“Oh, Alyx, that’s terrific. I’m off this weekend so we can shop for a dress!” Happily, Mom plops a spoonful of creamed corn on Grandpa’s plate.
Grizzly doesn’t say a word, just flashes Mom a look. I ignore him. It’s not like he’s my father, and besides, I hate to break it to him, but people probably think he’s just as scary as Mr. Pitmani. Like me, Peter can’t help his family.
The next day, Mom and I find the perfect dress made entirely of rich deep-blue velvet with a V-cut back. The matching silk sash actually makes me look like I have hips. I want to wear it home, but Mom talks me out of it. Shoes aren’t as easy to find and we have to search almost every store in Milwaukee before we come up with some low-heeled silver pumps. They look classy but, more importantly, I won’t tower over Peter anymore than I already do.
When we get home, I model them for Grizzly and Grandpa, who both act like I’m drop-dead gorgeous, which I appreciate. I do the whole bit, makeup and everything, then while Grandpa keeps telling Mom, “Alyx is the spittin’ image of my Clara, spittin’ image,” Grizzly shows me a few dance steps.
He pushes back the furniture as Mom and Grandpa watch from the side. I’m surprised. Grizzly can move. Mom watches for a while then suggests he change his name to John Travolta.
“You mean Revolta.” Grizzly makes a gag motion with his finger.
Despite his joking, Grizzly’s a good dance teacher. He shows me how to waltz, to two-step, and to swing. I, on the other hand, suck. Mom says, “Just have fun.”
Then Grandpa insists on showing me how to polka. He says, “Mark my words, Alyx. I may be an old goat, but Milwaukee’s Milwaukee and in Milwaukee, people polka.”
He takes my hands and we’re off, with me hopping from foot to foot, terrified he’s going to keel over, but soon he has to sit and makes Mom take over.
CHAPTER 30
Secrets
At exactly seven o’clock, on the night of the dance, Peter arrives in a huge stretch limo. He climbs out with Joel and Roslyn. Mom and I step outside to greet them. Roslyn runs up the steps and, giving me a hug, throws open her wool shawl. Her dress has a beautiful burgundy lace bodice with a sweeping chenille skirt—gorgeous, like her.
She tugs at Mom’s wool coat, which I am borrowing. No way am I wearing a ski jacket over a formal dress.
“Let me see what you’re wearing, silly.”
Obediently, I undo the buttons, hand the coat to Mom, then twirl around, showing off my dress.
Joel whistles.
Goosebumps jump all over my arms, but I don’t care. I’ve been getting ready for exactly five hours and for once, I actually feel pretty!
“Alyx, you look great.” Roslyn throws back her head and laughs. She smells of overly sweet perfume and cheap wine. She squeezes my arm. It’s freezing out, and I’m shivering as I pull my coat back on.
Peter steps up and shyly hands me a single, white long-stemmed rose. The biggest rose I’ve ever seen.
Mom exclaims how beautiful it is and how handsome he and Joel look in their black suits. She shelters the rose from the wind with one hand.
Peter whispers, “I had them take off the thorns so you can bring it along.”
I croak out a thank-you.
Mom asks to take some pictures outside. I’ve forbidden her to invite anyone inside. “It’s just a dance,” I’d told her. I wasn’t ready for Polish Palace tours or Grizzly being snarky to Peter.
Between flashes, I see Grizzly and Grandpa peeking down from behind the blinds in the upstairs window. Mom’s got one of those pathetic disposable cameras, so Peter whips a brand new phone out of his pocket and shows Mom how to take our picture with it.
“It takes videos, too!” Peter says when she acts all impressed. I smile with my mouth shut so my braces don’t show.
Behind Mom, Grizzly waves from the window, but I’m too distracted to wave back.
After the pictures, Peter helps me with my coat. He looks so elegant and I suddenly feel gawky and clumsy. Mom’s eyes open wide when he says we have reservations at Georgiano’s. It’s one of the most expensive restaurants in Milwaukee. I reach in and finger the hundred-dollar bill she’s tucked in my coat pocket. How expensive can pizza or pasta be?
Mom waves.
I wave, then bunch up the skirt of my dress and climb into the limo.
“Can you believe this car? Peter’s dad got it for us!” Roslyn giggles. Her eyes are glassy.
“Dad’s buddy owns a funeral home,” Peter jokes. “Don’t worry, I checked the back for bodies.”
