“Arghhh!” In a panic, I sprinted up the stairs, taking them two at a time. My bedroom door slammed shut behind me and I spun around my room. The two dresses were still hanging where I’d left them on the back of my closet.
Green or blue?
I made a snap decision and grabbed the dark green one. I dug through my underwear drawer for a bra that wouldn’t show and found a pair of neutral shoes in my closet. Trying to keep my breathing under control, I clipped the bra on and slipped the dress over my head.
Holding the shoes in my hand, I ran barefoot from my room to the bathroom where I applied deodorant and a quick coat of mascara to my lashes. There was no time for anything elaborate with my hair so I pumped a glob of styling cream into my hands, ran them through my curls and called it good.
Henry was waiting for me at the bottom of the steps. Aspen was sitting beside him. “You look amazing.”
“Um, thanks. You too.”
“Do you have a jacket?”
“I... uh—” I looked back up the stairs. I hadn’t even thought about a jacket but I knew that I had nothing that was nice enough to go with this dress. But what I did have was an idea. I blinked and told Henry, “Stay there. I’ll be right back.”
I darted back up the stairs, but instead of turning right at the landing, I made a left and opened the door of my dad’s bedroom. I hadn’t been in here in so long but it was still the same. Traces of mom were everywhere—in the floral bedspread and the checked curtains. I noticed a half-used bottle of her perfume still on the top of the dresser. To someone who didn’t know the truth, it looked like she still lived here.
I swallowed against the hardening lump in my throat and headed for the cedar trunk at the foot of the bed. It had belonged to her.
I opened the lid of the trunk and carefully set aside my baby book and Mom’s music books until I found what I was looking for.
It fell somewhere between a coat and a cape and was made from a heavy cream-colored wool. The sleeves were wide and bell-shaped and it had three large buttons just below the wide collar. It had been Mom’s best piece of clothing. She and Dad didn’t get dressed up often, but when they did, she always wore it.
“Wow,” Henry said when I reappeared on the steps.
I looked down and rubbed my fingers over the fabric. “It belonged to my mom.”
“It’s perfect.”
He was right. It was perfect.
****
I had never been to a school dance before, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. It was being held in the school gym, which Henry informed me was where all of the dances took place.
“It’s good that we’re late,” he whispered to me as we walked in.
“Why?”
“Because at this point most of the jackasses have already bailed to go get wasted in the back of someone’s truck. It’ll be quieter and we can… you know, dance.”
“Oh.”
He noticed my face and quickly said, “But, don’t worry. I’m sure Miles will still be here.”
“It’s not that,” I replied, flustered. “I told you before that I don’t dance.”
“And I think I said that with me, you would.”
I laughed and looked around. The normally dull gym was transformed. The sterile yellowish light bulbs had been replaced with colored bulbs in pink and purple and soft green. A canopy of dark blue tulle was draped across the ceiling like a fairytale sky. Stars and moons made from shiny silver and gold paper dangled down through the folds of tulle and bounced around the muted pastel light like mirrors. The effect was dreamlike and magical.
“Oh my God.”
Henry laughed over the loud music. “I’m a guy but even I will admit that it looks great in here.”
I scanned the gym looking for people I recognized. In the low light it was hard to distinguish people on the dance floor but I thought I saw Alec and Emily. “If the dance committee went all out for Homecoming, I can’t imagine what Prom will be like in the spring.”
“You’ll have to see for yourself.”
I scoffed. “I will not be coming to prom. No way.”
He gave a full-body shrug then led me away from the door. We skirted the photographer’s booth where couples were posing for cheesy pictures in front of a vibrant blue backdrop and a long folding table filled with cookie trays and a clear glass water dispenser on a heavy steel base and wound up at the edge of the dance floor. He gently pulled my coat off and hung it on the back of a nearby chair.
I held myself awkwardly. I was wondering if people were watching us; if they’d seen me walk in with Henry Vaughn and worried they were having a psychotic break. He must have read my body language because when he came back, he bent his upper body toward me and said, “Relax.”
“Easy for you to say,” I muttered, watching the couples on the dance floor. They made all of this look so easy.
“Why?”
“Because of who you are.”
“And who am I?”
I didn’t know how to describe what I was feeling. “You’re somebody.”
He touched my bare arm. “So are you.”
That got me to look at him.
“And if Miles can’t see that, ” he continued, “he doesn’t deserve you.”
I opened my mouth to say something but the music changed from fast to slow and I felt myself being tugged in the direction of the other dancers.
“Wait!”
Henry smirked over his shoulder. “It’s time. Just try not to step on my toes.”
“Not funny.”
“C’mon, Care.” His hand slipped down my wrist to my open hand. He spun us in a circle and pulled me into his body. I felt his fingers move over my hips and my heart chugged.
“It’s not so bad, is it?”
No, no it wasn’t.
My arms were wrapped around Henry’s neck and our chests were pressed against one another. I was so overwhelmed by his nearness and the feel of his strong body that I was afraid to speak. I’d definitely give myself away.
“So... Miles?”
“Hmm?”
