by Dahlia Adler
Granted, I didn’t actually have feelings for Nate, nor was I remotely as attracted to him as I was to Liam, but Nate was real and he was going to be by my side, whereas Liam…
There is no more Liam, I reminded myself. Our little romantic comedy is officially a tragedy. Time for a new costar.
“Yes, Nathaniel Donovan,” I replied, flashing as genuine a smile as I could muster. “Yes, I will.”
* * * * *
With APs looming and my father going in for another round, it actually wasn’t that hard to keep my mind off both prom and my breakup with Liam. Sure, I missed talking to him every night, and it was hard being in that hospital room and remembering how adorable it’d been to watch Liam bonding with my family. And it sucked to know that when I went shopping for a prom dress, there’d be no reason to factor in the fact that he’d once told me he loved me in green, and…
What was I saying again?
Oh, right. Totally easy to forget about what’s-hisname.
Okay, so I missed him, but I really was keeping myself busy, so I was less than thrilled when Van texted me on Wednesday to inform me that they were required back on set for two days of reshoots. Totes swamped, she added in a follow-up text. Desp need my asst!!!
Crap. My Calc AP was in a week, and European History was only a couple of days after that. I didn’t have time to deal with Vanessa, and I really didn’t want to go back to set and see Liam. Then again, though I was still secretly and unfairly mad at her for the whole publicity debacle, I couldn’t desert her now that she actually needed me.
Any chance I can help without coming to set? I wrote back, hoping for a response in the affirmative. I still hadn’t straight-up told her Liam and I had broken up—I really didn’t want to get into why with her—but she knew enough to know things weren’t good.
Actually, yes! she wrote back. Emailing u a list of stuff I need in a few.
I sighed as I walked into the school library and toward the computers to get her e-mail instead of heading directly to a study carrel like I should have. I pulled out my textbook to get a couple of minutes of studying in before her list arrived, but my eyes had barely made it down half a page when it came. All three pages of it.
I groaned and stuffed my book back into my bag before printing the e-mail. No chance I was getting any more studying done today. Not while dry cleaning needed to be picked up, twenty copies of that week’s issue of LA Spectator needed to be purchased somewhere so that Vanessa’s grandma could show a recent interview to all her friends, and a variety of appointments from spray tanning to teeth whitening needed to be scheduled.
It wasn’t a big deal to skip out on the rest of the day; after my study period all I had were Art and French, the former of which didn’t matter in the slightest a month before graduation and the latter of which I was in zero danger of falling behind. I printed out the e-mail and started making phone calls before I was even out of the building.
Five hours later, I was wiped out, and the credit card Vanessa had given me had taken a serious beating. I was tempted to charge some new luggage and a prom dress to it; she probably wouldn’t even have noticed.
I hadn’t yet mentioned prom to Vanessa either. Like Liam, it wasn’t exactly on her radar, and I didn’t know how to bring it up without admitting that he and I were, as she would say, “totes dunzo.” On top of that, also like Liam, Van didn’t appear to be too crazy about Nate. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear what she’d have to say about the fact that I was going to prom with him.
Still, I knew I had to mention it if I wanted her to come shopping with me. And despite the fact that she wouldn’t be going to prom, and she worked with my very recently ex-boyfriend—whom she was pretending to date—and she didn’t like my date, and going shopping with her would probably mean getting interrupted for autographs and pictures every thirty seconds, I really, really did want her to come shopping with me. She was, despite all of it, my best friend, and isn’t half the fun of prom shopping for an awesome dress with your bestie?
I texted her to let her know all the errands were done and to ask if she had time to run one of my errands with me that weekend. Almost immediately, she sent back a sad-face emoticon and said she had events and photo ops all weekend. I couldn’t bring myself to reply with any more than a reply sad face before I trudged up to my room to finally tackle my homework.
I’d only just unloaded the necessary books from my bag when my phone beeped with another text.
OK, u got me curious—whats the errand?!
I grinned. No matter how exciting Van’s life was, she always needed to know if there was something more exciting she could’ve been doing. I texted back, Oh nothing, just need to go shopping for a prom dress.
It was barely two seconds before she wrote back, OMG yes!! Will find s/t to cancel & call u tom.
Perfect. Sure, I was going to have to dip into my new college fund just a bit, but a girl only had one senior prom, right?
Right.
* * * * *
Okay, so I’m a big talker. I ended up stressing so much about paying for a dress that I took a babysitting job on Friday night even though I definitely should’ve been studying, especially since the evening before had been spent running yet another series of errands for Van. It was worth it, though, because before we could even hit a dress shop, I found the perfect pair of fuchsia silk pumps—on sale, no less.
“Now those are some serious fuck-me shoes,” Van said authoritatively, adjusting the sunglasses she was conspicuously wearing indoors beneath the same Lakers cap she’d worn to meet me at the Lunchbox. “Does this mean you and Liam have made up?”
I could tell she was trying to sound hopeful and supportive, but the anxiety in her undertone was glaringly obvious for someone who was supposed to be a decent actress. Not that I could really fault her for not wanting Liam to come to prom with me; it would mean the end of what had been quite a successful publicity stunt thus far, just as her movie auditions for summer filming were rolling in.
