The Great Date Auction
"You have to help me," I begged, looking around the auditorium. It was rapidly filling up with friends, acquaintances, teachers, and everyone I had ever made fun of or been rude to in my life. With each new face, the possibilities for humuliation only increased.
"You're the one who volunteered to get auctioned off as someone's dream date," Troy countered. "It's not like I made you do it."
I narrowed my eyes into blade-thin slits. "You totally made me do it, jerk."
Troy gave me a smug smile. "This is what happens when you let people give you a double dare."
Ok, I admit it, I never should have risen to the dare. But Sharpay Evans flounced over to our lunch table two weeks ago to ask if one of us would volunteer for the East High School Great Date Auction--the whole thing had seemed so ridiculous that it actually, for a brief moment, seemed like a good idea. Fact is, neither Troy nor I are particulary Great Date material. Okay, fine, it's just me. I'm not unpopular, but I'm not like Troy Bolton, the god of East High. But since I, Gabriella Montez, was a good friend of his, I was more like a semi-goddess.
"These auctions are offensive anyway," I'd said once Sharpay trotted off to recruit other victims. "Are we living in the 1800s? The whole thing is a joke!"
"That's why you have to do it, Gabi," Troy said before taking a swig of Dr. Pepper. "While everyone else is all dolled up, you could dress up as the World's Laziest Date. Put on your pajamas, rent a DVD from Blockbuster, and walk in with a big bucket of popcorn."
Actually, it was a pretty funny idea. I could actually picture myself onstage wearing my pink fuzzy slippers while the cheerleaders, like Anallissa Jenkins and Melanie Wallace, stood behind me in designer dresses and heels. The mental image made me laugh out loud, and a little piece of the carrot I had been munching caught in my throat. I took a quick drink of milk to dislodge it.
And that's when Troy said it: "I double-dare you to do it."
Which is why I am, right now, at this very moment, standing in our school's auditorium, wearing my nightdress with a bathrobe and fuzzy slippers, holding a Jackie Chan DVD and a tub of Orville Redenbacher.
Just in case, my nightdress was short.
I groaned. "This is serious, Troy," I told him. "What if nobody bids on me? You can't just let me go out there and humuliate myself."
"Really?" Troy folded his arms across his chest. "Yet it's so tempting..."
I grabbed his collar, yanking his face right up to mine. "Let me put it to you this way--you'd better help me, or else the yearbook will end up with one of your baby bathtub pictures."
Apparently, this mental image was vivid enough to do the trick because my best friend in the world finally choked out, "What do you want me to do?"
"That's more like it," I released my grip. "Bid me up, "I said.
"I'm broke," Troy protested.
"You always have money, cheapo,"I reminded him.
It's true. Troy has been stocking away every penny of his allowance since he was 7. He hates to spend, even if it's for basketball, his most favorite thing in the world. The only thing he ever bought me was an ice-cream cone when were freshmens, only because he had a two-for-one coupon.
Troy scowled. "Maybe I would prefer to spend my money on a real date."
I snaked a finger into my bathrobe pocket and fished out a twenty-dollar bill. "Here." I pushed the money into his hand. "Just bid on me. And don't let me go to anyone gross."
"How do I know who you think is gross?" Troy asked.
I lifted my eyebrows. "You're kidding, right?" As if we hadn't spent the past three years' worth of Saturday nights eating pizza and playing Who's Hot/ Who's Not in Troy's basement rec rom. Troy knew every guy I'd ever looked at, just like I could name every single one of his millioon three-year crushes.
"Please, Troy," I said. I wasn't kidding anymore. I was really scared. I could just imagine me--standing by myself in the center of the stage while the audience sat in silence, not bidding. I'd have to be in therapy for the rest of my life...if not longer.
Troy pressed his lips together, the way he does when he's considering something.
"Okay," he said at last.
"Next up is Gabriella Montez," Sharpay announced as I bounced onstage, waving my DVD. My three best girl friends--Taylor, Kelsie, and Martha--let out a cheer from the third row as the rest if the crowd politely clapped.
Don't let them smell the fear, I thought to myself as I shoved a handful of popcorn in to my face.
"She's offering the World's Laziest Date," Sharpay said, "complete with action movies, popcorn, and sarcastic comments. The bidding will start at five dollars."
