I barely heard the movement behind me until Jasper spoke in that low, commanding voice of his that might work on the football field but just ticked me off. “Nice night.”
I sighed, crashing back to reality. “What do you want Jasper?”
“A dance, of course.”
He narrowed his eyes, all the flirt and fun gone. I crossed my arms and tapped my foot. We had the ultimate stare down, me, the lowly peon, versus the high and mighty Lord of the manor. Okay, fine, that might be getting a little dramatic, but that’s what it felt like.
After a large breath, in which I summoned Aunt Lulu’s calm bravado in the face of absolute ruin, I stopped tapping my foot. I peered beyond his shoulder back into the gym. Better to dance with him and get this conversation over with, so he didn’t cause a scene. “Sure. Why not? Let’s dance, Sir Jasper.”
At first, he took my hand, gripping a little too tightly, so I jerked it away. “I can manage to walk inside. Thank you very much.”
We strolled back inside through a sea of coattails and shimmering gowns to stand as if under a spotlight in the center of the dance floor. I saw immediately through his con—his attempt to reverse my lunchroom break up and show that I couldn’t live without him or some nonsense like that.
After a couple minutes of dancing, he spoke in my ear. To anyone else it would look like the whisper of a happy couple, but anyone who knew me and knew him would know better.
“What were you thinking?” he asked, then tilted his head so his cheek grazed mine. Trust me, there was no swooning happening.
That was the wrong question to ask me. “There is something I’ve been thinking about this past year. Don’t misunderstand me, I didn’t spend hours contemplating this but I’ve often wondered why some of the male species, no one in particular, feels that moccasins are cool.”
His hand tightened at my waist and his breath hissed against my ear.
I rambled on. “I mean, is the ability to wear this type of shoe in direct proportion to the size of one’s ego? And if so, would this stretch to other nerd apparel like sci-fi T-shirts or pleated pants? It would make a great social experiment.”
Jasper swayed a little faster, his shoulders tensing up under my fingers. The slow song ended and even though a faster rock song started, he didn’t release his grip. We kept slow dancing as if no one else were around.
At that point, I should’ve known better than to push him farther. But let’s face it. My night had been terrible, and it wasn’t going to get any better. All the disappointment and frustration and hurt over the past year funneled into this one conversation.
“Or,” I teased, “it would make a really great essay.”
“Enough,” he hissed, his voice taking on a dark tone as if he were the black knight. “You dared write a paper from my point of view that said stuff like that? You made me look like a complete jerk.”
He tore into me, barely stopping for a breath. “You dared break up with me in the cafeteria? I went out of my way to ask you to the Valentine’s dance after you walked through school in that ridiculous outfit. I did something nice for you, and I didn’t have to.”
Gee thanks. I thought back on Zeke waddling and crinkling his way into the lunchroom, dancing with me. “I wonder. Did you consider wearing the moccasins to prom? I bet you could’ve gotten away with it.”
“And then you basically forced me to go to prom with you by pulling that ridiculous stunt with my family.”
I plastered on a smile, my insides turning to mush and my knees feeling wobbly when I thought about Zeke. He went out of his way to try and get me to talk, to face whatever my inner demons were. I shook those thoughts off, and refocused on Jasper. “Oh, by the way. How is your family? I loved your mom. She was so nice. Did she get you started on the moccasins?”
Each time Jasper started in on me again, his voice went a little higher and got a little louder. Couples were forming around us, and they weren’t dancing.
I thought about the look on Zeke’s face when I basically said yes to Jasper that fateful day. Enough! I had to stop thinking about him. “Or maybe it was your dad. Maybe that taste in shoes runs on your dad’s side.”
He pushed me from his arms with disgust as if he couldn’t handle being near me for one more second, and he didn’t care anymore about pretenses.
“Enough about the shoes!” he roared. If anyone hadn’t been paying attention, they were now. “Are you crazy?”