Joel and Roslyn burst into gales of laughter.
Breathe, I have to remind myself, because my body is stone-cold like a cadaver.
“I hope it’s okay, Alyx,” Peter says suddenly. “Pepper and Clay are setting up for a party at our house later. We’ll come back here after the dance, then I’ll walk you home.”
I must look terrified because Roslyn jumps in. Her cheeks are flushed. She’s been sipping from a flask Joel brought along. “Don’t worrrrry, Pepper’s been great since Alyx ashhhked you to the dance.”
She’s slurring? Has she lost her mind?
Joel offers me a sip, but I shake my head. Peter takes a huge swig and coughs. “What is this stuff, grain alcohol?”
“Close.” Joel laughs.
“Whew!” Peter laughs, too.
“Rules are made to be broken. Right, Alyx?” Joel nudges my foot.
All I can think about is Coach and getting caught, or worse yet, getting kicked off the team.
“Wicked,” Roslyn giggles, leaning her head against Joel’s shoulder and closing her eyes.
Compared to Joel and Roslyn, who act like they’re velcroed at the hip, Peter barely lets his leg lean against mine. He checks his phone, slips it back in his pocket, then reaches over and touches my hand. My cheeks ignite. His warm fingers press gently into mine.
Breathe, I remind myself again.
“You have big hands for a girl.” My heart wants to leap out of my mouth. “Can you palm a basketball?” he asks casually.
“Shhhe’s the only girl who caaan.” Roslyn’s eyes are closed.
My fingers stretch out a good quarter-inch longer than his.
“A nine-inch ball,” I smile, and then quickly look away as the houses fly by beyond the tinted window. OMG, Alyx, a nine-inch ball? Did you really just say that?
Grinning, Peter jostles me gently. “Never noticed your hands before. Guess I’ve been too busy watching you.” Our eyes meet. The light reflecting off his perfect teeth momentarily blinds me, blood floods my heart, and unconsciously I run my tongue over my lame-o braces. He squeezes my fingers.
I squeeze back, feeling like I might faint.
At Georgiano’s we have our own private waiter, a friend of Peter’s dad. Afterward, Roslyn and I pool our money to pay the check. Peter tells the waiter to apply his family discount. Without a tip, my share comes out to exactly fifty dollars. When Peter hands me the change, he leans close. “Thanks, Alyx. Thanks for asking me.” His breath is warm and boozy.
Roslyn gushes on the walk back to the limo, “Was that spumoni ice cream good or what?”
At school, kids crowd around the limousine, so Peter has to stay behind a few minutes and give tours. I follow Joel and Roslyn into the gym. Orange and black streamers hang everywhere. Above the basketball hoop, two cartoon Cougars in formal attire—one male, one female—dance on the wall. School colors spell out TWIRP. The whole thing looks like Halloween, minus the witches.
A live band is warming up. Peter finds me standing near a row of chairs. “How about these decorations?”
I nod, then smile, trying to cover my braces with my lips.
He cocks his head to the side. “You don’t talk much, do you?”
“They’re great,” I offer.
He points proudly to the web of streamers hanging from the ceiling. The band begins playing in earnest and a few couples step out onto the floor. “Joel and I helped Wexler get those up with a ladder.”
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“Wexler?” I can’t imagine him on a ladder. Or Peter helping him.
“Wanna dance?” Peter grabs my hand and pulls me into the middle of the floor.
We dance without talking or touching. I do my best not to look too dorky, keeping my back to the idle watchers along the gym wall. Fortunately, it’s pretty dark with the dimmed lights. By the time the music slows down, we’re both dripping with sweat, and I’m grateful when Peter suggests we get something to drink.
For the first slow song, we watch the others couple up, then I see Stephanie and her date head out to the floor. She waves and smiles. I wave back.
No way am I ready to press my body against Peter’s. Just holding hands on the limo ride almost made me lose my breath. I’d rather be pegged as a lesbian, a loser, a priss, anything—I just don’t want to terminally embarrass myself by passing out or having a heart attack. And a part of me keeps wondering, why me? Why did Peter pick me? And is he going to try to kiss me?
Dr. Max always warned me to be careful with kisses, because one can lead to more, but I sense that though Peter acts cool and all together, deep down even he’s a little scared. Could he be gay and not know it yet? Would he freak if he knew about me?
