So tired

the week after Melissa James's party, on the whole, was pretty un- eventful. My friends and I fell into a routine of school and hanging out. Daniel was off-again with Kylie, so he was around a lot more than he had been, much to Rachel's delight. I was also happy to see that the two of them seemed to have called a cease-fire. Since Rachel's drunken verbal vomit and my advice on cau- tion and sensitivity, Daniel had been displaying just that. He was thoughtful and polite. In other words, nothing like himself.

I noticed the change in Clay almost instantly. The Monday after his Oscarworthy freak-out, he was subdued and expressionless. He interacted some, but he had a perpetual stoned demeanor that was really hard to get used to. In the following days, I felt guilty for thinking that I too liked Happy Clay, off meds. But then I just had to remember him crumpled on his bedroom floor, sobbing uncontrollably, and I put those thoughts firmly away. The medication also made him really sleepy. He was having a hard time staying awake in his classes and at lunchtime. Instead of eating, he would often put his head down on the table and nap, pulling his army jacket up over himself.

During one such lunchtime nap session, Rachel poked him in the arm, elic- iting no response. "I have never seen someone sleep like he does. What is his deal?" I glanced over at him. He hadn't touched his pizza. He never ate much anymore and I could see that he was losing weight.

"He's just tired. Leave him alone," I snapped at her.

Rachel looked hurt by my tone. "I was just asking. No need to bite my head off. Well, while we're on the subject: what is up with you lately?"

"Huh?" I asked, genuinely confused as to what she was talking about.

Rachel took a bite of her chicken-salad sandwich, then delicately patted her lips with a napkin. "Don't you 'huh?" me. I'm talking about your emergence as Superbitch. Well, at least where Danny and I are concerned. Clay, on the other hand, gets all the sunshine and roses." I looked at Daniel and he just shrugged a shoulder and went back to reading his sports magazine.

"I'm not grouchy all the time. Sorry if I've been less than my usual über-fun self," I joked. Rachel snorted in annoyance.

"Well, whatever-just stop taking your pissy moods out on the two of us. You know, if there's stuff going on, you can talk to us." Rachel looked pointedly at Clay, who was starting to stir. I ignored her remark, refusing to acknowledge, even to her, that there was any sort of problem.

Clayton sat up slowly, stretching his arms over his head, causing his shirt to ride up over his flat stomach. My insides did that funny little twist that often happened when I allowed myself to focus on how beautiful he was. Why did I have to be all "let's be friends"? Because watching Clayton rub his eyes and run his fingers through his hair made me really question my own sanity.

Clay wiped at his mouth. "I didn't drool, did I?" He smiled sleepily. I rubbed his bottom lip with my thumb, reveling in the feel of his mouth. God, I wanted to kiss him. Clay gave me a slow, sexy smile as if he were reading my mind, and I dropped my hand. "Nope, drool-free," I told him, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.

“Here, guys. Don't forget to buy your tickets all this week after school.” Lila, Rachel's friend, appeared at our table, dropping a brightly colored flyer among our lunch trays.

"What's this?" Clay asked, picking up the pink paper. "It's the Fall Formal. We have it the last weekend of October. You should come; it's a lot of fun." Lila batted her eyelashes at Clay, who was oblivious to her flirting. He was studying the information on the flyer intently.

Lila, clearly disappointed by his lack of interest, gave us a despondent wave and headed to the next table. I leaned over Clay to have a closer look at the paper. I allowed my arm to brush his, feeling little prickles of awareness as our skin touched.

"You guys going?" Clay asked. Daniel and Rachel looked at each other and then back to us.

"Well, we usually go to the Fall Formal as a group. We save the whole date thing for prom. It's much more fun to go with friends. We go out to eat some- where really cheesy like Pizza Hut, purposely wear horrible formal wear, and buy the ugliest corsages we can find. It's a lot of fun," Rachel told him, looking excited.

Clay looked at me. I realized how close our faces were and I backed away a bit. "You go to this? I can't see you doing the whole dressing-up thing," Clay said. I frowned, not liking that he seemed to have difficulty seeing me doing something girly. I was by no means a tomboy or anything. Maybe I wasn't as into the whole appearance thing as Rachel and other girls at the school, but that didn't mean I was lacking the required chromosome to enjoy it.

Clay realized he must have said something wrong and started backpedaling. "No, I just meant that it seems a little lame. I just can't see you doing something like that. You know, because you're too cool for a school dance." He squeezed my knee under the table in an unspoken apology. I covered his hand with mine and squeezed back.

"Nice save," I whispered, and he grinned.

"But I do go to the Fall Formal. Me, Danny, Rachel; Ray and Clare, when they gether; it's a good time. And there's usually a party somewhere after." I realized decide to come to these things; and sometimes a few other people. We all go to my mistake as soon as the words were out of my mouth. Clay's mouth tightened at the word party and we both remembered his disastrous turn at Melissa's party.

"Or maybe not," I said quietly, letting him know that partying wouldn't be on the agenda. Clay smiled weakly.

"Well, can I come with you guys?" he asked shyly. Rachel giggled. "Of course. You don't have to ask to come along."

Daniel nodded in agreement. "Yeah, man. The more guys, the better. These girls can get pretty crazy." He grinned at Rachel, who flushed.

Clay smiled at me, putting the flyer into his pocket. "Sounds cool." My stom- ach seized up at the thought of going to a dance with him. But I affected my best nonchalant smile.

"Yeah, cool," I replied.

"So, do you want to see the dress I picked out for Formal?" I asked Clay two weeks later as we sat in my kitchen after school. Clay lazily flicked through my dad's Library Journal magazine. Riveting reading, I was sure.