Xavier scowled but refrained from comment.
“Oh, thank you, but you shouldn’t have,” I said, taking the box.
Inside was a pair of fine white-gold hoop earrings. I was a little embarrassed by how expensive they looked.
“It’s nothing,” said Jake, “just a thought.”
Xavier chose this moment to intervene. “Thanks for taking care of Beth tonight,” he cut in with a pleasant voice. “As you can see, I’m a little indisposed.”
“It’s my pleasure to help Bethany out,” Jake replied. As usual, his voice came out sounding affected and a little pretentious. “Sorry to hear about your accident. What a shame for it to happen just before the night of the prom. But don’t worry; I’ll make sure Bethany has a good time. It’s the least a friend can do.”
“Well, as her boyfriend, I would have liked to be there,” Xavier said. “But I’ll make it up to her somehow.”
Now it was Jake’s turn to scowl. Xavier turned his back on him and took my face in his hands, planting a soft kiss on my cheek before wrapping my silver shawl around me.
“Are you all set?” he asked.
In truth, all I wanted to do was stay home and curl up on the sofa with Xavier and completely forget about the prom. I wanted to take off my dress, put on sweatpants, and snuggle up to him where I felt safe. I didn’t want to leave the house, and I certainly didn’t want to leave on the arm of another boy. But I didn’t tell him any of that; I just forced a smile and nodded.
“Take care of her,” Xavier said to Jake. His face was friendly, but there was a note of warning in his voice.
“I won’t let her out of my sight.”
Jake offered me his arm, and we stepped out into the street where a limousine was waiting for us. I saw from Gabriel’s expression that he thought it was excessive. Before I left, Ivy leaned down to fiddle with the strap of my dress. “We’ll be close by all night if you need us,” she whispered. I thought she was being a touch overdramatic. What could possibly go wrong in a ballroom filled with hundreds of guests? Still, her words were comforting.
The limousine looked like an alien spaceship with its sleek, elongated body and tinted windows. I found it vulgar rather than glamorous.
Inside, it was even more spacious than I’d imagined. A modular couch in white leather stretched around its walls. The lighting was purple and blue and came from halogen lights that studded the ceiling. To the right was a bar built into the wall, and blue lava lamps illuminated the rows of glasses and the bottles of liquor that had been brought along by the underage partygoers. A television screen formed part of one wall with speakers in the roof. A song about girls just wanting to have fun was blaring, and it made the whole interior vibrate. The limo was almost full when we climbed in as we were the last to be picked up. Molly’s face split into a huge smile when she saw me, and she blew me kisses from the opposite end of the car in lieu of an embrace. A few of the other girls looked me up and down, and their smiles froze on their lips.
“Terrible affliction, jealousy,” Jake whispered in my ear. “You’re the most stunning by a mile. I’d say prom queen is in the bag.”
“That doesn’t mean anything to me. Besides, you haven’t seen the rest of the competition.”
“I don’t need to,” Jake replied. “I’m putting all my money on you.”
Prom
The prom was being held at the Pavilion Tennis Club. With its sweeping grounds and various function rooms overlooking the bay, it was indisputably the finest reception center in the area.
The limousine glided past its high bluestone fence and through the cast-iron gates onto a winding gravel driveway lined by manicured lawns and hedges. Stone fountains dotted the garden; one of them was in the shape of a majestic lion with one paw raised as if in attack, an arc of water cascading from each of its claws. There was even a small lake with a bridge and a gazebo, which looked better suited to an ancient castle somewhere in Europe rather than in a town as casual as Venus Cove. I couldn’t help being overwhelmed by the lavishness. Jake, on the other hand, seemed unimpressed. He maintained his perpetually bored expression, his mouth twisting into a smirk whenever our eyes met.
As the limousine continued up the sweeping driveway we passed tennis courts that glowed like green pools under the lights and headed toward the pavilion itself: a large, circular glass building with a pitched roof and wide white balconies stretching around it. There was a steady stream of couples heading inside, the boys standing erect and the girls clutching their purses and constantly adjusting their straps. Although the boys looked dashing in their tuxedoes, they were only really there as escorts; the night clearly belonged to the girls, every face I saw wore the same expression of anticipation.
