by Bella Thorne
She doesn’t finish the sentence, just raises her eyebrows meaningfully. From that moment on, I’m tortured by an endless stream of way-too-vivid visions of what those raised eyebrows didn’t say.
At four in the afternoon, the sisterhood takes off so we can get dressed and ready. We’re supposed to come back at seven—an hour before the dance starts—to put out food and drinks and turn on all the lights, the fog machine, and the music. Before Carrie can offer, I pounce on Gus and ask him to give me a ride home. If Carrie’s going over to J.J.’s house before the dance for more of what happened last night, I don’t want to know about it.
The dance is semiformal, no costumes. Personally, I love Halloween costumes. Halloween was my dad’s favorite holiday, and the four of us always went all out with themed costumes and decorations. But whatever—the senior class didn’t want costumes, so we’re not having them. Instead I put on an off-white over-one-shoulder dress, with a wrap top and flowing skirt that drapes to mid-thigh. It has excellent spin properties, so it’s perfect for a dance. The locket isn’t exactly the ideal accessory for the dress, but no way am I leaving it home. I throw it over my head and tuck the zemi medallion down the front. I wear my hair long, with just a little curl, and add a wide silver bracelet and funky hoop earrings. My silver heels won’t be comfortable for dancing, but I fully expect to kick them off when the party gets good.
My oversized pink shoulder bag looks nothing but weird with the outfit, but I need someplace to stash my Scare Pair cards. I also toss in some lip gloss, my wallet, and my phone and I’m ready to go about five minutes before Gus—who agreed to grab me on his way back to school—honks his horn.
My heart thumps as Gus and I clomp our way down to the gym, our shoes echoing down the nearly empty halls. What if I don’t get the chance to put my Scare Pair cards in with the real ones? What if someone catches me when I try?
I don’t have to worry. Gus and I are the last to arrive. Carrie and the other six girls are already in the gym working, and the two low plastic bins of stuffed Scare Pair envelopes are already set out on a card table outside the main doors.
“You’re late!” Carrie cries when she sees us. “Autumn, make the punch. Gus, start working on the fog machine.”
“On it,” I say. “I’m just going to ditch my bag back in my locker.”
“Just toss it down somewhere!” Carrie retorts.
“Two seconds,” I assure her. “I don’t want to have to think about it later.”
I kick off my heels and trot out the doors, then quickly peek back inside to make sure everyone’s hard at work and concentrating on their own thing. Once I’m sure they are, I yank out my eight altered Scare Pair envelopes and very quickly slip them into—or near to—their rightful alphabetical spots. Then I sprint down the hall, ditch my bag, and sprint back.
I’m a little surprised none of my futures have shown me as a super-spy. I think I’d be really good at it.
We’re still working on the room at seven-thirty when the first people start to show up. It’s insanely early for a school dance, but we figure people are stoked about their Scare Pairs and want to find out right away. Carrie sends Kassie and Brody to hand the cards to early arrivals, then shuts the gym doors so we can finish up in peace. By the time we emerge at eight o’clock to start the party for real, there’s a big crowd. Some of them have their cards, some need them, some are already laughing with or chatting up their computer dates. Everyone seems so buzzed and energized I get all wrapped up in the excitement.
“They like it!” I say, nudging Carrie. “It’s a huge success!”
Carrie grins back and all eight of us start handing out cards as fast as we can, then urge people into the gym where the music blasts, the fog seeps across the floor, and recorded screams and maniacal laughter keep making people jump.
J.J.’s the first of my friends to come in. My breath catches when I see him. He’s wearing black suit pants and a black button-down shirt and carrying a sport jacket slung over one shoulder. He walks down the hall toward me, a slow smile on his face. I smile back and almost say something, until I realize he’s not looking at me at all. I’m standing right next to Carrie. The smile and intensity are all for her.
Ignoring everyone else, he wraps his arm around Carrie’s waist and kisses her for just this side of an eternity. I tell myself to look away, but I can’t—not even when it feels like my toenails are being peeled off my feet one by one.
“Do you have a card for me?” he asks her, still not even looking in my direction.
“I do,” she says flirtatiously. “And I think you’ll like it.”
