That doesn’t make any sense, she thought.
She stared at her phone, the tiny screen’s glow illuminating her face as she rode home in the dark. He had asked her to come to the party, begged her, told her that he wanted her there more than anyone. She saw this as her entry point into the upper class, and she spent hours working on a costume, comparing and contrasting, weighing the amount of skin she wanted to expose with the originality factor and the comfort issue. She listened intently to conversations, trying to suss out what other girls were wearing, trying to make sure she would stand out.
She settled on a zombie warrior princess, with a cute short skirt and pretty boots. She added enough makeup to illustrate the zombie theme, while still looking pretty. She got plenty of compliments from other girls, and a few glances from appreciative upperclassmen. She couldn’t find Stephen all night, though, and finally had to leave, slipping away into her Mom’s van, heartbroken. She had texted him, thanking him for inviting her, and all she got back was, “Sure. Whatevs.”
What did he mean by all that flattery when he invited her? Did he really want her to come? Was it some kind of joke? Did she do something wrong? What was she supposed to do? It was like boys speak a different language, she thought as the van brought her home.