What's Your Status? (45 page)

mad_mac
yay for the prom!

These continued on for a page or so, a new update every ten minutes, all with my location embedded in them, putting me inside the Rosebud Ballroom the whole time. Dr. Trent stared down at my phone in his hand, looking perplexed.

“Is there a problem?” I asked.

“Yes,” he snapped. “I’ve heard reports—that you weren’t at our prom. From a reliable source. That you weren’t with your boyfriend, Nathan, but flitting about the hotel….”

Nathan.
Well, that told me exactly who his source was. “The source can’t have been that reliable,” I said, “because my boyfriend’s name is Nate. And my updates place me in the prom the entire time. Don’t they?”

“Yes…but…” Dr. Trent looked down at my phone, then at me, angrily, and I realized that Dell hadn’t been the only one who’d been hoping to get me expelled tonight.

“Is there a problem?” I looked over and saw Nate striding out of the Rosebud Ballroom. He did a double take at the eighties minidress but kept on walking toward me and placed his arm around my shoulders. “Hi, Mad.”

“Hello, Nate,” I said, for Dr. Trent’s benefit.

“I know you’ve barely left my side the entire night,” he said, looking right at Dr. Trent as he said this, “but I miss you already. Coming back in?”

I looked at Dr. Trent and raised my eyebrows. “Was there something else?” I asked.

Dr. Trent looked very much like he wanted to say something else, but then he just shook his head. “We’re finished,” he said, giving me something that was probably meant to approximate a smile. “Go enjoy the prom.” He turned and headed back into the ballroom.

I waited until the doors had closed behind him, then turned to Nate and wrapped my arm around his waist. “Thank you,” I said.

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

“Everything’s great,” I said, smiling at him.

“Good. Because I’m going to need some answers. Like this dress. Is it my imagination, or were you wearing something else before?”

I stretched up and kissed him. “I’ll tell you everything,” I said, realizing that I now could, and feeling the weight of having to keep this secret lift. “I promise.”

“Well,” he said, “why don’t you start with the dress?”

“Dude!” I looked over and saw Dave standing in front of the ballroom doors, motioning for Nate to join him. We started to head over when something caught my eye. It was Justin, sitting in one of the armchairs and staring into space.

“Meet you in there,” I said to Nate, who squeezed my hand and headed toward Dave. I heard Nate ask him, “Did it work?” before the two of them entered the ballroom.

“Hey,” I said, walking back to Justin. “Thanks for helping us out before. That was awesome of you.”

Justin looked up at me, his brow furrowed. “What was that about, Mad?” he asked. “I had no idea what was going on—Kittson just told me to distract that girl Isabel, and then come back to our prom after a few minutes.”

“There was a whole situation,” I said, feeling that it was probably best not to go into details. “But you really helped us.”

Justin stood up, frowning. “So you just used me?” he asked.

“No,” I said quickly. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Then what was it like?” he asked.

I tried to think fast, but couldn’t come up with a response. Justin looked at me for a moment longer, then shook his head and walked away. I started to head after him when someone called my name.

“See you, Mad!” I looked away from Justin and saw Andy descending the staircase. “It was nice to have met you and all.”

“You too,” I said. But I saw that Andy wasn’t listening to me anymore—he was looking at the ballroom doors, where Ruth was coming out, pulling a wrap around her shoulders.

“Ready?” Andy asked her, and she nodded.

“Ready.” She looked at me and then down at her small drawstring bag. “So that was…interesting tonight, Mad.”

“A night to remember?” I asked, and she laughed.

“Definitely.” She seemed like she was about to say something else, but then just gave me a small smile. “Talk to you later.”

She turned back to Andy, and they headed toward the lobby. I watched her go, thoughts flooding my head—about what had happened this past spring, about what had happened tonight, about nine years of friendship, and about a picture that we never got to take. Just before she and Andy were out of earshot, I made my decision. “Ruth,” I called, and she turned back to me. “Talk to you soon.”

She looked at me, surprised, but with a hopeful smile creeping over her face. Then she nodded and turned back to Andy, and as I watched, he took her hand and they disappeared from view.

