Prom Kings and Drama Queens (13 page)

out to dinner. It’s her decision anyway, right?”

“Right.”

Once we were all in the cottage, Brian relaxed a little. Lily poured us some green tea. “What brings you here again?” she said.

“We delivered your note to the captain,” I answered.

Lily’s eyes sparkled. “You did? And what did he say?” I produced the note that Brian and I had been unable to refold into its original boat shape but had just neatly folded into a square. Lily took it and read aloud to us, her voice cracking at the end. “How lovely,” she said. And then she folded the note in half and put it on the table.

I wasn’t sure if Lily intended to go on about the note, because the telephone interrupted us. Lily looked at it but didn’t even bother to go over to the table. She looked at me and smiled. “We share a telephone line, but it’s always for Brian.”

Brian looked at the caller ID. “I’ll call him back from my cell.” Then he disappeared, leaving Lily and me alone with the captain’s letter. How would I ever begin to have a relationship with Brian if he kept getting phone calls?

“So, Emily, what do you think of this Captain Miguel? He’s not one of those older men who still thinks he’s twenty, is he? You know with the shirt unbuttoned to his navel and the gold necklaces?” 125

“Um, no,” I said, wondering in what universe twenty-year-old guys dressed like that.

“Is he a nice man?”

“I think so.”

She leaned back on the couch. “You know, I had a wonderful relationship with my husband. We were the best of friends. We loved to go to the theater, the opera.

But we also had our own interests. I had my dance classes and my charity work. But when my husband died, I wasn’t prepared for the void in my life. That’s when I decided to move to Florida—to be with my son and his family.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

Lily patted my knee. “Don’t be sorry, dear, they’re not
that
horrible to live with.”

“I didn’t mean about your family,” I said quickly. “I meant your husband.”

“That’s okay—I have lovely memories.”

“But that void,” I said. “Couldn’t the captain fill just a tiny bit of it?” They did seem like a perfect match now that I thought about it. Both gave off a not-really-living-in-the-real-world vibe. “I could give him your phone number. Then the phone
would
be for you once in a while.”

Lily smiled. “That would be a change, wouldn’t it?” She paused, then added. “You’re sure he’s a nice man?”

“I’m pretty sure,” I said. “But just in case, you 126

should meet him in a public place.” Lily’s eyes met mine and began to twinkle. “You’re a pretty smart girl, aren’t you?”

“It’s just what my mother always taught me. You know, don’t go off with strangers. Make sure your cell phone is charged when you go out . . .” Lily chuckled. “Now that’s a new one. We always made sure we had a dime for a pay phone.” I smiled and then looked at my watch, wondering how long I should wait for Brian.

As if she were reading my mind, Lily announced,

“I’ll make more tea. We can chat until Brian comes back.” She filled a pot with water and set it on the burner. “So dear, what do you do with your free time when you’re not in school?”

I didn’t want to tell her exactly how many hours of my life were devoted to daydreaming, particularly since my daydreaming happened to involve her grandson. “I work on the school newspaper,” I said. “Right now I’m working on an article about the junior prom.” Lily took a pot holder out of a drawer. “Hmm,” Lily said. “I don’t think I’ve ever been to a prom. We had dances in my day, but no prom.”

“Really?” I said. “I thought proms had been around forever.” As soon as I spoke, I wanted to take the words back. I hoped she didn’t think I meant
she’d
been around forever.

127

The teakettle let out a piercing whistle. “You know, I always thought it would be exciting to be a journalist,” Lily said. “What will you write about the prom?” So far all Daniel had was a list and I hadn’t come up with anything else. “Right now we’re thinking about doing it on how expensive everything is.”

“Oooh,” Lily said, her eyes getting wide. “An exposé.

Just like
60 Minutes
!”

I hadn’t thought of it that way, but it definitely made me feel better about the whole thing. “I guess so,” I said.

Lily poured more tea. “So then how will you stop this prom nonsense?”

