by Cecilia Gray
“But aren’t you in the movie?” Anne asked.
“As an extra,” Kat said. “Extras don’t get to walk the red carpet. But don’t worry, I have a speaking part in the film I’m doing this summer, and it’s only a matter of time before I’m headlining over these guys.”
“So what do you say?” Josh asked. “Be my arm candy?”
Anne hesitated a moment. “I don’t know where I’ll be but… if I can make it, I will.”
“That’s my girl.” Josh picked Anne up, arms around her waist, and spun her around. She shook it off, dizzy, when he placed her back on her feet. Kat had mentioned something about how actors just loved picking each other up and hugging and spinning, but she’d never really thought about it until she started spending time with Josh.
Kat grabbed her hand. “I’m thirsty.” She pulled Anne toward the punch bowl.
They left the boys behind, and it was only then that Anne realized how thirsty she was from all the dancing. She sipped down a cup and immediately went for seconds. “Are you sure it won’t be weird if I’m on the red carpet when I’m not in the film?”
“You’ll love it,” Kat said. “It can be a little tedious, waiting for them to finish with the red carpet interviews, but watching the movie is fun. I’ll be coming from Arizona, so we can room together in a hotel.”
“But I thought you were filming a movie in Los Angeles this summer?”
“I am,” Kat said. “But then I’m going back to live with my mom for senior year. I’ll fly to LA when I need to.”
“But you and Henry—”
“We’ve been long distance since December,” Kat said. “It’s worked out fine. What’s another year?”
Anne swallowed down another cup of punch, then tossed away her cup, frowning. Henry and Kat did make it seem so easy, but they also flew to see each other every weekend. As if the distance didn’t bother them. She tried to compare that to Edward and Ellie, who were together every second and would soon be separated by a continent. Or to Lizzie and Dante, who saw each other on afternoons and weekends and would now be relegated to flying to see each other as well.
Was any one relationship right or better than another? And why had she been so stupid years ago, thinking there was a right way to be in love?
She returned to Josh, trying to peel off her frown, but he was staring at her intently as she approached. He took her hands and pulled her against him to whisper in her ear as they danced. “Rick is in the corner,” he said. “He’s not watching you. No, don’t turn around. Here, let me.” Josh pulled her back against his chest. He brought one arm to her waist, and he intertwined their fingers with the other, drawing their hands up the side of her body. “Don’t look now,” he whispered in her ear.
It was taking every ounce of willpower not to look. She stared at the floor, hyperaware that Josh was deliberately presenting an intimate picture. But to what purpose?
Did he think Fanny was watching? Fanny would have no reason to be jealous, no matter what he wanted. Even now, she could see Fanny and Tran by the deejay table. Tran was handing Fanny a drink, and when she reached for it he held it higher, teasing, until she spun around to his back and yanked it away.
“You can look up now,” Josh said. “Make it natural.” He used his hand to tilt her head up and back against his shoulder.
She met Rick’s eyes from across the room and swallowed her gasp. He was studying her. There could be no mistaking it. He had the hard expression of someone who had been watching for a while. The long, lean look of him in the tuxedo was made even more pronounced by his rigid posture, feet shoulder width apart, hands clasped behind his back, elbows braced.
Josh spun her around so they faced each other.
“He looks angry,” she said.
“He probably is.” Josh shrugged as they continued to dance, albeit with a respectable distance between them. “I’m mad at myself for losing Fanny.”
“But he didn’t lose me,” Anne said. “I lost him.”
“I doubt he sees it that way.”
Anne continued to dance, her feet and hands numb. Could Josh be right? Could Rick want her? If so, why didn’t he do anything about it? He must know how she felt about him. She’d been following him around like a lovesick puppy for months. She’d thrown herself at him last night, and he’d walked away so fast she still had his jacket in her bedroom.
She was embarrassed to admit she’d slept with it on backward, her hands in the sleeves and the back of it cradled against her chest.
“I’m going to go talk to him,” Anne said. “I need to find out once and for all.”
Josh grinned. “Go get ’em. Wait, hold on.” He reached up and smoothed back her hair, then gave her curls a tousle. “Okay, now go.”
She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and turned. Rick was still looking at her, his posture perfect. The music had swelled and cut into an even slower song. Some of her bravado fell with it, but she forced her feet to keep moving. She could do this. She owed it to herself to do this.
Anne was halfway to him when he glanced away. She frowned, following his line of sight—to Lucy. The girl was in a long blue gown to match the streak in her hair. She held out her hand. His jaw was working overtime as he looked back up at Anne.
She knew how she must have looked because she’d stopped entirely amid the throng of bodies swaying to the new song.
Then he let Lucy pull him onto the dance floor. Lucy laid her head against his shoulder. His arms rested against the small of her back.
Anne turned around quickly. She hadn’t even taken a step when Josh was there, pulling her against him.
“Keep dancing,” he said. “Sometimes that’s all you can do.”
* * *
Josh led her outside before the end of the song, and they both leaned against the brick exterior, next to the box office.
