by Amy Sparling
“It’ll be fine,” I say, offering him a reassuring smile.
His shoulders straighten as the limo rolls to a stop. “I hope so.”
A man opens the front door just as Toby is reaching for the handle. Toby’s dad is a tall, stout man, with thick black hair and a stern expression that seems to be imprinted in his facial wrinkles.
“Hello there,” he says, extending a hand to me. “I’m Mr. Fitzgerald.”
I know better than to offer a man like this a weak handshake, so I do my best to be all strong and mighty when my hand touches his. “Lana Clarke,” I say. He nods curtly.
“Come in for photos,” he says, stepping back and welcoming us into his home.
Toby takes my hand, his palm a bit clammy against mine. I’ve promised to be his pretend girlfriend for the evening, so I smile up at him as if I’m enamored with his charm, and I hold his hand tightly while he leads me through a marbled foyer and into their living room. The ceilings are scary high, with chandeliers in almost every room. A thin woman with wiry blonde hair enters the room. She’s wearing a black dress and I get the feeling she’s like one of those fancy women on TV shows who dresses nice every day of her life.
“Hello,” she says, her voice faint. She doesn’t shake my hand, but she smiles sweetly and I smile back.
“Hi, Mrs. Fitzgerald. It’s nice to meet you.”
“You too, sweetheart. I’m so glad Toby has brought you over to meet us.”
Beside me, Toby stands rigid, his eyes on me, his hand shaking in mine. I can’t believe he’s so terrified of his family. It makes my heart hurt for him. At least we’re almost out of high school. Just a couple more months and Toby can go off to college and stop dealing with them.
Toby’s mom is holding a camera, one of the big kinds that professional photographers use. “Okay, now how do I turn this on?” she says, turning it toward Toby.
He reaches for it, but then his dad steps forward. “Let me see it. You’ll screw up the pictures, Linda.”
He yanks the camera from his wife and presses a button to turn it on. The camera’s lens slides out and a little light blinks from the top of it.
“Pose,” Mr. Fitzgerald says. His voice is so booming and demanding that I kind of want to run away. Instead, I stay strong for Toby and I wrap my arms around him, leaning my head on his chest just like how happy couples pose all the time. It’s romantic and sweet, and Toby’s dad can’t possibly think we’re faking it.
Toby’s hand is warm on my back. His dad snaps one photo and doesn’t bother to look at it.
“Have a good time,” he says, turning off the camera. Then he turns and leaves the room.
Toby’s mom rushes forward, her entire personality seeming to switch on the moment her husband leaves. “Honey, you look so handsome,” she says, grabbing Toby’s arm. She smiles adoringly at him.
“Thanks, Mom.” He smiles back at her, and I can tell it’s not his mother who makes his life hell.
“You two have a good time,” she says, turning to me. “Your dress is so beautiful, Lana. You both look very nice.”
“Thanks.” I can feel the blood pool in my cheeks, but I’m hoping Mom’s makeup magic prevents it from showing.
Mrs. Fitzgerald leans forward and whispers, “Sorry about your father.” She rolls her eyes. “You know how he is.”
Toby nods. “It’s fine. I love you.”
“I love you too, sweetheart,” she says. She winks at us and then walks us to the door.
“That wasn’t so bad,” I say after we’re safely back in the limo.
Toby laughs. “You’re a terrible liar. But thank you.”
***
We go to Campioni’s for dinner. It’s the most romantic restaurant around, an Italian place known for their homemade pasta. It’s also a popular prom spot, because the moment we walk in, I notice that every table is filled with sparkly dresses and crisp black tuxedos.
“Reservation for Fitzgerald,” Toby tells the hostess. She leads the way to our table, and I look over at him.
“Reservation?”
He grins. “Only the best for my fake girlfriend.”
I’m already holding onto his elbow, but I lean against him for a second. “I could get used to this fake girlfriend stuff.”
