The Anti-Prom (26 page)

“Hey,” I say, crossing my fingers. “This is Bliss. Remember, we met earlier?”

There’s a pause, and then, “What’s happened? Is Jolene OK?”

I knew it. His voice is anxious, and nobody gets that worked up over just a friend. I can’t help but smile. Despite all her ice-queen bitching at him, Dante is still totally hung up on Jolene.

“Yes, she’s fine,” I reassure him, sneaking a look at where she’s lighting up another cigarette. She doesn’t know it, but I’m doing her a major favor here. “The thing is, we’re kind of stuck. Can you come give us a ride?”

I sit on the trunk of Meg’s car, idly swinging my legs as we wait for Bliss’s mystery friend to come pick us up. It’s a warm night, but my dress is still wet through, and every breeze sends a shiver right through me.

“Will you take the blanket?” Bliss sighs, leaning against the car. “Catching a chill isn’t, like, some moral victory.”

I finally take it. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” She beams. “It was worth it though, right? I can still picture Kaitlin’s face, when she came up for air . . .”

“It was a treat,” I agree. There’s a pause. “So, you really won’t be going back to them?”

“Who? Brianna and that group? No.” Bliss lets out a bitter laugh. “That’s pretty much done. You’re looking at the latest outcast of East Midlands High.” She strikes a pose, but I can tell from the flicker in her expression that this is no joke. That was her life back there she just destroyed, I realize. It may have been shallow and false, and built on a foundation of bitching and unstable footwear, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t matter.

“You’ll be OK,” I tell her quietly. “I mean, sure, it’s not going to be easy, but you’ll do fine without them.”

“I know, but . . .” Bliss exhales, giving me a rueful smile as she admits, “I’ve never been that good on my own.”

“So, you won’t be,” I tell her, gazing out at the black highway. “You’ve got Meg for next year — she’s going to need someone to stop her from slipping back into wallflower mode.” We both grin. “And,” I add cautiously, “I’m going to be stuck around town. For the summer, at least. We could, I don’t know, hang out. Maybe.”

“Really?” She looks up at me, hopeful. With all that makeup and the fancy hairstyle washed away, she looks like a real person for a change; not that overdone, synthetic girl she used to be. Who knows? She might just be a good influence on me — all that normal teenage fun. My mom would be so proud.

“Yeah, well, you can be OK, if you try.” I remember that look of hers just before she began hurling people into the pool. That Bliss, I can deal with.

“You’re not too bad, either.” Bliss grins.

Meg comes around, depositing our purses and clothes in a heap on the asphalt. She’s taken her contacts out and pulled a gray zip-up hoodie over that white flouncy dress. “I’ve locked everything up and left a note for the tow truck,” she says, twisting some hair around her finger in thought. “What am I forgetting?”

“Nothing,” Bliss says. She straightens as a pair of headlights approaches on the horizon, drawing closer. “And here’s our ride.”

I pause, watching as the beat-up Camaro slows and pulls up alongside. My heart skips, but it’s not until the driver climbs out and saunters toward us that I realize why.

Dante.

“You know that nice stuff I was just saying about you?” I tell Bliss through gritted teeth. “I take it all back.”

“Come on,” she says. “Don’t tell me you’re not happy to see him.”

Not happy so much as sick with sudden nerves. But before I can reply, she dances over and throws her arms around him, gushing thanks for helping us out. He’s still wearing that leather jacket, his eyes dark in the shadows of the headlights. But I don’t need to see: I know that boy by heart.

“We only need a ride to the campus and back,” she promises. “It’s an emergency, I swear.”

“Sure, no problem.” He steps into the light, giving a lazy grin. It widens as he looks her up and down. “Do I, uh, need to ask what happened to you guys?”

I fold my arms defensively, but Bliss just laughs. “Just a thing with my ex and a pool. Hope you don’t mind damp spots!”

“In this old thing?” Dante grins good-naturedly. “She’s seen worse, I promise.”

The other girls climb in the car, already telling him about the dorm we need, and where would be best to park, but I hang back, reluctant. He hasn’t said a word to me yet. He hasn’t so much as looked in my direction. After that fight we had back at the warehouse, I can’t say I’m surprised, but his indifference stings more than any angry glare ever could.

