. It's not that dire of a situation in comparison to others that plague me, but I still don't get why she'd invited us to Tyler's via Eli and then said nothing about it to me at the party. I finally track her down between sixth and seventh period. She's in line for the water fountain outside the computer lab. I waltz up to her as if I'm just another thirsty student in line for some water, but then I "recognize" her.

"Stef Simms?"

"Hey... uh, Alyssa?"

I give her a warm smile. "Yeah."

She bends over to meet the stream of water that shoots from the fountain. "How've you been?" she asks between sips. "I never did get the chance to congratulate you on making the not homecoming court."

"Yep. Did it all on my own, too." She laughs, her aura coral. "Oh, hey," I say as if I'd just now thought of it. "I wanted to ask you about Ty's party Friday night."

She wipes water from her mouth with her sleeve. "Ty Prestridge?"

"Yeah. Uh, Eli told me you invited him — or us, actually — on Facebook."

Her aura turns gray. "Eli... the Indian kid? I don't even think I'm friends with him on Facebook."

"Oh... really?" I ask as if I'm not alarmed. Not one bit. "He said you messaged him and asked if we were planning on going."

She shakes her head, her tiny blonde ponytail whipping side to side. "Nope. Must've been Paige. I didn't even go to that party."

I came into this conversation expecting a simple explanation, one that would make me go, Oh, of course, and wonder why I was even worried; an explanation so obvious that I'm embarrassed for not seeing it before. But this? This I could not have seen coming.