The popcorn turned to Styrofoam in my mouth as an excruciating silence lapped over the room. The bottom fell out of my stomach, but I barely had time to feel faint because in the next moment, I heard Troy shout, "Five!"
A whoosh of air seeped out of my lungs, and I managed to swallow my popcorn. Then Stephan Reese raised his hand and shouted, "Six!"
Oh, god, not Stephan Reese. Martha and Kelsie actually refer to him as Mister Yuck, which Taylor was only too polite to copy. The nickname was kind of mean but freakishly apt, given that Stephan's face was as perfectly round as those stickers my mom used to put on poisonous substances like toilet bowl cleaners. He also usually wears an expression like he just tasted something bad. And, OK, here's the turth: He smells. This sounds really shallow, I know, but his personality is a little off so I don't feel too bad about it.
"Seven," Troy cried.
Remind me to kiss you later, I thought about my best guy friend.
"Do I have eight?" Sharpay chimed in.
Remind me to kill you, Sharpay.
"Eight!" Stephan hollered.
"Nine," Troy said.
Stephan's permanent frown got more permanent. "Twelve."
Why is Stephan even bidding? Have I ever been nice to him? I wracked my brain but it was empty.
Note to self: Stop being nice to people.
But Troy, bless him, cut to the chase. "Twenty." he cried.
Ok, so it's my money he's spending, I thought. At least it's for a good cause.
"Twenty!" Sharpay grinned madly. She looked at Stephan. "Do I have a twenty-one?"
Stephan crossed his arms.
Oh, this was perfect! Thank goodness I'd asked Troy to save my butt. I owed him one, that was for sure.
"No other bidders? All right, Twenty. Going once...going twice...
"Twenty-one!" called a voice.
I blinked out into the audience. Was that...was that John Marks? I heard an "Ohh!" from the third row--my friend Taylor, most likely--and knew the answer was a yes.
John Marks is in three of my classes and is known by everyone as a total sweetie. He had long, shaggy blonde hair and a lopsided grin. He's cute but not in a totally oblivous way. He'd never made it to my "Who's Hot list," but now that I was standing up on this stage to be auctioned off, I wasn't sure why he never made it.
John Marks. Not bad. And he's bidding twenty-one on me.
The highest bid of the night so far had been thirty and the lowest had been five. Poor, poor Bob Sumen. Nobody wanted him because his girlfriend, Haylie Cooper, had busted him making out with her best friend, Nicole, at a party the week before. Haylie's posse had let everyone know that anyone who bid on Bob would be living hell for the rest of their life. So when it came time to bid, Nicole was the only bidder at five bucks. Anyway, point being--twenty-one was a respectable bid. John Marks was a cutie, and this night had turned out way better then I had planned.
"Twenty-one, going once," Sharpay announced, her red lips brushing against the mic.
I looked out at Troy. His face had question marks on it. I could tell he didn't know whether to bid on me or not.
I gave him a thumbs-up. Way to go, Bolton.
He nodded. Then he put his hand. "Twenty-two."
What?
"Twenty-three," John shouted.
"Twenty-five," Troy snapped back.
His blue eyes flashed. I knew that look. That's Troy's dug-in look. It means he's gonna keep going till he wins. It's a look I've seen a zillion times over the years--during basketball games, Playstation 3, arguments, crossword puzzles, you name it.
Stop it! I beamed at him mentally. I made some frantic arm motions, but I guess they didn't carry the meaning I intended because Sharpay looked at me and said, "Well, it looks like Gabriella is excited to be raising money for..."
John broke in. "Twenty-eight!"
"Thirty!" Troy continued.
I groaned. I am standing up here, going broke because my best friend is a total idiot.
"Thirty-five," John said.
Troy didn't give up. "Forty!"
"Fifty!" This, inexplicably, was from Stephan, who had somehow gotten swept back into the action.
"This is exciting!" Sharpay chirped. "It's our highest bid of the night! All right, fifty dollars, going once..."
Ohmigod, Troy, if you stop now, I'm going to kill you! I looked down at him. His blue eyes were locked on my brown ones, his expression unreadable. What was he waiting for?
"Going twice..."
"Wait!" Troy shouted. He took a few steps toward the stage, and people parted to let him by.
Suddenly, he stopped and said, "Two hundred dorty three dollars and..." he dug into his pocket. "Ninety-eight cents!"
The crown mumrmured, and I heard my girl friends gasp.
