In the morning she “absolutely had to” when Grandpa wet the bed. My dad didn’t say anything and took Grandpa upstairs to shower.

“I’m going to wash his sheets, and then run out to get some adult diapers,” Mom said. “Keep an eye on Grandpa when Dad brings him downstairs, okay?”

However, after lunch, Grandpa stood up, and we realized the diaper leaked, and he had wet another couch cushion.

“Mom, I asked him, like, fifty times if he had to go to the bathroom,” I said, getting nervous. “He said he was fine. In fact, he seemed a little irritated I asked.”

Mom sighed. “I know. He’s from the generation where you don’t discuss bathroom matters—especially with your teenage granddaughter. He probably didn’t even realize he had to go.”

That scared me. How did he not notice he was sitting in a wet adult diaper? And how long had this been going on? Was this his life now? Asking me where he slept every night and not knowing when he needed to use the bathroom? It broke my heart to see him getting more confused, and I didn’t know what to do to help him.

“Emme, put these plastic dry-cleaning bags everywhere Grandpa usually sits,” Dad said. “This should help protect the cushions.”

We told Grandpa to sit on the bags, but he kept forgetting. In fact, he stood up and removed the bag even as I said, “Remember, you need to sit on that right now?”

“Why? What’s wrong?” he asked, concerned.

My eyes filled with tears as I saw his confusion despite the fact I had just explained it to him ten minutes ago.

“Um, I spilled something on it, and I don’t want your pants to get wet,” I said. I didn’t like to lie, but I wanted to preserve his dignity. I saw my dad watching us, and he cleared his throat.

“Maybe we should move the recliners out of the family room,” Dad said. “I can bring up an old chair from the basement. Might be easier.”

He brought the chair in, and we moved the coffee table right in front of the loveseat. That way we could crawl over the table and sit on the loveseat, but Grandpa wouldn’t be able to get to it.

Margaux texted me they were on their way to pick me up to get our hair done for the dance. Her dad drove up and took us all to the salon. Kylie decided to have her hair professionally straightened for the dance, and it was so silky and long. She kept running her fingers through it as she watched herself in the mirror. Margaux said she didn’t want “dance hair” all pulled up and sprayed to death, so her stylist cut it in choppy layers and styled it around her face. Since I always wore my hair in a bun or long and loose, the girls talked me into doing something different for the dance. My stylist curled the ends and pulled it back in a low ponytail with a piece left out on the side.

Margaux offered to do my makeup. I told her nothing too extreme and let her do my eye makeup. She put on a sheer peach shadow. It was a little light for a dance, so Kylie added smoky eyeliner with lots of mascara.

“Em, I’ve never seen you with your eyes outlined,” Margaux said. “I like it.”

Kylie and I exchanged a look. “I think she meant it,” Kylie whispered.

Zach, Darren, and Seth were waiting in Margaux’s living room while her mom took pictures of us. I felt a little weird when it was my turn with Darren to have our “couples” photo.

We arrived at the restaurant for dinner. Seth had made reservations at a Japanese seafood restaurant, but Darren was allergic to fish so he couldn’t eat anything there. All he had was a little dish of rice. They didn’t have any chicken, steak, or even a salad on the menu for him. I asked if he wanted us to take the limo through a drive-through, but Margaux said she wanted to get to the dance before the backdrop for the pictures got messed up.

“Last year at the spring fling, the paper on the floor had shoe prints and crap all over it, and it ruined my pictures,” she said.

“I’m fine, Emme,” Darren said.

When we got to the dance, the photographers had messed up the number order, so to make up for it, each person could get two pictures taken. Darren and I had our picture taken, and then Kylie, Margaux, and I posed for one together. Margaux went over to talk to some junior guy named Cris, and Seth was not happy.

“Darren and I are going to go outside with Seth for a minute,” Zach told Kylie and me. “He’s super mad at Margaux right now.”

I saw Margaux surrounded by guys going, “Cris, come give me a hug!”

“I guess you’re my date then,” Kylie said to me. “Let’s dance, but I’m warning you—if a slow song comes on, you better watch your hands.”

I cracked up. “I’ll try to control myself.”

I was having a lot of fun…until I saw Lauren walk by. She was wearing the black long-sleeved dress I wanted. She appeared way older and more sophisticated than anyone else at the dance. Plus, she had her hair up in a high ponytail like one those vintage sixties dolls.

“You looked better in it,” Kylie said, just as a group of girls ran over to Lauren to tell her how “gorgeous” she was. “Are you mad at me for talking you out of it?”

“Probably wouldn’t have been able to pull it off anyway. I always feel like such a kid next to her,” I said.

“If it makes you feel any better, I saw Brendon watching you while we were dancing,” she said. “Speaking of guys, where are our dates?”

