The Next To Last Mistake

by Jahn, Amalie

  “I’m good. But I’m the one who’s supposed to call you tomorrow, remember?” I say.

  He chuckles. “Yeah. Consider this a bonus call for the week. I just couldn’t wait to tell you the good news.”

  My mind races, unsure of what could be so pressing he couldn’t just send a text or wait one more day to share. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, bedazzled like an ersatz princess off to the ball without a prince, and it strikes me he might be calling with some news about his own prom. An image of him with beautiful Judy Lewis—all doe-eyed and giggly—bubbles into my head. What I wouldn’t give to have him with me tonight instead.

  “What good news?” I say finally, making my voice as pleasant as my somber mood will allow.

  “I bought the plane ticket. I’m flying into Fayetteville the second week of August as long as you’re sure your mom and dad won’t mind me staying at your house. And as long as you promise to drive us to Wilmington so we can see the ocean for the first time together.”

  I mentally boot Judy out of my head and replace her with an image of us at the beach. Salty, humid air. Sand beneath our toes. All our weeks of wistful planning and hopeful longing materialize into fruition.

  I’m trying to recover, still reeling from his declaration but something about the second week of August digs at me. Then I remember. The Iowa State Fair is always the second week of August.

  “What about the fair?” I ask.

  My response is met with silence on the other end of the line. A moment later he replies in a wounded tone which slices through me, clean to the bone. “After all our planning, now you don’t want me to come?”

  Burdened by the weight of our unexpected conversation, I crumple into a pile on the floor, my gown crushing beneath me. But I don’t care. All I want is to straighten out things with Zander. I only wish I could do it face-to-face instead of over the phone.

  We never were very good at phone conversations.

  “No,” I gasp into the receiver. “That’s not it at all. I want you to come visit. More than anything.” I pick nervously at my freshly manicured thumbnail waiting for him to reply. “I just don’t understand why you’re giving up the fair to come here instead. You’ve never missed a single one.”

  I hear him shifting positions, perhaps switching the phone to his other ear before he says, “And neither have you, until now. We always said we’d go together. I decided if you’re not going then I’m not either.”

  My heart aches. A splendid, bursting-full-of-joy kind of ache.

  “What about your goat?” I whisper.

  This makes him laugh, breaking the tension and bringing him back. “That goat is nothing but a glorified pain in my ass. The only ribbon that beast might win is Most Likely to Roll Around in His Own Filth.”

  Now I’m laughing with him, remembering how Billy did have the unfortunate habit of sleeping in his own manure. We’re still sharing stories about his stupid goat, reminiscing about what an ornery creature he’s always been when my call-waiting beeps.

  “We can hang up if you need to get that. I oughta be getting back to the barn anyway. It’s almost time to milk.”

  I don’t want to hang up. I want to keep talking about farm life. I want to finalize our trip to the beach. I want to keep hearing his voice.

  “It’s probably Summer or Leonetta about tonight.”

  “What’s tonight?” he asks.

  “Prom,” I say as indifferently as I can.

  “Oh, that’s tonight, huh?” His voice is light. Casual. Because, of course, he knows I’m not going with another guy. “Send me some pictures, okay?”

  “Sure,” I tell him, although I doubt I actually will. “Gotta go.”

  “Call me tomorrow so we can hash out the details of my trip?”

  I assure him I will and disconnect, switching over the line to discover a telemarketer inquiring about my current credit score. I hang up without pause and silently curse the invention of call waiting for ending my conversation with Zander so abruptly. I unfold myself from the floor, attempting to smooth the wrinkles out of my dress, and as I take one last peek at the mirror on the way out the door, I reconsider sending Zander a photo.

