We Can Work It Out

  “Pen.” She put her hand on my shoulder. “I personally take it upon myself to talk to Brent about the Club.”

  “How noble of you,” I replied with my mouth full.

  “The sacrifices that I make for you,” she said. Then she lowered her voice. “How are you doing?”

  The jumbo shrimp I’d been eating got caught in my throat. As long as I was busy with the wedding and my family, I didn’t have time to really think about how I was doing. “Okay, I guess.”

  She placed her hand on my shoulder. “We don’t have to talk about it. I didn’t want you to think that I’m not worried about you. You said that you were fine, but …”

  I nodded. I knew Tracy could see past my brave facade. I felt I had no choice but to keep it up for at least the next few hours. And I knew it wouldn’t be hard during such a truly happy occasion.

  A voice boomed over the speakers, asking us to find our seats. Tracy and I got up and moved over to our table. We weaved among so many different people who had so much influence in my life: aunts, uncles, cousins — I couldn’t help feeling the love pouring from everybody.

  I was in such a blissful state by the time we reached our table that I was nearly knocked over when I saw the one person I hadn’t been expecting. I knew he was going to be at the wedding, although I figured he’d be seated several tables away. He wasn’t. He was four seats away, directly across from me at our round table.

  He grinned as I approached, and I did my best to ignore his gaze.

  Tracy, though, wasn’t going to let him off that easily.

  “What the hell?” She went right over and picked up his place card. “There’s no way you’re sitting here.” She stormed off to find someone to fix the problem.

  I sat down and greeted everybody at the table except him.

  He stood up and leaned over the table. “Hey, Penny.”

  I had no choice but to acknowledge him.

  In my most indifferent voice, I replied, “Nate.”

  I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN THAT NATE wouldn’t be able to resist making my life miserable. It was what he excelled at.

  But while there would always be the Nates of the world, I fortunately had the Tracys of the world on my side. She came barreling toward the table with my mom and someone from the catering staff right on her heels.

  “There seems to be some mistake,” Mom explained to the woman, who was shuffling papers in her hands.

  The woman walked around the table, comparing the place cards with the seating arrangements. “Oh, yes, you see, we had a last-minute cancellation and moved a couple things around to make sure all the tables were full. We did get approval from the bride on the changes.”

  Mom glared over in Lucy’s direction. I couldn’t really find fault with Lucy — she’d been so busy getting everything ready, she probably didn’t realize it had been Nate who’d been moved to my table.

  “It’s fine.” I waved my hand dismissively over to where Nate sat. Then I grabbed a warm dinner roll and started talking with Brent, hoping that between the food and the conversation, I wouldn’t have to look across the table for the remainder of the meal.

  And it worked, for the most part. Sure, I felt self-conscious the entire time. I tried to be super focused on my conversations with the people directly to my left and right while also trying to ignore his incessant attempts to join in. I’d nearly forgotten that he was there by the time we finished our entrées. But then Tracy got up to use the restroom.

  Nate plopped down in her seat. “So you’re really going to ignore me all night?”

  It was difficult to meet his eyes — and not because they had any power over me anymore. I was distracted by the oil slick on his forehead. “It seems that I’m not going to be that lucky.” I picked at the remainder of my chicken.

  “How long are you going to hold a grudge against me?” He reached out to touch my arm, but I pulled it away.

  “How long have you got?” I looked around the room, hoping someone would save me. My mom’s back was to us, Rita was engrossed in a conversation across the room, and Tracy was nowhere to be found.

  I sighed. “Look, Nate, I’m not interested in being friends with you. I want nothing to do with you. I’ve moved on and I wish you would, too.”

  He laughed and a piece of food flew out of his mouth. “Yeah, if you truly moved on, you wouldn’t have a problem being in the same room as me.”

  “It’s just that I don’t like being stuck in confined places with jackasses.”

  His right lip curled up. “Yeah, right. Tell me, where’s this boyfriend of yours? Actually, let me guess: He wasn’t perfect enough for you, so you dumped him. Seems to be a pattern with you.”