I'm dying, I thought as I stood under the spotlight. My heart has stopped and I'm passing into the next world. I'm gonna have to borrow money from my parents to pay for my own non-date. I am gonna have to mow the lawn, babysit my sister, and take out the trash till I turn 30...This. Is. Horrible.
"I guess a lazy date is the way to go!" Sharpay announced. "Two hundred forty-three dollars and ninety-eight cents going once." Her face was glowing.
Well, at least someone's happy.
"Going twice...Sold!" Sharpay cried. She smiled at me. "Congratulations!" she put her hand over the mic and leaned over to whisper, "This is so great! You've just raised a ton of money for the United Relief Fund!"
I stuck my hand in my bucket of popcorn and tossed a few kernals into the air. They fluttered on me like confetti. "Yippee!"
"Gabriella!" Troy called, running after me as I strode down the hall. "Gabriella! Stop!"
The metal bar was solid and cold under my hands as I slammed it down, burst through the fire doors and stepped into the cool night air. The moon hung overhead, like a gleaming orb. Thw wind bit my bare legs but I didn't care.
Troy followed me. "Gabi, I'm sorry."
I grinded my teeth. "Why'd you do that?"
He took a step back. "You gave me a thumbs-up and..."
"Thumbs up meant 'good job!'" I punched him in the arm, hard. "It meant, Ok, John Marks--not gross!' I meant 'done deal!'" I punched his other arm.
"OW!"
"I'm not giving you two hundred and twenty-three dollars, Troy," I said. "Twenty was enough! I'm not paying for your mistake!"
"I don't expect you to." Troy looked really hurt.
I suddenly felt like a complete jerk in a nightdress. After all, he had been trying to help me. He'd only done what I asked him to do. This mess was all my fault.
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
"I'm sorry," I finally said.
Troy nodded. "Hey, at least you don't have to go out with Mister Yuck."
"There's a positive spin," I agreed.
"And..." he cleared his throat. "It won't be so bad to go on a date with me...right?"
"We spend every Saturday Night together, anyway," I pointed out.
Once of Troy's shoulder's darted up in a shrug. "But not on a date.
He dug his fist deep into hte pockets of his jeans. "I mean, you'd rather hand with me than John Marks, right?"
"Not two hundred and twenty-three bucks worth," I said. "John's a nice guy."
"It's not like he ever made your Who's Hot list," Troy insisted.
"It's not like he's ony my Not list, either," I shot back. I thought for a moment, imagining myself curled up on my family's couch next to John. What would we talk about?
What does anyone talk about on a first date? Who knows? I spend all my time with Taylor, Kelsie, and Martha. Or with Troy. It's not like I have a huge amount of experience to draw on. Plus, I think I'm the only junior who hasn't slept iwth a guy yet.
Still, Troy always says I'm interesting to talk to. And I can usually make almost anyoen laugh.
"I'll bet John and I would have had a pretty decent time together."
"Yeah." Troy looked away, toward the darkness of hte parking lot. He ran a hand thos his brown hair, then jammed his fist back into his pocket. "That's exactly what I was afraid of."
Gravel crunched and light traced across his features as acar pulled out, turned and drove away. He looked down at me and, suddenly, I understood.
Troy hadn't been doing me a favor. He had been bidding on me. For real.
"Do you..." I started, but before I could finish, I could feel his hot breath on my lips. I could smell his breath-spray, Thunder, and the cologne he always wore.
He kissed me...
...and in five seconds we were making out.
I could feel Troy's hand travelling up my nightdress, but I didn't care. I didn't care that we were outside in front of his car, making out in plain view. I didn't even care when the dropped popcorn kernels jumped into my slippers, making them extremely uncomfortable. All I wanted was to keep Troy close.
After what seemed like years, we finally separated. Troy pressed his hand against my back, pulling me closer and cradled my face with the other. Our foreheads touched as he whispered, "Wanna go out sometime?"
I felt dizzy, almost breathless. My mind was whirling with tons of questions: But what about our friendship? How long have you felt this way about me? Is this all some big joke?
But, in the end, I didn't ask any of those questions out loud.
All I said was, "I'd love to."
Ok, guys, as much as I'd luv to take credit for this story, I actually copied it off from GL mag. I just changed a few things.
Anyway, remember, I can't write anymore chapters till more people vote the poll in Life is Tough.