“Who did Sierra come with?” I ask.
“Bodhi,” Dean answers. “But he’s wrecked from drinking in the limo.”
“Where did Joel go?” The question slips out, but I don’t care.
“I think he left with Sierra,” Vincent says.
Left with her? I turn away from them and pretend to be looking for my drink so they won’t see the disappointment on my face. Why did they leave together? Are they . . . ? I shake the thought away. I have no claim to him. But that fact doesn’t stop my stomach from hurting.
“We need a group picture with the crown and tiara now,” Kenz says.
We pose for more pictures, and though plenty of time passes, Joel does not return, and neither does the feeling of happiness I had while he was here.
I have no right to be upset. I sort of adopted him as mine tonight, but he’s not mine. I give myself a pep talk. We’re not together. He doesn’t answer to me. I’m here for my friends. I don’t need a guy.
Speaking of guys, Taro Hattori strides over at that very moment, looking fine with his black hair shining under the lights, hiding part of his face. He’s with a guy and girl I’ve seen at the skate park. I notice he has a new eyebrow ring that is beyond sexy.
“You came,” he says. Guilt makes my skin flush. Before I can give him an excuse, he says, “I guess Mrs. Hartt made you.” He raises his chin to the tiara.
“Yeah . . .” I clear my throat. “Who’s your date?”
“Just here with my friends.”
“Me, too.” I smile at both his friends and they smile back.
“Want to dance?” Taro asks.
“Sure!” We all head to the floor, lifting our long gowns, and squeeze our way onto the dance floor.
Taro doesn’t have the moves of Elliott, who has apparently abandoned his date somewhere on the dance floor as he dances his way around the entire place, making everyone laugh. But then again, nobody’s as good as Elliott. Taro and I laugh, and there’s a comfort between us that I appreciate right now.
“Hey, Taro?” We’re dancing close.
“Yes?” He tilts his head.
“Are you a poet?”
He looks at me funny. “No. Just a skater. And an artist, sort of. Why?”
Disappointment flares and wanes. “No reason.”
He puts his hands on my waist as the song changes to something slower.
Monica leans her head toward me from where she and Dean are dancing and whispers, “Aren’t you glad you came?”
Love rushes through me as I have my sights on her, Lin, and Kenzie. I could have missed this.
I answer honestly. “Yes.”
Chapter Thirty
An unexpected, unwelcome surprise is waiting outside my apartment complex when I get home. Wylie. He’s sitting on the hood of his parents’ BMW, and he jumps down, his face coming to life when he sees me pull up in the minivan. I now regret not taking Taro up on his offer to hang out after prom, but I was tired, mentally and emotionally.
“Zae!” Wy runs over. “Damn, girl, look at you.” He puts both hands on his head and stares unabashedly. I’m not wearing the tiara anymore, but being looked at like that makes me feel like a princess, especially from the only boy who’s ever seen me naked. The boy who broke my heart so thoroughly I still feel the residual hurt.
All I can think to say is, “How do you know where I live now?”
“I asked around and found out the apartment complex name. Then I drove around until I found your mom’s car with the cupcake sticker on the back. Remember when you put that there?”
I cross my arms, refusing to reminisce. He moves closer, opening his hands and pulling them back to his sides. He wants to touch me. I can tell he still thinks he has the right, and he has to put himself in check.
“Why are you here?”
Wylie could never hide his emotions. His face is more expressive than anyone I’ve ever known, which I always loved. What I’m seeing is sadness and regret. Genuine pain.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “What I did, it was the worst mistake of my life. I’m going to be fifty and still saying it was the worst mistake of my life.” My heart squeezes. “I’ll never forgive myself for losing you. I think about you every day, Zae. Every day.”
When was the last time I really thought of Wylie? It’s been a while.