“All right!” Chris yelled over the microphone from his DJ station as I stopped dancing for a moment to catch my breath. I had been beyond thrilled that the dancing wasn’t over when Nate and I had headed back to the ballroom, and that there was enough time for me to spend some of my prom actually
at
my prom. “Putnam High, let me hear you make some noise!” All around me, everyone yelled, and I smiled as Chris did some fancy DJ scratching, then cranked up Beyoncé, causing everyone to yell again and start dancing with renewed energy.

I turned in a circle and saw my friends dancing like crazy all around me. Lisa and Dave were getting down, Lisa with her head thrown back, singing along with the song. Kittson was showing off her moves—which were quite impressive, if somewhat R-rated—as Turtell shuffled his feet from side to side next to her. She was still
wearing the crown, which caught the light from the chandelier and reflected it against the walls. Jimmy and Liz were slow dancing, wrapped in an embrace, and gazing into each other’s eyes. I’d realized pretty quickly that this was how they danced to every song, no matter what the tempo. Sarah had brought Zach down to our prom, and they were dancing enthusiastically, Sarah’s arms flailing so wildly that people around them were giving them a wide berth. Ginger and Josh were dancing next to Brian and Melissa, and Mark was pulling a Billy Idol, and dancing with himself, but not appearing very upset about it.

Tanner was there, looking a little worse for wear—he’d been forcibly ejected from the Hartfield prom and replaced with an iPod. But he’d told me between songs that it was cool; the guys from the circle pit had crowd surfed him out. In the exodus, his shirt had gotten torn, and I’d given him the T-shirt from the bat mitzvah gift bag. He’d been grateful for it, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him that on the back, it read
Today I Am An (Immortal) Woman.

Even Justin was there, standing off to the side, watching everyone dancing. If he was disappointed that he hadn’t won prom king, it wasn’t showing.

“Dipping you,” Nate said. He spun me around and, in one smooth movement, bent me backward over his arm and whipped me back up again. I smiled at him as he grabbed my hand and spun me into him, then twirled me out. It turned out that Nate hadn’t been lying about having moves. My boyfriend could
dance.
I tipped my head back, threw my arms in the air when the song told me
to, then dropped them, shimmying my shoulders at Nate and making him laugh. My feet hurt in my prom heels, but I didn’t care. The lights were flashing, the music was loud, my friends were dancing all around me, and my boyfriend was spinning me into his arms. It was what I’d always wanted the prom to be.

I turned my back to Nate, and he put his hands on my hips and we moved together, prompting some faux-scandalized whoops from my friends—which was ridiculous, really, because Kittson had been grinding with Turtell for the last three songs. I was about to turn back to Nate so we could dance face-to-face for a while, when someone standing in the doorway of the ballroom caught my eye. My feet slowed.

It was Isabel, just standing there, staring into the ballroom. I watched her take it all in—the crowds of dancing people, the decorations, the DJ we’d poached playing actual prom music. Her eyes moved around the room and stopped on my group of friends. With a sinking feeling, I watched her face as she stared at them—Kittson wearing the Hayes crown, Dave and Lisa twirling madly, Sarah laughing with Isabel’s original date, Mark getting down, Tanner grooving to his own beat, Justin standing apart, looking lost in thought but clearly with us. It was as though she was putting the events of the night together and was now watching us celebrate our victory.

Then she looked at me, and we made eye contact. No longer moving, I held her gaze for a long moment, and she stared right back at me. I didn’t like what I saw on her face. It wasn’t Dell’s acceptance of defeat. It was pure,
unadulterated rage. And it was directed right at me.

“Mad, you okay?” Nate asked, probably wondering why I’d stopped moving altogether. I turned to look at him and nodded, then glanced back at the doorway. But Isabel was gone.

“Okay, it’s the last song,” Chris said, prompting boos from the crowd. “So we’re going to slow it down a bit for all you sweethearts out there.”

Again I looked at the doorway where Isabel had been, trying to shake her expression, or at least figure out why it was bothering me so much. Then I gave up, determined not to let her ruin what was left of the prom. I turned back to Nate, who smiled at me. I stepped close to him and slid my arms around his neck. Nate wrapped his arms around my waist as Pete Townshend’s “Let My Love Open the Door” began to play.

“I love this song,” I said, looking up at him.

“Me too,” he said, leaning down and kissing me. We lingered like that for a moment, then he pulled away and smiled at me. “Our song?” he asked. “What do you think?”

