King Harvey Gets His Queen
Her lips were like flawlessly shaped pieces of cotton candy and looked just as soft. When they parted, the silky strand of saliva that joined them for a moment made me quiver. And I knew that whatever she said, whatever floated out of her throat, across her tongue, and finally, between those perfect lips, would be heartbreakingly poetic.
“Hey, Harvey, vote for me for Homecoming Queen, wontcha?”
A plastic button was thrust into my hand and those lips, and the rest of Henrietta Robinson, turned and walked down the hall.
“Of course!” I called after her, but she was already handing out buttons to members of the marching band.
“You’re not seriously gonna do that, are you?”
My best friend George slammed his locker shut and we began heading to Chemistry, the opposite way Henrietta had gone.
“Do what?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder. She was now giggling with a group of girls all wearing similar blue outfits.
“Vote for that Homecoming crap. Who gives a shit?”
A girl with a swinging blond ponytail gave George a dirty look.
“I don’t really but…”
“Yeah, I get it, you just like Henrietta,” George said with a smirk.
Henrietta was one of the most popular girls in the junior class if not the entire school. Tall, pretty, head cheerleader, dating a football player, it was like a clich
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Portland Fiction Project
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