“I really appreciate this, Lana.” We settle into our booth, a small secluded table at the back of the restaurant. Toby laces his fingers together on top of the table. “I feel a lot better now that I came clean with you.”
“Me too,” I say, and I’m not even embarrassed by it. “I mean, I did like you, but I could always tell there was something off. Like… it didn’t feel real between us.”
He nods. “I should have been honest from the beginning. I’m really sorry, but I’m glad you chose to continue being my friend.”
“Well, you’re a cool guy,” I say.
He lifts an eyebrow. “Or maybe you just feel sorry for me.”
I give him an evil grin. “Maybe I do.”
We order food and it’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever had. I know this place is expensive, but my new goal in life is to save up enough money to take my mom here for her birthday. She’d love the pasta and the garlic bread. She’d love all of it because it’s amazing. As an added bonus, the back of the menu tells the story of the married couple who started this restaurant twenty years ago. Mom is a big fan of supporting family businesses over big chain stores. We’re definitely coming here for her birthday.
“When are your friends meeting us?” Toby asks after we’ve decided we’re too full for dessert.
“Probably around eight,” I say. I go to look for my phone, but realize I left it in the limo. “What time is it now?”
Toby checks his watch. “Seven-thirty.”
“Cool,” I say with a nod.
“Tell me about Ashlyn and Bennet,” Toby says.
“What do you mean?”
He shrugs. “You all seem to be really close.”
“We are.”
“So what’s that like?” He reaches for another piece of garlic bread from the bowl in the middle of our table. “I’ve never been too close with any of my friends. Sitting with you guys at lunch made me realize how much I’ve missed out on by having friends who suck.”
I chuckle. “Oh, it’s great. We all grew up together as neighbors, so I guess we’ve always been friends.” I explain our situation to him, tell him about the Single Ladies thing, and share a few of my favorite memories of growing up with my two best friends. Toby listens intently, smiling at the parts that make me smile.
“That’s really nice,” he says after a while. “Did you and Bennet ever, you know, date?”
“What?” I laugh. “No.” For some reason, the moment I deny it, I get a nervous rush of butterflies to my stomach.
“Hmm,” Toby says, his thoughts far away.
“Why are saying hmm?”
He shrugs. “Well, I don’t know. It’s nothing. But it’s kind of obvious that Bennet is in love with you.”
“No way,” I say, shaking my head.
He gives me this look, his eyes piercing into me with a truth I’ve never seen before. “Think about it, Lana. It’s obvious.”
“Hmm,” I say. My mind rushes back through years of memories, thinking about everything Bennet and I ever did together. The way he acts, and the stuff he does for me when he doesn’t have to. That birthday present that took him six months to pay for.
“I guess I’ve never thought of that,” I admit. There’s a lump in my throat and suddenly I realize how much I want Toby’s words to be true.
“I guess I never thought of that,” I say, my heart pounding with the possibility of something great. When it comes to guys who would be perfect for me, I can’t see anyone else fitting that description better than Bennet.
Toby shrugs. “Maybe you should think about it.”
Chapter 26
The Hockley convention center seems like a normal building on the outside. The parking lot is fill
ed with cars and we’re not the only limo here. Our driver pulls up to the very front and then he gets out and opens our door for us. I’m suddenly very nervous as Toby steps out and then reaches his hand down for mine. Other seniors and their dates are standing around, taking photos and meeting up with their friends.
Even though Toby and I are friends now, being around him in public still makes me feel weird. Like at any given time someone might point at us and laugh and tell the whole world that I’m not cool enough to hang out with a guy like Toby.
Luckily, that doesn’t happen. I hold Toby’s hand as we walk up to the entrance of the convention center. There are teachers at the door, dressed in formal wear. Mrs. Morales takes our tickets and lets us inside. It’s incredibly weird seeing our teachers dressed up for the night.
