Twenty-Three
JUNIOR YEAR
My first stop on Monday morning is Meredith’s locker.
“Hey,” I say as I come up beside her. “I’m sorry I’ve been MIA all weekend. My parents confiscated my phone as soon as I got home.”
“The float came out awesome, in case you were wondering. And I saw the pictures you probably don’t remember texting me. Looks like the crime was worth the punishment.”
It’s a jab, not an observation. Meredith needs to be in the center of the action at all times, and she hates when she’s not. Especially when it means that I spent the night at Ben’s house and she didn’t. But I hope that when I tell her my news, it’ll buff out some of the soreness.
“Definitely worth it. Joel asked me to homecoming.”
Sure enough, her eyes get huge and bright and she gasps for ten straight seconds. “Shut up!”
I clasp her hands and try to control the involuntary bouncing that happens every time I think about it. “I know!” I lower my voice, but the words still come in an excited rush. “And I’m almost positive that your invitation is coming next. Ben told me he needs a favor from me.”
“What kind of favor?”
“I don’t know yet. Phonegate happened before I could find out. But I was going to his locker next, so—”
“Then why are you still standing here?” she cuts in, all evidence of her previous attitude gone. “Go!”
So I do. I run, actually. Until I get close enough to sneak up on Ben at his locker, poking both sides of his waist.
“You didn’t warn me,” I say. He jumps, almost dropping the book he’s loading into his bag, and I giggle. “Ticklish?”
“Maybe.” He slams the locker door. “And anyway, you didn’t warn me either.”
“About what?”
He pulls his phone out of his pocket and holds it up. “That your mom would be answering your texts for the rest of the weekend. Though I kind of figured something was up when you didn’t check in.”
I tell him the story of my post-slushie welcoming and consequent grounding as we head down the hall. When I get to the part about Joel surviving my parents’ interrogation, I say, “So did you know he was planning to ask me to homecoming or what? Because if you did, you’re not a very good informant.”
I’m 100 percent teasing him. But Ben stops and stares at me like I sucker punched him.
“He did?”
There are so many possible ways to read those two simple words. I can’t tell if Ben is upset that Joel didn’t tell him first, upset that he still hasn’t found the courage to ask Meredith, or just upset, period.
“I guess he didn’t tell you?”
“That’s putting it lightly.” He shakes his head. “He told me he wasn’t going at all.” His voice rises on the last word, like he’s working very hard to subdue a tidal wave of anger.
“Well, I guess he changed his mind? It seemed pretty spur-of-the-moment, if that makes you feel any better. I’m sure he would’ve told you if he’d thought about it.”
Even as my mouth is running, I’m racking my brain for reasons why it matters so much. And it occurs to me that maybe Ben was stalling on asking Meredith until he could convince Joel to go with me. It makes sense that he feels a little slighted in that case, and if it’s true, then I can add it to the list of things I owe him for—
“Oh!” I say. “I never got the chance to ask about the favor you wanted. I meant to, and then my cell phone got taken away. So what did you need?”
Ben lifts the straps of his bag off his shoulders and shrugs. It’s a gesture so small and sad that it makes my heart sink. “Forget it,” he says. “I’m an idiot.”
I reach for his arm when he tries to turn away. “Ben? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. It’s pointless.”
“You didn’t think it was pointless yesterday.”
He detaches me from his sleeve, and something shifts between us, the kind of shift that makes my stomach feel both too full and too small.
“Yesterday’s not today.”
* * *
The rest of the week is a blur. Ben finally asked Meredith to homecoming by holding up a sign in his bedroom window as she stood in front of hers, and everything after that has been a whirlwind of preparation and pep rallies and appointments.
Speaking of which, I can’t keep the grin off my face as my hairdresser turns me loose from her chair, my hair a masterpiece of flowy tendrils. I’ve already had my nails painted with a sheen of iridescent sparkle, and I can’t wait to see how it looks against the sparkly lavender fabric of my dress.
I also can’t wait to see Joel’s face when he sees me. I can’t wait to see him in a suit. I can’t wait to see him, period. My excitement levels are a little ridiculous, and I could not care less.
My mother oohs and aahs as I turn to face her, as does pretty much everyone in the salon. The girl who takes my place in the chair says, “Do mine like that.” And I don’t blame her one bit.