“Jolene, come on!” Meg instructs, hanging out the front passenger door. I brace myself. Means to an end, I tell myself; he’s just the means to a necessary end. Clambering in the backseat, I slam the door, and we go.

Meg and Bliss chat the whole way, giving him an edited version of our diary quest. They laugh and joke, happy about our rescue, but I curl up, silent as the dark streets speed by. After everything that’s happened, my defenses are down and Dante’s presence is overwhelming. He hasn’t looked my way since that glance, but I can feel him all the same — every smile and nod of his head, every idle finger-drum on the steering wheel. I watch his profile, lit up in the glare of passing cars, eyes fixed on the road. It would be a comfort to be near him again, if it wasn’t for the ugly things we said just a few hours ago. The yelling, the frustration in his eyes.

He’s out of reach now.

“I’ll go,” Bliss says when we arrive on campus. The quad is empty, the earlier partiers all safe asleep — or passed out somewhere. “Shouldn’t be long. Third floor, right?”

“Yup.” Meg nods. “Good luck!”

We watch her hurry over to the front entrance. It’s locked tight, but, after a moment, a security guard comes to the door.

“I am going to sleep sooo late tomorrow.” Meg yawns. “I mean, today.”

Dante laughs. “Not a natural party animal, huh?”

“Um, no,” she admits.

“Jolene should give you some tips,” he says casually, still not looking back at me. “She’s gone days straight on nothing but caffeine and bagels.”

The memory is sharp: me and Dante in this car, with nothing but open roads and Lyle Lovett on the radio. “My seventeenth birthday,” I answer, my voice sounding like it belongs to someone else. “We drove to Philly for that Thermals show, and then just kept going to make the date in New York.”

Meg twists around to look at me. “You went cross-country?”

I shrug. “Sure, it was fun.” We planned to go abroad, too, one of those days. Europe. South America. Dante had an itch; he used to want to see it all. Maybe he still does.

“My dad won’t even let me leave the state. Not without him and Stella,” Meg says wistfully.

“We’ll work on that,” I tell her, managing a smile. “Who knows; maybe by the end of summer, we’ll get you as far as DC.”

She looks at me, and then her face breaks out into a brilliant grin. “Maybe we will.”

“Here’s your girl.” Dante nods. Bliss is hurrying back from the dorm. She climbs into the backseat next to me, already shaking her head.

“No go. It’s a different guard now — he won’t let me up. They shut the party down hours ago, and now he’s only letting in residents with ID.”

We all exhale.

“Didn’t you try to make an excuse or something?” I ask, frustrated.

Bliss looks insulted. “What do you think? I said I was his sister, visiting from out of town. But he didn’t budge. He’s kind of an ass,” she adds, frowning. “I mean, imagine if it was true — where does he think I’m going to sleep?”

I slump back. “So, what now?”

“We can’t just give up,” Meg insists. “Remember what’s in that diary — we’ve got to get it back. Tonight.”

“But how?” Bliss asks. “I mean, I tried everything in there. I even cried!”

We’re silent. Then Dante speaks. “What’s the setup in there? Do you sign in, or what?”

Bliss thinks, “Umm, there’s a card swipe on the main door. But even if we get someone to let us in, they’re not allowed to sign in guests after midnight. And this guy doesn’t leave his desk.”

“Huh . . .” Dante pauses, and I just know his mind is ticking over something. Give him long enough, and he could steal the Declaration of Independence. “Jolene, you still got that hack from Eli?”

He’s speaking to me.

“Uh, yeah.” I manage to recover. My heart pounds as I finally meet his eyes. “It’s in my bag.”

“OK.” He nods, beginning to curl his lips in a smile. “And do you think you guys could find an ID? It doesn’t have to be from this dorm, just a college one.”

“You mean we jam the entry system and then bluff our way in?” Meg brightens, way ahead of me. “That could work. The library should be open all night, and I could try and borrow someone’s card. . . .”

