My Heart's in Alabama

~ Special Feature: Deleted Scene ~

The Jar of Truth: Unanswered Questions

It's Bridgette's turn to pick a question. She holds that little piece of paper in her hands and scans the room as she holds back a devious smile. We hold our breath as we wait, all of us hope we're not next. After a long pause, Bridgette's eyes land on Matt.

"Your turn, Matty."

I exhale a sigh of relief. Dodged another bullet. I don't let myself get too cocky though. Matt's next to choose and my gut feeling tells me he's going to pick me. I only have one possible saving grace. I know somewhere in that jar is a little slip of paper that reads "Lucky You." If that slip gets drawn on your turn, you get spared from answering. At least for one round.

"You ready?"

"I guess," Matt says unenthusiastically. Not that it matters, Bridgette is having enough fun for the both of them.

"All right," she says with a big smile. This is going to be good. "Everyone in the room are contestants in a beauty pageant and you're the judge. Who do you give the highest ranking for each of the following categories: swimsuit, evening gown, and interview question."

A tiny bit of pink colors Matt's cheeks. He keeps his eyes down and nervously wipes his hands on his pants.

"Um," he says quietly.

I can't quite tell if he already has his answer and doesn't want to say it or if he's still thinking it over. What I do know, is this is a question that he really doesn't want to answer. I don't know why though. Whitney and Bridgette seem like the obvious answers for the first two and then probably Sal for the interview question. He can be quite diplomatic at times.

"Be honest," Whitney warns.

"Okay, uh," Matt says and clears his throat. "Kiersten."

His eyes flicker towards mine and hold my gaze. It takes a second to register, but when it does, it catches me completely off guard. I mean, me? I'm hardly the pageant type. Especially when I'm sitting next to two Miss Teen USA barbie dolls.

"For which category?" Whitney says.

"What do you mean?"

"You picked Kiersten, but you didn't pick a category."

"Oh, all three," Matt says like it's obvious.

"Aww, that's so sweet," Bridgette coos.

She looks at me with puppy eyes and a pouty lip and I start to get a little pink myself. I'm not used to this kind of attention. Whitney and Bridgette are the boy magnets, not me. They're the ones that get passed love notes and chased after school. If anyone would absolutely crush a beauty pageant, it'd be Whitney and Bridgette. So why'd Matt pick me?

"What?" Matt says. "Is that not how it's supposed to work?"

"Not really, no. You were supposed to pick a different person for each category."

"Oh," Matt says again, his voice dropping in embarrassment at the misunderstanding. "Um, okay, well, I'm not changing my answer."

"That's really cute, Matty," Bridgette smiles. "You're a good friend."

"Yeah, sure," he grumbles. "Can we move on now?"

"By all means," Whitney says. "You're the one in control."

Matt clears his throat again and quickly picks out the next question.

"Kiers, you want to go next?"

I knew it.

"Sure," I say. Not like I have a choice.

Matt opens up the question and immediately furrows his brow. My stomach sinks. That is not a good sign.

"Which teacher would you go on a date with in exchange for an A?" He says, sounding very confused.

If I thought my stomach sunk before, boy was I wrong. That was a minor dip in the water. This was like the freaking Titanic. Ship torn in half,12,600 feet below the water. I can't answer that. There's no way. Omg, I'm going to have to lie. But I can't. Whitney would never buy it. Omg. I keep my lips glued shut and I know for sure I probably look like a deer in headlights.

"Oh, come on," Whitney says with a roll of her eyes. "Just say it. We all know what you're thinking."

Everyone kind of nods because there's really only one answer. Everyone except Matt, who, poor guy, looks as confused as ever. He's probably wondering why we all seem to know something he doesn't.

"It's Mr. Purdy, isn't it?" Whitney asks.

I look at Matt with the guiltiest look on my face and shamefully nod my head. I can't believe I'm about to admit to this.

"Sorry, Matty," I say and bite my lip.

"Are you serious?" He says. "You'd for real go on a date with my dad?"

"Of course not for real," I say. "It's a game. It's entirely hypothetical."

I can tell by the look on his face, he's not about to let this go. Not that it's unreasonable or anything given what I just admitted to him.

"Even if it is, my dad Kiersten? Really? He's the gym teacher for crying out loud. You get an A just for showing up. What about Mr. Lebowski? He makes so much more sense."

"Ew, no way," I say. The mere suggestion makes me want to gag. Mr. Lebowski is nice enough, but he's about 100 years old and always has a little bubble of spit formed on the side of his mouth. "He smells like microwaved fish."

"So? He teaches math. Isn't one bad date worth getting out of quadratic equations for a whole year?"

"Not to me it isn't! I'm good at math," I say. "And he doesn't make me run. You know how much I hate running."

"It's not that bad," Matt argues. "You haven't given it a fair shot."

"Omg Matt," Whitney says and sighs. "Your dad's hot and running sucks, get over it. Next question, please."

I thank God for Whitney and plunge my hand into the jar. I decide to go with Sal in hopes that he'll give an answer that won't be nearly as controversial. I stir my hand a bit and when it feels right, I pluck one out. I open it up and I'm hit with both relief and disappointment. Written in pink gel pen are the words "Lucky You."