by Callie Hart
“Oh my god. Alex, this is…” Silver covers her mouth as heads for a closer inspection. She bends, marveling at the new interior, shaking her head. “This must have taken you forever.”
I grunt, kicking the toe of my new, polished shoes against the curb. “Hate to admit it, but Zander might have helped out. Just a little.” They make TV shows about car restorations like this. Zander and I worked way faster than any of those hacks could have. We didn’t eat, and we didn’t sleep. We went through a couple of cases of PBR afterward, but that didn’t count.
“I love it,” Silver whispers.
“You’re not sad that we got rid of the black?”
“No way! The red is to die for.”
“So…you’re telling me you wanna take this thing for a test spin? Or would my queen like me to chauffeur her to the ball?”
“Are you kidding me, Moretti? Gimme those keys. I’m driving.”
Silver
I’m still spinning out over the car when we walk into Raleigh High. The whole school has been decked out and decorated, with silver, gold and black balloons all over the place. Karen, Principal Darhower’s assistant, is dressed in a sparkling blue floor length gown that’s transformed her from dowdy admin worker to glamorous Bond girl; I almost can’t believe she’s the same woman. She ushers the arriving students into the gymnasium, taking our tickets and telling us to line up for the school photographer, who’s taking shots of everyone in front of a huge black and white shutter design—one of the most iconic James Bond images ever created. Students stand in the open circle, back-to-back with their dates, making finger guns and posing goofily as their pictures are taken. Thankfully Alex sees the look on my face and leads me right past the whole mess, guiding me to the punch table.
“Doubt it’s been spiked yet,” he says morosely. “Still. You want some?”
He fills up a red solo cup for me, pouring one for himself, too. Zander arrives before either of us have managed to taste and see if anyone has covertly added any tequila. “This party sucks,” he announces, pulling unhappily at the black tie around his neck. He’s wearing a suit that rivals Alex’s—also black, with a slight metallic blue sheen to it. He almost looks as handsome as the guy standing next to me. Almost.
“The music’s terrible. They’ve already played Diamonds Are Forever a thousand fucking times. They’re gonna run out of Bond theme songs before ten at this rate.”
The gym’s packed with kids in over the top dresses and suits of every color and style. By one of the massive PA speakers, Micha Williams is wearing a pale grey suit and a bald cap, with a stuffed white cat jammed firmly under his arm. Obviously, he chose the villain route and came dressed as Blofeld. My respect for him triples on sight.
“Some of the jocks have been hitting rails in the bathroom. There was a fight in the parking lot. One of your fellow cheerleaders broke a heel, Silver, and Darhower kicked a couple out for fucking in the janitor’s closet. You guys haven’t missed much. I’m feeling a little robbed. Bellingham’s prom would have been far more exciting than this snooze fest.”
“If you’d transferred back there like I told you to, you could have gone,” Alex reminds him.
Zander pulls a face. “Graduating from Raleigh looks a lot better on college applications. And besides, you would have missed me too much.”
For once, Alex doesn’t volley a snarky retort back at him. He sighs heavily instead. “Where’s Halliday?”
“How should I know?”
“Uhh…because she’s your date?” Alex replies. ‘
I still can’t believe Zander asked Hal to come to prom with him. I definitely can’t believe she said yes. Under Kacey’s rule, Halliday would never have agreed to come to a major school event with a guy like Zander. Goes to show how much things have changed around here.
“Fine, fine, you’re right. I should probably go find her. She’s so fucking hot tonight, she’s probably got eight guys hitting on her right now, anyway. Maybe I’ll have to defend her honor and knock a few of ’em out.” He sounds way too excited by the prospect.
On our own again, Alex offers me his hand as the song changes to something upbeat and bouncy. “Oh boy. You wanna dance?” I ask.
He’s devilishly handsome as he smirks, slowly shaking his head. “I only have one dance in me, Argento, and I’m saving it for another day. No, I wanna steal you away for a second, if that’s all right with you?”
