Dark Blue: Color Me Lonely with Bonus Content Read Online Free PDF Page A

younger than me, I think I heard someone say that he’s a junior.
    “Yeah, I wanna work on my pen and ink,” says Amy as she returns to her corner by the window.
    Amy’s pen and ink is a grotesque rendition of a “rock” wall that is mainly constructed from skulls and bones and small dead animals. Not really my thing, but I can tell her drawing skills are far superior to mine—and everyone else in art class for that matter.
    “See ya,” calls Amy as I shoulder my backpack and head for the door.
    “Yeah,” I call back. “Later.”
    I try not to think too much about Jordan’s new friends as I head for the cafeteria. I remind myself of the things that Jordan suggested I do. Smile more, laugh at their jokes, be nice.
I can do that,
I tell myself as I pick up a sticky tray and get in line. Today I make sure to choose food that is (1) easy to eat, (2) not likely to spill, and (3) looks like something Jordan’s new friends might eat. Passing up the tacos, which look messy though tempting, I go for a tossed green salad and wheat roll. It seems fairly safe. I pay for my food and proceed to “the” table. I can feel my chest tighten and my heart beginning to race as I remember the last time I sat there and drenched my best friend in the remnants of my lunch.
    “Hey, Kara,” calls Jordan, “come sit here.”
    I smile at her, thankful that she actually extended an audible invitation. I am not ready to just walk right on over there and sit down. The cheerleaders are wearing their new uniforms today. That alone makes their table look like the elite club, although a few othergirls are dressed in civilian clothes. But mostly the table looks like a small sea of red and blue.
    “Thanks,” I say, instantly questioning whether I should’ve said that or not. It’s not like I want to appear too needy—or nerdy—as it would seem.
    “I like your sweater, Kara,” says Jordan as I sit down in the empty space across from her, right next to Ashley Crow, who is thick into conversation with Amber Elliot.
    I try not to register surprise at Jordan’s comment, since we both know she’s the one who picked out this particular sweater in the first place. “Thanks,” I say in what I hope sounds like a casual voice. I pick up my fork and stab a piece of lettuce.
    “Yeah, it’s cool,” says Shawna. “Where’d you get it anyway?”
    “The Gap,” I answer, quickly remembering to smile before I take a bite.
    The conversation moves swiftly to clothes and I am, fortunately, able to simply nod and smile and act like I’m completely enthralled with their opinions on fashion, which basically amount to a what’shot-and-what’s-not discussion.
    “Did you see what Megan Erickson has on today?” asks Betsy Mosler. She makes this horrified face. “It’s this awful pink number. She looks just like a Power Puff Girl.”
    This makes everyone laugh. And, like a puppet, I laugh right along with them. Yet, at the same time, I feel slightly bad for Megan.
    “How about Goth Girl,” says Amber Elliot.
    “Who’s that?” asks Jordan, looking around the cafeteria for the next victim.
    “Oh, she’s not here,” says Amber. “Goth Girl may not have any fashion sense, but at least she has the sense to lay low.”
    “She’s talking about Amy Weatherspoon,” Shawna explains toJordan, who’s still looking slightly confused. “Now talk about your fashion disaster. That girl dresses like every day is Halloween.”
    Everyone laughs like they’re reading the audience cue cards on the Letterman show, and despite the fact that Amy Weatherspoon just said something kind to me, I laugh too—feeling like a complete hypocrite as I do. Still, I realize that if I
don’t
laugh, these girls might very well target me as the brunt of their next fashion joke. In fact, as I watch the girls interacting with each other and virtually ignoring me, I realize that I probably already have been. Often, I’m sure.
    I’m certain that the cafeteria clock has