  “What?” I shot him a go-to-hell look that Tracy would’ve been proud of. “Let me tell you something about Ryan Bauer. I didn’t catch him trying to screw someone in my parents’ basement. Don’t you dare think you can compare yourself to him. You don’t deserve to even think his name — or mine for that matter.” I stood up.

  “Yeah, it’s always the guy’s fault.” Nate snorted. “Take some responsibility, will ya, Pen? Sure I wasn’t perfect, but your victim mentality is getting old.”

  I opened my mouth to say something, but before I had a chance, one of my younger cousins came running by and spilled an entire glass of soda on Nate’s head. Nate shrieked like a little girl. He started cursing as he grabbed a napkin to wipe the sugary concoction running down his suit.

  It was one of the greatest sights I’d ever seen.

  “Oops,” seven-year-old Jason said. “I’m so sorry, mister. My mom told me not to run. You won’t tell on me, will you?” He gave Nate his best puppy-dog eyes.

  Nate walked away, cursing under his breath.

  Jason looked over to the side of the room where Tracy was standing, a broad smile on her face. After she gave Jason a thumbs-up, he skipped away happily.

  It was a nice reminder that the Tracys of the world would always win.

  The fate of the Penny Lanes had yet to be determined.

  Once the dance floor opened and the music started playing, my mood quickly changed. There on the floor, I was dancing with the young and old. Family and strangers. Old friends and new friends.

  Music was the ultimate equalizer.

  The DJ was playing a mix from so many decades — classic Motown, the Beatles (duh), the Village People, Madonna, Beyoncé, Teenage Kicks — that everybody was having a blast.

  There, on the dance floor, I was truly happy. Everything I was stressed about melted away. All around me were smiling faces celebrating with their feet.

  Dad was twirling Tracy around while Buddy Holly blasted on the speakers. Mom grabbed her side and motioned that she was going to sit down for a few minutes. I happily kept swaying my hips and shimmying all over the floor as I sang along loudly.

  Tracy danced her way over to me. “You can’t be stopped, Pen. You’re a dancing machine.”

  I wiped the sweat from my brow and kept up with the rhythm as the music switched to Lucy’s favorite boy band from when she was a teen. Tracy and I joined her friends as they sang along with very specific dance moves that were probably from some music video. I’d never gone through that boy-band phase — probably since I had the ultimate boy band in my life from the very start.

  “We’ve got to start dancing more,” Tracy commented as she bumped her hip into mine. “I’m pretty sure I’ve earned another piece of wedding cake.” She motioned for me to join her as she made her way through the crowded dance floor to the table with extra slices of cake.

  I searched the table for a corner slice, and dug my fork into the vanilla frosting. “I love how music just lets you go. We really do need to dance more often.”

  “Penny!” Nate’s mom walked up to me with her arms extended. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to you tonight. How are you? You look gorgeous!”

  I embraced Mrs. Taylor, not wanting to hold her responsible for her son’s behavior. “I’m great, thanks. How are you??
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  “Good. Missing you.” She rubbed my arm. “Listen, sweetie, can you do me a favor? Nate looks bored. Can you dance with him? You two used to be so close.” She gave me a hopeful (and completely oblivious) smile.

  I gave Tracy a little nod to not get involved. She happily shoved more cake into her mouth.

  I contemplated my options of how to handle this. The easy way out would be to dance one song with him so Mrs. Taylor could continue to live in ignorance. Or I could end this silly charade once and for all. I hardly had enough energy to be happy, let alone to deal with his crap.

  “Actually, Mrs. Taylor, I’m busy having fun. Your son has been a lying jerk to me the last few months, so I really don’t want to waste any more time on him. Sorry that I can’t help you out, but if I have to spend any more time looking at his smug face, I might punch it in.” I threw up my hands like it wasn’t my decision.

  She stood there flabbergasted. “But … what …”

  “I’m really sorry, truly. Things aren’t the same between Nate and me. But that doesn’t mean anything has to change with your relationship to my parents. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some more dancing to do.” I gave her a polite smile before heading back to the dance floor.