His dark eyes burn into me like brands, intense and fierce, and my heart backflips. Jesus Christ, the way he looks at me is too fucking much. “Lead the way.”
There are chaperones guarding the fire escape at the back of the gym, so we have to lie to Ms. Gilcrest and tell her we’re heading to the bathroom in order to leave. Before I know it, Alex has set off at a jog, laughing, dragging me along behind him down the hallway. When we arrive at his locker, he places his hands on my shoulders, positioning me so that my back’s up against the cool metal. It’s much calmer here; gentle strains of music from the gym float down the corridor, but it’s quiet enough that I can feel my own pulse thundering in my ears.
I never thought I’d get to have this. Prom was a rite of passage I thought I wasn’t going to get to experience. After everything that’s gone down over the past year, I assumed I’d be boycotting the night, curled up on the sofa at home in my sweats, shoving popcorn into my face as I watched a movie while everyone else partied the night away. Alex made this possible, though. He made me want to come here tonight, to be by his side. He’s made prom perfect.
“Close your eyes, Parisi,” he says, dipping down to bury his face in the crook of my neck for a moment. His hot breath skates over my skin, and the back of my neck breaks out in goosebumps.
“Shit, Alex…” I close my eyes, reveling in the feel of him pressing up against my body. I want him to kiss me properly. I need his mouth on mine. His hands on my naked flesh. If Darhower hadn’t already booted a couple out for screwing on school property, I’d be trying to find the closest janitor’s closet myself right now. Alex looks so good in his suit that my immediate response it to try and get him out of it.
He pulls away, taking his heat with him, and I ache from the lack of him.
To my right, I hear the ticking of a combination lock being opened, and then the creak of his locker door as he opens it up. Silence follows. I can’t even hear him breathing.
“Alex?”
“I asked you to marry me in a diner, Argento. A fucking diner. I asked you without a ring, because I couldn’t hold back a second longer, and I’ve felt pretty terrible about that ever since. So…no, wait, not yet. Keep them closed.” He laughs shakily—an adorably vulnerable sound. “Cameron gave this to me a while ago, and I’ve been waiting to give it to you.”
Oh, shit. Oh…my god. He’s giving me a ring? My cheeks flame, blood rushing to my face. I can’t…even…think straight. I need to open my eyes. I have to open them. As if he can sense that I’m losing my battle to obey him, Alex places a hand over my eyes, blocking out my vision.
“I wasn’t waiting for the right moment,” he whispers. Jesus, his mouth is so damn close, I can feel the brush of his lips against mine as he speaks. “I was waiting to give you time to think this through properly. I wanted to give you a chance to change your mind. And now that you’ve had the opportunity to process all of this, what I’m truly asking of you, I’m going to ask it of you again, Silver Parisi.”
I whimper as he removes his hand. He leans away again, and I’m left feeling like I’m about to slide down the lockers and collapse to the ground.
“Open them, Silver. Open your eyes.”
“I—” Now that I know what’s happening, for some reason opening my eyes has become an impossible task.
“Silver. Look at me,” Alex says.
Slowly, I crack my eyes, and everything blurs for a second when I see him, on both his knees at my feet. The small velveteen box in his hands is open, and inside it, shining brightly against the blue, plush material, is the
most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen. The huge stone at its center is a stunning coral pink instead of diamond white. The setting is silver.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to get down on both knees,” I whisper.
“Getting down on one knee’s supposed to be a sign of honor and respect. One knee’s not good enough for you, Argento. I’ll always be on both for you, worshipping you, honoring you. Please...” He’s deadly serious as he looks up at me. Serious, and hopefully, and desperately vulnerable. “Say yes again and take the ring.”
I’m blinded by the sheer force of the love that hits me. It’s incredible, like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. I cup the side of his face in my hand, brushing my thumb over the ridge of his cheekbone. “I didn’t need time, Alex. I knew the very second you asked me in that diner. You made me so ridiculously happy. So, yes. For the second time, yes, I will marry you.”