We found the guys hanging out with Darren’s brother, Matt, and some other junior guys Seth knew. Seth reeked of alcohol. So much for the assistant principal’s threat of checking everyone’s breath all night. We managed to pry Margaux away from all her admirers, and we all went to sit at one of the tables. It was just my luck Lauren and Brendon were at the next table—and she was almost sitting on his lap.

“Brendon, give me your jacket. I’m freezing,” she said as she leaned in closer to him.

Kylie leaned over. “Who’s going to puke first: you from watching Lauren or Seth from whatever he drank in the parking lot?”

“I’d say me. Although Darren seems like he had some, too,” I whispered back.

“Zach said Seth’s friends brought it, but he didn’t have any,” she said. She leaned over and grabbed Margaux’s arm. “Hey, I thought you said we were only going to stay for a half-hour.”

Margaux shrugged. “If you guys want to go, I can get my own ride home,” she said as she got up to dance with Tyrell. “Just let me know what you want to do.” Seth got up—well, he attempted to, but he fell over a chair. Zach glanced over at Kylie and raised his eyebrows.

“I better get Seth home,” he said.

“Call me tomorrow,” Kylie said, sighing as they walked away. “Well, at least I got to dance with him twice. Darren, do you want to go?”

We found our limo, and Kylie called Margaux’s cell to tell her we were leaving. “So do you want us to wait for you or—” She stopped when Darren opened the limo door to throw up. “Gross, Darren just spewed everywhere. Well, he did drink on an empty stomach.”

I stuck my head out of the limo. “Are you okay?” I asked.

He nodded. “I think I’m going to find my brother or something—” He moved his head and threw up again. I offered to call his brother’s cell, and we waited around until he found us. Darren stayed outside because he didn’t want to get the limo dirty. Kylie exchanged a look with me.

“Is this how you expected your homecoming to go?” she asked as I rolled my eyes. “Well, on the plus side, at least you’re not puking.”

“Because I’d never drink at a dance, although I almost did throw up when I saw Lauren on Brendon’s lap,” I said.

“Well, at least you have a hot date,” she said. “Me.”

I laughed. “Yeah, and you didn’t even puke on me.”

“And I didn’t have to beg you to dance with me. Crap, I danced with you more than Zach. Poor Zach. Seth ended up being his date.”

“Zach was still a better date than Margaux,” I said as Kylie’s cell phone rang.

“Hey Margaux. Yeah, we’re still here. Darren’s brother just came over to get him. We’ll wait for you.”

Margaux came into the limo holding her shoes. “My strap broke,” she said. “Is there anything decent in the mini-fridge?”

Kylie passed around sodas, and Margaux told us that at the restaurant she saw Seth text messaging someone in the lobby. She asked him whom he was writing to, and he wouldn’t let her see.

“It was this junior who likes him, and he’s totally been encouraging her. It doesn’t mean anything when you tell someone you aren’t into them, and then you constantly e-mail, text message, and IM them,” she said. “It’s not like they’re just friends. I mean she’s made it obvious she likes him and…whatever. He’s a jerk.”

“How long do we have the limo for?” Kylie asked.

“My mom had paid for the whole night,” Margaux said. “Want to get takeout and drive around?”

“Perfect,” I said.

“You pick the place, Em,” she said.

Even though I didn’t eat meat, I was obsessed with the mushroom gravy at this southern fast-food chicken place. The girls were on board with it, and we all got combo meals.

“So this is how the night ends—just the three musketeers,” Kylie said.

“Ooh, I could go for one of those right now. Let’s get the driver to stop at a drugstore,” Margaux said.

“I want it noted, for the record, my date didn’t puke,” Kylie said.

I laughed. “Not exactly something to brag about to your grandkids fifty years from now, but you do have us beat. Crap, I just got gravy on my dress.”

Kylie told me to be grateful it was just gravy after the night we had. We went into a convenience store to get snacks. I had a funny feeling I shouldn’t go in, seeing as my dress was stained, my face was greasy, and my hair was messed up from leaning my head back on the seat, but I ignored my intuition because I was afraid Kylie wouldn’t get the potato chips I wanted. Ignoring my intuition proved to be the wrong thing to do because who did I run into? Brendon, Lauren, Sam, and his date. I couldn’t turn around because they saw me walk in. Plus, Margaux had her hand firmly pushing me into the store. “Say ‘hi’ and act like you’re having fun,” she said in my ear.

“Hi guys,” I said, smiling so hard I probably cracked my makeup, and I put my purse in front of the stain on my dress. “Getting some snacks?” No, stupid, they were paying for chips and candy bars because they wanted to feed the birds. I’m so dumb.