“Miles is at your two o’clock.”
And… we were back to Miles. I cleared my throat uncomfortably and pretended to look. Truthfully, I couldn’t have cared less. “Oh. Okay.”
Henry’s hands moved up my back and he pulled me in closer. My breath caught softly.
“Is he watching us?” Henry asked in a husky voice.
I let my eyes close as I rested my head on his shoulder. “Mm-hmm, I’m sure he is.”
“Good,” Henry said softly into my hair.
“Mm-hmm,” I murmured.
“I knew dancing was a good idea.”
And dance we did. All. Night.
When our feet got tired and the gym started to empty, Henry found my jacket and drove us to a drive-thru. We ate hot french fries and slurped cold milkshakes as we talked all the way to my house. By an unsaid agreement, neither of us brought up Hannah or the fight we’d had and I was grateful for that. For this one night.
“You don’t have to get out,” I told him as I climbed out of the car.
“Of course I do. What kind of date doesn’t walk a lady to her door?”
I laughed at his teasing tone, but I couldn’t help but think that if this were in a movie, we would be building up to a kiss. But, I reminded myself as we reached the door, this wasn’t a movie and there wouldn’t be a kiss. I was Cinderella realizing that not only did I lose one of my favorite shoes, the dreamy night was coming to an end. No more sparkly dress. No more prince. All that was left behind was plain old me.
Dad’s truck was here and his bedroom light was off so I knew he was probably asleep. Careful not to wake him, I was quiet as I put my key into the slot in the lock and turned it.
“So,” I started. “Thank you.”
“No broken bones or black eyes. I call that our first big dancing success,” he said. “And, I’m pretty sure this means you owe me a coffee date.”
I quietly
laughed. “I had a surprisingly good time tonight.”
He tipped backward and slapped a hand over his chest. “Ouch. I feel like I should be offended.”
“You know what I mean,” I said smiling. “Thanks for making me do this.”
“Thanks for letting me convince you.”
I opened the door and stopped, suddenly remembering something. “Can I ask you a question?”
Henry hadn’t moved. His suit jacket had come off after the dance and standing under the porch light, I could see the stark outline of his undershirt through the thin fabric of his white dress shirt. “Anything.”
It was a stupid question but I wanted to know the answer. “What song were you going to blare out of the boombox?”
“Guess,” he said.
“Something by Ed Sheeran?” He was my favorite after all.
Henry shook his head and started to back away from me.
“The Lumineers?”
He smiled lightly. “Nope.”
I thought harder. “Sam Smith?”
“Keep trying.”
“Walk the Moon?” I guessed.
“And here I thought I was being predictable…”
“Okay,” I laughed. “Is it something by Passenger?”
He was already at his car. Before he opened his door, he met my eyes and shook his head.
I was stumped. “Which one?”
His smile grew and I felt it all the way down to my toes. “What else would I play for you? You’re Sweet Caroline.”
From: Hannah
To: Caroline
Date: October 25
Subject: Helloooo???
I have no idea if you’re reading this or just outright deleting everything I send your way, but I wanted to let you know that I know why you’re mad at me. I get it now and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have talked to Henry. I shouldn’t have told him about Operation Cupid.
In other news, I talked to Owen (finally!!) and I have so much to tell you about what’s going on with that and here in London but you have to TALK TO ME first.
Call me? Write? If Owen can find it in his heart to forgive me, can’t you do the same?
Hannah
____________
“Everything is a mess,” I whined into the phone. “Again.”
It was Sunday afternoon and I’d resorted to crying into the phone to my mom.
“Oh, Hannah,” she said and I could here her chopping something on a cutting board in the background. I wondered what she was making—her famous chili? A Sunday pot roast?—and my heart ached for home. “It’s not that bad.”
But it was.
It was that bad.
On Friday after I’d talked to Owen, I’d deluded myself into thinking that things were going to be better. What a joke.
“Mom, you don’t understand! I finally know why Caroline is mad at me but that doesn’t do me any good if she’s still refusing my calls. Which she is!”
“I’m sure if you keep trying then—”
I cut her off. I was sick of explaining this. “I’ve left message after message after message!”
“Have you tried sending her an email?”
“Of course I have!” I shouted.
“Sweetie,” she said in a calm voice and I heard her set something down. Probably the knife. “There’s no need to yell at me.”
I slumped down to the floor of my bedroom. “I know. I’m sorry, but I’ve emailed and texted Caroline about a bazillion times and she still hasn’t responded. I don’t even know if she’s reading them.” I sighed and pulled my knees up to my chest. “And I’m beginning to worry that our friendship won’t be repaired until I can see her in person and force her to talk to me. Which means that things might stay like this until Christmas at the earliest.”
Ugh, such a depressing thought.
“But what more can I do?” I continued as I twisted a strand of my blond hair over my finger. “Hire a skywriter to write her a message in the sky? Send her one of those sing-o-grams? Call the police?”
“What about Owen?”
I groaned and released my hair. “I told you, Mom. Asking him to intervene seems unfair.”
“How so?”