Around us, everyone seems to be touching.
Bryce Swenson glares at Peter over some girl’s shoulder. Catching Peter’s eye, Bryce reaches down and squeezes the girl’s butt as if he owns her. The girl squeals but doesn’t push him away. Peter looks sad, shakes his head. “Can you keep a secret?” he whispers. He’s watching Bryce. “She’s my ex,” he nods in their direction, and then turns toward the drink table. “We went out for two years, but our dads hated each other.” His eyes get watery and I look away, saving us both. “A Romeo and Juliet kind of thing,” he says.
I look back, but now her head’s buried in Bryce’s chest. “Do you miss her?” I ask.
“At first. That’s what sort of started all the rumors.” He shakes his head again.
“Rumors?” That he’s gay or his dad’s a Mafia-kingpin murderer? I want him to say more, but he spots Joel and never answers.
Peter takes my hand, leading me in the direction of Joel and Roslyn. An image of his perfect lips kissing mine flickers through my mind.
I’ve never really kissed anyone.
Except Sarah Shorter, back in Berkeley, when I was ten. She was twelve. She tasted like grape gum, and I gagged when she stuck her tongue in my mouth, even though I wanted to keep going. She said I had to kiss her because she’d bet someone she could kiss every guy at school. We had to stop because Mr. Shorter came whizzing up the alley on his motor scooter. Never happened again, but it wasn’t because I didn’t think about it.
A lot.
Joel and Roslyn are waiting for us at the other end of the refreshment table. Joel glances around and quickly pours something into a paper cup. Roslyn clings to his arm.
Joel comes up and offers the cup to me. I shake my head. Just smelling the booze makes me dizzy.
He then offers the cup to Peter. Peter laughs and takes a swig. “Hey, Alyx, a little won’t hurt. We have a driver.”
“I hafta go to the bafroom,” Roslyn mumbles, her face suddenly pale.
Joel hands her arm to me and we hurry from the gym, avoiding Mr. Wexler, who’s boring some kids in the hallway with stories of his old glory days.
“How much did you drink?” I say quietly, but Roslyn only closes her eyes. I want to lecture her, to remind her about the girl that ended up dead in a ditch that Coach told us about, but instead, I push open a stall door with my foot and lean away just in time.
The acidy smell of her vomit turns my stomach.
“Roslyn?”
Pushing me away, she locks herself in the stall. I stand outside listening to her gulp for breath when the door to the restroom swings open.
“Hey, Alyx,” Stephanie says, all perky. “Peter’s peer pressure finally got you, hey?”
I smile and turn on the faucet full blast so Stephanie won’t hear Roslyn in the stall behind us.
Stephanie preens in the mirror, tucking a strand of blond hair behind her ear. The rest of it tumbles around her shoulders. I have mine pulled back in a kind of makeshift French knot, though it’s barely long enough and it needed a ton of product to stay in place.
Even though the water’s still on full blast, I notice that Roslyn’s suddenly stone silent.
Barely able to look at my reflection, I pretend to check my mascara as Stephanie offers me a tube of frosted lip gloss. “Want some? It tastes awesome.”
Leaving the water running, I apply a generous coat to my lips and hand it back. “Like cherries.”
“Yeah, don’t you love it?” She reaches over and touches my dress. “Wow, Alyx—this is gorgeous on you!” Suddenly, she makes a face. “Does it reek in here or what?”
Behind us, Roslyn tries to muffle a cough.
“Oh, my God!” Stephanie giggles. “Someone’s in here?”
“I’m waiting on Roslyn.” I motion behind us. The principal’s daughter doesn’t need to know that Roslyn is wasted, or that Joel and Peter are well on their way. If her dad found out, our team could kiss any chance at State goodbye. And it’s practically a guarantee that Stephanie has not been drinking, so I pray Roslyn stays where she is so Stephanie doesn’t associate the awful smell with her.
Finally, Stephanie leaves, and I hear Roslyn’s hoarse voice. “Is she gone?”
“Yeah.”
I’m furious when Roslyn emerges.
“Don’t you think Stephanie could smell you a mile off? What if you get caught?”
Roslyn examines her reflection in the mirror. She’s a little less pale at least.
“Come on, Alyx, it’s like sooo yesterday. Let’s just have fun.”
“You call puking your guts out—”
Joel’s muffled voice comes through the door. “Ladies, your limo awaits. We have another party to attend.”
