by Erin Downing
They all turned and looked at her. Max slapped his knee. “That’s genius!” he said.
“Thank you,” Sid responded. “Now, can the three of you all please get the hell out of here? I need to finish getting ready, and you are terrible roadies. I’m much better off on my own.”
Charlie stood up. “Touché!”
Emily stood up and passed Sid’s pick—which Emily had been rubbing for luck—back to her. “This is it! Are you ready? You sure you don’t need anything from us?”
“I’m all good.” Sid ran her fingers through her rumpled hair. “Enjoy the show, all right? And don’t tell me if it sucks.”
“It will be fantastic!” Emily called over her shoulder as she, Max, and Charlie all slipped out the side stage door and into the main room of the club.
The club was crowded. The room itself was nearly barren, with a small stage carved into one wall. There were two bars running along two other walls of the club, and a few tall tables were set up throughout the room for people to stand around. But the majority of the space in the club had been cleared for dancing, which everyone was already doing.
Most people had changed out of their prom attire into low-slung jeans or more casual dresses. A few male stragglers had left their tuxes on, but loosened their bowties or tied them around their dates’ necks. Emily, Max, and Charlie blended into the crowd well. They had packed their prom wear in the car just in case, but the jeans and—in Charlie’s case—chinos they were wearing were more than appropriate.
As Emily led the others around the club, searching for Ethan, Charlie cut through the noise to ask, “What does this guy look like again?”
“Hot,” she answered seriously. “And yummy.”
“That’s really helpful,” Max said, grabbing a plastic cup with an unidentified dark soda in it off the bar counter. “What color hair does hot and yummy have? And can you not refer to him as ‘yummy’? It freaks me out. I picture a pizza or something.”
Emily reached out to give Max a little swat in the chest, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her in toward him to prevent the attack. He wrapped her arm behind her back, trapping her in what she was pretty sure she remembered from childhood as a “half nelson.” He held her tight against his chest, until she squirmed around to get in his face and fight back.
Their noses were millimeters apart when she turned. Emily’s stomach leaped as Max’s face settled in close to hers. They’d had this same type of battle a million times since childhood, but she’d never felt anything but a friendly connection, no matter how physically close they got. Until now.
She pulled back, breaking the connection. Max’s face cracked into a smile when he said, “What’s up, Em? You scared of me? You’ve never given up that easily before.”
“No, I just got a little dizzy or something,” Emily stammered, shaking her head in confusion. “But you know, it’s prom. I’m supposed to act ladylike, not get into brawls with my boorish friends.” She pursed her lips and took a dainty swig of her soda.
Charlie, who had been leaning against the bar scanning the crowd for interesting people to talk about, suddenly let out a holler. Sid had just stepped onto the stage and was settling in on a stool. Her guitar was loosely slung around her neck, and her hair was rumpled and messy. She looked like a rock star.
“Yee haw!” Emily yelled, cupping her hands around her mouth as Sid strummed out her first chord. A few Ridley Prep students turned toward at Emily, exchanging looks when they didn’t recognize her, Max, or Charlie as one of their own. She smiled at them and raised her hand in a wave, mouthing hi. “What?” she asked Max, who was staring at her like she was crazy. “If you act like you fit in, no one notices you. Isn’t Charlie and the prom king spectacle the perfect example of that?”
“That’s right,” Charlie said, staring straight ahead at Sid on stage. “I am the Memorial High Prom King.”
After Sid finished her third song and started a mellow ballad, Charlie turned to Emily with a distracted expression on his face. “Remember the other night when you asked me if I had asked Marco to prom?”
“Yeah. Did you bring it up with him?”
“When we were talking last night, I mentioned how much I’m looking forward to prom, and how disappointed I am that he’s not going to be here for it. And he just laughed at me.”
“Seriously? That doesn’t sound like him.”
“I think he thought I was joking. But the thing is, I’ve actually been thinking about it a lot. I don’t want to go with Natasha—I’m gay; I want to go with my boyfriend.” He paused. “Emily, am I with the wrong guy?”
