All the Way

by Megan Stine

  “No, no, no.” I grabbed it out of her hands and shoved it back into the rack.

  “Why not?” she asked. “My mom always points out that dress every time we come in here.”

  “That’s why not,” I said. “Because your mom points out that dress every time you come in!”

  Wow, I thought. Emily must have the mother from hell. Always telling her she was fat, always picking out geeky clothes. And then she probably puts Emily down for not being more popular and having more dates!

  I yanked a shimmery black dress with spaghetti straps off the rack, just for contrast. “Try this. And don’t wear your bra under it.”

  “Oh God,” she said, laughing and blushing.

  But she did it, and it looked great on her. I think even Emily began to see her own potential after she saw how hot she looked in that dress.

  “So buy it!” I said.

  “No way.” She shook her head firmly. “What for?”

  We walked to the car, both of us loaded down with packages.

  “Okay, next week, we work on your hair,” I said, trying to sound like it was just a fun project, not an insult.

  “As long as I don’t have to cut it,” she said firmly.

  “We’ll see.” What did she think—that I’d just wave a magic wand and make it better?

  Emily had driven, and after she got behind the wheel, she looked at me for a minute without starting the engine.

  “What?” I asked.

  She hesitated. “I’m not sure whether to tell you this,” she said. “But if I were you, I’d rather know—so here goes.”

  “What?” I braced myself for something awful. What was it? Another e-mail? Something else on Joey’s website? More rumors about my nonexistent slutty sex life?

  “I was backstage during rehearsal yesterday,” she said. “After you’d gone home. And I overheard Natalie asking Tyler who he’s going to the prom with.”

  Uh-oh. My stomach tensed up, and suddenly I felt like I couldn’t breathe. “What did he say?”

  “He said he wasn’t sure.”

  “That’s it? Did he say anything else?”

  “He asked her who she was going with, and she said she hadn’t decided.”

  My heart started pounding. Wow. Had it even crossed his mind to ask me?

  “Well, I mean, how did he look? Like he was just asking her to make conversation? Or was he scoping out the situation, to see if she’d go with him?”

  “I’m not sure,” Emily said slowly. “But . . .”

  “What?”

  “Um, I don’t know.”

  “Come on, you’ve got to tell me now. What else happened? What did he say?”

  “Nothing. Mr. Richards called them back to rehearsal then. But when they were doing their big love scene . . . I don’t know. Either they’re both really good actors, or . . .”

  “Or what? Or he’s into her?”

  Emily nodded. “It was a really intense scene, that’s all. Everyone was silent, watching, because it was so riveting and real. They had it going on.”

  Shit.

  “I don’t know, maybe he was just trying to find out if she’d freak out when he asks you to the prom,” Emily said, trying to put a positive spin on it.

  Yeah. Right.

  I couldn’t really lie to myself that way . . . although I was tempted. I mean, Emily could be right. Maybe he just didn’t want it to come as a shock to Natalie when he asked someone other than her.

  Why would he ask her anyway? I thought. He was dating me. Me. He wasn’t taking her to the movies tonight.

  Not that I knew, anyway.

  “I’ve got to get home and get ready,” I said to Emily, nodding toward the keys.

  When I got home, I showered and did my hair as fast as I could. Then I called Rachel so she could help me decide what to wear.

  “Go with the fuzzy periwinkle sweater and jeans,” Rachel said. “Simple but seductive. Guys can’t keep their hands off fuzzy sweaters, in my experience.”

  “But that’s my point!” I said into the phone. “Do I want his hands all over me? I mean, how far should I let him go?”

  “I’m not sure.” Rachel said it like it was a math calculation. “Is this the first date or the second?”

  “Exactly! That’s my point.”

  “Well, the first date was just coffee, right?” she quizzed me.

  “Yeah, but it was a definite date,” I argued. “I mean, he asked me in advance. It wasn’t spur of the moment or anything.”

  “Then this is the second date,” Rachel declared.