“I’ve been punished,” he says. “You have no idea. That girl, Vonia?” It takes me a second to remember that’s the name of the freshman girl. “She told me she was pregnant. For a month I was completely freaking out. I told my parents and they . . . God, it killed them! And then one of Vonia’s girls told me she was lying.” I watch in surprise as Wylie actually chokes up. “She was trying to get me to be with her and then she was gonna act like she had a miscarriage or something. See, you would never do something like that to someone.”
“Most girls wouldn’t,” I say, and all I can feel is pity. Pity for Wylie. Pity for Vonia, who thinks so little of herself she has to take desperate measures to try to get the guy she wants. I rub my face.
“Wylie, I’m sorry that happened—”
“I miss you!” He grabs my hand with both of his. He’s standing close, and he smells so familiar, like happy memories. “Give me a second chance. Please.”
“Wy—”
“Please! I can’t live without you anymore. I don’t want to. I’m no good without you. I’ll die—”
“Don’t say that.” Anger flares inside me, and I push his hands away. “Don’t try to manipulate me. It’s not fair, and it’s bullshit. You were screwed up when we were together. I can’t make you good, Wylie. Only you can do that.”
“I need you,” he whispers, like he’s begging for a life raft. But Wylie’s going to have to learn to swim on his own.
I look at his lost eyes, and realize that was me for months. Lost. And I don’t want that to be me anymore. A solid sense of clarity breaks me out of a too-long stupor, shoving me into reality and the life choice that I’m facing.
Suddenly I declare in a rush, “I’m spending my senior year overseas.”
Shock hits his eyes like a blast of wind, and I feel as if my own breath has been sucked from my lungs. In that moment, I feel kind of faint. I’ve been indecisive, but as the words come out, as terrifying as they are, they are . . . perfect.
“What?” he whispers.
My voice quavers. “I’ll be busy this summer taking classes to get all the credits I need. Then I’m going to Argentina and France for language studies.”
I’m going to Argentina and France.
I see the moment he loses hope, and it’s like it transfers to me instead, blooming with fragrant life. But not just hope. It’s a lightness I’ve never felt. Like all my worries are suddenly gone and in their place is new possibility, new chances that brighten the shadows inside me and fill me with blinding purpose.
I’m going to travel! I’m going to see the world and experience languages with native speakers! I cover my mouth as an ecstatic, disbelieving smile comes to me.
“That’s . . . amazing,” Wylie says, shaking his head. “It is. Wow. I mean, I guess I’m not surprised. You’re amazing.”
I swallow hard and whisper, “Thank you.”
And then we’re quiet as he shoves his hands in his pockets and we look at the ground. What’s left to say? He is my past, and we’re headed in different directions. But I’ll still always care about him.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “For what it’s worth.” He grasps the back of his neck.
“Me, too,” I whisper.
When he moves forward to hug me, I let him, breathing in his familiar scent. We hold each other for a minute and then I give him a goodbye smile.
“Good luck, Wy. I really think you can do whatever you put your mind to. You are your parents’ son.”
I turn, clutching my tiny purse in both hands and feeling more steady on my heels than I have all night. I can’t stop smiling as I ascend the stairs and let myself in. Zeb is asle
ep on the couch—it’s past midnight—and he barely stirs. I stare at his peaceful form. I know my brother is going to grow up a lot while I’m gone. I won’t be here to stick up for him or just hang out with him. That thought is like a rock in my gut, but at the same time, I know he’ll be okay. I’ll make him keep in touch with me. I won’t forget my baby brother.
I kick off my heels against the wall and pad quietly to Mom’s room. Her door is open a crack, but I can see the light of her phone where she’s playing a game on it. She sits up and flicks on the lamp when I open the door.
“How was it?” She pats the bed and I sit beside her.
“It was good. You should be aware that your daughter is officially a princess.”
Mom squeezes me in a hug and laughs. “I already knew that. Congratulations on making it official, though.”
“Hey, Mom?”
“Yeah?” She pushes a stray curl from my forehead.
“I want to do the international program.”
Her hand falls heavily to her lap, and she gets a faraway look in her eye.
“Of course you do,” she whispers and takes my hand. “And it’s only the start for you, baby.”