He tries to hide away his quietly pleased smile, but I can see it in his eyes. Before he can get up, I drop down to my knees, too, joining him on the floor. “I worship you, too, y’know. I’ve been too shy to say it in the past, but…I think you’re pretty cool, Alessandro Moretti,” I say, teasing him.
“Pretty cool, huh?” He laughs, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. “Okay. I s’pose I’ll take it.”
We’re both just nervous, I think. Because the asking part is intense, yes, but the taking the ring out of the box part, the sliding it onto my finger part is even more intense. Alex’s hand shakes as he plucks the ring from its cushion; he pauses, blowing out down his nose, and the shakes stop just like that. He’s steady, solid as a rock as he gently takes my hand and slips the beautiful ring onto my finger.
Once it’s done, Alex sinks back onto his heels, like he’s relieved he didn’t screw up. “It was your great-grandmother’s,” he says. “Cameron told me it was meant for you all along.”
“And you were the one who was supposed to give it to me.”
We kiss like the world is ending, and neither of us really cares.
38
SILVER
Halfway back to the gym, I realize I haven’t got any lip gloss in my purse and Alex just kissed all of mine off. “Go on ahead. I’m gonna go back to my locker really quick.”
“You planning on shoving the ring back in the box and hiding it under an algebra text book?” Alex jokes. Sounds like there’s a hint of real concern in his voice.
“Absolutely not. I don’t want to hide it. And I don’t care who knows about us either. I’ll make an announcement on the PA in between Bond theme songs if you like?”
He smirks at that, squeezes my hand and gives me a quick kiss on the temple. “Take too long and I’ll have to come find you, Mrs. Moretti.”
A chill runs up and down my spine at that name. A good chill. One that makes me smile so hard it hurts. “A little premature, there, don’t you think?”
“Oh, Silver. Don’t you know me by now? I’m never premature.”
I’m still laughing to myself, my heels clicking loudly against the linoleum, as I hurry back to my locker. I open up the lock and pull the open the door, already reaching insi—
An avalanche pours out of my locker, small scraps of paper fluttering and flying everywhere, tumbling out onto the floor.
“Oh my god.” I smile, bending to collect one up from floor. Alex must have arranged this. It must be part of his second, albeit unnecessary proposal. Turning the small shred of paper I’ve just collected over in my hand, I expect to read something sweet written on it. One of a thousand ‘I Love Yous’ Alex must have slipped through the grate on the locker door, only…
Silver Parisi: most likely to suck dick for a dollar.
“What the fuck?”
I pick up another, and then another.
Silver Parisi: most likely to contract syphilis.
Silver Parisi: most likely to cook meth.
Silver Parisi: most likely to fuck your boyfriend behind your back.
I’m too shocked to process what this is for a second. And then it all comes rushing back to me in a tidal wave of horror—months ago, the day I saw Alex for the very first time. I was in detention. Jake had been there. And I’d been tallying up the nominations for the Raleigh High yearbook’s ‘most likely to’ taglines for the student photos.
I was hurt by the litany of insults my fellow classmates had written about me. There were score upon score of them, each progressively worse than the last. They’d cut, sharp as knives, every time I’d read a new and awful suggestion for the yearbook.
There had been one nomination that had repeated itself over and over again, as I’d trawled through those never-ending ballots. One that had made my blood run cold. It’s as cold as ice in my veins as I scoop up a handful of the scraps and find the phrase repeated here, too, over and over again.
With horror coursing through me like a river, I realize that I’m all alone in the hall.
I take off, running in the direction of the gym, stumbling, rolling my ankle, as a sharp jolt of pain fires up my leg. Cursed heels. I kick them off, discarding them, sprinting as fast as I can back toward the gym.
“No running, Ms. Parisi!” Karen calls, as I dodge around the 007 photo booth.
