Jennifer Ziegler - How Not to Be Popular

epilogue: Starting Again

TIP: Be your flawed self and see what happens....

"Ladies and gentlemen...this year's Lakewood High homecoming queen is..."

Come on, come on!I urge silently.

I'm standing on a football field with the other nominees, but I'm the only one being escorted by both my parents, instead of just my dad, and the only one in glittery space boots and a silver chiffon cocktail dress.

"Shanna Applewhite!" Dr. Wohman finally announces.

"Thank god," I mumble. Not that I was rooting for anyone in particular; I'm just glad it's over.

Shanna lets out a huge squeal and hugs her dad for a long time. I'm happy for her. I think this might be good for her confidence.

"I'm sorry, butterfly," Rosie says, giving my shoulder a squeeze.

"I'm not," I mutter.

"You know"-Les looks down at me, and I see that his eyes are all misty-"you don't need a ribbon and crown to be beautiful."

"Thanks, Les."

The three of us walk off the field arm in arm, my boots leaving little pockmarks on the turf. We head for the section of bleachers where the Helping Hands are sitting together. The twins are holding up a homemade sign that reads Maggie for President, while Carter has one that says Come Home, Maggie! They clap as we approach.

"Aw, man! I know you don't care but I still wish you would have won," Drip grumbles. "These things are so rigged."

"I like how your dress sparkles," Penny says.

"Thanks." I glance around, hoping to spot Jack, but of course, he's not there. Even since the rest of the Helping Hands forgave me, Jack has kept up his big silent treatment. It still really hurts, but I don't want to ask too much of the Universe.

"Miss Dempsey!"

I spin around and see Mrs. Pratt standing behind me, wearing a crafty smile.

"Hi," I say. "I didn't know you'd be here."

"How could I not come root for you?" she says. "Besides, I remembered you saying your application deadlines were coming up and I wanted to give you this." She hands me an envelope. "Go ahead. Read it."

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Jennifer Ziegler: How Not To Be Popular

I open it and slide out the paper.

To Whom It May Concern,I read silently.It is my great pleasure to recommend Sugar Magnolia Dempsey for your college. In my twenty-one years of teaching, I've never before seen so much growth in a young person.

Miss Dempsey is the rare type of individual who's open to learning not just from books, but from life as well....

"Wow," I breathe. I've never felt so humbled and honored. This means more than any rhinestone tiara ever could. "Thanks. Thanks so much!" I throw my arms around her and give her a hug.

"You're welcome," she says with a chuckle. "Oh, are these your parents?"

"Hi, I'm Rosie."

"I'm Les."

"Gretchen," says Mrs. Pratt. "So nice to meet you."

As they start talking, I take a couple of steps back and read the rest of the letter. I feel proud and grateful and twirly with excitement. It's like the letter is a sort of magic ticket-an express pass to my future. Even though I'm not sure where I want to go to college anymore-the idea of going wherever Trevor goes is kind of silly now-it feels great to think my opportunities are open.

I'm so caught up in Mrs. Pratt's nice words that I don't hear my name being called. Suddenly I become vaguely aware of a figure on the ground next to the bleachers.

"Maggie!" the figure shouts again.

I look over the railing and see flowers-white petals with red and gold centers-and Jack's head looming above them. My heart starts beating so fast I wouldn't be surprised if it burst out of me and startedboing ing all over the football field.

"Hi," I call out. I quickly tromp down the steps toward him, scared he might disappear like a mirage.

I reach the mud-splattered concrete and stand in front of him. He seems real. My dream version of Jack probably wouldn't have his hair slicked back so neatly or a shaving nick on his jawline.

He notices me staring at the three-quart pot in his hands. "It's a magnolia," he says, bobbing his chin toward the blossoms.

"I know," I remark. "It's beautiful."

"It's for you. I figured you'd rather have something alive and with roots than something that will slowly die in a few days."

I smile. "You really aren't a Republican, are you?"

"Nope." He grins back at me. "And I'm not a Democrat either."

"So what are you then?"

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Jennifer Ziegler: How Not To Be Popular

"I'm me."

"I'm me too," I say."Finally."

Jack's face goes all serious. "Listen, uh...I've been doing some thinking and...I really want us to be friends."

"Oh." A little bit of the giddiness goes squelching out of me. "Friends, huh?"

"Yeah," he says, blowing out his breath. Maybe it's just that he's lugging around a tree, but he seems sort of weary. "I'm sorry. I'm just not ready for anything else," he goes on. "But I'd like for us to hang out. And maybe something can, you know, grow out of that. If not, at least we're friends."

I stare into one of the sapling's large blooms, thinking about what he's saying. He's right. Whatever happens, it should come naturally. Besides, there's plenty of time now that I'm staying here in Austin.

"Okay," I say, meeting his eye. "Friends."

He smiles and ducks his head, as if shy or relieved. Catching sight of his beeline part, I reach out and gingerly mess up his hair.

"I've always wanted to do that," I confess, lowering my hand once I've achieved the perfect disheveled look.

"Funny," he remarks. "I've always wanted to do this." Carefully holding the plant in his left arm, he reaches toward me and gently pushes all the stray hairs off my face, then finishes by smoothing each side with long, sweeping strokes. "There," he says.

We grin at each other for a moment, and I feel a little doddery in my boots. If this is friendship, it's a really special kind.

"Yoo-hoo! Doodle!" Rosie is waving down at me. "Are you ready to go? Oh! Hi, Jack!"

"Hi, Mrs. Dempsey."

"We're not staying for the game," I explain. "I invited the Helping Hands back to the apartment. We're going to dance on the roof and eat dead heads. Want to join us? It's what friends do."

"Um...that sort of depends. What are dead heads?"

"It's a snack this buddy of ours is bringing," I tell him. "Come on. I don't think I can carry that plant in these shoes, anyway."

"Sure," he says. "Hope I get to see more baby pictures."

By now Rosie and Les and the Helping Hands have descended the bleachers. Everyone grins at us knowingly.

"You coming with us, Sugar?" Les asks, shaking the keys to the Bumblebee.

"That's okay. I'll ride with Jack," I reply. "I know the way home."

Home. I love saying that. It makes me feel cozy and safe and part of something real.

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Jennifer Ziegler: How Not To Be Popular

Home sweet home.

TIP: Popular girls never go anywhere by themselves.

Thus, it must also stand to reason that the unpopular are always alone.

First days of schoolalways make me feel extra alive. My senses just seem magically improved. It's like I can fully live in the moment and simultaneously float along beside myself, carefully recording everything for later viewing. And this, I know, will become a treasured memory. The kind that replays in full color and digital surround sound, with credits rolling at the end. This will be the day I finally figure out my life. The day I overcome the burden of being a Traveling Dempsey. Today I begin Operation Avoid Friends (OAF?).

Knowing I have nothing to lose this time around makes me feel better about the whole situation. To tell the truth, I'm even a little excited about it.