Chapter Thirty-One
I’m here. Kenzie’s text comes to me at eight thirty the next morning, and I quietly go to the door to let her in. Mom left for work before dawn, but Zeb is still asleep on the couch, so we tiptoe back to my room. She’s wearing shorts and a Peakton sweatshirt. Her updo from last night is now in a messy bun on top of her head after a night at a hotel with Vin. She tosses her overnight bag to the ground and climbs onto my bed. I sit on the edge.
“Well?” I pester. My heart is pounding.
She picks at my blanket, curling into herself bashfully.
“You did it!” I hiss.
She bites her lip and nods, still staring at the blanket.
“Are you okay?” I ask. “Did you use protection? Did it . . . hurt?”
“Yes, yes, and not really.”
I’m overly fascinated and can’t stop staring at her, half expecting her to look different, but she doesn’t.
“Did it, like, feel good?”
“Not the first time. It was weird. But it got better.”
I can’t stop staring. “How many times did you do it?”
“Three?” She giggles, and I cover my mouth so I don’t let out a loud, immature cackle.
I can tell she doesn’t want to go into detail; Kenzie isn’t a big sharer, so I don’t ask anything else and she seems relieved.
Once we hear Zeb moving around, I get up and make us all egg sandwiches. I steal glances at Kenzie until it’s time to take her home.
“What?” she asks when she catches me staring at her in the car while we’re at a light.
I need to stop, but it’s so weird. Kenzie’s got this new knowledge, this new experience, that the rest of us don’t.
“Do you feel different?” I ask.
“I thought I would, but I feel the same. I love him.”
“I know,” I say. “You guys are lucky.”
This makes her smile and ponder. “Do you know he wants to apply to James Madison, too? He could maybe get a baseball scholarship and we could be together. Wouldn’t that be cool?”
“Yeah.” I like the thought of her not being alone when she goes off to college. But that’s over a year away. I hope they stay together. I hope she stays this happy.
I decide not to tell her just yet about my decision for next year.
The first place I go Monday morning is Mrs. Hernandez’s room. She’s just putting down her purse and sipping coffee from her ¡Buenos Días! travel mug. Her eyes practically sparkle when she sees me.
“¡Buenos días!”
“Buenos días, señora. Can I talk to you?”
“Sure, if you don’t mind me arranging some papers.”
I nod as she gets to work. “I’ve decided to do the program abroad.”
Mrs. Hernandez drops the papers to throw up her hands. “¡Bueno! You decided to take the offer!”
The offer? Wait, does she know about the anonymous benefactor?
Her face pales. “I spoke with Mrs. Crowley,” she explains in a rush. “She gave me an update. I hope you don’t mind.” She won’t quite meet my eyes, and it’s so bizarre that my heart beats hard against my ribs.
Oh, my goodness.
Is Mrs. Hernandez my benefactor? I consider what I know about her. She has no children. Her husband died several years ago of cancer. It’s totally possible. But it’s so much. It’s huge. For her to be my silent angel . . . she has no idea how much it means to me.
“Yeah,” I say, my voice thick with emotion. “When I first heard about the program, I felt kind of mad, you know? Like it was unfair that I couldn’t do it. But it turns out someone else was willing to dream big for me. With me.”
Her eyes water.
The rest of my words come out as a whisper. “I’m really thankful.”
She takes my hand and uses her other to wipe under her eyes. “I’m thankful there are bright, open-minded students like you out there, making the world a better place.”
I hug her and don’t let go until first bell rings, signaling the five-minute warning.
I see you switched from Capri Sun to Hi-C today.
How can you mess with my emotions that way?
That’s all it says, typed up neatly, and I stand there, giggling like a fool at my locker after school. My girls come sprinting when they see me holding the paper. Kenzie snatches it, and the three of them fight over reading it.
“He was watching you at lunch!” Lin says. “He’s the sweetest stalker ever!”
“Who is this?” Monica demands. “Every time I walk by your locker I look to see if anyone is there. Agh!”