“Yeah, we’re going to sneak it into the hotel,” Lauren said. “See ya.”

As soon as they cleared the doorway, the three of us said, “Hotel?” at the same time.

“Maybe they rented a room, and they’re just having a little party or something,” Kylie said.

“Or maybe after they leave their little party, Lauren and Brendon are going to stay in the room, and she’s going to sleep with your man,” Margaux said.

Kylie told her to shut up, but Margaux was probably right. Brendon wasn’t my boyfriend anymore, so it wasn’t like he was cheating on me, but it still felt like he had ripped my heart out, shoved it back down my throat, and then made me throw it back up.

“Em, you want to see if the driver will take us for frozen yogurt? Hmm? You want a little raspberry swirl to make you feel better?” Kylie asked.

Margaux pointed out the yogurt place closed at nine. She said the fast-food drive-through might still be open, and we started to leave when Brendon came back inside.

“Hey, I forgot to get some ice,” he said.

Margaux moved in front of me to block the view of my dress.

Brendon picked up the bag of ice and said, “You guys can meet us at the hotel if you want. A bunch of us rented a room just to hang out. We’re at the Ainsley Inn on Woodward—it’s right across from the Marcus restaurant, and we’re in room one-thirty-one.”

“Like hotels don’t have ice?” Margaux said as soon as he left. “He came back just to let you know he and Lauren weren’t hooking up.”

“And I think we should go to the Ainsley to make sure they don’t,” Kylie said.

“I look too gross to go anywhere.”

Margaux went over to the guy behind the counter. “I know the sign says customers can’t use the bathroom, but take pity on her,” she said, pointing to me. “Her ex just invited her to a party with his girlfriend and look at her dress. Please let her try to make herself look decent.”

The guy leaned over the counter and said, “Nasty. Okay, but just for a minute.”

The three of us tried to scrub the stain, but the gravy was not coming out.

“I can’t hold my purse in front of my dress all night,” I said. “Let’s just forget it.”

“This isn’t over. Come on, let’s trade,” Kylie said. “We’re about the same size, and I already have a boyfriend, so I’m not out to impress anyone there.”

I hugged her, and we switched dresses. The driver took us to the hotel, and I had to do deep breathing exercises before we knocked on the door. I don’t know what I was worried about, seeing as Brendon knew we might show up, but maybe I was afraid Lauren would answer the door wearing just a sheet. Instead, Sam answered the door and let us in. There weren’t a lot of people there yet, but Lauren was clinging to Brendon like a static-y sock. Sam offered to get us something to drink, but then he saw the stain on Kylie’s dress.

“Or maybe you just want water or something,” he said.

“She was, um, helping a sick friend,” Margaux said.

“It’s just gravy,” Kylie said. Sam raised his eyebrows and nodded as he went to get us sodas. The three of us didn’t know what to do, so we sat on one of the couches, huddled together like freaks.

“Why are we here again?” I asked.

“Because you’re not over your ex, dummy,” Margaux said, rolling her eyes. “But I’m not going to sit here all night when there’s chocolate in the limo, so go talk to him or something.”

Like I could walk over to where Lauren was sitting in the same oversized chair with him, almost on his lap. How obvious could you get?

“Why doesn’t she just pee on him like a dog with a fire hydrant?” Margaux whispered in my ear. Out loud she said, “Hey, Brendon, do you have any other songs other than this album?”

He had to stand up, which got him away from Lauren, but did he want her so close by in the first place? I had this feeling he still wanted to be with me, but what if it wasn’t intuition but just some pathetic desperate thing?

“Em, come here and help me pick one,” she said.

“I don’t have any Sweetie Gals ones on here,” he said, smiling. Margaux went over to the side to give us room to talk.

“I wanted to ask you to dance tonight, but I didn’t want to upset your boyfriend,” he said.

My face got warm. “He’s not my boyfriend,” I said.

“So would it be okay to—”

“You guys, I want a group shot,” Lauren said, holding up a camera. “Sam finally figured out how to use the timer. Let’s go over by the couch.”

I stood next to Sam and Kylie for the picture until I felt a hand in my back and found myself falling into Brendon after Margaux elbowed me. “Sorry, new shoes,” I said after I almost knocked him over. I glared at Margaux, while Lauren and Sam set up both of their cameras. However, I couldn’t stay mad at Margaux when Brendon put his arm around my waist for the picture. I moved closer to him and put my arm around his waist so Lauren would have to look at us in the picture for the rest of her life…or until she deleted the shot.

More people started showing up, and Sam got worried we were going to get kicked out of the hotel.

“Hey Emme, will you go out on the balcony with me?” Brendon asked.

We walked out, and there were a few people sitting there, but Lauren was inside with her friend, Madison. A couple of people slow danced.