  “Are you sure? I don’t want to give him the wrong idea. I mean, I’d die if he thought Joey was telling the truth about me.”

  “But you’re really into him, right?”

  “Tyler? For sure.”

  “Well, then, forget about Joey,” Rachel advised. “Just act the way you would if Joey had never happened.”

  That was excellent advice.

  “You’re the best,” I said. “Thanks!”

  See? That’s why she was my closest friend for so long.

  Talking to her like that gave me such a pang of nostalgia for the old days.

  It’s funny, though. A few minutes later, Tyler’s car pulled into our driveway, and all of a sudden I realized something. I missed Rachel, missed my old friendship with her, but I didn’t miss the old days as much as I had before. Suddenly I was looking forward to the stuff I was doing at Norton: the road trip to Cleveland, the play, the prom.

  This was my life now, good or bad, and I was ready to deal with it.

  No, more than that. I was ready to make it the best last few weeks a senior girl could hope to have.

  “Don’t look now, but that’s my uncle in the front row,” Tyler said as we walked down the aisle in the movie theater.

  “The bald man with the red scarf?” I said.

  “Yeah.” Tyler nodded, stopping. “My mother’s brother. He’s kind of crazy. He won the lottery a few years ago—not a million dollars or anything, just a hundred fifty thou—but he quit his job, and all he ever does is go to the movies all day.”

  “But what’s he going to do when the money runs out?”

  I’d heard my parents talk about money often enough. I knew a hundred fifty thousand dollars sounded like a lot, but it wouldn’t last very long. It wouldn’t last forever, anyway.

  “Who knows?” Tyler said, shrugging. “Go back to what he was doing before? Working at a carpet store?”

  “He could get a job in a video store,” I joked.

  “Right. Or maybe become an usher here. Anyway, let’s sit in the back,” Tyler said, getting to the point. “If he sees me, he’ll never stop gabbing at us.”

  “Okay.” I smiled inside, because the back row suited me fine. More romantic. More private. More chance that he’d kiss me in the dark.

  We walked back up the aisle and slipped into the very last row. The lights were still on because the movie wasn’t going to start for another ten minutes—we were early. People were straggling into the theater, finding seats, and getting settled. But Tyler didn’t wait for the lights to go down. He put his arm around me and pulled me closer to him.

  My heart started racing at the feel of his hand on my arm. I turned to look at him, and my breath got shallow. He looked so cute, wearing a navy hooded sweatshirt over a gray athletic T-shirt and baggy putty-colored cargo pants.

  “Hi,” he said, smiling down at me.

  “Hi.” I felt like everyone in the whole theater disappeared right that instant. Like we were the only ones there, having our own private little moment, and no one could possibly intrude.

  My pulse got faster, waiting for him to kiss me. I mean, usually guys wouldn’t go for it so soon, but he didn’t seem to be taking things slow. He had already put his arm around me before the movie even started . . . so . . .

  I tilted my head slightly . . . waiting.

  But all he did was give my shoulder a squeeze.

  Wow, I thought. Tal
k about frustrating! All of a sudden, I wanted him to kiss me so much, I couldn’t stand it.

  Just then I glanced over and saw the bald man with the red scarf heading up the aisle toward the exit, on his way to the restroom or something.

  “Uh-oh. Here comes your uncle,” I whispered, nudging Tyler.

  Tyler looked over at the exact moment that the man turned his head and glanced at us. Our eyes met.

  And then he kept walking.

  Tyler burst out laughing so hard, several people turned to stare at us.

  “What was that?” I asked. “He didn’t even recognize you!”

  It took a minute for Tyler to answer, he was so convulsed with laughter. Finally he got a grip.

  “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head and still laughing.

  “That’s not my uncle.”

  “What?” I blinked. “You mean you thought it was, but it was someone else?”

  “No,” he said. “I don’t have an uncle. I mean, I don’t have one who won the lottery. I made all that up.”

  I pulled away from him slightly. “What?”