She flips through the envelopes, frowning when J.J.’s isn’t exactly where it’s supposed to be. Then she flips around some more and pulls it out. She watches J.J. with a knowing smile as he opens it and pulls out the card.
“Mariah Amhari?” he asks.
For a moment, Carrie looks utterly perplexed. Then she beams. “Yes! Isn’t that fun? And since Mariah and I are both on the Senior Social Committee, we think we should set a good example and actually spend some time with our Scare Pairs. Mariah!”
Carrie moves to Mariah, who’s on my other side and a little bit behind me. She leans in close and rises onto her tiptoes so she can whisper into Mariah’s ear, “You actually switched! You are the best!!!!”
“What?” says Mariah, but Carrie’s already leading her to J.J.
I’m just as surprised. I had no idea Carrie would think Mariah was behind the swap. This is perfect!
“Here you are!” Carrie says, presenting Mariah to J.J. “Go on in and have fun!”
Mariah still looks like she’s about to object, but I’m ready. I’ve already pulled her envelope and I hand it to her now. “Can’t forget your envelope!”
She opens and reads it, then looks curiously at Carrie. Carrie literally needs more face to contain her smile. Mariah shrugs and takes J.J.’s arm, but she raises an eyebrow to me before they go in, and I can’t help but grin. It’s pretty clear Mariah thinks Carrie made the switch so she can be with Keith. As for J.J., he still looks completely confused, but he’s a true gentleman. He gives Carrie just one searching look, then turns his full attention to Mariah, chatting her up as they make their way into the gym.
“I don’t know how she did it,” Carrie says, “but I’m soooo glad she did.”
I wheel around. Carrie’s back is to me and she’s talking to Kassie, but Kassie gives a warning nod. Carrie wheels around and blushes when she sees I’ve overheard. “N-not that…,” she stammers. “I mean…I don’t…”
Entertaining as it is to watch her struggle for an explanation, I need her to relax and have a good time. “You don’t have to explain,” I assure her with a smile. “It’s a fix-up dance. It’s fun.”
Carrie visibly relaxes. And when Keith Hamilton shows up a few minutes later, she sprints to him to give him his envelope. When he opens it, he looks as happy as she does. Carrie links her arm with his and calls out to the rest of us, “The remaining cards are all yours, sisters! I’m going inside to make sure everything’s okay!”
“Right,” Gus says once she’s gone. “If by ‘everything’ she means Keith Hamilton’s scrawny body. Hashtag-whatever, hashtag-breeders.”
“You never know,” I say. “He’s scrawny now, but one day he could be an underwear model.”
Gus, Swoozie, Brody, Kassie, and Meegan just look at me; then we all burst out laughing.
My next victim to hit the dance is Zander. Swoozie hands him his Scare Pair envelope, and when he opens it he fist-pumps and shouts, “YES!” then high-fives his friends before going into the gym.
Taylor and Drew come in together. She’s in a short sparkly sheath dress and high heels, but Drew’s still taller than her by a couple inches. They remind me so much of the way I saw them in the future that I feel all warm and happy inside. Tee gets her Scare Pair envelope from Brody and I sincerely hope whoever she’s paired with doesn’t have high hopes for a love connection, becaus
e Taylor’s one hundred percent taken.
Reenzie and Sean come in soon after that. They look dazzling, of course, like they’re ready to be anointed prom king and queen. I give Reenzie her envelope and Meegan gives Sean his. When he opens it, he glares at me and his face turns to stone.
“Is this a joke?” he asks.
“I didn’t do it!” I object. “It was the computer!”
“I’m not dancing with you.” Staring daggers at me, Sean crumples the Scare Pair card in his fist. “Reenz, I’ll meet you inside.”
He stalks into the gym. Reenzie scrunches her brows and leans close. “For real now—did you set yourself up with him?”
“Reenzie. He hates me. Why on earth would I set myself up with him?”
Reenzie smiles. “You’re right. He totally hates you. Here, why don’t you take my Scare Pair.”
She hands me her card and I look at it. “Derek Montzer. The nose picker. That’s really sweet of you, Reenzie.”
She smiles. She has no idea I’m being facetious.