“Perfect.” Bliss bounces out of the car. “You go take care of that, and I’ll go back and work on the guard, in case he breaks.”

They slam the doors. It’s just me and Dante now. Silent.

“Wait a minute.” I scramble out and hurry after them. “What do I do? I should go with you, Meg, to help out.”

“Nope.” Bliss stops and gives me that grin again, the devious one. “She’s the one with the access there, and we don’t want to draw attention to ourselves, do we?”

“But —” I look back at the car. At Dante. “You can’t leave me alone with him,” I whisper.

“You’ll be fine.” Meg looks amused. “He won’t bite.”

“Unless you’re lucky,” Bliss adds, giggling.

“Guys!” I cry. They don’t understand; this isn’t a joke. “Please . . .”

“Try starting with an apology,” Meg advises, already backing away. Then she pauses and gives me a curious smile. “He came, you know. To prom. I saw him outside, all dressed up. I’m guessing that was for you.”

And then they split off in different directions and leave me here to my fate.

He showed up.

I don’t go back to the car. The thought of sitting there in icy silence with Dante is worse than the night chill, so I wander down the sidewalk a ways until I reach one of the benches overlooking the quad. Not that there’s much to overlook: a dark patch of grass and the looming ugly concrete buildings all around. Ivy League, this isn’t. A lone neon lamp washes me in a thin pool of light. Hugging my knees to my chest, I wait.

He showed up to prom. After all this time, he remembered too — found a tux, came back down from college. That has to mean something. And even though I screwed everything up with my stupid, blind quest to even the score with my dad, Meg’s revelation still fills me with the smallest bit of hope.

If he gets out of the car, there’s still a chance for me.

I repeat it like a mantra, watching groups of drunken stragglers stumble back to the dorms. The minutes stretch out, but still I hope. If he gets out of the car, maybe this can be mended, somehow. If he comes to talk to me, then he still cares. Part of me wants to march right up to him and demand forgiveness — I’m not the kind of girl to ever wait around for a guy to make his move — but some instinct tells me that I can’t force this.

Five minutes turn into ten, and soon my butt is numb from the hard seat and I’ve got goose bumps all over my body. And he hasn’t gotten out of the car.

I’m surprised to feel a sob well, stinging in the back of my throat. I’ve been fooling myself all year into thinking I’m better off without him — better without a friend who could just bail like that. But it’s a lie. He went because I pushed him. I pushed them all. Hell, I’ve been sabotaging any chance I have of being happy — too angry to see past my dad, and the sneers around town, and all the ways this world is stacked against people like me. But what can that anger change, in the end?

Not one damn thing, except to prove them right.

I sink back, miserable. It’s ironic, I know. Now, when I finally understand what he’s been trying to tell me all this time, I can’t do anything to change it.

“Are you trying to catch your death?”

His voice jolts me back with a lurch. Dante is standing a few paces away, hands in his pockets and hair in his eyes. He’s casual and irritated, sure, but he’s here.

I stop breathing.

“You sound like my mom,” I tell him, trying to stay cool.

“Your mom’s got the right idea.” He sighs, peeling off his jacket. “Here, you’re turning blue.”

“Better than the pink,” I quip softly.

Dante drapes it over my shoulders, still warm from his body. I snuggle down, breathing in leather and tobacco and the unmistakable scent of him. He hovers for a moment, tapping a cigarette against his thigh.

“You haven’t quit yet?”

He gives me a twisted smile and then sits. “Clearly, my willpower needs some work.”

“I should give it up too,” I say quietly. “All my bad habits.”

“Oh, yeah?” Dante laughs, dubious.

“Really.”

There’s silence. I try to find the words to say anything at all, but my tongue is thick with panic. I can’t even look at him.

“Those two have come around.” Dante relaxes back, stretching. “Bliss, and that Meg girl. You whipped them into shape, huh?”

I swallow. “More like the other way around, I think.”

“Oh?”

I run my fingers over the jagged edge of the zipper, more nervous than I think I’ve ever been in my life. Even opening those college letters, I had my defenses up — expecting the worst. Now it feels like my chest is cranked wide open, and my heart is beating and bloody for him to see.