“Guess you won’t be doing any more school plays,” Anne said, looking at the box office.
“Won’t miss it that much. Kind of just did it for the publicity. And, well, you know… Fanny.”
“It feels dumb, doesn’t it? You spend all this energy thinking about someone, doing stuff for someone, and then it’s just all for nothing.”
Josh grabbed her arm. “It’s not for nothing.”
“What is it for, then?” Anne asked, aware that she was growing a little hysterical. “Because I don’t feel any better. My life isn’t any better.”
“Yes, it is, just not in the ways you’re thinking about.”
Anne glared at him, incredulous. She had lost her home—who knew if her mother would even have enough money to send her to college. The love of her life didn’t want anything to do with her. If it weren’t for Lizzie and Ellie and—“Oh,” she said. “I see what you mean. Of course, I’m so grateful for my friends.”
“I didn’t even mean it like that. A guy for your friends isn’t a trade you had to make.”
“It feels like it was. I’ve never complained about it out loud before,” Anne said.
“That’s what I mean, Anne. A year ago, two years ago, you never would have tried to stand up to your mom or go after Rick. Maybe you’re not there yet, but you’re trying. Look at you and how you helped Lucy. You’re practically a superhero.”
She punched him in the shoulder.
He gave her a withering look. “Without superhero strength.”
They leaned against the wall in silence while Anne thought about what Josh had said. She had never really complained before, and she’d always thought that was a good thing. With her mother’s high-maintenance life, her dad’s utter stubbornness, and her sister’s needs, she’d always thought it was better for her to keep calm. Not rock the boat. But that hadn’t been the right thing to do. It wasn’t the right thing to do now. “I need to talk to my mom.”
Josh raised a brow.
“Now,” she amended.
“You do know there’s a prom going on, right?”
“I need you to drive me to her.”
>
“Now? Seriously?”
“You said it yourself: I need to stand up for what I want.”
Josh sputtered in protest. “That was all well and good with other people.”
“Then give me the keys to your car.”
“I wouldn’t give Fanny the keys to my car.”
She heard a voice behind her, deep and familiar. “I’ll drive.”
Anne turned and backed into Josh. Rick was standing there in his dark tux pants, the crisp white shirt now rolled up to his forearms.
“I’ll drive,” he repeated.
* * *
“You’re having fun at prom.” He said it as fact, not a question.
“So are you.” Anne heard the accusation in her tone.
The windows were rolled down in Rick’s white, single-cab truck, and the engine roared as he sped down the road.
“Past Main Street,” she said and continued to direct him toward the bed and breakfast her mother had said she’d be staying at while closing escrow on the house. She kept hearing Josh’s words as they drove: that Rick still wanted her.
She chanced a look at his profile. The wind riffled through his hair, and his lips were pursed tight, his chin tense. He stared straight ahead as he slowed the truck and pulled to a stop in front of the bed and breakfast.
“I’ll wait here,” he said.
She jumped out of the truck and ran inside. Her mom’s bedroom was styled in hand-carved rosewood with a lush gold coverlet. Her mother was propped on the edge of the bed. Even though she was wrapped in a white robe, she still had gold hoop earrings and full makeup on. “What was so important I had to forgo sleep?”
Anne took a fortifying breath. She’d held on to so many feelings—love and anger, respect and disregard. It all swirled into a muddy mess that she had to sift through to find the right words, the ones that mattered. “I have something to say, and I wanted to say it face to face.”
“No need for dramatics—”
“I’m not being dramatic,” she said. “I want to make sure you hear me.”
Her mother bristled with the comment and crossed her arms. “Of course I hear you.”
Anne took a deep breath. “I love you, Mom. You’ve always given me so much, and I know that I can’t tell you what to do or how to live. If you want to move to Malta, I’ll go with you. If you want Barcelona, I’ll go with you. If you want to live in a mansion in Merrywood, I’ll stay with you. You’re my mother, and as long as you are paying for my house and my education, I’ll be grateful.”
Her mother’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What’s this about?”
“When I graduate, I’m going to vet school. State school. I don’t care if I have to get student loans or work three jobs to pay for college myself.” She felt something unclench in her gut. Even though she should be even more nervous, considering her mother’s sour-lemon expression, she felt a joyful sense of lightness from having said it.
“Again with the dramatics. State school? Vet school? I told you, Escobar women—”
“Escobar women do things their own way.” Anne’s voice grew more confident, louder. “If we want to live in a hovel, then we can. If we want to make minimalism chic, then we do. If I want to go to college, to a state school, to veterinary school—” She ignored her mother’s gasp of horror. “—then that’s what I’ll do. What is the point of it all? Of the money and freedom, if we don’t enjoy it?”
Her mother rested a hand against her chest, taken aback. “Is this about the house or something else?”
“It’s all connected,” she said. “Don’t you see? I’ll live where you want until I graduate, but then I have to blaze my own trail, even if it means not doing what you want. Especially if it means that.”
Her mother glanced over her shoulder, and when she looked back, Anne saw the residual tear tracks down her cheeks. “Mama?” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
“You didn’t. I was just remembering when I said something very similar to your grandmother.”