“Not to be the heavy,” Mom says as we shut our respective car doors in the parking lot. “But I want your word that you’re going to be safe tonight. No repeat performances of the last time you went out with this Joel character.”
“He’s not a character, Mom. He’s a boy. And we’ll be fine. I promise.”
“And you’ll check in with me if you’re running late, or if your plans change?”
“Cross my heart.”
“Good.” She smiles lovingly and brushes a tendril away from my face. “You look beautiful.”
I settle into my seat and reach for my purse to see if I have any new messages as Mom puts the car in gear. When I pull out my cell, there’s a text from Joel. My heart pumps a little harder. I wonder if he’s as excited as I am.
When I open the message, I have to read it three times before it registers. My hands go cold and clammy around the phone.
I’M SORRY BUT I CAN’T MAKE IT TONIGHT. MOM GOT CALLED INTO WORK AND I HAVE TO WATCH MY BROTHERS.
My mother must hear the air rushing from my lungs, because her head snaps toward me and she asks what’s wrong.
I have to stare at the screen for a few more seconds before I can turn the croak in my throat into an answer. “Joel canceled. He says he has to watch his brothers tonight so his mom can work.”
“What?” It’s a miracle that we don’t swerve into oncoming traffic with the intensity of her reaction. “Can’t she switch with someone? Can’t someone else watch them? It’s three hours before the dance!”
“I guess not.” I’ve graduated from shocked to numb. “It’s not his fault, Mom.”
But that doesn’t stop my throat from constricting with the threat of tears. I can’t believe this is happening.
“I’d babysit them myself if we didn’t have the boys’ banquet tonight. I just don’t understand how this could—” Mom holds up her hand, takes a deep breath, and composes herself. “I’m not letting this night be ruined for either one of you. We’ll figure something out.” She keeps one hand on the wheel and digs in her purse on top of the center console with the other. “You said Joel lives in Willowbrook, right? The Miltons live there too. Remember Agnes? She watched Michael when Aaron had his accident. Her son doesn’t play soccer anymore, so she won’t be at the banquet. I’m sure she wouldn’t have a problem taking Joel’s brothers for a few hours.”
I’m filled with hope so quickly that I’m surprised it doesn’t emanate from my body like beams of light. “You think so?”
“I’m certainly going to ask. If she can’t do it, maybe she can recommend someone else in their neighborhood.”
Mom is already on the phone with Mrs. Milton as we pull into our driveway. She orders me to go upstairs and do my makeup, as if a change in plans isn’t even a possibility. And because everything in me wants to believe it, I go. But first I send a message back to Joel.
SIT TIGHT. WE HAVE A PLAN.
I try to stay calm while I put on my face, but it’s not easy. Especially when outside the bathroom, my house is chaos. Michael and Aaron are fighting over the guitar that Ben left for Aaron to practice with. I jump every time my mom’s cell phone rings, which feels like every five minutes.
Meanwhile, mine remains eerily silent.
The mirror betrays the shake in my hands when I’m finishing off with a coat of mascara. And that’s when Mom appears in the doorframe. One look at her face tells me everything I need to know.
“So Mrs. Milton was more than willing to take Joel’s brothers tonight,” she says softly. “But we kept getting voice mail when we called the number you gave us. She thought maybe there was a problem with the phone, so she took it upon herself to go over to the Hargroves’ house.” Anger flashes in her eyes when she pauses, and all I can do is wait for the bomb to drop. “Joel’s mother isn’t at work, honey. She answered the door. Joel, on the other hand, was nowhere to be found.”
I sit down hard on the edge of the tub, cold prickles of nausea climbing up my throat. Why would he lie to me?
Mom sets her cell phone on the sink and kneels in front of me. “I’m so sorry, Macy. Mrs. Hargrove had no idea that Joel had used her as a cover. He actually told her that you canceled on him. She tried calling him as soon as Agnes explained what was going on, but apparently he’s turned off his phone.” Her teeth clench. “He must know he’s going to have a lot of people to answer to for this. Including me.”
She looks ready to kill him with her bare hands. But all I can feel are waves of devastation crashing over me. The excitement that was building all day—since Joel asked me to the dance, really—bursts all around me, as fragile and fleeting as soap bubbles.
And when my mother pulls me to her and hugs me tight, I can’t hold back. Rivers of painstakingly applied mascara flow down my cheeks and into her shoulder, while chords of “Smoke on the Water” drown out the sound of my sobs.