Still, it hurt to know that after almost sixteen years of friendship, we’d officially hit the point where we could no longer wholeheartedly want the best for the other.
I decided to take advantage of both the opening and the distraction of shopping to slip in the truth. “No, Liam and I are finished,” I said, trying to keep my voice light, even with the scratchy feeling of impending tears clawing its way into my throat. Something about saying the words to Vanessa made them extra real, even as I tried to make it sound like I didn’t give a damn. “Hey, let’s try Nordstrom. They always have gorgeous stuff on sale.” I started to walk in the direction of the store when I felt her hand yanking me back by the fabric of my tank top.
“Wait a minute there, lady,” she said firmly. “You’re what now?”
“We broke up.” I pulled my hair back into a ponytail in order to avoid eye contact for a few more seconds while I blinked back tears. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“Oookay,” she said, falling back in line with me to walk to Nordstrom. “So who are you going to prom with?”
“Just Nate,” I replied. “Seeing as you weren’t available and all.”
I expected her to at least crack a smile, but she simply glanced at me in disbelief. “Seriously, A? Are you trying to hurt Liam?”
I snorted. “Liam doesn’t give a damn what I do, V. He probably doesn’t even remember who Nate is.”
Vanessa stopped in her tracks. “Okay, Ally, seriously, you have got to stop thinking of Liam as this big celebrity who used you like a little plaything to pass the time in between takes. He really likes you, and I know you know that. Or at least you used to. I don’t know what happened between you guys, but I can tell you he definitely cares. Why are you doing this?”
As if I wanted to hear any more from Vanessa about what our boyfriend thought or felt. As if I wanted to be reminded that she still saw him and spoke to him and probably kissed him every single day, while I stared at pictures of him on my c
ell phone and cried my freaking eyes out thinking about how I’d never do any of those things again.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Van. Just drop it.”
“But—”
“Drop it,” I repeated, injecting a note of steel into my voice. I usually liked how well Vanessa knew me, but she was taking it too far right now. Where did she get off talking about my insecurities when it came to dating someone hot and famous? She was hot and famous! She was allowed out with Liam in public, and allowed to hold his hand. She was with him every time I needed to talk to him and got his voicemail instead. “Just stop.”
“Fine,” she replied, her voice every bit as stiff, “but I still think it’s cruel of you to go with Nate.”
“Who cares if it’s Nate or Attila the Hun?” I demanded. “Liam doesn’t know the difference.”
To my surprise, Van kept her mouth shut, but as she held the door open for me to enter Nordstrom, I noticed a weird look on her face. I narrowed my eyes. “He told you about our conversation after dinner, didn’t he? When I told him Nate thinks he likes me. I can’t even believe he told you that. He had no fucking right.”
“Once upon a time you would’ve been the one to tell me that,” she replied. “And give Liam a break already. He was jealous, Ally!”
“Is that so? Because he sure didn’t seem jealous to me.”
“Because he was trying not to seem like an insecure asshole. He only ranted to me because he didn’t want to tell you who to be friends with. You know how they tell you to pick someone you really hate to think about when you need to fuel an angry scene?”
“No.”
“Well, Nate’s Liam’s guy,” said Van, ignoring my answer as she followed me inside. “It drove him crazy every single time Nate touched you that night, and finding out that you spent the day with him on the beach didn’t help.”
“Hello, he’s been hooking up with my best friend in public for weeks! What a fucking hypocrite!”
“Shh,” Vanessa hissed. “Keep your voice down. People are starting to stare.”
“Fine, but you know that’s ridiculously unfair. I’ve had to deal with that times a thousand.”
“It’s different,” Van argued. “Nate’s a random guy who wants to see you naked. I’m your best friend, and you know I’m not into Liam.”
“You know what? It’s not different, and that doesn’t make it easier,” I snapped. “Trust me.”
“Oh, come on, Ally, don’t put this on me. I asked you if it was okay and you said it was fine. First, you neglect to tell me that you’re dating, then you lie to me about being all right with the plan—”
“I wasn’t lying when I said it,” I broke in. “I thought I would be. I tried to be, so freaking hard, because I thought it was the right thing for you. I can’t help that I didn’t know how much it would absolutely suck.”
“Like the fact that you and Liam both kept it a secret from me that you broke up?”
“I’m sorry that for once Liam didn’t see fit to tell you absolutely everything.” I rifled angrily through a few dresses without really looking at any of them. “That must’ve hurt since you guys are so damn close.”
“We did this to protect you, or don’t you remember?” Van whispered fiercely. “The truth was out there, and you ended up with paparazzi swarming your house. You can’t have everything you want.”
“No, that’s right, only you guys get that. We mere mortals just have to take whatever scraps you guys throw at us.”
“Because it’s so easy going on dates with Liam and knowing how badly he wishes he was with you instead,” Vanessa retorted. “It’s so fucking fantastic to be somebody’s second choice like that.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, Van, you really seemed miserable when you were jumping him in front of that stupid blogger.”
