“There’ll be a group of us. Flora and Hanson, and some others, I’m not sure who yet. We’re going to do a special predance dinner at Cameron House.”
“A group?” She clung to this. If it was a group, then it wouldn’t be a real date.
“Yes, but it’ll be all couples. So, I’m hoping you’ll go as my date.”
Her stomach churned. He was too close to her, looking eagerly down at her face, and she had to work so hard to keep her expression neutral. She took a step back. “Please excuse me for—for a minute. I have to—I need to go to the girls’ room. I’m sorry.”
She turned and walked away from him, trying not to run.
“Are you all right?” he called.
“I’m sorry,” she called back, and sped up. Her book bag bounced painfully against her hip. The girls’ restroom was down the hall and around the corner, and it had never seemed so far away before. When she finally arrived, she rushed inside, plunging into a stall and leaning her forehead against the closed door. The wood was cool against her flushed skin. Her pulse throbbed in her temple, and she rubbed at it to ease the pressure.
The door to the bathroom opened, and someone entered the stall next to hers. She froze. She saw the edge of the girl’s brown-and-white saddle shoes beneath the wall. She realized that meant the girl could probably see her feet too, and given where she was standing, she obviously wasn’t using the toilet. Lily hung her book bag on the hook behind the door and sat tensely on the edge of the toilet seat, deciding to wait until the other girl was finished. It seemed to take forever, but finally the other toilet flushed. The door of the other stall banged open, and the girl went to wash her hands.
At that moment, Lily’s book bag slipped off the hook. She saw it all in a split second that seemed to last much longer. The hook wasn’t properly secured to the door. The bag’s strap had only been partially looped around the hook, and the weight of the books had dragged it to the tip. And then it slid right off. As the bag smashed against the black-and-white tiles, her math notebook tumbled out, followed by The Exploration of Space. Three pieces of paper fluttered free, and she glimpsed the photo of Tommy Andrews just before it floated out of sight beyond the stall door.
Lily heard footsteps crossing the bathroom floor, and then they stopped. There was a rustle of paper. A moment later the girl said, “Lily? Is that you in there?”
Lily froze. How had the girl known who she was? The voice sounded familiar, but she didn’t quite recognize it.
“Lily? Are you all right?”
“Yes, sorry,” Lily said, heart racing. She bent down to pick up her bag, and even more items spilled from it: a pencil case; a math textbook; her Senior Goals notebook; a Kotex pad that slid across the floor.
She opened the stall door. Kathleen Miller stood in the middle of the bathroom with the Tommy Andrews ad in one hand and Lily’s math notebook in the other. Lily’s name was written across the front in her neat cursive script.
“My—my bag fell,” Lily said. Hurriedly she began to gather her things, picking up the two magazine clippings first, which had come to rest between her stall and Kathleen’s feet.
Kathleen helped her, chasing after a stray pencil that went under the sink, rounding up the notebooks while Lily collected the pad. Lily stuffed everything into her book bag, then straightened up and held out her hand for the newspaper clipping, which Kathleen had retained. The words MALE IMPERSONATOR seemed to scream out in bold black type.
“I was just . . . using it for a bookmark,” Lily said, and blushed.
Kathleen seemed reluctant to give it back to her. There was an odd expression on her face, but after a silent, awkward moment in which Lily began to fear that Kathleen knew what that ad meant, Kathleen wordlessly handed it over. Lily found The Exploration of Space again and quickly slid the newspaper back inside.
There was a knock on the girls’ bathroom door. Will’s voice called, “Lily? Are you in there? Is everything all right?”
Lily looked at the closed door in shock.
“Are you sick?” Kathleen asked, concerned. “You don’t look so good.”
Lily tried to latch her book bag closed. “He asked me—he asked me to the dance,” she said in a low voice, hoping he couldn’t hear her. She couldn’t get her book bag closed. “He wants an answer, but I—I can’t.” The bag lolled open, its contents exposed.
The concern on Kathleen’s face cleared. She gave a quick nod and said, “I’ll tell him you’re not feeling well. You don’t have to give him an answer right now.”
It wasn’t a question. The calm certainty of Kathleen’s statement filled Lily with sudden relief. “I don’t,” she agreed.
Kathleen immediately left the girls’ restroom to talk to Will. Lily was too stunned to intervene. When Kathleen returned a moment later, she had a briskness to her, a determination.
“What happened?” Lily asked.
“I told him you were having, you know, girl problems.” Kathleen gave her a small smile. “He didn’t want to hear anything more.”
Lily knew she should be embarrassed by what Kathleen had told Will, but instead she wanted to laugh. “Oh my goodness. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Kathleen gave Lily that determined look again. “You know, I’ve seen Tommy Andrews before.”
The words were spoken softly, but to Lily they sounded like firecrackers. “What?”
“Tommy Andrews. I’ve seen her before.” Now Kathleen’s face went a little pink. “At the Telegraph Club.” Her jaw tightened, and she dropped her eyes to the floor as she said, “My friend Jean and I went over the summer.”
The bathroom was so quiet Lily heard the drip of the faucet on the left-hand sink, a tiny plink against the porcelain. Kathleen raised her eyes to meet hers, and in that gaze Lily saw that Kathleen knew what she had given her: an opening.
The water dripped again. A question hovered in the back of her throat, tangled up with the paralyzing sensation of being on the cusp of connection. She couldn’t put it into words.