  “Have I told you lately that you’re my hero?” Tracy asked.

  “Not enough. But you know what they say, Tracy — the truth will set you free.”

  While I hated being so blunt, and admittedly a little rude, to Mrs. Taylor, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders. It was all pretty much out there. There was no reason I had to keep up appearances anymore as far as the Taylors were concerned. Nothing was going to get in my way of enjoying my sister’s wedding. Other than being utterly heartbroken.

  Tracy and I got back on the dance floor. The plan was to do a little dance, make a little love (to the cameras), and get down.

  But someone else had other plans.

  Tracy and Jason were doing the robot in the middle of a circle that had formed, when my arm was yanked forcefully.

  “We need to talk,” Nate said angrily as he dragged me to the side of the room. “What the hell is your problem? What did you say to my mom?” His face was blotchy, and a bead of sweat was making its way down his temple.

  “I told her I wasn’t interested in babysitting you.” I pulled my arm away from his grasp.

  “You’ve got some serious issues.” His hands were in tight fists.

  “Well, we both know that my taste in past crushes is seriously suspect. Thank God I got over that.” I narrowed my eyes. “I was tired of pretending that you and I are just swell. My mom knows. And now your mom knows that you’re an ass. Although I’m sure she would’ve found out eventually by the simple fact that you live and breathe around her. She was bound to get wise to your ways.”

  “God, you need to get over yourself,” he practically spat at me. “Do you think I wanted to come to this wedding? Maybe I should thank you. Now I won’t be forced to grovel at your feet any time our parents demand we hang out.”

  “Oh, is that what you’ve been doing?” I volleyed back. “Because if this is your idea of groveling, you need some work. Believe me, I’d be happy to never have to see your face again.”

  He laughed exaggeratedly. “But what are you going to do, then? Guess you’ll need to find someone else to blame all your problems on. How fortunate for Ryan or whoever the next guy is that you decide to torture.”

  I took a step forward so I was only inches away from his face. I hadn’t been that close since the last time we kissed. The memory alone was enough to make me want to hurl chunks. “I love how you keep telling me that I blame others, yet you never once have taken responsibility for what you did. Tell me, did that naked girl simply fall on your lap? What a horrible thing to happen to you!” I dramatically rolled my eyes.

  “You’re such a bitch.”

  “And you’re a lying ass,” I stated. “Tell me this, Nate. If you think so poorly of me, then why are you so desperate to get me to forgive you? The texts, e-mails, cards … Why do you even care? I can’t imagine that you’re so deluded that you think there’d ever be a chance that we would get back together.” I looked him directly in the eye, making sure he would understand what I had to say next. “Because that will never, ever happen. Like ever.”

  He clenched his jaw. “Why can’t things be like they were? I’m not talking about us dating. I’m talking about how we used to be friends, real friends, Penny.”

  I paused for a moment. “Yes, we were friends. But then I saw the true you. I don’t want to date you, I don’t want to be friends with you.” Then a thought hit me — why had I never realized this before? “You know what, I used to idolize you, and you took advantage of that. Honestly, the only reason I think you can’t let go is because you’re not in control of me anymore. I have my own opinions, my own life outside of you. That’s what the cheating was all about, wasn’t it? You like to collect things. You like to be the one in charge, but I’m not someone who can be forced on a pedestal, then be expected to do what I’m told.”

  “Oh, I think you like being put on a pedestal just fine.”

  I opened my mouth to reply, but then I thought better. Why was I bothering? I didn’t want anything more to do with Nate. I wanted to go dance with Tracy and my family. I wanted to finally move on. Sure, I wasn’t a perfect girlfriend. I could be rash and make things messy and complicated … but wasn’t that the point of relationships? To find someone who would love you, flaws and all?

  “Nate, I’m done with this.”

  I turned my back on him. I was tempted to say one last passing zing, but I decided I’d rather spend my energy on being with the people I really care about.