“So did you get to dance with anyone other than Kylie?” he asked.

“Were you watching me?” I asked.

He bit his lip and glanced down as his shoes. “Maybe, so…do you want to dance?”

“Sure,” I said. However, Kylie’s dress was shorter than mine and a little wider, seeing she had a slightly curvier figure than me. It was a touch big on me, and I hoped it wouldn’t slide down too far and take my strapless bra down with it. It was hard for me to completely relax while I was dancing because I could feel my bra moving south. I wanted to pull it up, but there was no subtle way to do it without looking like a weirdo. I hoped he didn’t think I was tense because of him.

We started swaying with the music, and then he kissed me. Had he been drinking like the other guys? He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would, but then again I didn’t expect Darren to either. What if Brendon had been drinking and didn’t even know what he was doing? Maybe I could be any girl as far as he was concerned. What if he didn’t remember any of this tomorrow? But yet I felt he wanted to be with me. Still, I knew it would look bad if people started talking at school about how he got drunk, and we were making out at a hotel. So I pulled back. If he wanted a relationship with me—something more than just this moment on a balcony— then he was going to have to stop seeing Lauren, or whatever he was doing with her. I wasn’t going to be the girl he ran to when he got confused, and I wasn’t going to put up with her in my life anymore.

I was about to ask him what was going on with him and Lauren when he surprised me.

“Do you want to hang out tomorrow afternoon?” he asked. “I could pick you up around two.”

I nodded, and Margaux, who appeared out of nowhere, suddenly grabbed my arm and said we had to leave.

“So I’ll be at your house tomorrow then, okay?” Brendon said.

“Yeah, see ya then,” I said over my shoulder since Margaux was leading me out the door.

“What’s your problem?” I asked as we walked to the parking lot.

“I was standing nearby when I heard him ask you about getting together. You didn’t look too eager, which was good, but you have to leave him wanting more,” she said.

“Margaux, have you been reading, like, your grandmother’s dating books or something?” Kylie asked. “It’s not the olden days, ya know.”

“I know what I’m talking about. Right now Brendon knows Emme’s still interested, but he also has Lauren all over him, so Emme needs to be a little distant so he doesn’t feel like he can have any girl who walks by,” she said.

Kylie sighed. “I hate when I find myself thinking her messed-up logic makes sense. Makes me feel so…dirty.”

* * *

Brendon came over the next day, and he said he had won a gift certificate to the Elistair Café, so we drove into downtown Detroit to have lunch there. He said Sam and his girlfriend might meet up with us, and I prayed they wouldn’t come. Sam’s a nice guy, but I tended to get nervous in groups when I’m the outsider. Of course, unless I knew everybody there, I always felt the outsider. Sometimes I wondered if anyone else felt that way or if it was just me. Brendon’s cell rang, and I relaxed when I heard him say, “So you’re going to hang out at her house instead?”

The waitress brought our food, and I couldn’t help but notice she only talked to Brendon. I might as well have been invisible. She had already refilled his water and his iced tea twice, while I had to remind her I needed a tea bag to go with my hot water, and she never brought the glass of ice water I asked for.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom,” Brendon said, getting up. “Be right back.”

As I watched him walk away, I noticed he had left his phone on the table. I wanted to badly to check and see whom he had called recently. It would tell me a lot if Lauren’s number was there. It was one thing if she was calling him, but another altogether if he was the one calling her. I was afraid he’d come back and catch me, but I had to know. I picked up the phone and checked the last sent calls. I saw Sam’s name five times, some other guy’s name, his dad’s number, but not Lauren’s. However, he had received several calls from her. I put the phone back and started eating and trying to look innocent.

“How’s your sandwich?” he asked.

“Great. So did you have fun with Lauren last night?” I asked. He gave me a startled look—like I wasn’t supposed to talk about it, but I wasn’t going to pretend it didn’t happen. I was still mad, and I wasn’t going to act like it hadn’t happened. I didn’t do anything wrong, after all.

“It’s always the same at those things. You spend a fortune at dinner, get to the dance late, and then everybody winds up back someplace listening to music and watching TV, which I could have done without paying hundreds of bucks,” he said.

Seemed like a safe way of answering without saying, “I was bored with Lauren,” or saying, “Lauren was all over me after you left.”

“How was your night?” he asked.

I could have said my date puked, and I spent the night either stuffing my face or getting anxious over him, but I pulled a Margaux and pretended I had the best time. She would never let a guy know he spoiled her night.

“We had so much fun at dinner,” I said. “And the food was amazing.”

“I saw you dancing with Kylie a lot. Didn’t your date dance?”

I didn’t want to point out it was hard to dance when you’re puking in the parking lot. Instead, I said she and I were having a blast out there and avoided the question. He was about to say something else when Sam walked in.