I kinda crumpled on the inside and split apart at the seams. Any Aunt Lulu I’d been channeling fled, and the night caught up with me: Zeke and Ava. The limo driving away without me. And the pink, twirly, glittery satin dress with the spaghetti straps. And my dreams crashing like falling stars.
He stepped real close, towering over me, his body shaking. I honestly don’t think he would’ve hurt me, because he’s not the abusive, violent kind of guy. His mom was too nice to raise a son like that.
“Get out,” Jasper spit out, taking another step toward me, if that was possible.
Not many people have ever stuck up for me. I mean really defended my honor, even when I didn’t deserve it. Jasper was getting ready to start in on me again, when the mannequin dressed in Carter’s homemade chain mail crashed to the floor, the sword skittering across the floor.
“No. She’s not leaving.”
“She’s staying right here.”
“Stop being such a bully.”
Jasper flipped around to Carter, Zeke and Michael standing shoulder to shoulder like they were the Knights of the Round Table.
Zeke was breathing heavily, the veins in his neck pulsing. He had fire in his eyes, the look of a guy who’d been there and back, the look of a guy who used to be a bad boy and knew how to deal with worst of them.
“Whatever guys. Enough,” Jasper snarled. “She deserves it.”
He couldn’t even blink before Zeke’s fist met his jaw. “When are you going to learn? Do you really want another black eye from me? Because I’d be more than happy to give a repeat performance.”
My heart almost stopped, and a flush rose from my neck up to my face. That was Zeke? He’d punched Jasper after the party? It wasn’t Michael? I stumbled back, the world spinning.
Jasper rushed Zeke with every ounce of football experience behind him, and they landed on the floor, a tangle of arms and legs and punches. Carter and Michael tried to pull Jasper off, but each time, he managed to break free. Girls shrieked and clutched their dates. The dates cheered the guys on. Mr. Troller danced around the edges of the wrestling match, trying to get in a word edgewise, trying to break up the fight before someone got killed.
Zeke’s tough and all, but he didn’t look like he was winning. And I didn’t want any of these boys to get hurt. I grabbed the sword and whacked Jasper over the head with it.
“Stop!” I screamed. And I kept hitting him until finally, they all broke apart, their chests heaving, sweat and blood on their faces. “All of you, stop fighting.” I pointed the tip of the sword at Jasper’s face. “You will not hurt this boy. He’s the only one who’s ever tried to get to know me, and I will not have you messing with his face before I get a chance to kiss it. Now back off!”
Jasper took another step back but let out a little snort. Then the whispered giggles spread around me. That’s all it took.
I spun around, facing all my classmates. “I might stretch the truth sometimes but so do all of you. Every time you spread a rumor without knowing if it’s true, then you lie too.” I whirled back to Jasper but was talking to everyone. “All I’ve done is barely kiss you. And yes I happened to overhear your little conversation with Michael outside the bathroom that night, and I was wearing a stupid shirt that wasn’t mine, and I was hot and didn’t want to cry in front of everyone, so I left. And that’s why I wrote your paper on the wrong topic so you failed it.”
Mr. Troller let out a little gasp.
Jasper’s face grew fiery red and he spit out, “Hey, I was just trying to do as you
asked or bribed me to do. You remember, don’t you? You wanted to make Michael Greenwood jealous. Why? I have no clue.”
Everyone started murmuring, gossip spreading like a forest fire on a dry, hot summer day. They’d never understand me. My arm with the sword lowered but when Zeke eased toward me I raised it again, my eyes blurry with tears and my throat aching. “Senior year was supposed to rock. And it sucked. Everything I did was an attempt to make this year the best of my life with friends, a boyfriend, and prom. But obviously that was impossible.” Then I cracked myself up with a half laugh-half sob. “Prom impossible.”
There was so much more I wanted to say, but it would’ve come from a place of pain, a private place that I wasn’t ready to share, that I was barely ready to face myself, that I’d been ignoring all year.
