Part 36 (2/2)

I just don't care anymore if she doesn't like me. I care a little that she's basing her feelings on something that isn't really me, but I'll show her. Me. Twitter girl personality.

”I happen to have sensitive skin,” I joke. ”I'm allergic to girl's underwear.”

She rolls her eyes but I smile at her. I don't have to take it, not from girls like her- not from anyone really. I am who I am. I don't need her approval. I'll own what I did. Who the h.e.l.l is perfect? Sure, my mistake got broadcast all over the world, but I'm willing to put it behind me.

”At least I wear underwear,” I shoot at her, the same way I'd sa.s.s Josh or Jake, people who don't intimidate me. I'm tired of intimidation.

”Burn,” the guy with the muscles says and grabs me by the waist and dips me back, and then he stands, lets me go, and makes a muscle man pose. ”I'm s.e.xy and I know it,” he shout- sings.

Another girl from the table jumps up and starts singing along 253.

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J a n e t G u r t l e r with him, and the two of them groove out while others start hoot- ing and clapping.

”Man,” calls the guy who almost tripped me, ”how did you make your underwear swing around like the guys in that video?”

”I put a potato in the front,” I tell him. ”They're not just for baking anymore.”

They all laugh and whoop. Refusing to hide and be embarra.s.sed is working.

”You have a nice b.u.t.t,” someone else says, and there's a wolf whis- tle from the table. My cheeks burn but I keep smiling.

”You're, like, super famous. I heard they mentioned the video on Jimmy Fallon's show.”

The kids at the table buzz with questions and comments about my so- called fame. I'm shocked to hear that these people actually admire me because of the video going viral. I've been hiding and they thought I was being a sn.o.b. I guess it proves something. The reality TV generation- we're kind of an odd one.

I glance over and see the mean girl pretending to be interested in her fake nails. I realize she's actually jealous of my attention. I almost feel sorry for her. Almost.

The guy who tripped me stands and walks to the next table, grabs a free chair, and brings it back, putting it down beside him and patting it. ”Sit with us, dancing queen.” I'm pulled down to the empty seat as the kids talk among each other about the number of people who saw the video. None of them seems to remember or comprehend the extent of my humiliation. This is completely not what I thought people were thinking.

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1 6 t h i n g s i t h o u g h t w e r e t r u e I'm embarra.s.sed that I'm kind of digging the kids swarming over me.

It's not such a bad thing to have gorgeous guys telling me my b.u.t.t is cute.

Most of these kids go to my high school, and a few of them are in the super popular group. Lexi would freak out if she knew they were sucking up to me now. I imagine telling her. All I have to do is call her back. We could be hanging out with them our senior year. Things would go back the way they were. Better. We'd be the it girls we always wanted to be.

It would change everything for us.

And then I look around.

I remember why I'm really here, why I'm doing this. It's because of Amy. Because she asked me to take back my life, to stop hiding.

Sure, it's awesome that I'm being embraced instead of ridiculed, but honestly, it could have gone either way.

It wouldn't have mattered. I'm not the same person I was. Because of her. And yes, because of me.

I glance across the room to the table where the managers hang out, ostracized by the rest of the staff. No one wants to hang with fun- suckers.

Adam is at the table, chewing a sandwich, watching me and pretending not to be. He pushes his gla.s.ses up his nose and I smile, thinking of his lips- and how much I like him. And how incredibly true and brave Amy is and what a good friend she is to both of us. A real friend.

”Thanks,” I say to the guy who got me the chair as I stand. ”But I came here to sit with my friend.”

I wave at Adam and he looks around to make sure I'm waving at him and then he lifts his hand. The uncertainty makes my heart fill with a fierce protection.

”You're friends with Goggles?” someone says.

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J a n e t G u r t l e r His nickname.

”That Adam dude is a d.i.c.khead,” someone adds.

I smile. It doesn't matter what these people say about us. It really doesn't. ”They pay him to be a d.i.c.khead,” I say. ”And he's an awesome kisser.” The table falls completely silent and then I walk toward Adam. The smile he's trying to hide behind his sandwich is the best thing I've seen all day.

Hunter, another younger manager, grins at me when I sit beside Adam. ”Oh, look who's joining the cool kids table. It's Adam's girlfriend.”

Adam pushes his gla.s.ses up on his nose. ”Yeah. It is,” he says and puts his arm around me.

I pull out my phone and take a picture of the two of us at the table so I can show it to Amy later. ”You making new friends?” he asks, gesturing to the table of red s.h.i.+rts.

”Nah. I just tripped on the way in. Amy made me face them.

And she made me use my Twitter voice out loud. It worked. I think they actually liked me.”

”They've always wanted to like you. You're famous.” He smiles.

”Amy also ask you to Harlem Shake the ma.s.ses?” He grins. ”This girl can dance,” he says to Hunter.

”I heard,” Hunter says with a grin.

Adam smacks him, and it makes me like him even more.

There's a new text on my phone, so I open it.

It's Lexi. You getting these texts? A few seconds later, she wrote one again.

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