I look at Roslyn. “Party?”
Roslyn hiccups. “Remember? Pepper and Clay’s, at the Pitmanis’.”
I’d forgotten.
CHAPTER 31
Double Exposure
By the time we’re back in the limo, my mind is mining through a million different excuses to get out of this stupid party.
“I have a curfew,” I protest as we pull out of the parking lot.
Peter grins. His eyes look glassy now, too. “Don’t worry, Alyx. We’re only across the park, and I’ll walk you home by midnight.” His arm slides behind me on the seat. “If Pepper acts like a pain, I’ll deal with her. I’m used to it.”
Feeling his hand on my back, I freeze. I don’t mean to; it just happens, and he removes it, acts all casual, and leans in, explaining gently, “She doesn’t mean to be such a pain. Sometimes she gets this crazy idea she’s okay without her medicine. Not.” Then he takes out his phone and checks his texts.
I press my hot face on the cool window glass. I want to ask what the hell is the matter with her, and how come Peter turned out so nice when Pepper is so cruel, but I don’t. Instead, I decide to make a dash for home as soon as we get to the Pitmanis’ house.
“Hey, want to see something cool?” Peter offers up his phone.
I nod, take it, and look. On the screen is a photo of a double rainbow arching right over the Harbor Street Bridge, the slate-gray surface of Lake Michigan in the background.
“Took it with my new forty-five millimeter digital. I’ll show you when we get home. I can’t bring that one to school ’cause Dad would kill me if something happened to it. It shoots fifty frames a minute, and the shudder speed’s unbelievable.”
I haven’t a clue what he’s talking about. As he chatters away, a strange memory of Prickman pops into my brain and I find myself half-listening to Peter while thinking about the time Prickman and his pals spray-painted NO FAGGOTS ALLOUD on the back wall of the 7-Eleven. Other taggers, better spellers, began adding to it: NO FUDGE-PACKERS. NO HUMPING HOMOS. QUEERS—SHOT ON SITE. SPONSORED BY
THE NRA—NO RENAL ASS SEX.
“So when the light refracts through the water, the vapor rises—” Peter’s explaining the science behind double rainbows when Joel shouts, “PARTY TIME! WE’RE HERE!” into Roslyn’s ear.
Roslyn waves her hand groggily. She’s so out of it, it’s scaring me. Quickly, I try to sort out the best excuse to ditch them all and head home. I’ll just say I’m tired or I don’t feel well or I have to get up super early. The limo comes to a complete stop, the door swings open, a gust of frigid air rushes in, and if I’m going to make a dash, I’ll need to act fast.
Heavy metal music booms from the inside the house.
“They’re down in the pool room,” Peter tells Joel and Roslyn as we get out of the limo. “You guys go on down. I wanna show Alyx my new forty-five millimeter first.”
I crawl out of the limo, careful not to bunch up my dress or bump my head. The cold air whips through my coat, making me feel naked. The wind smells of tannery smoke and rotting carcass. I look over at the Polish Palace. It feels like it’s a million miles away. I’d have to run through the park and six inches of slushy snow to get there.
I can see Mom’s light on in her attic. Grizzly’s basement windows are dark, but Grandpa must still be up, or asleep in his chair, because the TV’s light is flickering through a crack in the living room curtains.
An uneasy feeling has settled in my gut and my legs are jumpy, ready to run.
“Come on, Alyx, it’ll be okay. It’ll be fun!” Roslyn nudges me. She’s coming back into herself but still . . . she wobbles on her heels, catches herself, and smiles.
I’m not reassured.
Cars are parked along the driveway and on both sides of the street. I look down at my shoes. My feet are numb. Against every instinct, I nod, and when Peter squeezes my hand, I let him steer me inside. He piles our coats on a leather bench in the front hall.
Roslyn and Joel stumble down the stairs, laughing. Joel’s holding another bottle of something he opened in the car.
I’m trembling.
“Where’s Pepper?” I try to not to sound paranoid.
“Come on.” He takes my hand and leads me into a huge wood-paneled office. The walls are covered with oil paintings. The boom from the speaker downstairs vibrates the floor beneath us. “This is Dad’s den. He’s obsessed with Baroque Italian art.” Peter waves his hand as he leads me across the room and opens an ornate paneled door. “And here’s Dad’s darkroom.”
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