“It’s perfect,” I said, smiling back at him.

“And we’re getting to dance to it at the prom,” he said. “Just like you wanted.”

“I know,” I said. I leaned my head against his chest and closed my eyes, savoring the moment and wishing that it could last forever.

CHAPTER 28

Song: If My Heart Was A House/Owl City

Quote: “It was hell at the time, but after it was over, it was wonderful.”

—Billy Wilder

An hour later, our limo finally pulled into Dave’s driveway, following the Putnam Pizza van. It had been a very long ride. It had taken us half an hour just to leave the hotel, stuck in a line of limos that had seemed never ending. And Travis and Olivia, reconciled, had spent the entire ride making out, much to my—and Kittson’s—disgust. But most troubling were Schuyler and Connor, who were clearly not doing well. They hadn’t exchanged a word the entire ride, and Schuyler’s eyes were red-rimmed, and she wasn’t looking at me or Lisa.

When the driver stopped in front of Dave’s house, I flung open the limo door and stepped out, thrilled to be free of it. Everyone else piled out, and I noticed Schuyler and Connor walk over to the edge of Dave’s driveway and begin what looked like a serious conversation.

Olivia and Travis exchanged anguished—and sloppy—goodbyes before she got into the car that was
waiting for her, and Travis walked up to me. “Home,” I said, pointing to the limo. “The driver will drop you off, and I want you to go right to bed.”

“Okay,” Travis said, looking too dazed to put up a fight. “Thanks a lot, Mad. For what you said before.”

“Sure,” I said. “I’m glad it worked out.”

“Me too,” Travis said fervently. “Listen,” he added, lowering his voice and taking a step toward me. “You tell Nate that if he ever hurts you or anything, he’s going to have me to answer to. Okay?”

I couldn’t help smiling at that, but seeing how serious Travis looked, I bit my lip and nodded. “Thanks, Travis,” I said. “I appreciate it.”

“See you tomorrow,” he said as he got back into the limo.

“I’ll be back in the afternoon,” I said. Travis nodded and slammed the door, and the limo began backing down Dave’s driveway.

Everyone else had headed up to the afterparty, which I could already hear from the driveway. I took off my prom heels and walked across Dave’s lawn, past the pool, heading for the rock wall. I glanced behind me into the French doors that opened out from Dave’s kitchen and saw the party, already in full swing. But I just wanted to take a moment to myself. I sat on the edge of the rock wall and looked out at the water, thinking about the night and everything we’d done. Then I heard someone coming up behind me. I turned and saw Nate and realized that the night wasn’t close to over yet.

“This is nice,” I said, stepping inside the main bedroom in Dave’s guesthouse. It really was—big windows that looked out onto the Sound, reflecting water and moonlight; a flat-screen TV; and a really,
really
big bed. I found that I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the bed. It seemed to be taking up the whole room, and it was all I could focus on.

“I know,” Nate said, looking around. He sat on the edge of the bed and held out his hand to me. “Come here.”

“Um,” I said. I walked a step closer to him, but remained standing. Then I took a deep breath and finally said what I should have said to him five days ago. “I think maybe we should talk.”

“I think so, too,” Nate said. He gave me one of his half smiles, but there was a seriousness to his voice that made me blink in surprise.

I nodded and sat next to him on the bed. The time had come. It had hit me, as I’d watched everyone updating their status during the limo ride to Dave’s, that constant communication wasn’t the same as actually talking. Just because Nate and I were never out of touch, it didn’t mean that we’d been talking about the things we should have. Those things were scarier, and harder, and they took more than 150 characters to say. I drew another deep breath, preparing to have a real conversation with him.

“Okay,” I said, tucking my hair behind my ears. I felt like I was about to do the most frightening thing I’d ever done. Scarier than breaking into the school and
stealing something off Dr. Trent’s computer. Scarier than facing the possibility of expulsion. But there was no going back now. “I’ve kind of been freaking out all week, because I wasn’t sure what…you had thought I meant when I talked about prom night on Monday. I thought that maybe you thought I meant that I wanted us to sleep together,” I said. “But…that’s not what I meant.” I looked up at Nate, to see what his reaction was, but he just nodded, and I continued. “I still feel like there’s a lot we don’t know about each other. And…I just don’t think that I’m ready yet.”