Anne couldn’t stop the widening of her eyes at the notion of her mother insisting upon anything to her grandmother.
“When I married your father,” she explained, “she told me it was stupid. That we had left Colombia behind and there was no going back. That Escobar women hadn’t cut their teeth and given blood and sweat and tears to live in the past.”
“But you love Papi?”
“I did. I do.” Her mother rested her hands on Anne’s cheeks. “It might all seem so simple to you now. You want something, so why shouldn’t you have it? But life finds a way to make the simplest things complicated. Love, desire, ambition. These always fall prey to complications, realities, and expectations.”
“I know what I want,” Anne said stubbornly.
“And I know you don’t always get what you want.”
“I have to try.”
Her mother touched three fingertips to her bottom lip. “You felt you had to drive all the way here, on your prom night, to tell me this?”
“I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time,” Anne said.
Her mother blinked and looked her over from foot to head. “That dress, though—”
“I know. Too short. Too bright red. The material is all wrong.”
Her mother nodded. “I was also going to say you look beautiful in it. Much more so in person than the picture.”
She hugged her mother tight.
“Are you having fun tonight?”
Anne nodded. “I went to prom with Josh Wickham.”
“The movie star?” Her mother sat up as she nodded. “That is impressive.”
“We’re just friends. I don’t like him like that.”
“Does he like you like that? Sometimes that’s enough. The apple doesn’t fall far sometimes.” Her mother sat back on the edge of the bed and ran her hands over her knees. “You sound like such an adult now, with your declarations.”
“Do you understand, Mom?” Anne sat next to her mother, the mattress buoyant beneath her weight.
Her mother clasped her hands and kissed her on the forehead. She ran her fingers through Anne’s hair and tucked her curls behind her ear. Anne leaned into the palm of her hand, her eyes drifting shut.
“Anne, I understand wanting your own life. I promise you, you’ll have the chance. But maybe for tonight, you can go back to being a girl and just have fun at your dance.”
* * *
Anne knew she was grinning from ear to ear like a crazy person. She leaned her elbow on the open truck window and rested her head on her hand.
She felt like she’d just shot into space.
Who could have known it would feel like this? Like helping Lucy a dozen times over. She should have done it sooner.
“Did it go okay?” Rick asked as he took them back to school.
“Better than okay.” Her phone buzzed and she glanced down to see a message from Lizzie.
Bring your red-post to the tree in an hour. No more excuses.
Everyone else would be bringing something. Lizzie had her book, Ellie had her trophy, Kat had the drama programs, Fanny had her track—Anne couldn’t wait to see how she’d drag that to the tree—and Emma had her crown.
Rick pulled into the parking lot.
Maybe she was high on courage because she said, “I need your help.”
He reared his head back for only a second, a blink of surprise, then masked it. “Okay.”
They walked in the front entrance to the school, right up to the stairs to the teachers’ offices. If Rick was nervous about what they were doing, he didn’t give any indication of it. He walked beside her, the same steady, firm presence he’d always been.
Did he remember what had happened in this room? It had been the first time he’d laid out his feelings for her in the fogged-up windowpane. She found the corner office and took out her master key.
With a quick push of the door, they were inside. It was dark, but she knew the desk was set back again
st the wall and two plush chairs were in front of it. She held out her hand to make her way around them. She felt Rick by her side as they moved in the dark. She walked up to the windowpane.
She pressed her fingertips to the cold glass. She drummed her nails against it, then leaned close and fogged out her breath.
She felt Rick hold his own breath beside her.
“Can you get this pane out?” she asked. She looked up at him, and he stared back down at her, breathing in once, twice. He was silent, and she fought the urge to fill that silence with awkward ramblings or justifications.
After a moment, he turned away. He opened the window, letting in a rush of cool air. His long fingers pressed against the glass on both sides. He went to the desk and came back with a letter opener. With a few quick swipes, he popped out the glass pane that was roughly the size of a folded piece of paper.
He handed it to her, and she accepted it, tucking it against her chest.
“Thank you,” she said. “If anyone asks, I’ll say I stole it alone.”
“You didn’t steal it,” he said. “It was always yours.”
Chapter Nine
The apple tree had been strung with lights, making it look as though it were heavy with brilliant, luminescent apples. Anne spotted her friends standing beneath the tree, and they all looked up, openmouthed, as Anne approached them with Rick by her side. He stopped, the grass rustling beneath his feet.
“I’m gonna go,” he said. “Do you need anything else?”
“No, thank you.”
“Nothing else?” he prodded.
She looked up and shook her head. He turned and walked away as she ran to her friends, holding up the glass pane.
“Oh, no fair,” she said, pointing to Fanny’s jar of sand. But no one responded as they all stared at her, clutching their items in their hands—except for Emma, who wore her crown on her head.
“I’m just gonna say it,” Emma said. “We’re all thinking it.”
Lizzie said, “I’m never thinking what you’re thinking.”
“Anne, you need to go after Rick.”