Mr. Pruitt’s eyes traveled up the stairs to me. For a second, I thought he looked horrified. I was wearing a dress from the 80s. It wasn’t vintage. It was just old. I could practically feel his embarrassment. I just wasn’t sure if he was embarrassed of me or for me. But then he smiled. A real one. Way more genuine than I’d ever seen. “You’re breathtaking, Brooklyn.”
My dad thought I was beautiful. I wasn’t an ogre. I didn’t deserve to be locked in my room. He’d let me go to the dance.
Mr. Pruitt walked up the stairs, stopping one step below me. “She kept it all these years?” He reached out and touched the fabric. It barely seemed like he was looking at me. It was more like he was looking through me.
“You knew my mom used to wear this?”
He smiled. “I bought it for her.” His hand fell from my shoulder strap.
She kept it all these years.
“You look just as gorgeous as she did.”
“Thank you.” I almost tacked on a dad at the end of my sentence. I wasn’t even sure why. Maybe because he was looking at me like he loved me. Like he loved my mom too. Like I wasn’t a mistake.
“Are you really not feeling well?” He gently put the back of his hand against my forehead. “You don’t feel warm. But I should probably call Dr. Wilson just in case.” He was already pulling out his cellphone.
“I’m fine,” I whispered. “Isabella just didn’t want me to go.”
His eyebrows drew together. “But you’re sure you’re alright?” he whispered back.
“Positive.”
“Then I can handle this.” His smile was back. “I’m so glad you’re feeling better,” he said loudly enough for everyone to hear. “Come on, I want that picture with you.” He put his arm out for me. “You too, Miss Alcaraz,” he said and offered her his other arm.
Kennedy laughed and took it.
I couldn’t help but glance at Isabella as her father escorted Kennedy and me down the stairs. Pure venom. And so priceless.
“Do you mind if I get a shot?” Kennedy asked and pulled her camera out of her back.
“That would be delightful, thank you,” Mr. Pruitt said. “The tiara suits you,” he added right before Kennedy snapped a photo.
He didn’t actually call me princess like he called Isabella. But it was pretty much the same thing. I smiled harder when Kennedy took another shot.
“Would you be able to send me copies?” Mr. Pruitt asked.
“As long as I can sleep over tonight,” Kennedy said.
He laughed. “You strike a hard bargain. Very well.” He turned to Mason. “Mason, why don’t you come over and get a picture with Brooklyn too?”
Oh my God. I thought about my conversation with Mr. Pruitt earlier. About how he thought Mason was the better choice. Was he seriously trying to push us together? I just wanted to laugh. Because it was such a protective father thing to do. I was even a little embarrassed. My dad’s so embarrassing.
Mason shrugged and walked over to me. “You okay?” he asked. He didn’t even have to do the head nod toward Isabella for me to know what he was talking about.
“I’m used to it.”
“You shouldn’t have to be used to it.” He smiled for the camera.
I looked up at him. “It’s kind of the new normal, right?”
“You could always crash at our place. James and Rob are there half the time anyway.”
I didn’t know that.
“Well. They used to be.” He shoved his hands in his pockets.
Used to be. They didn’t come over anymore since the fight? I’d expected as much. I hadn’t seen any of the Untouchables together in days. But it still made me sad. The four of them were best friends. How could everything crumble with one secret? Weren’t the elite propped up with secrets and silicone?
“I can’t,” I said. “Mr. Pruitt is really strict. And I don’t even know what’s going on with me and Matt.”
“Well, I do. Matt’s never been this into someone before.” Mason looked down at me. “You gotta give him another chance. He’s a mess without you.”
Mason was a playboy. Everyone at Empire High knew it. So it was shocking to hear him talk like this. First being open about the riff between the Hunters and Caldwells. And now about his little brother missing me? I could have been wrong, but it seemed like Mason Caldwell had a soft side.
“Time to go,” Isabella said.
“Make sure to let Brooklyn and Miss Alcaraz ride in the limo with you,” Mr. Pruitt said to Isabella.
“But Daddy. She can’t come. She’s wearing a crown and she wasn’t voted queen. It isn’t fair.”
“You will be nice to your sister or you’ll be the one staying home.”
Isabella’s eyes grew wide. “But…”
“No buts.” He turned to me. “And Brooklyn, if you do feel ill, please call me right away. I’ll come get you.”
It was silly and overprotective. But I was smiling so hard.
Mr. Pruitt walked back to his study and closed the doors.
For a few seconds the foyer was eerily silent.
“When hell burns over we’ll take the same limo,” Isabella said. “Come on, ladies. We’re leaving.”
“Do you want me to call a ride for you?” Mason asked me.
“It’s okay,” Miller said.
I hadn’t even seen Miller approach.
He stopped beside me, sizing up Mason. “I’ll be taking them.”
“Cool.” Mason lifted up his hands like he was innocent. Which he was. “See you at the dance, Brooklyn,” Mason said. “You too, Kennedy,” he added before joining his date.
“Well that wasn’t the best start,” Kennedy said as Isabella and her friends left. “But at least we get to have a sleepover!”
I laughed. “I can’t believe you want to spend the night here.”
“Both of you can’t fit in my bed,” Miller said with a smile.
I shoved his arm. And then immediately pulled back. Mr. Pruitt was probably watching us right now. But I didn’t want to have this conversation with Miller right in front of Kennedy.
“Obviously I’m sleeping in Brooklyn’s bed, perv,” Kennedy said.
Miller laughed. “Let’s get you girls to homecoming.”
“While we’re at the dance, would it be possible to have all of Isabella’s clothes cut up?” Kennedy asked.