That’s when smoke billowed into the room, swirling in great clouds from the hallway. I knew right away it was a prank, the juniors copying our great smoke-out move from last year, the move that was the beginning of the end for me. But even though in my head I knew this, panic spread. Classmates screamed and rushed out of the gym-turned-castle and into the parking lot.
Through the thickening smoke, both Jasper and Zeke were led out by the scruffs of their necks. I stood amidst the chaos, numb and overwhelmed by the truths slamming against the walls of my heart, wanting freedom, wanting to be recognized.
I desperately needed to be alone. When I heard the sirens in the distance and had the sudden fear that I would somehow be blamed again, I raced out the side exit.
And I ran right into a wall—kinda. More like a cop.
Chapter 31
“It wasn’t me! I promise.” I jumped back from the officer probably there to slap some cuffs on the guilty party. “This dress, this big poofy dress proves I’m innocent, because it’s the underclassman who aren’t wearing dresses who are the ones pulling pranks.”
The cop raised an eyebrow and I could’ve sworn it was the same one who got a little cuff happy last year with me. “And why would I think you’re guilty?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Because cops like to find the wrongdoers so they can wrap up a case even if the person they think is guilty might not be the only guilty party. Ya know.”
He crossed his arms and peered more intently at me as if weighing my innocence. “Actually, I don’t know.”
“Oh, right, of course.” I laughed loud and high and waved a hand. “Well, I must be going. This smoky air is getting to me.” I raced off but the heels and the dress made it hard to escape before he pulled me back.
“Do you know anything, miss?” he asked sternly.
“Absolutely nothing. Nada. Zero.” I shrugged. “Like I said, I need to go.”
He led me to the side of the building. “First, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
I walked several feet away, my heart in my throat, and my legs shaking. This couldn’t be happening again. Before he could ask the first question his walkie talkie crackled and he talked a bunch of cop speech. I got the impression he was needed elsewhere. I held my breath, hoping, waiting.
He pointed a finger at me. “Wait right here. I’ll be back in three minutes. And just in case you didn’t know, fleeing the scene of a crime can be interpreted as guilt.”
I saluted. “Yes, sir.”
As soon as he moved inside, I took off toward the Porsche, but half way there I knew I couldn’t drive it again, especially under emotional stress, so I rocketed around the parking lot with nowhere to go. It was filling up with people and cars, and more sirens were heard racing toward the scene to make sure there was no real danger.
That’s when the gleaming white limo pulled up next to me. Carter popped out the driver’s window. “Want a ride?”
I glanced around and then past the limo. “Where’s the driver?”
He shrugged. “Smoking somewhere maybe. But he left the keys in the ignition.”
I slid into the front seat and kept right on going, nudging him out. “I’m not letting you take part in this crime, so leave.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“The cops are looking for me, and I don’t want you to be part of aiding and abetting and go to some Adventure Program this summer, so just stay behind. I’ll take care of my own getaway.”
He narrowed his eyes. “What did you do this year?”
I shot daggers at him and wished I still had the plastic sword. “I didn’t do anything, and I wasn’t the only one last year. Nobody else came clean.”
“Huh?”
“Yup, that’s right. Last year it wasn’t just me. I was just the only one who got caught—wrong place wrong time—so now that you know the dirty gossip—leave!”
He opened the door to get out, but I pulled him into a hug first. “Thanks for sticking up for me in there.” Then I dug in my purse for the keys to the Porsche. “Um, can you take care of this for me?”
“No prob.” He stood outside, still in shock at the gleaming key in his hand. “You’re amazing, sis. Crazy, but amazing.”
“I know.” Then I ripped out of the parking lot driving what felt like a three-mile long bus. When I peeked in the rear view mirror, the cop was in the parking lot looking at faces, looking for me. Too bad he wouldn’t find me.
This wasn’t about me not wanting to talk to the cop, because I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be found guilty, but sometimes we’re considered guilty until innocent and not the other way around.