I could tell from the flash of surprise on her face that she hadn’t known I was there, and I couldn’t decide if that made it better or worse. Either way, it only lasted for an instant, and then her face hardened again. “The fact that you’re jealous of me and Liam doesn’t make what you’re doing with Nate right.”
My mouth dropped open. Never in all the years of our friendship had one of us accused the other of jealousy. I meant it when I told my dad the lack of it was what made our friendship work. Hearing that word was like a slap in the face, and the only way I knew to respond was to hit back harder.
“You’re kidding me, right? You think I’m jealous of you? You think I wish I could spend my life playing pretend every day? You think I wish I could be the kind of person who wouldn’t even consider taking my girlfriend to her prom, or who’d kiss her best friend’s boyfriend in front of her face? I’m not jealous of you and Liam; I feel sorry for you.”
“Good to know,” she said icily. “I’m so glad we could both help you with your much more important, real-life dreams, like going to prom with a guy you don’t even like and attending a college simply because it’s as far away from us as you can get.”
Even if I could’ve managed words past the lump in my throat, I wouldn’t have spoken them. There was nothing left to say, and we both knew it.
“Enjoy picking out your super-important prom dress,” said Van, turning on her heel, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
I refused to give her the satisfaction of watching her walk out, but I was shaking so hard I wasn’t sure I could’ve held my head up long enough to do it anyway. I’d never had a fight like that with Van before; never said or heard her say anything remotely like the nastiness we’d just exchanged. How had things gotten so bad so quickly?
And was there even any point in trying to fix them?
21
WITHOUT VANESSA’S ERRANDS to run, the time between the horrendous shopping experience and prom itself flew by in a whirl of studying, test-taking, and hospital visits. My dad continued responding to the treatment, which was great, but he still had about a million tumors, which was not so great. Nevertheless, I forced myself to adopt a single-minded focus, knowing that doing well on the APs was pretty much the best thing I could do for my dad right now.
I ended up going dress shopping with my mother, who was so happy to go with me that I felt bad for not thinking of it in the first place. The dress we got was much funkier than my usual style, short and gold and sparkly and a perfect complement to the fuchsia pumps. I had no idea if Nate would like it or hate it, and if I was honest with myself, I didn’t really care. Not that I really felt like being honest with myself about that night; if I did, I’d admit there was only one person I wanted on my arm, and that person was now three-thousand miles away and hadn’t spoken to me in weeks.
I had no idea how to match a bag to my outfit, so I didn’t bother; I simply tucked some cash into my bra and figured I’d borrow someone else’s phone if I needed it. I didn’t care much about taking pictures at the actual dance, and I knew my mother would take plenty beforehand, especially since my dad was in the hospital again and missing it all.
One bonus (or downside, depending on how you looked at it) of this whole hospital thing was that it made my mother exponentially better at using modern technology. The instant I reached low enough on the staircase that I was visible to Mom and Lucy, I heard the click of her camera phone and knew she was about to picture message my father.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Mom, at least wait until I can actually pose or something.”
“No way!” She took another picture. “I don’t want to miss any part of this, and I don’t want your father to either. The walk down the staircase is an integral part of prom.”
I rolled my eyes, but it was kind of nice to have her make such a big deal out of it. It was about time someone acknowledged that it was actually a worthwhile event. I knew I was going to regret this, but I said, “You know, you can record on that thing, too.”
“You’re kidding! Show me!” I did, and she had me walk down the stairs all over again so she could take a video of it and send it to my dad. Then she
took about a zillion shots of me—alone by the fireplace, standing with Lucy, close-ups of my face…It was exhausting, and I was relieved when the doorbell rang, signifying that Nate had arrived to pick me up for the pre-party at Sam’s, from which we and a few other couples would be sharing a limo to the dance.
Of course, my mom insisted on taking another hundred pictures or so, but fifteen hours later, we were finally on our way.
“You look really nice, by the way,” said Nate as he held open the passenger-side door to his Corolla. “I felt weird saying that in front of your mom.”
I grinned as I slid inside. “Probably for the best, since she would’ve made you say it again so she could get it on video and send it to my dad.”
He closed the door after me and got into the driver’s seat. “That’s pretty impressive. My mom can barely turn on a computer.”
“That’s a blessing, trust me,” I informed him, examining my lip gloss in the side mirror. “So who’s going to be at Sam’s?”
“Sam and Leila, obviously. Chase and that junior he’s bringing. Ethan and Jack, and… Who am I forgetting? Oh, yeah, Oliver and Dana.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Dana’s coming in the limo with us?”
Nate shrugged. “Yeah, why? I thought we were pretending to like her these days.”
Yeah, except she actually liked Nate, and had had a good time with him on their date, and she was none too thrilled with me when she’d found out he and I were going to prom together. God, this was going to be awkward.
“I’m just surprised I didn’t know is all,” I only half-lied. I really was surprised to realize I had no idea that Dana was going with Oliver Trask, a cute basketball player, but then again, I’d been living so far inside my own head lately I probably wouldn’t have noticed if she’d started hooking up with the Dalai Lama. I would’ve been even more surprised that Dana was going to be in a limo without Leni if I hadn’t recalled somewhere in the recesses of my mind that Leni was off in Arizona, visiting her sister who’d just had a baby.