Dance Committee Meeting

It still hasn't quite hit me that I'm actually in a magazine. And to think, I actually took that picture as a joke. Guess the joke's on me, huh?

Now that that's out of the way, I had to grit my teeth and bear the meeting of the spring dance committee. A couple weeks ago (I can't remember) I told you that my teacher put Meredith and I on the committee to help put together the dance. Well, today we met in one of the 'new' classrooms.

I didn't realize Sasha Moore was the third girl on the committee. Sasha, of course, is one of Meredith's minions. She loves to sing and says she dreams of dancing on stage with Beyonce. We're not friends by any stretch but we're cordial to each other. We have to be, we share 3 classes so we see each other quite a bit.

So when I walked in, I knew Meredith and Sasha were talking about me because all of a sudden they stopped. "What are YOU doing here?" Meredith asked.

"Don't act dumb," I replied. "You were in the office."

She tossed her blond hair -- which smelled like downy -- in my face. Sasha just stared.

As an aside, I borrowed Linds' laptop to record the ideas and I wore my first pair of Liberty Jane jeans. Actually Vee has had them since last year but this is my first time wearing them. The fit is a little snug but I like them.

Anyway, when I whipped out the laptop, Sasha was all, "Hey, nice gadget. Yours?"

"No, it's my friend Lindsey's."

"I knew it couldn't be hers," Meredith remarked snidely.

"Lindsey Bergman?" asked Sasha. "Hey, my brother is in her class. She has short curly hair. That's her?"

I shrugged. "I guess so."

We couldn't even discuss ideas for the dance without going at each other. And the teacher was no help, she just stood by.

Anyway, Meredith is determined to win the title of queen, even though since the beginning of time that has gone to an eighth grader and she, of course, is in seventh. Last year Marisol Luna won it. Meredith boasts that she already has bought her gown and has written her acceptance speech.

"This isn't the Oscars," I reminded her, "and that was last week. What happens if you DON'T win queen?"

"Oh," she said, flashing a sugary smile, "that's not going to happen."