She turned to look at him. His expression was serious. “You don’t really think that, do you?”
“I don’t know, Em. I feel like he should know how much prom means to me, and come.”
“But unless you tell him, it’s not fair to expect that he just get that.”
Charlie was watching Sid play onstage, but his mind was elsewhere. After a beat, he continued. “I guess I need to figure out how to have the conversation with him. I know it’s too late for prom—I’m not ditching Natasha at this point, that would just be mean—but I guess Marco and I have to get a little better at telling each other where things stand.” He turned to Emily.
She nodded slowly. “Even I didn’t know how much prom meant to you, so I’m not surprised Marco’s not getting it.”
“I didn’t know how much prom meant to me until last week.” He grinned. “I always thought it was a little bit of a joke. I guarantee this is going to sound lame, but winning prom king at Memorial was seriously one of my highlights of high school. It got me all kicked up about prom.”
“Yeah,” Emily agreed. “I know what you mean.” She smiled and gave Charlie a quick squeeze just as Sid wrapped her last song.
When Sid stood up to leave the stage, everyone cheered and whistled. Her bluesy-rock style had fit in perfectly with the vibe of the Ridley Prep crowd. She stepped off the stage and made her way through the crowd toward her friends at the back of the small club. Her guitar was still strapped around her neck. “So?” she prompted.
Charlie stepped forward first, planting two huge kisses on her forehead. “You!” He held her away from him, studying her face in the club lights. “You were amazing! I mean it. I’m so happy for you.”
“You’re acting like my grandma after my first communion,” Sid said, sneering. “Was it that bad?” She actually looked a little nervous.
“Are you kidding me? I’m so proud to call you my best friend right now. Like I’ve said three million times before, you’re going to be a huge star.”
“It was great,” Emily seconded. Max nodded and gave Sid a high five.
She looked relieved. “You really thought it was good? Sh—shmack, I was nervous as hell up there.”
As they stood recounting all the brilliant moments in Sid’s performance, a guy in a Skittles T-shirt and jeans sauntered up to their foursome. He looked familiar, but Emily couldn’t place him.
Sid obviously knew the guy, because she stepped forward and said, “Hey, James.”
“Hey,” James responded slowly, nodding. “Good set.”
Sid’s face morphed into a smile. “Thanks.” She turned to Emily, Charlie, and Max. “Do you guys know James? He’s the lead singer of 1492. James, these are my friends—Emily, Charlie, Max.”
“Ohhh,” Emily said, nodding. So that’s where I know him from. 1492 was one of the most popular local bands, and one of Sid’s all-time favorites. Their popularity had spread beyond Minnesota’s borders, and they were often on tour. But at least half the year they stuck close to home and played a regular Tuesday-night gig at one of the coolest bars in the area, French’s.
Sid grinned at James again. “I didn’t realize you were … shoot! Are you guys playing tonight?” She looked like she could burst, she was so happy.
“Yeah,” James said. His voice sounded like molasses: deep, dark, and soulful. “We’re headlining, I guess.” He smiled slowly,
twisting the lower corner of his T-shirt into a spiral. “Do you have a regular gig somewhere?” he asked Sid. “I’d love to come hear you play.”
“No, not yet. I’m working on it.” She shot Charlie a look that said, Do not mention the Leaf Lounge.
“We’re looking for someone to open a couple of our shows at French’s this month—would you be into that?”
“That’d be amazing.” Sid’s eyes opened wide, uncomprehending of what had just happened. “Are you messing with me?”
James laughed—it was more of a chortle. “No, I’m not messing with you. Swing by next Tuesday around nine, and we’ll get you hooked up. I’ll introduce you to the rest of the band and French’s owner, Jimmy. I’m sure it’ll be cool, but I like to make sure everyone’s happy with our opening act. Cool?”
“Cool,” Sid said. “See you Tuesday. Thanks, James.”
Charlie waited until James was a few feet away before turning to Sid and declaring, “When they produce your E! True Hollywood Story, the moment we just witnessed is going to be that part in the show just before a commercial break when the narrator starts getting all excited and says, ‘Things were about to change for Sidney Cristina Martinez.’ You are going to open for 1492!”
