Mira hissed in the back of her throat. “Oh. My. God.”
Every head in study hall turned to watch.
Laurel swung her hips in time to the music and flung off her trench coat. Somebody hooted and a few cat calls joined in. Q sat with his arms crossed over his chest, a grin on his face as he watched.
“Why doesn’t he walk away?” Mira snapped. “He must be mortified.”
He didn’t look mortified, but I was. How could I have even let myself think I had a chance with him? “He looks like he’s enjoying it to me,” I said. And he did.
Piece by piece Laurel’s garments went flying as she twisted and gyrated to the music. The guys in the room started clapping and chanting ‘take it off’. She finally peeled down to a black string bikini. She raised her hands over her head and slowly turned so everyone in the room could see her well-endowed body. ‘Kellen’ was written across her stomach in black ink and ‘Tolo?’ was written low across her back.
The clapping was a thunderous steady chant of yes, yes, yes as everyone waited for Q’s answer.
“Ivy, did he just look at you?” Mira whispered in a shocked voice. She poked my arm. “He did. I saw him. Q just looked at you.”
I ignored her. I had to see what his response would be.
Then Q nodded yes.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Kellen
Coach continued to work with me on my exercise routines.
“Gotta keep you in shape, Kellen. Those college coaches want you to hit the ground running.” I didn’t mind. These were no-contact work-outs, with a lot of passing, running drills, hand and foot precision work, which was all good to rebuild and fine-tune the coordination on my right side. Plus, it gave me something to think about besides Ivy.
After I’d come up with my crazy idea I’d started the wheels in motion but I hadn’t heard anything back yet. The more time that passed, the more I thought about Dr. Anton and her brains, the more sure I became that maybe my idea wasn’t that crazy after all.
I WENT TO sixth period study hall almost every day just so I could see Ivy. But it was a hopeless cause. She made no attempt to talk to me and barely looked at me most of the time. I’d heard she’d been accepted at Harvard. She already felt so far away and out of reach. I tried to convince myself that I didn’t care about her. I was sure I’d stop thinking about her soon. I had to—because I was driving myself crazy.
TOLO WAS THE third weekend of March. It was a girl-ask-boy formal event. Laurel and I had gone last year but I figured this year I just wouldn’t go. I’d purposely kept things cool between us, but when she’d stripped and asked me to the dance, I’d thought ‘what the hell?’
Chapter Fifty-Five
Ivy
For a moment after Q nodded his head, I thought I was going to throw up.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Mira hissed.
Laurel launched herself into his arms. I sat frozen, staring at them.
“He’ll regret that,” Mira snarled. “Mark my words.”
I jerked back around and stared blindly at my science notes. I wanted to leave but I didn’t want to reveal how upset I was—not to Mira or Q. Tears boiled up behind my eyes and I knew I couldn’t sit there any longer without completely humiliating myself. I slammed my science notebook shut and shoved it into my backpack.
“I’ve gotta go.” I didn’t look at Mira, or Q, or anyone as I bolted from the room. I just stared at the floor, intent on escaping.
“Ivy!” Mira called after me. I slammed my way out through the metal exterior door. The bar to open the door sounded like an explosion when I hit it. As soon as I was outside I ran for it. Tears streamed down my face. I couldn’t allow anyone, not even Mira, to see me like this. I ran the other direction from where we parked Jefferson and cut through the side parking lot. My eyes flooded with tears, making it hard to see. My nose was running and my breath was coming out in hiccupping gasps. I swiped at my face and my hand came away smeared with black mascara.
I dodged between a red Mustang and a black Nissan. As I passed, a face looked up at me from the driver’s side of the Nissan. Ollie Walker’s eyes got as wide as two pancakes as I ran by. That just made me cry harder. Behind me, I heard his door open.
“Hey, you okay?”