“Hey guys. I thought I’d drop by for a second,” Sam said. “Can I bum a fry, man?”

“So I heard your friend got suspended for drinking at the dance,” Sam said to me.

Brendon raised his eyebrows. “You guys were drinking?” he asked.

And there was the answer to my question about whether or not he had anything to drink yesterday.

“No, the guy Margaux went with had some and so did one of the other guys in our group,” I said, not letting on my date did, too. “Who got suspended?”

“Seth. Someone else was seen throwing up in the parking lot, but they couldn’t confirm who it was, so he got lucky.”

Brendon was staring at me. Did he look disappointed?

“So are you friends with Seth?” he asked.

“No, Margaux likes him, but I’m not a big fan myself.”

“She’s lucky she wasn’t with him at all last night or else she might have gotten in trouble, too,” Brendon said. There was obvious disapproval in his voice.

“She doesn’t drink. You saw her at the after party. All she had was soda.”

“Yeah, I know. She needs to be more careful of who she hangs out with, though,” he said.

“Well, she’s not planning on running for office any time soon, so I think she’s okay.”

“Dude, I had my brother drop me off,” Sam said. “Can I get a ride home?”

We left the restaurant, and I wished I hadn’t gotten so defensive when Brendon brought up the whole Seth and Margaux thing. It was like I had gotten too carried away defending Margaux when all I needed to say was, “She’d never drink at a school dance or anywhere else,” and leave it alone. But it wasn’t actually Margaux I was defending—it was all of us because I felt he was looking down on us for not living up to some standard.

We were all quiet in the car as we drove back. Brendon dropped me off, and I wanted to say something like, “Sorry I got a little heated back there,” but all I did was thank him for lunch, and then he drove away. Why was I always messing up my chances with him?

* * *

We were supposed to go to the hospice at night, but my parents were too tired from moving furniture around for Grandpa to go. I thought about calling Darren for a ride, but I didn’t want to start up anything with him. Instead, I called the nurse at the hospice, and he said Grandma was sleeping and hadn’t touched her dinner.

“But she’s not supposed to have real food. It could get in her lungs and kill her,” I said.

He said she hadn’t had anything, and I got the feeling he thought it didn’t actually matter because she wasn’t expected to recover anyway. I asked to speak to another nurse, and the head nurse who got on the line assured me it was a simple mistake and no one got hurt. Angry, I got off the phone and insisted we go over there. Mom agreed, and we drove to the hospice. Someone must have alerted the head nurse because she came in and started fluffing Grandma’s pillows and tucking in her blanket.

“Has she started the therapy yet?” Mom asked.

“Pardon?” the nurse asked.

“The therapy exercises you told me about when my mother came here,” my mom said. “Like having her squeeze a rubber ball and stretching her legs.”

“Oh, yes. Well, we kind of felt in this case it wasn’t going to, um, be necessary, and we didn’t want to cause her any discomfort,” the nurse said. She offered us some coffee and then disappeared.

“Why didn’t you complain?” I asked. “She told you they’d do exercises with Grandma when you brought her here and now they basically said, ‘What’s the point?’”

“Well, I guess in her eyes what is the point,” Mom said.

“But she lied,” I said. Mom sighed. “Everybody’s g-i-v-i-n-g up on her,” I said, hoping Grandma wouldn’t understand what I was spelling out. “But people recover all the time from these things.”

“Yes, on TV shows, but we have to be realistic,” Mom said. “Don’t you think if there was any hope at—”

I cut her off because I didn’t want Grandma to hear her own daughter had lost faith in her.

“Remember, we said no negative energy around Grandma,” I said.

“Fine,” Mom said.

“You know, eighty-five isn’t old,” I said quietly. “Great-aunt Lucille is ninety-five, and she goes out all the time to play bingo, and she has a boyfriend.”

Mom laughed, “She’s doing better than you.”

“So funny,” I said, rolling my eyes.

We went home, and the family room still smelled a little like urine. Dad said he had cleaned the couch the best he could, but we’d have to have it done professionally. I helped them cover the mattress in the den with plastic sheets meant for toddlers who were potty training. It took forever, and it made weird noises when Grandpa lay down on it. Mom asked him if he needed to go to the bathroom again before he went to sleep.

“I think I know when I have to use the restroom, Gabrielle,” he said, getting annoyed.

“Okay, good night, Dad,” she said.

We closed the door, and I went to my room. I hadn’t finished my geometry homework, but I couldn’t concentrate. I wondered if Ms. Atkins would do one of her random homework checks in class, but decided to go to bed and hoped I’d have time to do it in the morning. So what if I got a zero on the assignment. After all, I had bigger problems to worry about.