  Because in the words of Monika Moore, I look ‘hot as sin.’

  chapter 27

  Let Freedom Ring

  Saturday, May 11

  Summer keeps throwing out the word fierce to describe how we look in our gowns and, judging by the length of time Alice’s mom, Renee, has been snapping pictures of us under the sprawling willow in her front yard, she wholeheartedly agrees. After filling her phone’s memory, Renee takes a break to search the house for an old digital camera. During the brief posing hiatus, Cameron and Marcus strip off their tuxedo jackets and Leonetta and I take off our shoes, tossing them to the side. Sweat beads on the back of my neck, dampening my hair into ringlets as a triumphant Renee finally returns, rearranging the girls one last time in an attempt to find the perfect color composition between my red, Alice’s hot pink, Leonetta’s orange, and Summer’s baby blue.

  “How about rainbow order?” she cries out in a way only a former Miss Georgia Peach would. “First Tess, then Netta, then Summer. And Alice, you go on the end.”

  “Do rainbows even have pink?” Summer whispers to me through gritted teeth.

  “They do now,” I reply with a smirk.

  We go on like this for another five minutes until happily, mercifully, Renee’s camera battery dies. Summer, Leonetta, and I waste no time hightailing it barefoot across the lawn to my car, anxious for a welcome burst of air conditioning. I’ve already turned it to full blast by the time a much slower Cameron slides cautiously beside Summer in the back seat. Once everyone’s settled we head off behind Marcus and Alice who lead the way out of the neighborhood in his truck.

  Prom is being held at the Officer’s Club on base, but since Bragg is a closed post, we’re forced to take the long way around, doubling back to the only gate allowing students access to the dance. We’re almost there, and even Cameron is singing along to the radio at the top of his lungs with the rest of us when I notice flashing lights in my rearview mirror. Immediately, I turn down the music.

  “Is that a cop or an MP?” Summer asks as the scream of sirens closes in on us.

  “I can’t tell,” I say, straining to read the logo on the front of the cruiser. “But I’m going the speed limit, so it shouldn’t matter either way.”

  A moment later the Cumberland County police officer rushes past us only to immediately slam on his brakes, sliding in behind Marcus’s Chevy Tahoe. We pass them both from the left-hand lane as the officer pulls Marcus and Alice off the side of the road.

  “What the heck?” I say, slowing down to adjust my mirrors in an attempt to see what’s happening behind us. “Should we turn around?”

  “No,” Leonetta snaps. “Keep going. They’ll be fine. Marcus’ll know what to do.”

  My heart is racing, not only from the lingering fear of getting pulled over but in anger over Marcus’s detainment. “He was right in front of us so there’s no way he was speeding. Why would the cop pull him over out of nowhere like that?” I struggle, trying to remember if he had a broken tail light or an open gas cap, but I don’t recall seeing anything out of the ordinary.

  “I’m sure it’s nothing,” Leonetta says, although the tone of her voice implies she’s not convinced. Then I remember her father’s rules.

  “You think he’s being profiled?” I ask, watching her reaction from the corner of my eye as I navigate the Volkswagen onto base.

  “I dunno. Maybe.” She turns around, angling to see out the back windshield. “Let’s hope not.”

  Cameron pipes up from the back seat. “Maybe it’s one of those sobriety check points. It is prom night after all. Cops are gonna be out.”

  I consider this but am convinced there’s another reason the officer pulled Marcus over instead of me. Leonetta must notice the flush of my cheeks. “It’s gonna be okay,” she tells me. “Th
ey’ll be okay.”

  *

  The Officer’s Club is adorned with so many red, white, and blue streamers and American flags draped from the ceiling, it looks more like an Independence Day Celebration than a Junior/Senior Prom. In response to the recent increase in family member deployments, the senior class chose Let Freedom Ring as their theme. For the love birds like Alice and Marcus, it’s not particularly romantic, but not having to hear Ed Sheeran crooning all night suits me fine. Bring on the John Phillips Sousa. Besides, between worrying about Marcus being detained by the police, Cameron’s potential for social awkwardness, and the altercation that’s sure to develop once Monika discovers she and Alice are wearing the same dress, there won’t be much time for romance anyway.

  Instead of heading straight downstairs to the ballroom, we decide to wait for Marcus and Alice in the main level vestibule. We’re in line to have our pictures taken by the professional photographer when I spot them shoving through the double doors. I race over to them, leaving my place in the queue.