I hold on tightly to Toby’s hand as we enter. The building is one large area with dark carpeting and columns that have been wrapped in white tulle and clear lights. There’s a buffet of snacks and drinks along the right wall and in the middle of the room is the dance floor. It’s wooden and raised a bit from the rest of the floor. A disco ball spins, lighting up the room in sparkles.
Fancy circle tables and chairs are situated around the dance floor. They’re decorated with beautiful purple tablecloths and sparkly centerpieces. Clear lights are everywhere; on the walls, hanging from the ceiling, and even inside tinsel glass vases on the tables. It’s all so beautiful and I’m impressed that our small school managed to pull off something so lovely.
“Should we get a drink first?” Toby says as we meander through groups of people.
The dancefloor is a little barren, with maybe only a dozen people dancing to the song that’s playing over the loud speakers. I remember hearing something about the StuCo trying to hire a live band for the event, but it was too expensive so they opted for a DJ. He’s dressed in a dark blue tux, his dreadlocks spilling over his shoulders while he works the music from a corner of the room. A few girls in skimpy prom dresses are talking with him even though he’s at least thirty years old, if not older. I can’t blame them though—he’s pretty hot.
“Drinks are good,” I say with a smile. I’m still nervous as hell being here, but I’m trying to have fun.
There are a ton of reasons for me to run to the bathroom and throw up right now:
My dress is old and outdated.
I’m not even with a real date.
My date is so much more popular than I am.
I’m thinking about Bennet and that’s making me crazy.
I might throw up.
Oh crap, it might really happen.
I let Toby lead me through people until we get to the drink table. There’s sodas and punch and a fake bartender guy who is serving up non-alcoholic versions of popular drinks.
“What would you like?” Toby asks.
I shrug. “Whatever you’re having.”
He orders us two drinks that come in plastic cups with a cherry and a slice of pineapple on the rim. I feel fancy drinking it even if there is no alcohol. And honestly, I really don’t need anything that’ll alter my mental state right now. I’m nervous enough as it is.
“To-by!” someone calls out, their deep voice booming over the music. We turn around and see three guys walking over to us. Bryson, Tyler, and Nick. I don’t know them personally, but everyone knows their names. They’re high school royalty just like Toby. Girls have been doodling these guys’ names in their notebooks since about the third grade.
“What’s up, man?” Toby says, fist bumping Tyler, who looks like he might possibly be drunk right now.
They chat for a minute, and none of the guys look my way, not that I’d expected them to. I’m invisible in the whole scale of teenage stuff at West Canyon High School, but I’m fine with that. Being popular seems exhausting. I can tell that Toby is annoyed with their small talk, and he keeps giving me these little helpless looks to apologize while the guys talk his ear off.
Finally, their dates all come back from the bathroom at the same time. I stand straight, and I hold onto Toby’s hand, and I pretend I’m not as bothered as I am when they walk up, their hair perfect, their bodies slim and beautiful, their dresses to die for.
“Hey,” one of the girls says to me. It’s short and simple and she quickly turns her attention to Tyler, but I appreciate it anyhow.
“Guys, I think we’re gonna dance,” Toby says after a few minutes of small talk. “We’ll catch up with you later.”
“Your friends are all very pretty,” I say as Toby leads me onto the dance floor. “Even the guys.”
He laughs, and he twirls me in front of him, his hand taking my waist and the other one sliding down my arm until it’s wrapped around me. He must have had dance lessons at some point in his life because he’s very confident on the dance floor. “Their parents are all friends with my parents. It’s like we’ve been destined to be friends since the day we were born.”
Toby is a great dancer. His skills calm my nerves, and I just hold onto his shoulders and let him lead the way while we sway to the slow song. “You sound like you don’t like them very much,” I say.
He nods slowly. “They’re okay. They’re nothing like your friends, who are awesome. Like I said yesterday…I don’t really fit in with most people. The things everyone else loves I find annoying. My cousin says I have an old soul, and I think maybe she’s right, you know?”
