“He’s in the music department now?” I ask.
But where the heck is Tobin? I have a feeling this party will go south pretty quickly if he sees this unexpected guest.
“That’s what Bridgette said.”
I don’t wait for her to fill in any more details and head toward the tree where Haden stands. He doesn’t look at me. Just takes a sip of his Coke and lifts his glass toward a few sophomore girls, who pass him, giggling. The girls are giggling, that is, not Haden. The way his lips are set on his stony face, I wonder if he ever laughs. Or smiles, for that matter.
I stop and watch him for a few minutes, all the time wondering if he’s ever going to look up at me, until a girl in a purple satin gown stumbles into him. He catches her before she falls over. She laughs, and I realize it’s Lexie. Obviously, no Soprano memo to blackball Haden has gone out yet. She smiles up at him—way up, considering she’s way more than a foot shorter than he is, even when she’s wearing heels. She tries to wrap an arm around his neck, but he politely pushes her hand away. In her other hand, she holds a champagne flute, and I wonder how many of those she’s drained since the two I saw her with.
I’m guessing quite a few, from the way she’s swaying in her pumps.
Having a biological father who clearly has a problem with alcohol, I’d always resisted the temptation to sneak a beer behind the Ellis Filler-Up on Friday nights with some of the kids from my old school. And watching Lexie make a fool of herself as Haden walks her over to Bridgette and deposits her nonchalantly with the Sopranos, I still don’t see the appeal of getting drunk.
I’ve watched too many Where Are They Now? specials on VH1 at CeCe’s apartment to know that talent won’t get you very far without a little bit of self-control. It’s a miracle Joe hadn’t washed up years ago.
Haden returns to his tree, glass of Coke in his hand. He takes another sip and pulls a slight gagging face, like he can’t stand the taste. I wonder why he keeps drinking it. And why does he seem to look at everyone here except me?
I scan the party again for Tobin and when I look back at Haden, I catch his eyes on me for a split second before he looks away at the pool.
So he has seen me.
“You’re being too obvious,” I say, approaching him.
“Pardon?” he asks, his eyebrows raised, breaking up the stoniness of his features.
“You’re still stalking me, and you’re being quite obvious about it.”
“You’re being very flattering of yourself,” he says.
“Excuse me?”
“What makes you think I’m here to see you?”
“Maybe the fact that you tried to grab me the other night?”
“I haven’t the foggiest idea what you are talking about.”
“Whatever,” I say. “I want my stuff back, by the way.”
He raises his eyebrows again, as if he really doesn’t have any idea of what I’m referring to. Like he’s not the one who took my tote from the grove.
“So we’re still playing that game?” I ask.
I don’t break eye contact with him until he holds out his hand and asks, “Will you dance with me?”
I am so startled by this proposition, I don’t know how to respond. Luckily, the screech of a microphone as the music stops saves me from having to do so. I turn toward the sound.
“May I have your attention?” A woman in a red gown calls into the microphone from the bandstand on the patio. The crowd of students and parents quiet down and turn their attention to her. Tobin and a very dapper-looking Japanese man, who I assume is Tobin’s father, stand by her side. “I am happy to welcome you all to our home today,” the woman who must be Mayor Winters says. “You’ve all worked so hard to get here, and I am as proud of you as I am of my own son. However, I do think Tobin deserves a round of applause for landing the lead in this year’s play.”
She starts the applause and everyone in the crowd—except Haden, who has retreated behind the magnolia tree, I notice—joins in. Next, the mayor leads the crowd in a rollicking welcome for Joe, who seems to be enjoying the company of several women in short cocktail-length dresses near the bar.
“And where is your costar, Toby?” she asks. “I hear she’s quite lovely.”
Even from where I stand, I can see the blush in Tobin’s cheeks. He finds me in the crowd and points me out to his mother. The mayor attempts to start a round of applause for me, but I am not surprised that it sounds much more feeble than for Tobin.