I raced across the lot without answering and pushed my way through a hedge of old trees and bushes. The other side was a tangle of residential streets. I zigged and zagged up one street and down another until I didn’t even know where I was. I found a vacant lot and sat down behind on old tree on the far corner. Then I really cried.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Kellen
Ollie told me he’d seen Ivy crying. Mira called me and reamed me a new asshole. If Ivy came to school before spring break started, I didn’t see her. She was leaving tomorrow morning with her orchestra group for Paris.
I told Laurel I couldn’t go to Tolo and that I didn’t want to date her. Not pleasant, but necessary.
I laid in bed and stared into the dark, again, thinking about Ivy. Tomorrow spring break started. Would I ever be able to fix this?
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Ivy
It was raining in Paris, which seemed so totally appropriate. It was our third day and our orchestra group was required to be up early to take the tour bus to see the sights. Brandon sat in the back with Jenny McNamara. They seemed happy to be back together. I couldn’t believe how much I missed Mira. I wouldn’t allow myself to think about Q.
Raindrops pounded the windows, streaking down the pane like tears, distorting the view. The sky was low and grey, pressing down. At the front of the bus, the windshield wipers slapped back and forth, trying to keep up with the torrent that drenched the city.
The traffic was thick as we drove around the Arc de Triomphe, our tour bus giving us an elevated view. Around us, red taillights seemed to stretch forever. Our guide kept a running dialog in her beautifully accented English, describing the sites we were passing. I listened with half an ear, staring out at the view with a sense of disbelief that I was really, finally here. Paris. Another dream come true.
Yet, there was an emptiness eating a hole in my stomach. We crossed a bridge and the guide announced that the Eiffel Tower was on the left. I turned to look and there it was. Just like in all the pictures. Iconic and magnificent, stretching into the grey mist above.
The kids on the bus started whooping in excitement and I pressed my nose against the cold window. Mira would love it if she were here – rain or no rain. I smiled. Knowing Mira, she would probably like it better with the rain—so quintessentially Paris.
Quintessentially. Q. Don’t think of Q words, I admonished myself. Don’t think of Q. But I couldn’t seem to think of anything else.
We drove right underneath the Eiffel Tower before we stopped to unload. There was a lot of excited chatter as the kids crowded into the aisle to exit. I waited patiently in my seat for the glut of kids to pass.
“Ivy.” Brandon nudged me as he was going by. “Get up—we’re here!” He was holding Jenny’s hand and smiled over his shoulder at her as he made space for me. “We’re in Paris!”
My heart pinged as I forced a smile and stood up. “Thanks.”
The rain continued to pour down but street vendors miraculously appeared selling umbrellas for five dollars American.
As our teacher tried to get us to queue up, I stared in awe at the beautifully intricate grid work of the Eiffel Tower. It soared above our heads like an elegant sentinel from the past. So much more magnificent in real life than the display they’d had at Homecoming.
Mr. Flynn was leading the group toward a rickety old elevator, circa sometime in the last century, to take us up to the restaurant. I was at the back of the line, trying to delay risking my life in that tiny box. I surveyed the crowd of kids to see if anyone else seemed worried about being trapped amid the antiquity when a pair of shoulders caught my eye. That looked like—
My heart skipped a beat before I caught mys
elf. Of course it wasn’t. Those shoulders couldn’t possibly belong to Q. I was in Paris.
France.
Far, far from home.
For just a moment I gave in and allowed myself to stare longingly at the young man’s back, letting myself imagine that Q was here with me. He turned.
Wait a minute.
My heart stopped.
He was smiling with a crazy-cute dimple on one side.
“Bonjour Ivy.” Q walked toward me as if he hung out under the Eiffel Tower every day. There was no limp, no weird lip thing, no curled right hand. He walked with the confidence and swagger of a star quarterback. He was as beautiful as any boy could ever be. He stopped before me and reached for my hands. “I couldn’t let you come to Paris without me. Don’t you know it’s the City of Love?”
I couldn’t think of a single coherent thing to say. Not even to correct him to say it was known as the City of Light. I liked love much better.
“Q! W..What are you doing here?” I finally stuttered.