I don’t stop running. I barrel forward, scanning the packed gym for a sign of Alex, and when I see him standing by the far wall, talking to Halliday and Zander, I run even harder, shoving through the crowd, deaf to the irritated shouts of the people I slam into.
Alex, so dashing in his suit, dark hair swept back out of his face, pales when he sees me flying towards him. He stops whatever he was saying to Halliday. “Hey. What’s wrong?”
In my attempt to hand them over, I drop most of the yearbook ballots I brought with me. Alex grabs one of them, though, and quickly scans the scrawled black in on the paper’s surface.
Silver Parisi: most likely to die on prom night.
“What the fuck is this?” he asks, his eyes suddenly sharp, boring into me. “Where did you get this?” He reads two more of the ballots, a dark, palpable fury pouring off him like heat.
“They were in my locker. Hundreds of them.”
“I don’t understand.”
Fighting for breath, I try to order my thoughts enough that I might be able to explain further and tell him their significance, but a low chorus of chatter sweeps across the gym. Alex looks up, Halliday and Zander mirroring his confused glance across the room…and that’s when I see him. See them.
Wearing a suit as black as midnight, his blond hair slicked back, and amused cornflower blue eyes skipping over the faces of Raleigh High’s senior year, Jacob Weaving enters the gymnasium. And on his arm, dressed in a sequined gold dress with a plunging neckline, walks Kacey fucking Winters.
39
SILVER
“This isn’t real. This isn’t real, is it? I’m seeing things.” Halliday’s high pitched, question parallels the racing thoughts screaming loudly in my head. This isn’t real. There’s no way this is actually happening. It just can’t be. But Jake and Kacey look more than real, as they head into the crowd. They look like royalty, and they’ve come to claim their prom crowns.
“Last time I saw that bitch, she shot me,” Alex snarls under his breath. His hand moves to the point where, beneath his clothes, the bullet from Leon Wickman’s gun pierced his skin and came damn close to taking his life. “Why the fuck would she come back here? And why would he be stupid enough to think he’d be welcome.”
The music continues to play. People carry on dancing. Conversations, muted and confused, proceed, even though two of Raleigh High’s most notorious ex-students have just waltzed into the building like they have every right to be here.
“I’ve gotta go,” I rasp out hoarsely. “I’ve got to get out of here. Now.” It was one thing being here, in this place, where I nearly had my neck broken, to celebrate prom with my friends. But I can’t suffer Jake to be here and keep my shit together at the same time. I’m about to have a panic attack. Jake put those ballots
in my locker. Jake, with Kacey’s help. This stinks of her brand of evil.
Alex takes me by the arm. “Okay, it’s alright. Come on. I’ll take you home.” He leads the way, cutting through the crowd, giving Jake and Kacey a wide berth. I stumble after him, my legs numb and unresponsive. How can Karen have let the two of them in? She’s as quiet and shy, but Ms. Gilcrest’s a stickler for the rules. She wouldn’t allow two non-Raleigh students to attend a school event like this. Even if they did used to be enrolled here. Not unless…Darhower expressly told her they were to be permitted entry.
Something hot and nasty churns in my stomach.
God, Dad was right. Back in Darhower’s office, he’d called the guy out over the speech he gave to us in this very gymnasium. After the shooting, he promised us he’d do better. He swore he’d never be so complacent again, and that our safety would be his number one priority. How quickly those promises went flying out of the window. It took all of a couple of weeks for him to fall neatly back into the Weaving family’s back pocket. Jacob’s father’s still manipulating him, pulling his strings all the way from behind his prison bars. He must be paying Raleigh High’s principal one hell of a lot of money to get him to sign off on something like this.
Suddenly, the small, ever-present, flickering flame of anger that’s been burning in the core of my soul for the past year kindles and roars to life, becoming a seating inferno.
This isn’t right.
No fucking more.
This—Jacob showing up at prom with Kacey—might be the smallest of his offences, but it is the straw that finally breaks the camel’s back.