Stop it? Nonsense? What was she talking about?

“Um, we don’t want to stop the prom. We just want to write about how expensive it is!”

“Good journalists tell their readers how to change things,” Lily said. “Otherwise, what good are the words?”

Ms. Keenan just assigned stories. She never said anything about giving instructions with them. “What do you mean?” I said.

Lily shuffled some newspapers on the glass coffee table and pointed to an article. “I just read this wonderful column. The writer told about how he was chastised by readers because when he wrote about how awful things were in countries like Africa, he never told readers 128

what they could do about it.”

I remembered the night of the attempted oakicide, when Daniel had said it wasn’t our job to stop them from cutting the tree down. “But he’s a journalist,” I said. “He’s supposed to just write the stories.”

“Well, his readers complained that the problem with journalists is that they tell you what’s wrong so they can feel good about themselves. But then the reader feels guilty.” She paused. “So, do you want your readers to feel guilty about spending a lot of money at the prom?

Or do you want them to do something about it?” The answer was obvious. “But what could I possibly say that would make readers do anything about the cost of the junior prom? I can’t see the Clausen twins and their friends shopping for gowns at the thrift store to save money. And even if they did, what good would it do?”

Lily rubbed her chin. “You’re right. I’ve met the Clausens and their girls, and I can’t picture them giving up a chance to spend money. But surely you can think of something that some of your friends could do to stop this ridiculousness.”

By now my head was hurting. I understood what Lily was trying to say, but she clearly did not understand the students of Crestview Prep. Prom was a sacred ritual. Parents planned prom parties for weeks.

Groups of kids met at one house to pick up the limo, 129

while their parents took pictures and feasted on buffet dinners. It wasn’t just the students that got excited about prom. Everyone did.

I was beginning to wish I’d never come over to the Harringtons; my homework was waiting. Brian was gone. And Lily was making me feel guilty and I wasn’t even sure why. So when the door of the cottage opened, I jumped at the chance to leave.

“I’m sorry,” Brian said sheepishly. “It was Austin. I couldn’t get him off the phone.”

Well, at least he’d tried to hurry.

“Want something to eat?” Brian said. “I think there’s some key lime pie in the fridge.”

“Sure.” I looked at Lily. “It was nice talking to you.

And thank you for the tea.”

Lily folded the newspaper and placed it on top of a neat pile. “Lovely talking to you, my dear.” We were almost out the door when Lily added, “Oh, I almost forgot . . .” She took a deep breath and smoothed out the wrinkles in her floral top. “I’ve decided I’d like to meet Captain Miguel. Will you tell him I’d love to have dinner with him?” Brian looked down at his sneakers and didn’t say a word.

“Sure,” I said. “If that’s what you want, I’ll tell him.” Lily ripped a piece of paper off a ladybug pad hanging on the wall and wrote the phone number on it. She 130

started to hand it to me, but then stopped and said,

“How silly of me. You probably know it already.”

“No.” I avoided looking at Brian. Of course I knew his number. I’d looked it up in the school directory and memorized it as soon as I’d started daydreaming about those eyes and that dimple. But I took the number from Lily as if it were the first time I was seeing it.

Brian put his hand on the small of my back as we walked across the patio to the house. The pool glistened as the water from the stone fountain spilled into it.

Despite the warmth in the air, my skin tingled with goose bumps.

Brian took the pie out and set it on the table. “Just a tiny slice,” I said. It was a bit unnerving to be alone in the Harrington house with Brian. “I’m still full from dinner. My dad barbecued.”

“I know,” Brian said. “It smelled good.” I watched him stab a piece of pie. “You should have come over,” I said.

Brian smiled. “Maybe next time.”

I sensed the whole pie and barbecue chatter was just small talk before something big was about to happen. I just didn’t know how that thing was going to happen.