“I can see that,” I say as I peer up at him. Toby Fitzgerald is still very handsome, especially in the glow of the prom lights overhead. But now he doesn’t make my heart skip a beat like he used to. I see him in a new light—as a real person, with flaws and fears, and worries. I see him as a friend.
“I’m glad we came,” I say.
The dancefloor has filled up with more couples now that the songs are slower and perfect for cuddling up with a partner. Toby’s eyes glint under the disco ball. “Me too. Who would have thought that randomly asking out a girl would turn into making a good friend?”
“You’re telling me,” I say with a snort. “You were always so high up and special, I never thought we’d ever talk to each other, much less be friends.”
He frowns. “I really hate popularity. Some people seek it out and they’re really good at it. But I hate it. It’s like I’ve been destined to be some stuck up popular prick my whole life and I never even wanted it.” Another couple dances a little too close to us and Toby shifts on his feet, turning us away from them. “My brother adored his high school fame. He still skates by on that even though he flunked out of college and works on custom cars for our uncle’s body shop. He’s not even good at his job, but the family connection keeps him employed.”
“How did your dad handle that?” I ask, knowing it’s probably too personal, but I can’t help myself.
Toby laughs. A real laugh, filled with sarcasm and irony. “Oh man. Don’t get me started. Dad was pissed when he dropped out of college, but he got over it pretty fast I mean we both have a trust fund, so we don’t need jobs. But you see, here’s the thing—my brother is clearly not gay because he’s got a new girlfriend every other week.” He rolls his eyes. “So my dad doesn’t give him any grief.”
“That’s really sad,” I say.
He nods. “Can you imagine if someone in my family did have a different way of life? My dad would freaking slaughter them. It’s so stupid. I’d never judge anyone for something like that.”
“I prefer to judge people who are assholes,” I say with a smile. “Not for their preferences, but for their actions.”
“That’s a good way to go about life,” Toby agrees.
A faster pop song comes on and I turn to get off the dancefloor. Toby holds onto my hand. “Where are you going?”
“I can’t dance to fast songs,” I say, eyes wide. “I suck at it.”
“First time for everything,” he says. Then he flashes me a wink that makes me unable to object. “It’ll be fun,” he says, pulling me back onto the dance floor. “Just have fun with it.�
�
So I do. And it’s awkward and silly and I feel kind of dorky, but I follow Toby’s lead and jump around, flail my arms, and dance to the Lady Gaga song. I glance around and see that all the other people around are doing the same thing. We all look a little dumb, but we’re all having fun.
I kind of want to let go a little more, but I do what I’m comfortable with, and dance around until the song ends. I have a bead of sweat on my forehead when the last notes trail away and everyone on the dancefloor slows down.
“That was fun,” I say, panting for a breath. “But it was also embarrassing.”
“There’s so much glitter around here,” Toby says, glancing around at the fancy dresses all around us. “I could use another drink.”
“Me too,” I say, relieved to be walking off the dance floor. Dancing like that was fun, but I’m not about to become a Broadway performer or anything.
We down another fruity non-alcoholic drink and I reach into my dress pocket to check my phone. There are no new messages from my friends, but I think I remember Ashlyn complaining about how there’s no place to put her phone on her dress.
The convention center is really filling up now and it seems like everyone in school is here. I gaze out at the crowd and look for Ashlyn’s gorgeous dress.
Toby sees them before I do. “There,” he says, nodding toward the left. “A slow song is starting. You should go ask Bennet to dance.”
“I don’t know…” I say, following his gaze. My two best friends are talking to each other near the entrance of the room. They must have just arrived.
“He probably doesn’t want to dance with me.”
Right as I say it, Bennet looks up as if he knows exactly where I’m standing. There’s no way he could have heard me from so far away, but now our eyes are locked on each other. He looks handsome in his rented suit, his hands shoved in his pockets. His hair is still all messy. He smiles at me, this sad type of smile that I don’t quite understand because it’s so unlike him.
“Go on,” Toby says, nudging me in the elbow. “Give him a chance.”