Prom Kings and Drama Queens (10 page)

“Pretty good so far.”

“Here,” he said, handing me a glass. “I’ll get the soda.”

I was sure I wore a stupid grin on my face as I watched him walk toward the kitchen. That is, until a certain Girl Scout took a toothpick off the bar and stuck it into one of my balloons. The warm glow I was feeling was suddenly interrupted by a
pop, pop, popping
against my back.

92

“Hey, grape juice!” Austin yelled, as Randy and her gangsta boyfriend stuck me again. I suddenly understood the attraction of getting wasted. You didn’t have to try all that hard to amuse yourself.

True to his Galahad alter ego, Brian appeared with the sodas, just in time to rescue me. He grabbed my elbow. “Let’s get away from these guys.” We walked onto an outdoor patio that overlooked the beach to the east and downtown Fort Lauderdale to the west. “Wow!” I said.

Brian closed the doors behind us. “Pretty nice, huh?

It makes the river behind our houses look like a kid’s swimming pool.”

“But who would Grams dance for if she lived here?” I teased.

Brian laughed. “The condominium association would probably have her arrested before she even started her dance.” Then suddenly, he grabbed my shoulders and pulled me in front of him.

“What are you doing?” I cried.

“Sorry, I just spotted Brandy. I don’t want her to know I’m out here.”

“Oh,” I said, trying to compose myself. “So I’m just a balloon barrier?”

He let go of my shoulders. “No,” he said apologet-ically. “I mean, I do want to be away from her, but I also . . .”

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Awkward silence.

“But didn’t you come to the party with Brandy?” Why did I bring up
her
again?

“No,” he said. “I brought her here, but I didn’t come with her.”

“What does that mean?”

Brian arranged his sword on his hip and sighed. “I drove her here because her father asked my father if I would. Randy had a ride with Kyle, and Brandy didn’t want to go with them.”

I felt like a breath I’d been holding had just been released. I hoped my relief didn’t show too much as I said, “Her dad?” No matter how much I wanted a date, I’d never ask my parents to intervene.

“Yeah, my dad does business with Mr. Clausen,” Brian said.

“So you aren’t going out with Brandy?”

“No way,” Brian said. “I don’t want to sound cocky, but she wishes.” Then suddenly, he grabbed my shoulders and jerked me in front of him again.

“Brandy?”

“Yeah, she just walked by,” he said, adding, “so are you glad you came to the party?”

“I was until I became the entertainment at the bar.”

“Forget about those idiots,” he said. “I’m glad it’s just us out here.”

“Really?” I squeaked.

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Brian smiled. “Yeah, I wanted to tell you thanks for being so nice to Grams. She doesn’t get to see many people, and she just, well, seems a little happier since you came by.”

“I’m here to help,” I blurted. Immediately, I wanted to take the words back. What did I even mean? I tried to save myself with a question. “But why doesn’t she get to see people?”

“She moved down here from New York to be with her family after my grandfather died. It was hard for her to stay alone up there with her eyesight going.” I remembered Grams squinting when she read the captain’s note. “Is she going blind?”

“Oh no, not that bad,” Brian said. “But she can’t drive, so it’s hard for her to meet people.”

“Maybe Captain Miguel can change that for her,” I said, smiling.

But Brian didn’t seem to share my optimism. He frowned for a second and hesitated. “Uh, yeah, about that. My parents found out about the captain, and they’re really upset that she wrote back to him. They don’t want us to deliver the note.”

“Why?” I cried. Sure it was a little gross to think of old people making out and stuff, but this was a perfect opportunity for Lily to get out and meet people.

“They’re afraid she might get taken advantage of,” Brian said. “She has a lot of money, and they think that 95

makes her an easy target for crooked guys.” I laughed. “Captain Miguel doesn’t exactly seem like a gigolo.”

“Probably not,” Brian said. “Listen, I didn’t come out here to talk about my parents. Grams said something about you and it got me thinking.” I gulped. Had she told him I liked him? What about all that winking? Winking was supposed to be
in place
of coming right out and telling things. Wasn’t it?

“Um”—I hesitated—“what did she say?”

“She asked me how I could have let someone like you live next door for so many years and never ask you out?”

Whoa. She was good. My insides were dancing to the beat of the music behind the glass doors, but I forced myself to stay calm and respond in a cool man-ner. “And what did you say?”

Brian shrugged. “I said I didn’t know.” Was that it? I nodded and rested my elbows on the balcony.

Brian turned and did the same.

So now what? I breathed in the salty air and shivered a little as a breeze blew by.

“You cold?” Brian said.

“A little.”

He grabbed a beach towel off a chair. “Anyway . . .” Brian said, “I started thinking maybe Grams was right.

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Ever since I moved here I’ve just hung out with Brandy, the drama queen, and her crowd. I didn’t even consider that you and I could hang out. I mean—if you’d want to.”

I wanted to jump up and down on the balcony and yell, “He likes me! He likes me!” Instead, I tried to keep my voice from cracking and answered, “Sure, that would be great.”

“Great,” he echoed, circling the beach towel tightly around my shoulders.

Suddenly I recalled the Christmas Eve that I was seven. All I’d wanted was a Fisher-Price kitchen. By accident, I’d spotted the big box in the garage, but I couldn’t let on that I knew. I remembered the feeling I had that night, looking up at the tree, feeling like I’d burst with anticipation, that I’d never last till morning.

That was exactly how I felt, standing under the stars next to Brian.