  Alice looks flustered, her eyes wide, face flushed. Marcus, on the other hand, appears unfazed.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask as they approach.

  Marcus waves me off, taking Alice by the hand as they cross the atrium. “It was nothing. We’re fine. Just a misunderstanding.”

  She scoffs at him before turning to me, clearly enraged by what transpired. “It wasn’t nothing. It was awful. We had to get out and stand on the side of the road like common criminals while the officer searched the car for God-knows-what. Drugs, alcohol, food wrappers? He didn’t find anything, though, thank goodness, because there was nothing to find.”

  It’s not hard to imagine how mortifying it must have been for her to have to stand there on the shoulder, gawked at by passing onlookers while the car was inspected.

  “Why’d he pull you over in the first place?” Summer asks, joining the conversation with Cameron at her heels.

  Marcus shrugs. “Something about random checks because of prom and trying to keep drivers safe. It wasn’t a big deal, and we’re here now so let’s drop it.” Alice still doesn’t look convinced as he lifts her chin with his hand and places a gentle kiss on her lips. “Don’t let it ruin our night, huh?”

  She sighs in acquiescence, but I can’t help feeling torn. Neither of us was doing anything wrong, but the officer intentionally passed me by, making the conscious decision to pull Marcus over instead. Since there could only be one logical explanation for his choice, how should we react? Is it better to be like Marcus and accept the unjustness of it all? To assume following the rules will be enough to keep him safe, despite being singled out simply for being black? Names from the news like Terence Crutcher, Jordan Edwards, and Walter Scott pop into my mind. Did these black men assume their obedience would protect them? If so, perhaps it would be more prudent to be like Alice, wary of the prejudicial policies which lead some to anticipate the worst from an entire race of people.

  I’m still pondering the unfathomable inequality of our world as we descend the stairs to the ballroom. Below me, I notice Alice adjusting her plunging neckline to accentuate her cleavage, preparing not only for her entrance but also for the inevitable fallout associated with wearing the same dress as the queen of the triflin’ heifers. The dress, in all its pink deliciousness, fits her body like she was born to wear it, emphasizing her elegant features and killer curves.

  If Monika wasn’t such a jerk, I might almost feel sorry for her.

  From the landing, a quick scan of the faces below confirms Monika has not yet arrived. Even with her brief detainment by the police, Alice still beat our adversary to the punch. She’ll be the one to debut the hot pink masterpiece.

  After successfully tracking down the dress in her size at a bridal boutique in Pinehurst, Alice spent the better part of a week plotting her own brand of retribution against Monika. It’s with great pride that I watch her now, Marcus beaming on her arm, making the final descent down the massive staircase into the ballroom. Most of the students are watching the stairs in anticipation of their own friends’ arrivals, and I’m not surprised to hear catcalls and whistles from many of the guys below. For her part, Alice takes it all in stride, neither showboating nor shrinking like a timid violet. Leonetta and I follow several steps behind, in awe of her grace and confidence. She’s certainly going to need as much as she can muster once Monika arrives.

  We claim an unoccupied table in a corner of the room farthest from the buffet line, and the guys hurry off to gather drinks for the rest of us.

  “Cameron’s doing awesome at this whole prom thing,” Alice says to Summer who nods in agreement.

  “He’s a nice guy,” Summer says. “Quirky, but nice. And he did better at the proposal than you thought he would, Tess.”

  I don’t tell her that hot gluing pawns to a chess board to spell PROM? was my idea.

  “The chess thing was a sweet gesture,” Alice agrees. “But I’m worried about how he’s gonna handle the confrontation with Monika once she eventually shows up.”

  I can’t take my eyes off the staircase, watching for her arrival. My stomach’s in a knot, but Alice appears remarkably calm, despite being the one actually wearing the dress.

  “I already gave him a heads-up that things might get ugly between you two. I told him he should stay out of it and let the rest of us handle everything,” I tell her.

  Alice raises an eyebrow at me. “What do you mean ‘the rest of us?’ We’ve already discussed it, and this is my deal.”