Some groups had arrived in limos and chauffeur-driven cars, while others had opted for the double-decker party bus, which now pulled in carrying its jubilant passengers. I noticed that the bus’s interior had been redecorated to look like a nightclub, complete with strobe lights and booming music.
For this evening at least, feminist philosophy had been abandoned, and the girls, like fairy-tale princesses, allowed themselves to be led up the flight of steps and into the foyer. On my right, Molly was too engrossed in her surroundings to bother making conversation with Ryan Robertson, who admittedly, did look handsome in a suit. On my left, Taylah was taking hundreds of photographs, eager to make sure she recorded even the most minor details. She kept sneaking glances at Jake when she thought I wasn’t looking. He caught her eye and rewarded her with a wink. Taylah’s cheeks flamed so red I thought it was a wonder her makeup didn’t melt right off.
Dr. Chester, Bryce Hamilton’s principal, stood just inside the foyer, wearing a pale gray suit, surrounded by flower arrangements on pedestals. Other members of the staff had positioned themselves strategically in order to see the young couples as they made their entrance. I noticed a few beads of perspiration gathering on Dr. Chester’s domed forehead, the only indication of stress. His smile might be wide, but his eyes said that he wanted to be at home in his favorite armchair rather than supervising a group of indulged seniors determined to make this the most memorable night of their lives.
Jake and I joined the line of glamorous couples waiting to make their entrance. Molly and Ryan were ahead of us, and I watched them closely to determine the protocol so I didn’t slip up.
“Dr. Chester, my partner, Molly Amelia Harrison,” said Ryan in a formal voice. It sounded odd coming from a boy who usually amused himself and his friends by drawing giant genitals on the asphalt outside the school entrance. I knew Molly had instructed him to be on his best behavior for the night.
Dr. Chester smiled benevolently, shook his hand, and ushered the couple inside.
We were next. Jake laced my arm through his. “Dr. Chester, my partner, Bethany Rose Church,” he said gallantly, as though presenting me at an imperial court.
Dr. Chester gave me a warm smile of approval.
“How do you know my middle name?” I asked him once we were inside.
“Haven’t I mentioned that I’m psychic?” Jake replied.
We followed the wave of people into the ballroom, which was more lavish than I had imagined. The walls were glass from floor to ceiling, the lush carpet was a deep burgundy, and the parquet dance floor gleamed under the crystal chandeliers, which threw off little crescents of light. Through the glass walls I could see an undulating expanse of ocean and a small pillar of white resembling a salt and pepper shaker. It took me a moment to identify it as the lighthouse. Tables were set up around the room, covered in white linen and set with fine china. The table centerpieces were bunches of pale pink and yellow rosebuds, and silver sequins were scattered across the tablecloths. At the back of the room, the band was tuning their instruments. Waiters bustled around us, carrying trays of nonalcoholic punch.
I spotted Gabriel and Ivy alone on the fringe of the action, looking so unearthly it almost hurt to gaze at them. Gabriel’s expression was unreadable, but I c
ould tell that he wasn’t enjoying the evening. Students stared at Ivy in awed silence as they passed, but no one had the nerve to approach her. I saw Gabriel’s eyes sweep across the room until he found Jake Thorn. His laser gaze watched him with penetrating intensity for a few seconds before he turned away.
“You’re at our table!” Molly cried, hugging me from behind. “Let’s go sit down, my shoes are already killing me.” She caught sight of Gabriel. “On second thought, I’d better go and say hello to your brother first . . . don’t want to seem rude!”
We left Jake to find our seats and headed over to my brother. Gabriel had his hands clasped behind his back and was wearing a grim expression as he surveyed the scene.
“Hi!” said Molly, tottering up to him in her strappy shoes with pencil-thin heels.