* * *

Luckily, Ms. Atkins didn’t check our homework because I didn’t get the final two problems done. Mr. Horowitz handed back our short stories in creative writing. He didn’t believe in giving us grades since “you can’t grade creativity,” so he just wrote comments on our papers. Darren always got great remarks like “innovative” and “introspective,” while I got comments like, “Where are you going with this?” but mine were staring to get better. This time Mr. Horowitz wrote he liked the subtle humor in my story and the twist in the ending. Darren read it and said I should submit it to the Litzine.

I shook my head. “It’s not good enough. Besides, they print these deep, meaningful pieces, and mine would be too…you know, just not what they’re looking for.”

“I know you’re not crazy about Lauren, but my friend Nathan works on it, and I bet he’d want to print it,” he said. I hoped Nathan didn’t laugh in his face and tell him I was a no-talent loser. Or worse, he would show it to Lauren, and they could both have a good laugh.

“So what’s going on with you and Darren?” Rory asked, leaning close to my ear.

“Nothing. We’ve hung out, but just as friends,” I said quietly.

“Does he know?”

I asked her what she meant, and she said she didn’t think he would go out of his way to help me if he wasn’t interested in me as more than just a friend. Part of me wondered if she was just jealous because Mr. Horowitz thought her last piece “lacked spark.”

Our next assignment was to write about the first place we could remember as a child. I wrote about going to my grandparents’ house back when my grandmother was still well. I wrote about the dark, glossy, wood furniture and the smell of chicken soup. I wrote about the lemon poppy-seed cakes, and I could almost smell them as I was writing everything down.

However, Mr. Horowitz said we were going to read our essays out loud when we got to class the next day. I tried to avoid looking at him, but I knew he’d call on me first.

“Miss Trybus? Will you read for us?”

I hated how teachers ask you to do something when you knew you had no way out. Like he’d be okay with it if I said, “No, I think I’ll pass this time, but thanks anyway.”

I was afraid I’d start crying and make a fool of myself if anybody criticized me, but everybody was nodding when I finished. One of the girls said she could picture the kitchen. Nobody had spoken up to say they liked something I wrote in the longest time. Darren and Rory got it all the time, but I never did.

Darren called me that night to say his friend liked my story and was going to put it in the next issue coming out tomorrow. I was surprised it had gotten past Lauren’s desk, but maybe she didn’t see me as competition. It would be the first time anything of mine was published.

The next day I refreshed the online Litzine page a million times waiting for the new issue to go up. Then found my story on the third page. They had misspelled my last name, but my story was in print. Darren had an essay in there, too, and he congratulated me when he saw me.

“I think we should go out and celebrate,” he said. “How about a steak sandwich, and we can watch a preseason hockey game on the big screen at Anthony’s?”

“I have a ton of work in my other classes so I don’t think I—”

“Are you sure? It’ll be fun…”

I nodded, and Rory gave me a look from across the room.

I ran into Brendon at the vending machine, and he said he read my story. “It was great.”

“Thanks. How have you been?” I asked.

“Busy, already started working on Dad’s next campaign. His race is still over a year away, but with the next election coming up he wants to keep his name out there. It’s a good way to see how things work in politics. Anyway, your story was good,” he said. “I was thinking about you last night. It was weird because right after, a Sweetie Gals’ song came on. Who knows, maybe they’ll get back together or something.”

“Anything’s possible, right?”

He gave me a smile which always made my—and the rest of the female student body’s—heart melt.

“So the student council is sponsoring a fair. We have different tables set up where you can get information about the different clubs at school. Most people only go to get the free stuff they hand out. You should stop by after class,” he said.

I tried to get Kylie to go to the club fair with me, but she didn’t want to stay after school if she didn’t have to. However, Rory said she’d go with me. Darren wanted to go, but I lied, saying we were going to be hanging around at the pom squad table because we might try out next year. Rory gave me an “are you crazy” look, but didn’t say anything.

“Okay, fine. I can see where I’m not wanted. Just wanted to get some free pens and candy,” he said as he walked away.

“Have you lost your mind, or do you want to dance in short skirts in front of the whole school?” Rory asked. I shook my head. “Oh, is Brendon going to be there?” she asked.

“Maybe. Come on. We’ll be late, and they’ll run out of free pencils and bumper stickers,” I said.

“Last year the future Republicans’ table gave me a lollipop, and it made me sick to my stomach,” she said. “I told the future Democrats’ club the other guys basically poisoned me, but they didn’t do anything about it. Typical. I hate everybody.”

I cracked up. “Well, I’m sure it had more to do with the fact the clubs use the leftover candy from the previous year. I think Tom’s been getting to you with his conspiracy theories.”