I took a bite of pie. It was sweet at first, then a little tart on the sides of my tongue. After Brian finished his last bite, he escorted me into the family room and onto a black leather couch. He turned on a basketball game 131

but muted the sound, turning sideways to look at me. “I can’t believe we lived next door to each other all this time and never hung out,” he said.

Oh my God. This was definitely pre–making out banter. I recognized it from movies.

“Yeah,” I said. “I know.” From the corner of my eye, I watched a player dribble from one end of the court to the other. As he reached the basket, Brian’s arm slipped around my shoulders and pulled me closer to him. The guy with the ball jumped in the air and dunked it into the basket.

Score! Brian’s lips were suddenly on mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck and tasted the sweetness of graham cracker crust on his lips. Suddenly my body felt like the water from the fountain, falling and melting into a shimmering pool. Was this really happening? Oh my God! Was I really kissing Brian Harrington? And, more importantly . . . was I doing it right?

When we both needed a breath, we separated slightly but kept our foreheads touching. “We should definitely hang out more,” Brian whispered.

“Definitely,” I whispered back.

132

FIFTEEN

Emily on Detour?

“Whoa!” Lindsay said. “This is so surreal. What base did you get to?”

“Base? No one talks about bases anymore. You really are stuck in the fifties.”

Lindsay took the aluminum foil off her tuna wrap. “I am not—I’m stuck in the sixties. That’s much cooler. So then what happened?”

“We were on the couch for a while, and then we heard the garage door open and his parents’ car pull in.” I leaned closer to Lindsay. The lunchroom had begun to fill up, and people were headed toward our table. “Then we kind of collected ourselves and Brian walked me to my front yard.”

133

Lindsay shook her head. “What a difference a week makes, huh? Last Sunday night you were stalking him, and a week later you’re—”

“So, Woodward, you come up with an angle for the prom story yet?” an annoying voice interrupted.

Lindsay looked up at Daniel and then at me.

“Woodward?”

“It’s just Daniel’s lame attempt at humor,” I said.

“He doesn’t think I can come up with the kind of hard-hitting investigative piece about the prom that he came up with.” I glared at him. “Now what was your idea?

‘Prom: It’s Expensive!’ I don’t know if I can top that.” Daniel grinned. “Laugh if you will, but if you don’t come up with something else by two o’clock today, we’re going with it.” He proceeded to hum the theme song from the final question on
Jeopardy
as he strolled away.

“Grrrr.” I broke a piece of my peanut butter and jelly sandwich off and threw it on the table. “He acts so superior. I can’t stand it.”

“Whoa, sandwich that bad, huh?”

I spun around to find Brian smiling at me. I was sure my face was the color of the jelly I’d just tossed onto the table.

“Hey,” Brian said. “I was hoping I’d see you. Want to come to practice later?”

I bit my lip. “Um, I have to work on my newspaper 134

article this afternoon. We’ve got a deadline.” Austin walked by and jutted his chin out to show Brian where the team was sitting. It was almost a man-date that Brian sit with them. He nodded and then turned to me. “Maybe I’ll see you later at home?”

“Sure,” I said, wishing I could just blink my eyes and make it later right away.

Ms. Keenan peeked over our shoulders as Daniel and I sat at the computer. “Have you come up with an angle for the prom story yet?”

Daniel and I looked at each other. I began to stammer. “We . . . um . . .”

Daniel finished the sentence for me. “In a couple of minutes.” Ms. Keenan nodded and walked away.

“What?” I whispered furiously. “We’re not ready.” Daniel pointed to Ethan Rose and Carly Kendrick.

Carly was typing away and Ethan was reading from notes next to her. “They’re our competition,” Daniel said, “for the coeditors position next year.”

“Coeditors?”

“I overheard Ms. Keenan talking to another teacher and found out that whoever comes up with the best angle on a prom story gets the front page in the next issue of the
Crestview Courier
—and the coeditor position.”

“You have
got
to be kidding. We may as well give up now.”