“Good evening, Molly,” replied Gabriel. “You’re looking fetching tonight.”
Molly glanced at me uncertainly.
“He means you look good,” I whispered, and her face brightened.
“Oh . . . thanks!” she said. “You look very fetching too. Having fun?”
“Fun may not be the most accurate description,” Gabriel said. “I’ve never much liked social events.”
“Oh, I know what you mean,” said Molly. “The ball part is always a bit boring. Things really kick off at the after-party. Are you coming?” Gabriel’s stone face seemed to soften for a moment, and the corners of his mouth twitched in the beginning of a smile. But in a matter of seconds he recollected himself and the smile was gone.
“As a teacher I’m afraid it’s my duty to pretend I didn’t hear anything about an after-party,” said Gabriel. “Dr. Chester has made his thoughts on the subject very clear.”
“Yeah, well, there’s not much the doc can do about it, is there?” Molly laughed.
“Who’s your partner?” Gabriel changed the subject. “I don’t believe I’ve met him.”
“His name’s Ryan. He’s sitting over there.”
Molly pointed to where Ryan and his friend were arm wrestling on the carefully set table. One of them knocked over a glass and sent it rolling across the floor. Gabriel eyed the two boys censoriously.
Molly’s face flushed with embarrassment, and she looked away. “He’s a bit immature sometimes, but he’s a good guy. Well, I better get back before he destroys something valuable and we get thrown out! I’ll see you later though. I’ve saved you a dance.”
I almost had to steer Molly back to our table, and she kept looking back at Gabriel in unashamed rapture. Ryan seemed not to notice.
I soon realized that despite the magical surroundings, I wasn’t enjoying myself either. My conversations with people were trifling, and several times I caught myself looking around for a clock. I started wondering whether I could legitimately excuse myself long enough to phone Xavier. But even if I borrowed Molly’s cell, there was nowhere private to call from. Teachers were stationed at the front doors to prevent anyone escaping into the gardens, and the bathrooms would be full of girls touching up their makeup.
The night seemed lackluster after all the buildup. It wasn’t Jake’s fault. I could see that he was trying. He was an attentive escort, and when he wasn’t asking me whether I was enjoying myself, he was cracking jokes and exchanging anecdotes with the others at our table. But as I looked around at the girls picking daintily at their food and brushing imaginary lint off their dresses, I couldn’t help thinking that there seemed little purpose to the event apart from sitting there looking pretty. Once everybody had given one another the once-over, there wasn’t much left to do.
Even when he was conversing with the others, Jake’s eyes rarely left my face. He seemed intent on following my every move. Sometimes he tried to draw me into the conversation by asking pointed questions, but I answered mostly in monosyllables and kept looking at my hands. I didn’t want to spoil the night for anyone or appear sulky, but my thoughts kept creeping back to Xavier. I found myself wondering what he was doing, imagining how the night would be if he were here by my side. I was in the right place, wearing the right dress, but with the wrong boy, and I couldn’t help but feel a little melancholy about it.
“What’s the matter, princess?” Jake asked when he caught me staring longingly out at the ocean.
“Nothing,” I answered quickly. “I’m having a lovely time.”
“Filthy lies,” he joked. “Shall we play a game?”
“If you like.”
“All right . . . how would you describe me in one word?”
“Driven?” I suggested.
“Wrong. Driven is the last thing I am. Fun fact: I never do my homework. What else makes me unique?”
“Your hair gel? Your suave nature? Your six toes?”
“Now that was uncalled for. I had number six removed years ago.” He flashed a smile. “Now describe yourself in one word.”
“Oh . . .” I hesitated. “I don’t really know . . . that’s difficult.”
“Good,” he said. “I’d never like a girl who could sum herself up in one word. There’s no complexity in that. And without complexity, there’s no intensity.”
“You like intensity?” I asked. “Molly says all guys want a girl who’s chill.”
“Chill just means easy to get into bed,” Jake replied. “But I suppose there’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Isn’t that the opposite of intense?” I said. “Make up your mind!”
