Getting Kole for Christmas Read Free

to.”
    “Yeah. I was flinching from each hideous balloon pop until I could get my music loud enough to drown it out. By then Trina came down and said I was ruining the recording.”
    Kole throws me a questioning glance so I elaborate. “They were filming her – as if there was actually an ounce of suspense as to who’d asked.”
    “Hey, Kole-ster,” Mike says, barreling down the hall. I look up to see Chase isn’t far behind.
    “Well, I better go,” I say, not wanting to compete with his friends.
    “Hey, Kylie,” Chase bellows.
    “The Kyster,” Mike says next.
    Kole shoots me an apologetic look as they surround us.
    “So will you two be attending the Christmas festivities put on by our very own West Ridge High?” Chase asks, sounding exactly like Mr. Rainer.
    “Definitely not,” I snap without hesitation. My answer – compelled by sheer panic at the topic – causes the group of guys to let out a loud oooohhhh sound.
    “Dang,” Mike says.
    “Shot down,” Chase adds.
    “You can’t say I’m shot down when I didn’t even ask.” Kole’s comment is sharper than the fresh blade that nicked my shin while I shaved this morning. I stand there like a zombie who just had a rod thrust right through her chest. Stinging heat seeps into the crevices around my ribs. I want to groan in response but wait in tortured silence instead.
    Eyes shift, but no one speaks another word. They just stand there looking as pain-ridden as I feel.
    “I better get to class,” I say, and dart down the hall. I rub my nose, willing the tears not to surface. It’s stupid to be upset. It’s not like Kole and I are going out. We’re just friends. But I’m positive – even as the thought runs through my mind – that they all know I want more from Kole. Mike knows. Chase knows. Even Clueless Cal – their on-again-off-again friend –– knows; a guy who still doesn’t know Shannon Shuester has been in love with him since the third grade. Which only means one thing: Kole knows too.
    My heart kicks into an anxious, clanking beat. My palms break out in a sweat. Kole knows that I like him. He totally knows.
    But why is that so wrong? Can’t that piece of information possibly work for me in some way? Is it insane to think Kole might be a little curious about me too? About whether or not he and I could be a thing?  I think back on Chase’s question. He asked about the Christmas festivities , not the dance in particular, but we all know what he meant. I hear my reply echoing in my mind, “ definitely not” and cringe, giving myself a mental palm slap to the head. What is wrong with me?
     
    That question plagues me all through biology. Something that does not escape Cassie. “Just tell me what’s bothering you,” she pleads while squeezing sanitizer into her palm. “Maybe I can help.”
    I feel bad for not confiding in Cassie. The truth is, Cassie and I are a duo that used to be a trio. And when Meg (our third member) moved to Chicago, things kind of fell flat. Cassie was closer to Meg; I was closer to Meg; without the common factor there isn’t much there. So we just go on day-to-day and sort of … fake it. What else can we do?
    “Tiff got asked to the Christmas dance last night,” I venture, doubting she’ll even get why I care.
    Cassie stops rubbing her hands together and looks at me. She pulls a face that looks just like Meg, only it’s framed with red hair instead of black. “I totally get it. I would hate it if I had sisters who were always getting asked out all the time.”
    “Right?” I say, encouraged. “It’s annoying.”
    “Was it Evan?”
    I nod. “Of course. And she acted all surprised even though she’d just been saying she thought he was going to ask her – seriously like, two minutes before the doorbell rang.”
    “Ah-noying.”
    “Very.” I smile inside. Maybe Cassie and I are more alike than I think.
    “You know what,” I say as we near the lockers. I try to ignore the fact that she’s