“Didn’t I ever tell you?” That damn dimple winked at me and his eyes had a suspicious glint like he was laughing inside. “My sister studies music at the University of Paris. Our family has been planning this trip since last fall.”
He reached up to swing around a messenger bag he carried on his shoulder, looking very European. “I’ve got something for you.” He lifted the flap and dug into the interior. “Well, actually, Mira sent it.” I gasped as he pulled out the iridescent purple wrap from my Homecoming gown. The one part of my outfit that hadn’t been puked on. The fabric sparkled like a million diamonds had been stitched on its surface.
“She said you’d need this.” He straightened the shawl and the beautiful fabric sparkled in the—sunshine? I glanced up and sure enough, there was a shaft of light pouring through a parting in the clouds, like light shining down from heaven. Q swung the gauzy wrap around my shoulders, his fingers lingering. “Mira was mumbling something about Cinderella when she gave it to me—” he had a confused twist to his brow— “but to tell you the truth, I couldn’t really follow what she was talking about.”
“Mira sent that?” I asked, hope and fear twisting a web in my throat, almost choking me.
He grinned. “Mira’s known exactly how I’ve felt about you since Christmas break. I asked her not to tell you—I wanted to do that. I’ve been trying to find the right time, but…” Q reached a finger out and threaded a strand of hair out my face, his fingers gentle and warm against my skin. “It never seemed to work out. I want you to know that I didn’t go to Tolo with Laurel. We never got back together and I’ve made it clear to her that I’m in love with someone else.”
I covered my mouth with shaking fingers.
His blue eyes looked deep into mine. “I love you, Ivy. More than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life.”
“You do?” I sounded pathetic. And I didn’t even care.
His voice softened. “I don’t want to lose you. Not now, not next fall, not ever.”
“But you’re going to Stanford, and—” a bit of my happiness shriveled. I practically whispered the words— “I’ve been accepted at Harvard.”
“I know. Mira told me in February.” His lips had a mischievous twist to them. “I was too.”
I took a step back. “Wait. What?”
“I’ve been accepted at Harvard, too. Their School of Engineering and Applied Sciences is doing heavy research on traumatic brain injury. They’ve accepted me both as an incoming freshman and as a subject in the study.” He grinned at me with a perfect smile. “Stanford was Plan B. In case my real plan didn’t work out.”
“No more football?” I was afraid to hope.
He shook his head. “Homecoming was my last game.”
“Oh Q!” I stood on tiptoe and threw my arms around his broad shoulders, squeezing as tight as I could. Dreams do come true.
He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close, whispering in my ear, “I love you so much, Ivy.”
“I love you too, Q. More than anything.” His lips parted and he kissed me. Soft and gentle, like summer fruit and cherry coke. He slid his fingers into my hair and framed my face with his big hands. I wrapped my arms around his neck, caressing the strength of his shoulders, his muscles bunching beneath my fingers. I pressed myself close to him as our kiss deepened. I loved kissing him.
“Ah, so sweet,” said a voice clearly directed at us. The English was laced with a thick French accent. We both turned to look. It was a young man dressed in black trousers and a black vest covering his white shirt. His sleeves were held up by black armbands like a photographer from a different era. He had a thin moustache above his lip and a black beret covered his dark hair. “A photograph for the lovebirds?” He lifted an old-fashioned looking camera. “So you’ll never forget thees happy time in Paris, the City of Love.”
Click.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Ivy
“Ivy—” Mira rolled her eyes— “it was so obvious. Everybody knew Q was crazy about you for months.”
“You’re okay with that?” We’d arrived home at two in the morning the previous night, but I was already up and over at Mira’s. I couldn’t wait to tell her—to make sure everything was okay.
“Of course,” Mira scoffed. “He told me he loved you way back during Christmas break. That guy’s got it so bad for you—I’m surprised he didn’t propose in Paris.”
ONE MONTH LATER we were in Mira’s room again. She held her fingers out and blew on nails she’d just painted sparkling black. “It’s called Midnight Elegance.” She wiggled her fingers for me to see. “It goes with my dress. Very sophisticated.”
