“And his queen is …” There was the inevitable clumsy-envelope dramatic pause. I stared at the room with eyes that wouldn’t focus.
“Lauren Connors!” Applause as she sauntered forward and ducked for the rhinestone tiara.
Mr. Bonura announced, “Now the king and queen will share their royal dance. Please clear them a spot on the floor.” Between blinks the crowd closer to the stage melded into an indistinct blob; they pulsed and a space appeared. A space with Ryan and Lauren in it. I hadn’t seen them leave the stage or heard the music start.
Meagan’s hand felt cold and heavy on my arm; when she stepped backward, I stumbled and fell.
There was a localized whoosh of gasps and curses. Craig carefully helped me up, but now two spots had been cleared on the dance floor: the one where Lauren twirled, tiara’d and oblivious, and the one of concerned attention around me.
“I’m okay.” I’d said that so many times tonight the words tasted worn out. I needed to go. I needed space. And quiet.
“I’m fine. I just need air.” I held out a “stay there” palm to Meagan and Craig, moving it to cover my mouth as I coughed, the sound overpowering the song’s instrumental interlude.
“Mia? Is that—?”
“Ryan, the song’s not over. Where are you going? Get back here.” Lauren’s anger was ill-concealed in her pretty-me voice.
“Mia, baby, wait up!”
All of my strength was directed at making progress through the gym. I passed through the doors and into the foyer before pausing. “What?”
Ryan looked smaller, like the events of the night had shrunken him. He removed the crown from his head and dropped it on a bench. “I wanted to see if you’re okay. To drive you home if you want. I’m sober now, I swear. I had no idea you were in there.”
“I’m okay, and thanks, but I just need to be alone right now.”
Ryan nodded again, eyes tortured. He turned to leave me, then turned back. “Drive safe. I’ll call tomorrow. We’ll talk.” He gave me a long look before stepping back through the doors.
They shut, closing in the gossip, music, and teenage normalcy. I wanted to slump against the wall and put my head on my knees. I ached. Today had been draining—breakfast to breakup—I wanted it over.
I shook as I tried to take my coat off the rack. I used both hands; it took four tries to unfasten the top button and get it off the hanger. Draping it over my arm, I pulled my cell phone out of the pocket, waiting impatiently for it to load and pull up Gyver’s number. It was so hot in the foyer. The air was oppressive. The hall seemed to throb with a pulse, contracting and expanding with the beat from the gym. I started for the door and the frosty air of the parking lot. My arm spasmed under the weight of my jacket. I let it slip through my fingers and used one hand to steady the other as I held the phone to my face.
The ringing sounded far away, but I couldn’t remember how to turn it up. “Hi. You’ve reached Gyver. I’m not here. You know—”
I heard the clatter of its impact on the tile floor before I realized I’d dropped my phone. Picking it up was impossible. It was so far away. I leaned forward, but the world leaned more—the walls and doors at odd angles. I shut my eyes so I wouldn’t have to see them.
“Get the hell out of my way.” I knew that voice. “Mia? Your idiot ex-boyfriend wouldn’t let me through the door. Mia?” Hil’s voice was echoing off the walls. It hurt my ears. “Mia! Are you okay? Ryan! Ryan!” Something icy touched my cheek, jolted my eyes open. She was right next to me, kneeling on the floor in her formal dress. I was on the floor. When had that happened?
“Mia!” Ryan’s feet appeared, then the rest of him. “What happened?”
I shut my eyes to block out their anxious faces.
“Should we take her to the hospital?”
“Mia?”
“Her face feels so hot.”
“Call an ambulance.”
Chapter 48
My head hurt.
I tried opening my eyes, but everything was too bright and too white. It was noisy: hushed conversations and rhythmic beeping. The talking stopped when I blinked, but the beeping continued. I was in Lakeside Hospital. In pajamas from the just-in-case suitcase Mom kept in the front hall closet.
“Kitten? Are you awake?”
“Mom?” I coughed and forced my eyes open, looking around the room until I located her: Hil, Ryan, doctor-I-didn’t-know, Gyver, Mom, Dad. I panned the room, but went back to the face that mattered most. “Hi.”
“Mia Moore—you get passed over for Fall Ball queen and react by collapsing?” Gyver said. He’d been leaning against the wall playing with a pick, but stepped forward and placed his hands on the bed rails. “A little melodramatic, don’t you think?”
I smiled. My brain felt fogged. “Hi,” I repeated.
“Hi.” His voice was soft, almost shy.
“How are you feeling?” Dad startled me—I’d forgotten there were other people in the room.