We got to the gym and saw the tables set up. There was a huge line at the student council’s table because they were giving away cotton candy. I craned my neck, but Brendon wasn’t there. Rory and I collected a bunch of pencils, some candy, and a flyswatter, but there was no sign of Brendon, so we decided to sit on the bleachers and eat our cotton candy. I hadn’t eaten cotton candy since I was five, and I didn’t remember it being so thick and sticky.

“This is nasty. What flavor is this? Blueberry?” She passed her bag to me. I had gotten pink, but I tried some of hers.

“I think it might be raspberry. You can have mine. I think the food coloring stuff is probably cancer on a stick,” I said, getting up to get a napkin. I was wiping my hands when someone tapped me on the shoulder.

“Having fun?” Brendon asked.

“I was until the future engineers club ran out of those cool notepads,” I said.

“Well, I’ll see what I can do,” he said. He went over and came back with two notepads. “Will this make up for it?”

“It’s a start. So…how are you?”

He shrugged. “Okay. It’s been hectic trying to get this and the Halloween party organized,” he said as his cell phone rang. “Great, Sam took off so now I have to go pick up a bunch of pumpkins and cider for the party tomorrow,” he said, running his fingers through his hair. “Em, you want to go with me?”

“Yeah, sure. Let me go tell Rory,” I said. I had to walk slowly so I wouldn’t start skipping like a dork. I told Rory I was going with Brendon to pick up some Halloween stuff.

“The school’s having a Halloween party?” she asked.

“It’s for kids,” I said. “You don’t think he’s going to ask me to sell tickets or pour punch while he goes out with some girl?”

“If he does then we’ll key his car,” she said. “You might want to wipe the blue crap off your lips before you go back over there though.”

Brendon and I went to his car, and he cleared a bunch of papers and books off the front seat for me. He suggested we go to Muller’s Orchard to pick up the stuff. I figured we could get everything at the grocery store, but he wanted to get real corn stalks. I hadn’t been to an orchard since I was little, and it sounded like fun. We didn’t talk much on the ride down. He pulled into the orchard parking lot and got a wheelbarrow, and we went to pick out a bunch of smaller pumpkins the kids could carve.

I picked up a pumpkin and then dropped it when I saw it had a slug on it.

“Ugh, I don’t remember pumpkin picking being so slimy and gross when I was a kid,” I said, wiping my hands on my jeans.

After we put the stuff in the car, he suggested we sit at one of the tables and have a doughnut and some cider. I wasn’t a huge doughnut fan, and I’ve seen one too many TV reports on cider and diarrhea, but I ate half of a powdered sugar doughnut. I had to wipe my mouth constantly to get rid of my sugar mustache.

“Are you free tomorrow night?” he asked.

Was he asking me out? Okay, play it cool. Don’t get too excited. Remain calm.

“Tomorrow…tomorrow…what’s tomorrow? I think I’m free,” I said.

“Do you want to help out at the party?” he asked.

Oh crap. He wanted me to keep an eye on the punch bowl and wipe runny noses so he could go out with his girlfriend—probably to some expensive restaurant or something. I’d have to weasel out of it gracefully.

“Because I was asked to write something on the party for the newspaper, and I thought I’d ask you if you wanted to do it so you could get a byline for your resume,” he said.

Well, I did want to write for the newspaper because it would be cool to have an article to put with my resume when I tried for another internship at the local paper. I said I’d do it and asked if I’d have to wear a costume. He said he was borrowing a magician’s cape from Jayson and going as a vampire. Okay, so it meant he was going, but was he bringing a date? I didn’t have the guts to ask, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know anyway.

Brendon pulled up in front of my house at seven the next day. I had thrown together an elf costume from the Cutie Pies TV show. I had cut off the sleeves of an old baby doll dress of my mom’s, made a little cap out of a washcloth, and found blue face paint at the drugstore. It had seemed like a good idea in my mind, but seeing myself completely blue was freaky. I wanted to look cute, but a blue face wasn’t exactly hot. At least my hair ended up looking like the girl elf’s. I walked up to his car, but there was somebody already sitting in the front seat. Somebody with red hair wearing a mermaid costume.

“Emme, this is Nicola,” he said.

“Hey.” She didn’t even turn around to look at me. So the jerk had a date, and he just didn’t feel like writing a stupid article for the newspaper. Now I had to sit through an evening with loud kids, and I’d probably break out from the blue makeup clogging my pores. Nicola got out of the car, and I got a better look at her costume. She had a shimmery skirt with a fishtail on it and a purple seashell top. The seashell bra was attached to a thin nylon shirt, but she might as well have been completely bare. Next to her it was like I was four years old and completely flat-chested because I didn’t want to get blue face paint on my bra. She walked next to Brendon, and I trailed in behind them. There were mostly kids and parents inside, but also a few student council volunteers. Of the five girls who were helping out, there were two Marilyn Monroes and a Cleopatra, and there I was in my stupid blue elf costume. The worst part was most of the kids didn’t know who the elf was, and they just thought I was a big blue weirdo.