“No way,” Sid said, shaking her head. “This is so not happening.”
By the time 1492 hit the stage later that night, Sid had finally begun to believe that what had happened with James was real. She stood sandwiched between Emily, Charlie, and Max, all four of them bouncing gently in time to the music.
As they all sang along to l492’s song “Promises,” Emily put her arms around Sid from behind, resting her chin on the top of her friend’s head. Charlie and Max each put an arm around the two girls. They hadn’t found Ethan, but none of them could deny that this had been the best prom yet.
When Emily got home that night, her mom was waiting up in the family room, reading. Emily poked her head in the door to say good night and make a hasty retreat.
“Come here, honey,” her mom said.
Emily stuck one leg into the doorway, hoping that was enough to make her mom feel like she was making an effort. “Why are you still up?”
“I couldn’t sleep. When are we going prom dress shopping?” Her mom sat up a little straighter on the couch, pulling her robe closed over her bare legs. “I saw Miriam Arnold at the gym today, and she said Kristi is going with that nice boy you used to see—Dan, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, Dan.” Emily wasn’t sure where this conversation was going, but so far didn’t like the tone in her mom’s voice. It sounded like comparisons would be coming next, and questions about Emily’s love life.
As a teacher at her daughter’s high school, Emily’s mom was privy to far more information than she should be. For example, she knew Emily had not yet bought her prom tickets, even though they’d been on sale for more than a week. She also knew Emily didn’t have a date, but chose to ignore this apparently irrelevant piece of the puzzle.
“Well, she told me that Kristi and her friends are going to the Lighthouse for dinner.” Her mom paused, studying Emily in the lamplight. Emily crossed her fingers—it looked like her mom had just gotten distracted. “Where were you tonight? You look sweaty.”
Emily swiped her arm across her forehead. “I was out with Charlie, remember? We went to one of Sid’s gigs.” Not lying, she reminded herself. We were at one of Sid’s gigs. “It was gross there—hot—I should take a shower. Good night.”
She gave her mom a quick kiss, then headed up the stairs to the shower. Emily knew she’d left her mom hanging on the prom conversation. She considered trekking back downstairs to tell her mom about their prom crashing, but once again decided it was a bad idea. Mom would positively die if she knew Emily had been going to proms without giving her a chance to take pictures to commemorate the nights. Not to mention that it was a lot more fun to keep their inappropriate—and bordering on illegal—little escapades to herself. No need to drag the parents into things. There were a lot worse things she could be doing—and wasn’t.
There was another reason that she kept climbing the stairs—though Emily barely admitted it to herself. She already felt crappy enough about the fact that she didn’t have a date for her own prom. If her mom knew she was on a mission to find the perfect date (a move that, to an outsider, might seem a little desperate), her mom might leap forward and try to fix things for her.
Emily couldn’t face the pressure cooker.
As she grabbed her robe and headed toward the bathroom, Emily felt sure she was making the right choice. She needed to deal with this on her own and couldn’t manage her mom’s expectations on top of her own prom disappointment. She just hoped they would find Ethan the next weekend, or she was going to need to face up to the reality that her prom fantasy wasn’t coming true.
Ten
Charlie’s head popped out of the top of a stretch white limo. “Let’s move!”
Emily waved from her post outside the front entrance of the mall, where she was waiting for her “dates” to pick her up. Her face lit up when she spotted Charlie’s head coming around the corner—she hadn’t realized he would be picking her up in a limo, but somehow it wasn’t all that surprising. “You look happy. What’s with the ride?”
“You like? It’s my little treat. We deserve to go to one of these proms in style.” Charlie tapped his hands on top of the roof of the car. “Hop in.”
The limo driver opened the back door for Emily, and she slid onto the leather seat next to Sid, who had her feet resting on the seat across from her. Max saluted her from his spot in the back of the limo. The interior had green and pink lights running through the door paneling. There was a bottle of bubbly submerged in a tub of ice in one of the wall panels. Charlie had a glass poured for himself next to an already-burning clove cigarette perched in the ashtray.