  “I just wanted to sit in the back row,” he said. “I’ve got this habit of making up crazy, wild stories. My older sister Tara started it. She’s done it ever since I was a kid, for kicks.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Do you even have a sister?” I asked suspiciously.

  He laughed. “Yeah, I do—honest. She’s an actress, or at least she’s trying to be.

  I laughed. “But . . . I mean . . . how do I know you aren’t a pathological liar?” I said. “I mean, it’s pretty weird making up an uncle.”

  He put his arm around me again and gave me a squeeze. “Don’t worry, I won’t do that to you again. It’s just an insane habit I picked up from Tara. I guess I must feel comfortable with you, ’cause I usually only do it with people I’m really close to.”

  Score ten points for that line.

  “So you and your sister are both actors?” I said, mulling that over. “A regular Jake and Maggie Gyllenhaal, huh?”

  “Sounds good to me,” he said.

  The lights went down then, and the movie started. He still had his arm around me, which was great but also distracting. I kept waiting for him to do something more—kiss me or pull me close or whatever—but he didn’t.

  When it was over, he took his arm away. “Did you like it?” he asked.

  Who knows? I thought. It’s kind of hard to keep your mind on a movie when you’re waiting to be kissed.

  “It was okay.” It had been one of those long epics set in Japan—not really my thing.

  “Yeah, too long,” he said. “They should have cut about twenty minutes. You want to go out for coffee?”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  Murphy’s was just around the corner from the movie theater, so we walked instead of driving. He ordered his usual, a straight black house blend, and I ordered a mocha.

  “Ah, so now you want the whipped cream,” he teased, his eyes dancing. “I wonder what that means.”

  “It means I’m indulging,” I said. “It’s been a long week, and I figure I deserve a treat.”

  “Yeah.” He nodded sympathetically, as if he knew what I meant.

  Do you? I wondered.

  It was sort of strange how Tyler had never said one word to me about Joey’s blog or the Hot Box Club or the rumors about me. It was like that saying: there was an elephant in the living room, and no one was talking about it. I couldn’t quite figure out why.

  “Extra whipped cream on the mocha,” he told the guy behind the counter at Murphy’s. “And don’t put the lid on. It smashes it down.”

  I shot him a smile of surprise. How did he know that’s how I felt?

  “My mom always tells them that,” Tyler explained.

  “She says it ruins half the fun if the whipped cream swirls are demolished.”

  “Do you even have a mom?” I joked.

  “Okay, I admit it,” he said, laughing. “I was born half human, half whale and raised by wolves . . .”

  “Don’t start!” I screamed, giggling. “Honestly, I don’t think I’ll ever believe anything you say again.”

  His face got all serious and tender and sexy, and he looked me in the eyes. “That would be a real shame,” he said.

  Ummm. Those eyes made me feel fantastic. Like he really cared about who I was.

  We took our coffees and sat down in our corner near the games and talked and talked about everything: what we were going to sing for the American Superstar auditions (me: “My Heart Will Go On”; him: “Like I Love You” by Justin Timber-lake), where we were going to college (me: Parsons School of Design in New York; him: Ohio University), what our favorite musicals were, and best childhood vacations, and even favorite board games. (How could you not talk about board games at Murphy’s?)

  He was a Candyland freak like I was, but we didn’t feel like playing right then. We were too heavy into conversation.

  Still, the whole time we talked, I couldn’t stop thinking about getting cheated out of that kiss and wondering whether he was even going to kiss me good night!

  The longer we stayed, the more I wished we were in the car, on the way home, so I could get past the suspense and find out if he was into me.

  That way, I mean.

  I mean, what if he just wanted to be friends?

  Finally Murphy’s closed, so we had to leave. Tyler didn’t even put his arm around me as we walked to the car.

  Wow, I thought, feeling really confused and agitated.

  But as soon as we’d turned off Main Street and passed the school, I knew he wasn’t going to drive me straight home. He turned down Briar Alley, which was totally not on the way to my house. At the end of Briar Alley was a park with a large, unlit parking lot.

  Finally!