I drove the dark streets, realizing I didn’t look very inconspicuous. The evening was wearing on me and I needed time alone. I needed a lot of time to face that private place of pain I’d been ignoring for weeks. I needed a solo night, just me, myself, and I, because there were so many conflicting thoughts swirling inside my head, I didn’t know what to do with them.
Finally, I pulled into Uncle Rudie’s driveway, knowing I had to tell him his baby was okay, but the house was dark and no one was there. I tried the front door and the back door, but everything was locked. I walked around back and curled up on their swinging love seat in the yard.
I’m not sure how long I sat there, but it felt like eternity. The school, the fights, the smoke, the prom—it all faded and it was just me and the blanket of stars above me.
I thought about last spring and how in that moment of indecision I’d let Jules escape because of our pact. But was that my job? Was I being compassionate or being a fool?
I thought about Michael and how long I thought for sure he was the one, and then he did things that didn’t live up to what I thought my soul mate should be. And is there such a thing as a soul mate, or did I completely make it up from movies and happily-ever-after books? I couldn’t ignore the fact that he didn’t really like me in that way. A soul mate connection is supposed to be reciprocal.
I thought about Jasper and how, for the second half of the year, I let him dictate my happiness and what I could and couldn’t do. I lost a friend in Zeke, because Jasper controlled my life like I was the puppet and he held the strings. But I was the one who gave him that control, when I started writing his papers for a plan that never worked. Michael never batted an eye that I was “dating” the popular jock.
And then I was stuck.
I tried to think about Zeke, but all I could remember were all the times I didn’t take our support group seriously, because I didn’t think that he would understand. And then I remembered the look on his face when I chose Jasper that day in the cafeteria.
I thought about how badly I wanted a mug of hot chocolate, because the night was cooling off and my brain was fried and needed sugar to keep going, because I wasn’t done thinking.
I thought about Aunt Lulu and the puffs of canary yellow tulle and crinoline and satin surrounding me and the ginormous flower attached to my shoulder, and that’s when a sob broke though. All because of a dress. A pale pink shimmery satin spaghetti strap dress. One that Ava was wearing when it should’ve been mine. But I mean it was just a dress? Why was that so important to me? And why
did I want to cry whenever I thought about it?
That mystery puzzled me. I knew it went deeper than that the dress was just plain awesome, and I would’ve looked hot, because I knew now that wearing the dress would not have fixed my mistakes. It wouldn’t have prevented Jasper from being mad at me—I did that all on my own.
My thoughts chased each other in circles, but at some point, I couldn’t handle trying to figure everything out. The answer floated nearby, taunting me, just out of reach. A fog had invaded my brain and covered the truth and the pain. I fell asleep, curled up on Aunt Lulu’s swing.
***
The first thing that woke me up was a tongue. Hemingway whimpered, then barked. His paws were up on me, and he was kissing my face. I sat up and hugged him, trying to get my eyes to open. When I finally managed, the inky blackness hovered and dark shapes rushed at me.
With a scream, I toppled off the swing. “You stay away or my dog will attack. I know he looks young and inexperienced, but he’s more than that, so you’d better back off my uncle’s property before he hurts you. He loves me something fierce. Even though he’s my brother’s dog, he’s really mine at heart, because I’m the one who takes him out to pee early in the morning and sometimes that’s what counts. Who’s there for you during the hard time and the small times—”
“Ma’am?”
“Back off, or I’ll tell him to attack.”
“Ma’am, it’s the police. We were the ones who brought your dog.”
I buried my face in Hemingway’s neck. “I can’t go through this again, Hem. I just can’t.” I looked up. “Can’t you just pretend you didn’t find me? I really need to talk to my uncle and aunt, and they should be back any second. In fact, I don’t know why they took so long. Maybe you should see if they’re stranded somewhere with a flat tire—”
“If you could come with us, miss.”
I studied their built forms and long legs and wiggled my toes in my heels. “Think I could outrun you?”
“I wouldn’t advise it, miss.” It was the cop from the school, the one who’d asked me to stay and told me if I ran I’d look guilty. He’d found me.