97

T WELVE

Emily Takes Detour

Saturday morning. I opened my eyes around nine, but just lay there thinking about the night before. Had Brian Harrington actually asked me if I wanted to

“hang out” with him?

I wasn’t sure what that meant, but every time I thought about it, I could hardly catch my breath. I’d daydreamed about going out with Brian for so long. I closed my eyes and imagined us together at parties, at the movies, at the prom. We’d be so inseparable they’d call us “Bremily.” Unfortunately, I didn’t get to learn if “hanging out” and “going out” were the same for Brian.

Just when he’d tucked the towel under my chin, 98

Brandy burst through the French doors to the balcony and demanded that Brian drive her home. She claimed to have a migraine. Then she looked at me and made some snide remark about someone “picking my grapevine.”

Brian tried to persuade her to stay, but Brandy would have none of it. “Do you want me to call my dad?” she said. “I know he’ll pick me up—even though your dad told him you’d give me a ride home.” Brian looked at me and rolled his eyes. “Sorry,” he said.

“It’s okay,” I said.

Shortly after they left, Lindsay decided she’d had enough, too. The chill room turned out to be a little too chilly. The only one who had spoken to her was Daniel.

With Brian gone, I didn’t have a big investment in stay-ing, so we left.

I looked outside the window to see if Brian’s car was next door. Then I remembered he said he had practice before the St. Bart’s game that night. I was deep into imagining a shirtless Brian gracefully executing an overhead shot when the phone rang.

“Emily?” This time I wasn’t fooled. I recognized Daniel’s deep voice right away.

“What’s up?” I said.

“Um, we’re supposed to go to the nursing home, remember?”

99

“Yes,” I said, “of course I remember.” Though it
had
slipped my mind.

“I thought you might need a ride,” he said.

Even though I didn’t want to spend any more time with Daniel than I had to, I wasn’t sure where the nursing home was and I didn’t want to get lost. “I’ll meet you out front in an hour,” I said, still staring outside at Brian’s empty parking spot.

As I slid into the passenger seat, Daniel turned the radio off.

“What was that playing?” I said. “I liked it.”

“It’s a band called the Gloomy Pharmacists.” I laughed. “I guess I’d be gloomy if I were a pharma-cist.”

“Yeah,” Daniel said, “but somebody’s got to do it.”

“Why’d you turn it off?” I said.

“Habit. My dad doesn’t like us to listen to the radio when other people are in the car. He thinks it’s a good opportunity for people to
communicate
when they’re trapped in a car together.”

“Trapped, huh?”

“His word, not mine.”

An awkward silence followed as I tried to think of how Daniel and I could
communicate
. I was sure he was trying to think of something to say, too. He finally won.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “Some people get a little 100

freaked out when they think about nursing homes, but it’s not what you think.”

“How do you know what I think?”

Daniel adjusted his rearview mirror. “The amazing Daniel knows all and sees all.”

“Right,” I said. “I forgot about your incredible powers.”

Daniel laughed.

“So what’s the nursing home like if it’s not what I’m thinking?”

“For starters, a lot of people there are fairly lucid.

They go in and out sometimes. Some of them can carry on a pretty good conversation. Sometimes it’s the same conversation over and over, but they make a lot of sense once in a while.”

“How do you know so much about it?”

“I used to go there and read to a group who liked books but couldn’t see well anymore. But since junior year started with all those AP classes, there’s not enough time for the things I want to do.” He laughed.

“You know, too busy getting hauled off to jail.”

“Ironic, huh? Now that’s the thing bringing you back here.”

Daniel shook his head. “Irony presumes that things are supposed to happen in a certain way. I don’t believe that.”

Now this was the intellectually smug Daniel that I 101

found so annoying. “What do you mean?”

“You know. Like that singer who used to be popular a while ago.” Then he proceeded to screech out the lyrics, “ ‘Like ra-a-a-a-in on your wedding day.’ ” I couldn’t help but laugh. “That was really awful.”

“True,” Daniel said. “I never claimed I could sing.

But rain on your wedding day isn’t ironic at all. Who ever said there was a guarantee that it wouldn’t rain on your wedding day? It’s just bad luck. Maybe even bad judgment—I mean everyone knows there’s a pretty good chance of rain certain months of the year.

Particularly June, the most popular month for weddings.”

“You’re quite the romantic, aren’t you?” I said.

The corner of Daniel’s mouth turned up. I was beginning to recognize the look. It always came before a tease. “Not as romantic as your new friend Harrington.”

My face turned red hot. I ignored the comment and pressed Daniel further on his irony theory. “What about King Midas? You know, every teacher always gives that as an example of dramatic irony.”

“Could be,” Daniel said, “but really . . . the guy wishes that everything he touches turns to gold. That’s just bad judgment. I mean, couldn’t he think ahead?

Just wiping his butt would be a problem.”

“Thanks for the visual,” I said. “So then what you’re 102

telling me is that it’s not ironic at all that your almost arrest has brought you back to the nursing home. It was just bad judgment?”

“Could be,” Daniel said. “Then again, it could have been very good judgment.”

I thought I saw that curl of his lip again. I wasn’t sure what he was getting at, so I changed the subject.

“So what’s happening with the big prom article? Got any brilliant ideas yet?”

Daniel gestured to a blue folder on the floor. “I’m glad you asked. Open it up.”

The first page read only:
Prom
nivores. The second page was a list of prom expenses.