“I’m gonna let you keep him, though,” I say. “I’m sure he’s looking forward to your dance. Don’t be a ghoul!”
Reenzie grimaces, then heads into the gym after Sean.
By now almost everyone has arrived, so I volunteer to stick around and hand out the last cards while the rest of the sisterhood goes into the gym.
“I’ll stay too,” Gus says. “Doug Church already told me he has a boyfriend he met online. Whole dance concept, complete waste of time.”
Gus is fun, and the two of us are having a good time dishing about which computer couples we think will succeed and which will crash and burn, when Tom Watson comes out of the gym and beelines for Gus.
“Seriously hating you right now,” Tom says.
Tom’s bookishly adorable, with thick-framed glasses and the uncanny ability to wear a vest over a button-down striped shirt, red tie, and pressed jeans and make it look not just semiformal but high fashion.
“What did I do?” Gus asks.
“You sicced Anton Graff on me! I just broke up with him last week!”
“No clue what you’re talking about,” Gus says. “The computer did everything.”
“The computer gave me Jack Rivers. Anton has his own little extra card with my name on it.” He points at Gus. “J’accuse!”
“Okay, put that thing away, ’cause I want no part of it,” Gus says. “Whatever crazy forgery Anton made is on him. More importantly…Jack Rivers is gay?!”
“I know, right?” Tom says excitedly. “And he’s really cute. I think this might be his coming out party.”
I am dying listening to their conversation. It’s perfect! Jack has a secret crush on Tom; Tom thinks Jack is totally cute….This will be exactly the encouragement Jack needs to get over his fear and embrace his true self!
“Mija! You will not believe the mishegoss this boy put me through!”
Ames is a self-proclaimed PuertoMecuadorbano Jew. Her mom’s side is a mix of Latina ancestries, and her dad brings home the no-bacon. When she speaks Spanish, I’m with her. When she pulls out the Yiddish, she loses me. Right now she’s strutting down the hall in heels so high I’d break my neck if I tried to take a step, and she’s poured into a skintight tiger-stripe dress that by all rights should be a crime against fashion but on her looks spectacular. Rows of bracelets clink up and down her arms as she walks.
Jack is several feet behind her. He wears a rumpled blue suit and doesn’t even attempt to keep up.
“He lost his car keys inside his house,” Ames explains. “Panzon! I had to wait around for almost an hour before he found them in the freezer!”
“Because that’s where I got the pizza I had for dinner!” Jack explains as he catches up and joins us. “It was way in the back and the baggie it was in was all iced over, so I had to use my keys to chop it out. I left them there by accident.”
“How old was that pizza that you had to chop it out of the freezer?!” Ames shoots back. Then she says, “You know what? Never mind. Autumn, give me my man.”
I hand her the envelope with her name on it. She rips it open and reads it in a blink. “Michael Watley? Dios mio, yes!” She tosses the card over her shoulder and slinks into the gym, singsonging, “It’s your lucky day, Mikey!”
Behind Jack and me, Tom clears his throat. We both turn. Tom stands a couple feet away, an adorable smile on his face. I can’t help but smile back. I know what’s going to happen and I can’t wait.
“Excuse me,” Tom says to Jack, “but it would be my honor to personally deliver your Scare Pair card. I think you’ll see why.”
I scan Jack’s face for the excitement I know he must be feeling. I can only imagine his racing heart and his sweaty palms as Tom approaches him.
I look for those things, but I don’t see them. Honestly, the closer Tom gets, the more Jack looks like he smells something gross.
He takes the envelope from Tom. Tom leans forward as Jack rips it open, like it’s Christmas and he’s just waiting for Jack to unwrap the best gift ever.
Jack pulls out the card. He stares at it. He scrunches his brows.
“What is this?”
Tom casts a quick glance at Gus, then back at Jack. He looks a little uncertain now and laughs nervously. “It’s your Scare Pair card. I’ve got the matching one.”
He holds up his own card, but Jack sneers, “I can’t be hooked up with you. You’re a dude.”
The word drips with scorn, and Tom understands immediately. He purses his lips and nods. “Got it. Some kind of computer glitch. No worries.”
“No worries?! No worries?!” Jack’s voice floats high and out of control. “This is sick, that’s what this is. This is somebody’s sick joke!”