  Honestly, I thought I was going to burst, waiting to kiss him and thinking about making out with him.

  It was worth the wait, though. He was a really great kisser, not too pushy but plenty sexy. He started slow, but pretty soon his mouth was open and so was mine. I started breathing faster, he did, too, and the next thing I knew, he was going for second base.

  Well, it was our second date, after all.

  I let him touch me up without going under my sweater, but when he reached a little lower, I stopped his hand.

  “What’s wrong?” he said, sounding totally surprised.

  “Nothing. I just don’t want to go there right now,” I whispered.

  He seemed sort of shocked, or maybe it was hurt, but he didn’t get mad or complain.

  “Okay,” he said, letting his disappointment show. “How about this?”

  He leaned in and kissed me again, a long, slow, sweet, wonderful kiss.

  Yeahhhh. That’s what I’m talking about.

  It was after midnight, and I was supposed to be home by 12:30, so we stopped a few minutes later.

  Not that I was ready to quit.

  On the way home, Tyler put on a jazz CD mix he’d made. We rode in silence for a little bit, then he said, “Next weekend should be awesome.”

  He meant the American Superstar trip.

  “I’m psyched,” I said.

  “Even if we don’t get picked, it’ll be cool,” he said.

  My thoughts exactly.

  At my front door, he sidestepped a pile of two-by-fours so he could lean close and kiss me good night. I let him feel me up again, and it was hard to stop. I think we both wanted to stand there a lot longer, making out, but I’m pretty good about making my curfew.

  Anyway, Rachel was right about the fuzzy sweater. Total guy catnip.

  “See you Monday,” he called as he walked down the porch steps.

  I went inside feeling almost dizzy with happiness.

  Now that’s what I call a perfect date, I thought.

  Except for one thing.

  The word prom hadn’t crossed his lips all night—not once.

  Chapter 14

  Wow. It’s not even Friday, I
thought.

  I stared out the window of the studio over the garage a few afternoons later and watched Molly and Joey fooling around. They seemed to be going at it hot and heavy, rolling around in the sheets like they were feeding a hunger that had been building up for weeks.

  Well, I guess they got what they wanted, I thought. He got Molly back. She got Joey back.

  Too bad I was the roadkill along the way.

  I wasn’t up there spying on her, by the way. I was in the studio all the time now, working on my prom dress. But I wasn’t too surprised to see them doing it, because Ariel had told me earlier that day that they’d gotten back together.

  Up until now, there hadn’t been much action at Molly’s house. Once in a while Isabel and Ursula would come over, but Molly had stopped having her Friday afternoon parties while she and Joey were on the outs.

  I guess a girl just doesn’t want to party down when her man is gone.

  (Are those song lyrics? Can I sing it at the American Superstar auditions?)

  Anyway, I was working on my prom dress, and it was going to be a masterpiece: a slinky red silk thing that curved in where I did, trimmed in black beads, with tiny silver beads thrown in every once in a while for accents. Sewing them on was a boring pain, but worth it. The dress was going to be a killer. I put two small dangling rows of beads along the low, V-cut neckline, just for Tyler.

  Guys are like cats: they jump whenever they see something shiny.

  Anyway, it was kind of a relief to see Molly and Joey back together, even though I was pissed to hear everyone talking about how they were likely to be voted prom king and queen.

  If Tyler asked me to the prom . . . if we had a great time on our road trip to Cleveland . . . if the costumes for Guys and Dolls were a big hit . . . then who cared if I’d had three miserable weeks in April?

  So by the time Saturday rolled around, I was in a fabulous mood, and I looked it. My hair glistened—I’d done a Kiehl’s volumizing treatment, which is crazy, because I naturally have enough hair to create a mane for a horse—and I was wearing my favorite Bobbi Brown lip color, Sandwash Beige. I put on my favorite Lucky jeans with a short green tank top layered under a short corduroy jacket and threw in an opalescent knit scarf.

  The look was very creative/casual/hip, just what I wanted the judges to think of me.