  “No way,” Summer says, shaking her head vehemently. “We stay together tonight. Marcus and Cameron, too. There’s safety in numbers.”

  I blanch at Summer’s use of the word safety, wondering if Monika and her friends pose a legitimate physical threat. The pain in my stomach intensifies, and I wonder whether I’ve gotten my friends into something more dangerous than I initially anticipated.

  The dress was supposed to be something to bring us together. Not something to put us at risk.

  There’s no time for Alice to object or for me to fixate on my growing apprehension because, a moment later, Monika appears at the top of the stairs.

  “She’s here,” I cry out, louder than I intended.

  Alice grins. “It’ll take a few minutes for people to realize we’re wearing the same dress and for word to get to her.” She rises to her feet, using the table as leverage. “Unless I go over there and say hello myself.”

  “Don’t you dare,” Leonetta says, taking Alice firmly by the arm. “This isn’t a game. Let her come to you if she even has the guts.”

  We wait in anticipatory silence until the guys return, drinks in hand.

  “You’d think they were serving cocktails instead of soft drinks with the size of the line over there,” Marcus says, handing Alice her Diet Coke. No one laughs at his observation, forcing him to acknowledge our anxious stares. “She’s here?” he asks.

  Alice nods.

  “Okay then. It’s time for us to dance.”

  *

  On the dance floor, Marcus is a one-man show, gyrating to Drake’s newest release like a man possessed. He pulls Alice close, swaying in time to the beat, but before I have time to feel weird about my own pitiful moves or the way they’re dancing together, he’s got me by the hands, drawing me into the fold.

  “Come on, Tess from Iowa. You got this.”

  The song ends, flowing seamlessly into the next, and it isn’t long before I’m almost having a good time, troubles forgotten. Summer and Leonetta flank me on both sides and we’re laughing with sweet Cameron, who seems to have temporarily forgotten himself, caught in the moment with the rest of us doing some ridiculous version of the cabbage patch. We are one teeming mass of camaraderie.

  But the magic comes to an abrupt end as Monika and her cadre approach.

  “Nice dress,” she says to Alice above the music, eyes dark, full of malice.

  “Thanks,” Alice replies with a shrug, still dancing. “It was on clea
rance.” I have no idea how she’s able to keep her composure in the face of Monika’s venomous gaze but she does, adding innocently, “Hope you didn’t pay full price.”

  My own muscles tighten involuntarily, and beside me Leonetta’s jaw clenches, her hands balling into fists. She stops dancing, ready to defend Alice in whatever capacity she may need.

  Monika ruffles, swallowing hard to hold back anger as a small group of onlookers surrounds us, forming a circle in the center of the dancefloor. She must know losing her cool here could end in expulsion or even arrest. She’s weighing her options, deciding her next move in this real-life game of chess. With the opening moves and middle game played long ago, it appears we’ve arrived at the endgame.

  It’s time to play your remaining pawns, Alice. We’re here for you. Use us.

  Monika takes a step forward, asserting her dominance. She assumes she has Alice in check. “You’re gonna regret the day you bought that dress, bitch. Your life is about to be turned upside down.”

  Alice stops dancing, at long last, giving Monika her full attention. As lean in stature as she is, I’ve never seen her looking so formidable.

  “I have the right to wear any dress I please, especially looking as amazing as I do in this particular dress. And the reason I have that right is because this is a free country where I am entitled to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” She places her hands on her hips, narrowing her eyes. “This dress makes me happy, so I will continue to wear it. You, however, can feel free to change if standing beside me is making you uncomfortable.”

  “You better watch your back,” Monika threatens, losing her temper as she takes another step forward. “You have no idea what I can do to you.”

  “No. I’m done watching my back. We’re all done watching our backs because we’re done dealing with you. You’re a bully, Monika. A bully.” She slows her speech, punctuating every word. “A weak. Scared. Bully. The only reason you didn’t want Latrina or anyone else to wear this dress is because you were afraid you’d be outshined. And now you have been. So, what?”