Everybody had a job to do but me. I sat at one of the tables with a paper cup of orange punch. I forgot to bring any paper to write the story, so I got a pen and a bunch of napkins. Nicola didn’t have anything to do either, unless you counted following Brendon around like a lost puppy. He was organizing the pumpkin-carving table, and he didn’t need her hanging on him. I hoped one of the kids would slip and stab her with one of the safety carving knives. Brendon’s friend, Sam, supervised the beanbag game. All you had to do was toss a beanbag through a giant cutout hole to get a prize, and I was bored so I went over and helped Sam run after the beanbags and hand out prizes. I saw Nicola sitting by herself, eating peanut butter kisses. I thought about going over to talk to her, but then she gave me the once over so I let her sit by herself.

“Emme, are you ready to go?” Brendon asked. I nodded, and the three of us walked to the car. She plopped herself in the front seat, but if she was his girlfriend, it was her place. Nicola had taken a trick-or-treat bag and offered Brendon a chocolate bar.

“Emme, want some candy?” he asked.

Nicola sighed and handed me a piece of taffy which had oozed out of its packaging. I thought about throwing it at the back of her head, but with my luck it’d boomerang and hit me in the eye. Brendon dropped her off first, but I did live closer to him. He walked her to the door, but they didn’t kiss or even touch, although maybe it was because she was covered with glitter makeup.

“Are you going to move up to the front seat or am I your chauffeur?” he asked when he came back. I moved to the front. “Hey, did you eat anything at the party?” he asked. I shook my head. “Wanna stop and get something?”

We stopped at a diner where grease seemed to hang in the air. He ordered a burger and fries, and I ordered a side salad and French fries, which was the closest thing to a meatless option I could find. Brendon put some ketchup on his plate and then put a circle of ketchup around my plate like I always did.

“Oh, sorry. Force of habit,” he said.

“It’s okay. You got the better fries.”

“Mine are all burnt.”

“I love burned fries. So you won’t mind if I steal a few?” I asked, sliding a fry off his plate.

“The menu says they make a great malted here,” he said.

“What’s the difference between a malted and a milkshake?”

He shrugged. “One tastes more like melted ice cream, and…I dunno. Good question. Should we get some?” I nodded. Grandma would have liked how he admitted he didn’t know.

“Did I eat off the makeup around my lips?” I asked. He shook his head. “I forgot about my lovely elf complexion when you mentioned stopping somewhere. Everyone is staring at me because I’m blue.”

“Not why they’re staring,” he said. I wasn’t sure if he was flirting because he might be dating Nicola now, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up and have him make a fool out of me.

“Well, I doubt they get many elves in here,” I said as the waitress brought our malteds over.

He lifted up his straw and took a drink. I went to take a drink, got distracted, and the straw went up my nose. I left a little trace of blue on it, too. I don’t think he noticed, but maybe he was just being polite.

“So, what do you think?” he asked. My heart jumped, but then I realized he was talking about the malt.

“It’s good.”

“I’ll turn you into a junk food junkie yet,” he said.

“I eat junk food. I love those peanut butter cups from the health food store,” I said.

“They’re organic,” he said. I shrugged. He leaned over to get a napkin. “Your hair smells good.”

“Essential oils,” I said. He rolled his eyes. He always thought my essential oil face and hair treatments were a waste of time. He didn’t understand without them my hair would look like hay and my skin would freak out. Guys always expected you to look great, but they didn’t understand it took some work. I wanted to ask him about Nicola, but I wasn’t sure how to ask. Plus, I didn’t want to look desperate or jealous.

“Did you get enough stuff for your story?”

“Yeah, I interviewed Sam and a couple of the kids’ parents so I should be fine. I’ll have it ready in time.”

“Great, you can just drop it off to Lauren.”

“Lauren?”

“Yeah, she’s the one who asked me to do it, but I thought you’d do a better job. We should do this again. I’ve missed—I cannot believe this,” he said, sitting up.

“What?”

“Brooke just walked in with her new boyfriend. Jayson’s gonna lose it,” he said. “Let’s get out of here. She cheated on Jayson with him, and now they’re going out. Just perfect.”

Brendon seemed transfixed on Brooke and her new boyfriend, and it was like he forgot all about me. As we were leaving, I saw Brooke sitting there in a princess Halloween costume. With her hair up in the tiara, her dark roots were pretty noticeable.

Well, at least a mermaid hadn’t ruined my night, even if a princess had.