“Well, after three years of being my boyfriend, my go-to when times got tough, Owen is now my…my…” My what exactly? My friend? My acquaintance? Someone I used to know? I wasn’t even sure how to explain our relationship so I knew that asking him to play mediator between Caroline and me was too much too fast.
“I don’t know what Owen is to me right now. We’re still barely talking to each other, so I don’t think I can drag him into this.” I paused. “But I do have an idea. Maybe. If you’re willing to help me.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah,” I hedged. “I was thinking that you could talk to Henry. You know, have him sort this out and set the record straight.”
Mom hesitated. “Hannah, you know I don’t like to get in the middle of your sibling spats.”
“It’s not like that. We’re not fighting. We’re just…” I wasn’t sure what Henry and I were doing. I’d called him multiple times over the weekend but he’d sent each and every one of those calls to voicemail before the phone could ring for the second time, which I didn’t take as a good sign.
From a Facebook post, I’d worked out that he and Care had gone to Homecoming together after all. Knowing that made me happy and wistful and crazy anxious all at once. WHAT DID IT ALL MEAN? Were they a couple? Was he just being a friend to her? Was Caroline going to wind up hurt and hating me even more?
“Henry and I are just miscommunicating,” I concluded.
“I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” she said. “I’m sorry you’re upset but I can’t get involved. As it is, I’m worried enough about your father. He’s been working so much lately and I’ll tell you what, he is overly stressed. Just between you and me, things are not going well with the new branch office his company opened and he’s having trouble with some of the investors.”
“But, Mom—”
“Hannah, you have to try to put things in perspective. You and Caroline will work this out.”
“But—” I tried again.
My mother plowed past my objections. She was back to chopping. “Honestly, sweetie. I’m sure things will look better in the morning,” she said with a note of finality. “They always do.”
****
But things weren’t looking better in the morning. In fact, by the time the morning rolled around, my brain wouldn’t shut off and my nerves were so jangled that my teeth were literally chattering in my head. Okay, not literally, but suffice it to say that when I showed up to school, I was a walking disaster.
It didn’t help that things were officially weird with Tillie. Clearly she was still upset that I’d been so snotty to her on Friday. After our economics class, I tried to apologize again but she brushed me off and told me it was no big deal. Obviously it was. She wouldn’t even look me in the eye.
And to make matters worse, when I tried to tell Joel about it just before lunch, he kind of blew me off. Then he informed me that he was going to spend the lunch period in the library trying to catch up on some of his homework.
Okaaay…
Instead of eating by myself, I spent the hour on the concrete steps in front of Warriner watching the London traffic move by on the street below and asking myself the hard questions.
What was I going to do about school and the ten thousand words Mr. Hammond wanted me to write?
Would Caroline read my latest email?
And, what was up with Joel? Was he avoiding me?
He’d definitely been acting cagey this morning. And then there was the fact that we hadn’t spoken at all over the weekend. Not at all. Not even in a text.
At the time, I hadn’t given it a lot of thought. Yeah, we’d left things a bit unfinished on Friday afternoon but I figured we were okay. I figured he was just giving me some space, letting me stew in my miser
y.
But maybe that wasn’t it.
Maybe it was more.
Feeling a little panicky, I groped around my bag for my phone. I sent him a short text asking how homework was coming along. Then I waited. And waited.
Nada.
Radio silence.
It was deja vu.
By the end of the lunch hour, I was determined to talk to him, to confront him if I needed to. I wanted to do this before class, but he walked in the door late and didn’t take the desk behind me.
Did he do that on purpose?
Had he chosen to sit in the back of the classroom because he was avoiding me or was it simply the first open seat he’d found?
God, I was driving myself crazy. Seriously. Even though I was sitting down, I couldn’t seem to catch my breath and my insides were lurching wildly. I tried to focus on what Mr. Hammond was saying—hell, I needed to focus on him—but I must have looked over my shoulder at least fifty times trying to make eye contact with Joel.
When I realized that wasn’t going to work, I made a plan to catch him as soon as class was over. But like he was some kind of ninja, he disappeared, slipping through the door before I could even get out of my chair.
To my annoyance, that left squash practice.
Dressed in the awful blue and yellow uniform, I walked into the gym after school and looked around. Joel was standing near Mr. Hammond. His hands were on his hips and his stance was slouched, casual. He was reading something on the clipboard Mr. Hammond was holding.
I took a deep breath and approached.
“Hey!” I was hoping to sound cheerful, but my voice came out way too high. Like Minnie Mouse sucking on helium high.
Joel looked up, met my gaze. He didn’t smile or look sorry that he’d blown me off earlier. He just seemed…. flat or distant or something. It was definitely strange and I was rattled.
I tried to cover this up by chatting and blathering like nothing was wrong. I even brought up the Grimm dinner theater thing he’d asked me about on Friday. But Joel only responded in grunts and awkward head nods. Before I could flat-out ask him what the deal was, Mr. Hammond set up a series of targets and split us up into teams of four. We were supposed to run drills using the targets to help us improve the aim and accuracy of our drives.
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