“A game of chess can be intense.”
“Er . . . yes, it can. Perhaps the idea of girls and chess pieces is interchangeable for you?”
“Never,” Jake said. “Have you ever broken a heart?”
“No,” I replied. “And I never want to. Have you?”
“Many but never without good reason.”
“What sort of reasons?”
“They weren’t right for me.”
“I hope you ended it in person,” I said. “And not over the phone or anything like that.”
“What do you take me for?” Jake said. “They deserved that much. That little shred of dignity was all they had left in the end.”
“What do you mean by that?” I asked curiously.
“Let’s just say that you love and you lose,” he replied.
We sat through a tedious speech by Dr. Chester about how this was our “special night” and how we were all expected to behave responsibly and not do anything to tarnish Bryce Hamilton’s reputation. Dr. Chester said he trusted we were all going to go straight home when the prom ended. There were a few sniggers from the audience at this, which the principal chose to ignore. He reminded us instead that he had sent letters home discouraging after-parties and advising parents to think twice before offering their homes as a venue.
What Dr. Chester didn’t know was that the after-party had been planned months ago, and the organizers hadn’t been naïve enough to think they could get away with holding it at somebody’s house with their parents just upstairs. It was going to be held at an old, abandoned factory just out of town. The father of one of the seniors was an architect who’d been working on converting the space into apartments. He’d encountered some objections from local environment groups, and the project was temporarily on hold while waiting for permits to be approved. The factory was spacious, dark and, most of all, secluded. Nobody would think to look for the after-party there. No matter how loud the music, there would be nobody to complain because there were no residential streets nearby. Somebody knew a professional DJ who had offered his services free for the night. The kids could hardly wait for the prom to finish so the “real party” could start, but I knew I’d never contemplate going, even if Xavier had been there with me. I’d been to one party in my human life, and that was enough.
Dinner followed the speeches, and when we’d finished eating, we lined up on a raised platform to have our photos taken for the school magazine. Most couples adopted a standard pose, arm around the other’s waist, the girls smiling demurely, the boys standing rigid, terrified of making a wron
g move and ruining the photo—a crime for which they knew they’d never be forgiven.
I should have known that Jake would do something different. When it was our turn, he dropped to one knee, plucked a rose from the table arrangement and clenched it between his teeth.
“Smile, princess,” he whispered in my ear.
The photographer, who had been clicking mechanically, brightened when she saw him, grateful for the variation. As we stepped down from the dais, I saw other girls glaring pointedly at their partners. Their eyes said, “Why can’t you be more like that romantic Jake Thorn?” I felt sorry for the boy who did try to mimic Jake’s gesture and ended up pricking his lip on the rose’s thorns. He was led away to the restroom by his lobster-faced date.
After the photos, a dessert of wobbling crème caramel arrived. This was followed by an interlude of dancing, and finally we were called back to our seats for the announcement of the awards. We watched as the prom committee, including Molly and Taylah, climbed onto the dais, carrying envelopes and trophies.
“It is our pleasure,” began a girl named Bella, “to announce this year’s award winners for the Bryce Hamilton Prom. We have put a lot of thought and effort into these decisions and before we start we want you to know that you’re all winners inside!”
I heard Jake suppress a snort of laughter.
“We’ve added more categories to the list this year in recognition of the effort you’ve all made tonight,” the girl went on. “Let’s start with the award for Best Hair.”
It seemed to me that the world had gone mad. I returned Jake’s look of dismay as we sat through awards for Best Hair, Best Gown, Most Transformed, Best Tie, Best Shoes, Best Makeup, Most Glamorous, and Most Natural Beauty. Finally, the minor awards were over, and it was time for the announcement that everybody had been waiting for: the winners of Prom King and Queen. Excited whispers flew around the room. This was the award most hotly contested. Every girl in the audience was holding her breath and the boys were pretending not to look interested. I wasn’t sure what all the fuss was about. It wasn’t exactly something to include on their résumés.