  Mom approached me cautiously as I maneuvered back to the dance floor. “I saw you were talking to Nate. Is everything okay? I was going to go over there, but it seemed that you were doing a fine job handling it.”

  I gave her a big hug. “Yep. Everything’s fantastic. Although Mrs. Taylor might want to have a word with you. I couldn’t contain myself any longer around her.”

  “Of course you couldn’t.” She put her arm around me. “You are my daughter, after all.”

  Yes, I was. We Bloom women did not put up with crap very well and could only hold so much in. And for that I would always be grateful to my mother, mood swings and all.

  As if the DJ could sense what I needed, “Twist and Shout” came on. My family got into the center of the room and started singing along loudly. Even Rita couldn’t resist.

  Dad sang the lead to Mom, who twisted away while Lucy, Rita, and I popped up from behind my dad to sing the background voices. And during the crescendos of “aahhs,” we each took a turn, spreading our arms out — with Dad dropping to his knees and screaming the last part. It would be a miracle if any of us had voices left by the end of the night.

  As we finished, with Dad collapsed dramatically on the floor, the crowd around us cheered. Mom motioned for us to take a bow. We did the deep bow the Beatles always did after a performance.

  Tracy was smiling as she held up her phone. “Blackmail material.” She started to play the video she’d recorded.

  “I wouldn’t put it past you,” I said.

  The music started up again and we danced. And then we danced some more.

  “Tracy!” I practically screamed. “I got it!”

  She looked confused. “You got what?”

  “This!” I gestured around. “For the scholarship. We hold a dance. With music from all these decades. Get the community involved. I know it’ll be a lot of work, but imagine how fun it could be.”

  Tracy’s eyes lit up. “Like a dance-a-thon. We could do one with teams, and have contests, and prizes.” She got out her phone and started vigorously typing.

  Yes, a dance would be perfect to help raise money for our scholarship program.

  And it would keep me busy for months. Because as much as I’d let go of Nate, getting over Ryan was going to be a whole other monster.
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  EVERYBODY AGREED THAT THE DANCE-A-THON WAS a brilliant idea.

  Or at least that was what it seemed like, from the countless texts Tracy and I received on Sunday as we sat around my bedroom, exhausted from the wedding.

  By Monday morning, I was still running on fumes from very little sleep. I hardly had a voice from all the singing and talking over the music, and was pretty sure I still had remnants from the gallon of hair spray that had been used to keep my hair in place.

  I yawned as I opened my locker. I heard someone call my name and replied in a very raspy voice.

  I heard a familiar chuckle next to me. I was so sleepy, it took me a few beats to realize it was Ryan. I hadn’t seen him since the breakup.

  Breakup. That word still didn’t sit well with me. Not like boyfriend and girlfriend ever had.

  I snuck a quick glance over at him and noticed him studying me. “I take it you had a good weekend?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I replied, my voice sounding like it had been sanded down.

  “So …” He played with the corner of his textbook. “How was the wedding? Were you able to handle being around Jackass?”

  I appreciated Ryan referring to Nate by his proper name.

  “Yeah.” I grabbed a throat lozenge out of my bag, as every word was painful to speak. “I … I …” I didn’t really know what to say. “It was really nice of you to get them a present. I’m sorry …” I stopped, tired of always apologizing. I should’ve considered getting an I’m sorry tattoo on my forehead; it would’ve saved us both so much time. And misery.

  “Hey, Bauer!” Todd’s voice boomed down the hallway. He was followed by his pack of dudes and their girlfriends: Brian and Pam, Don and Audrey, with Missy trailing behind him. The former Elite Eight minus Ryan and Diane.

  Now they were the Sucktastic Six.

  Todd strutted over to Ryan and put his arm around him. “I’ve decided that you’ve been in prerogative long enough.”

  “Wow, Todd, I guess you really showed me with your witticism.” I started to back away, much to Todd’s delight. But there was one thing I wasn’t going to let him get away with. “But what exactly did you mean by prerogative? Don’t you mean purgatory?”