Kenzie can’t stop smiling.
“Hey, can you guys give me five minutes?” I ask. “I need to talk to Mrs. Hartt real quick. I’ll meet you at the van.” I hand Monica my keys and jog toward the foreign-language wing.
Mrs. Hartt is wiping her whiteboard clean when I get there. Her smile is weary when she sees me.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she says. “I made a decision today.” She brushes off her hands and comes over. “Several other girls from JV who are trying out for varsity came to me saying they couldn’t get the tumbling in time either. I’m changing it back to just a standing back handspring.”
Oh, crap. I can still cheer. I can . . . no. No. I’ve made my decision. I stand taller, trying to give myself strength to resist this temptation.
“I’d rather have a big squad,” Mrs. Hartt explains. “I can’t turn you and the others away. And even if every single one of you did have a roundoff back handspring . . .” She waves the thought away. “Never mind.”
“I know,” I say. “It wouldn’t matter. We’re still Peakton.”
She crosses her arms and gives me a sad smile. “Screw ’em, right?”
“Right,” I agree. “Because Peakton’s the real deal.”
“That’s right,” she says. “I wouldn’t trade you guys for anything.”
A lump lodges in my throat, considering what I’m about to say. I suck it up and tell her, and her mouth drops open. She envelops me in a hug.
“That’s incredible, Zae! I’m so proud of you! What do the girls think? Are they being supportive?”
I chew my lip. “I haven’t told them yet.”
“Ahh.” She presses her lips together. “Be strong, ’kay? I can’t imagine the squad without you—I can’t imagine your group of girls without you—but some things are too important to pass up.” She holds my shoulders at arm’s length to make sure I listen.
“Thank you,” I say. “I’ll miss you.”
I have to leave before I can think too much about cheer going on without me. I can’t have everything. I know if I decide to stay here and experience my senior year with my friends, I can still be on the squad, but I’ll always wonder what would have happened if I had gone. Maybe I’d be hap
py here, and other opportunities would come up, or maybe I’d always regret it.
I jog down to the parking lot, holding the straps of my book bag so it doesn’t bounce too much. The parking lot is quiet now that most of the cars have gone.
The girls are leaning against the van, watching me as I come to a stop.
“You’ve been in la-la land today,” Monica says.
“What did you need to talk to Mrs. Hartt about?” Lin asks.
Kenzie hunches a little.
They know I’ve come to a decision. For a moment I balk, ready to lie so I can avoid this, but I have to tell them eventually. They deserve my honesty. But I’m worried. I’m scared they’ll try to make me change my mind. I’m even more terrified they’ll succeed, and I’ll chicken out of going. I still haven’t confirmed with Mrs. Crowley.
I take a deep breath and say quietly, “I’m going.”
The three of them stare at me. I feel everything inside. I’m excited for this chance but already mourning the times I won’t have with these girls. I’m filled with hope and loss all at once, and it’s making me fragile. I don’t know if I can handle their sadness. I can’t handle any guilt or negativity. I’m too weak and damaged.
What I’m not expecting is all three of them to come at me and tackle me in a group hug, holding me so tight I can barely breathe, their love and acceptance acting as glue to every brittle crack I’ve come to carry. They mend my heart and strengthen my soul. And as they hug me I realize this is not the end for us. High school is not the end. It is just the beginning. Come what may, near or far, we are a team. This is my squad.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Things feel different since I’ve made my decision and solidified it with Mrs. Crowley. All the drama that used to feel like such a big deal suddenly carries no weight. People gossiping about me? Doesn’t matter. Bad hair day? Who cares! My entire outlook on life has changed. With my new attitude, plus the end-of-year buzz, I feel on top of the world.
The girls are frantic about tryouts. Not that they’re in danger of not making it, but learning and perfecting the new cheers and dance in four days is always stressful. We meet in Kenzie’s basement after tryout practice every night. I control the music as they work on the dance, and I critique them. Except for Wednesdays when I have to work.
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