“Okay, enough with the ‘sick’ stuff,” Gus says. “It’s a mistake. It happens.”
Both Tom and Gus look completely disgusted, and I know I have to do something quick. This is supposed to be Jack’s big watershed moment. I can’t let it fall to shreds.
“Gus is right!” I say, jumping between Jack and the guys. “I mean, the whole Scare Pair thing is just about meeting new people, right? So forget the fix-up part. I mean, it’s a funny mess-up, right? You guys can go in to the party as friends and laugh about it!”
“You are a sad person,” Tom says. “You can hang out here if you want. I’m going to go in and dance. Want to join me, Gus?”
“Love to.”
No! I want to scream as the two of them walk into the gym. You have it wrong! Jack’s gay! I swear! I don’t know why he’s acting this way!
Jack, meanwhile, is turning into the Incredible Hulk—a description he’d appreciate under pretty much any other circumstance. His face is fire-engine red, his fists clench and unclench, he snorts through his nose, and he’s pacing back and forth across the hall.
“Jack, calm down,” I say gently. “This doesn’t have to be a big deal.”
Instead of answering, Jack roars—this horrible, guttural noise—and punches his fist into a wall. Immediately he yelps and clutches his hand to his chest.
“Jack!” I gasp. “Are you okay?”
I put my hand on his back, but he shakes me off. “I’m going home,” he mutters. “Tell Ames to get another ride.”
He storms down the hall. I take a few steps after him, then stop and clench my fingers in my hair, no idea what to do. I’m still trying to figure it out when I hear loud, high shrieks from inside the gym. I run inside. It’s pitch black, lit only by strobes and red, green, and orange gelled lights, plus fog shrouds the room. Still, it’s impossible not to see what’s going on. Ames is in the middle of the dance floor, on the back of Corbin Foster. It almost looks like Corbin’s giving her a piggyback ride, except she’s flapping her arms, trying to push Ames off her, while Ames yanks at Corbin’s hair and swears at her in a string of Spanish so filthy, Eddy would stand up and cheer. Zander’s right in front of the scrum, applauding and cheering her on.
“Girl fight!” he cheers
. “Keep it up!”
Mr. Winthrop, our faculty chaperone, races to Ames and pulls her off Corbin. I run over, too, and Taylor and Drew meet me there. Ames kicks and struggles in Mr. Winthrop’s grip, while Corbin darts to the safety of Zander’s arms.
“You need to stop, Amalita,” Mr. Winthrop says. “You’re already facing a suspension for fighting. Don’t make it worse.”
The word “suspension” makes Ames freeze. She looks up at Mr. Winthrop plaintively. “Pleeeease don’t suspend me. You suspend me and soy muerta. And I’m sorry, but you saw that girl. She was all over him. You know Zander’s mine.”
Mr. Winthrop frowns. “Really? ’Cause that’s not the scuttlebutt I’ve been hearing. Why don’t we go sit down and you can give me your take.”
Unbelievable. Ames just imploded and Mr. Winthrop’s using it to make sure he’s solid on the latest gossip.
“Actually, Mr. Winthrop,” Taylor says. “I was thinking Drew and I could just take her home.”
“I’ll come too,” I say, but Taylor shakes her head.
“We’re good,” she says, and smiles shyly up at Drew. “We were going to leave soon anyway.”
Drew smiles back at her. Their connection is so obvious I can practically see it sizzle. I may have inadvertently destroyed Amalita’s and Jack’s lives, but at least one thing went well tonight. I nod, and Taylor puts an arm around Ames and leads her out of the gym. I talk to Mr. Winthrop for a bit and try to convince him not to suspend Ames. He agrees to strongly consider it, but only if I give him the scoop about what was going on with J.J. and me in Mrs. Foreman’s office the other day.
No, he doesn’t actually say it that way. He acts like they’re two totally different issues, but I know him well enough to get what he’s after. We go chat in a corner and I give him just enough to satisfy his need for news: that it was just tutoring, it maybe got a little flirty, but it’s all up in the air and I’d appreciate his discretion because Carrie doesn’t know anything about it, and J.J.’s still very much with her.