When the driver closed the door behind Emily, Charlie descended from the sunroof and flopped back onto the long seat next to Sid’s feet. He squeezed his cigarette between two fingers and took a long drag. Emily grabbed the cigarette from him and stubbed it out. His smoking disgusted her, and Charlie knew it. He didn’t smoke that often, but always seemed to light up more around Emily—Charlie liked to push her buttons.
“I am exhausted,” he declared, lifting his feet onto the seat and leaning back on his elbows.
Emily frowned. “Are you really going to complain? One of us smells like burned coffee right now, and I’m going to guess that’s not you since—oh, that’s right—you got out of work today.” Charlie had been scheduled for the Leaf Lounge’s after-school shift with Emily but had only been there for about an hour. Emily had agreed it was a good idea for one of them to skip out of work to finalize their plan for that night’s prom with Max. Charlie had immediately volunteered to leave. When Gary had come in to take over for the evening shift, Emily had made up some excuse about Charlie getting sick. Then she scooted out of the coffee shop and into the mall’s public bathroom to change into her dress before he could ask any questions. “But you’re forgiven, on account of this limo.”
“Thank you.” Charlie exhaled a long, deep breath. “Just so you know, it’s not as easy as it might seem to coordinate a four-way prom date. That’s why I’m so exhausted.” He glanced at Sid, whose eyes were closed. “Sid refused to get dressed. Let’s just say, I had to take drastic steps to make things happen.” Sid kept her eyes closed and smiled in response.
The four of them were on their way to Northwestern’s boat prom, where Max would don a waiter’s uniform (maroon boat shoes and an all-cotton, machine-washable “tux” with a maroon Queen Mary logo emblazoned on the back) and sneak them into the boat through the service galley. After Sid’s brilliant suggestion that one of them get a job on the Queen Mary so they would have an insider working the event, Max had remembered that one of the guys on his dad’s curling team was a Queen Mary captain.
It hadn’t taken much for Max to convince his dad to help him get a summer job working as
a crew member. His parents had been nagging him for months to make some spending money before college in the fall, and the Queen Mary was a perfectly reputable option. Max’s dad had pulled through, and Max was now gainfully employed.
As one might have expected, none of the long-standing Queen Mary employees wanted to work the pukefest high school prom with zero tip potential. So that Friday night—the night of Northwestern’s boat prom—would be Max’s maiden voyage as a busboy. The boat’s management had hurried him onto the payroll specifically for this event—Northwestern’s prom was that bad. Max’s first shift started at eight, just in time for the hors d’oeuvres.
Max appraised Emily from the backseat of the limo and said, “You look nice. Have I seen that dress before?”
“Funny.” Emily had worn her prom dress a total of three and a half times—the half was her date with Danny. “You might think the novelty of the dress would have worn off by now, but it hasn’t. By the way, Max, the maroon boat shoes? Nice.”
“You do look nice in pink, Emily. Your mom always says you should wear it more often.” Charlie smirked. He loved to tease Emily about her mom and her nagging ways, particularly since Emily’s mom was his aunt, and she treated Charlie like some sort of wonder child. Emily often got the impression she was her parents’ third favorite child, behind Abby and Charlie. She really couldn’t wait to get out of Minnesota and into her own life in New York.
Emily ignored her cousin’s comment and popped her head out the top of the limo. She let her hair blow free in the wind, putting her arms up to catch the air as it circled around her.
When they stopped at a traffic light, Charlie popped out next to her, wearing his Memorial High Prom King crown. The car that was stopped at the light next to them honked. A high-school-age guy in the driver’s seat waved—he was wearing a tux. “Seriously?” Emily asked, gesturing to Charlie’s crown.
“Why not? It’s my badge of honor, and I’m proud to wear it.” He turned toward the car that had honked and waved back. “Think that guy’s going the same place we are? We already have a friend.” Charlie smiled at the driver, who was still waving. “A really, really eager friend.”