We were going to Prom. With dates. “You’re going to be a knock-out tonight,” I said. And she was. Her hair was blond with just a small streak of black threaded through one section and swept to the side and pinned back behind her head with a sparkling clip. She was wearing a long, sleek black gown embellished with little sequins that sparkled like a thousand suns in the light. She was beautiful. “CJ’s not going to know what hit him.”
Mira grinned. “I know.” She screwed the lid back on the nail polish, her fingers splayed to dry. “I have other news, too.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“Ollie and Jasmine are getting married! They’re going to live in Seattle and raise the baby there while Ollie plays football for the U.”
“That’s wonderful. It doesn’t sound easy, but Ollie and Jazzy love each other. They can make it work.”
“Well, if they need a babysitter, at least I’ll be able to help them out.” Mira had a smug look on her face.
I was busy straightening the skirt of the black gown I was wearing. “How’s that?” I asked.
“I’ve been accepted at U-Dub, too.” She grinned at me. “I’m going to college.”
“Mira!” I grabbed for her hands. “That’s awesome.”
“Watch the nails, watch the nails,” she cried, holding her hands out of my reach, but her lips twitched in a grin.
“What will you study?”
She shrugged. “My dad has mentioned something about an internship after I get my degree but I think I’m meant for the stage.” She struck a pose and grinned at me.
“Of course you are. And how handy that CJ is going to be going to school there, too.”
She waggled her eyebrows at me. “I know. Just like you and Q at Harvard.” Mira blew on her nails. “Have you given up on your dream to live in Paris?”
My answer came from my heart. “I’ve been to Paris with the boy I love. I don’t need to live there anymore. Besides, who knows? Maybe the four of us will be exchange students some day.” I nudged her knee and grinned at her. “Remember, life is all about choices—anything is possible.”
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Kellen
Ivy and I danced with the rest of the seniors beneath the sparkling chandelier in the grand ballroom where prom was being held. Reflections of snowflakes twirled around on the ceiling
as if they were falling from the sky. The whole effect was magical.
The music changed to a slow song and I held my arms out to Ivy. She slid into my embrace like I was made to hold her. I rested my cheek against her silky hair as we rocked slowly to the music.
Nine months ago I thought my life had ended. Now, I felt like I had endless possibilities. I put my finger under Ivy’s chin and tilted her face up to mine so I could kiss her. I guess Homecoming wasn’t my last dance after all.
Author’s Note
Though THE LAST DANCE is a work of fiction, the type of traumatic brain injury that Kellen suffers is very real. Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy, or CTE, is a disease resulting from trauma to the brain. Researchers have found a disturbing association between CTE and football injuries.
The recent suicides of professional football players, Junior Seau, Ray Easterling and Dave Duerson have forced a rising tide of concern regarding traumatic brain injuries and their link to football. No other contact sport gives rise to as many serious injuries. Studies are showing that players who are receiving sub-concussive blows are just as much at risk as those who have been diagnosed with concussion.
The program that Q was accepted into, Harvard’s School of Engineering and Applied Sciences (SEAS) really exists and is “using cutting-edge tissue engineering techniques—essentially creating a living brain on a chip—biologists, physicists, engineers, and materials scientists have been collaborating on the study of brain injury and potential targets for treatment.”
“Where words fail, music speaks,” wrote Danish author Hans Christian Andersen. But researchers are learning that music may also encourage speech in patients suffering the debilitating effects of strokes and other neurological conditions.
“We are just beginning to understand the immense potential of music to enhance lives, improve health and increase our understanding of the human brain,” says Music Education Professor Steven M. Demorest, conference organizer. “While ICMPC has been meeting since 1989, there has been an explosion of research in this area in the last decade or so. Even with this increasing activity, the study of music perception and cognition is a relatively new field compared to research in areas such as language or visual perception. There are new findings all the time regarding how music shapes the developing brain and how musical thought and behavior relate to cognition in other domains.”
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