I needed a sign.
I pressed the Power button on the radio. Nothing happened. I reached for the ignition.
It was empty.
My keys—I knew with sudden, many-years-of-friendship clarity—were being held hostage in the dance. Hil had made the decision for me, just like I’d asked.
Chapter 47
The gym was full of students, music, and hot, sticky air. I slipped through the crowd, who nodded greetings, then left me alone. The pulse of the bass made my heart throb, the movement of the dancers made me dizzy, the strobe lights were disorienting.
They were at the center of the crowd. Of course they were; they were the ones people wanted to watch. I was a watcher now. Chris was dancing like he demonstrated in the cafeteria, making Hil laugh so hard she teetered on her heels. He put a hand around her waist; she leaned against his shoulder and smiled up at him. Ally was here with Bill. Whether it was a date of convenience or more, I didn’t know—but I wanted to. Lauren’s hair glowed like flames under the lights; it was styled and tiara-ready. I scanned for Ryan—found him, found the Ryan of last year: all dimples and charm as he chatted with a pretty junior. But it looked forced. When she turned to whisper something to a friend, his mask slipped, his dimples dimmed.
The air felt too thick, like breathing through a wet towel that smelled of perfume, deodorant, and sweat. I wanted to slump and sneak out, but I couldn’t without my keys, and I wouldn’t let myself. I’d stay, keep my head high, and watch them crowned. Then I’d head over to congratulate and apologize.
“Mia! Look at your dress—it’s beautiful.” I turned and found Meagan standing with a tall guy with neat brown hair and a kind smile. “This is my boyfriend, Craig. He goes to Cross Pointe.”
“Hey, Mia. Megs talks about you a lot. You’re pretty much her hero. I can see why; it’s really brave of you to come here without a wig or anything.”
“Hi. Oh—” I put a hand to my head, surprised to touch stubble and sweat. Screw it, everyone knew I was sick; I didn’t need to hide behind an itchy wig. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Craig was easy to talk with. He filled my bewildered silences, and Meagan’s sincerity quashed my third-wheel worries. “I heard about Ryan. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’m okay,” I answered, surprised that it was more or less true.
The longer I stood talking with them, the more people came to join our group, offering hugs and praise for my courage. Courageous? Me?
Emily linked an arm through mine and leaned her curly head on my shoulder. “Please say you’ll come back to the squad for the winter season. It’s not the same without you there. Ally cried when she told us you were off the squad; Hil and Coach Lindsey are still barely speaking because of Coach’s decision.”
“It wasn’t Hil’s choice?”
Emily laughed. “Wait? You’re serious? No. She threatened to quit over it. It was major squad drama. Summary: you’re missed and loved and I’m glad you’re here tonight.” She squeezed me, then let go. “I should probably find my date.”
I waved good-bye and Meagan stepped closer. “You okay? You look confused.”
I moved my head. Just enough to indicate a nod. More than enough to make me feel dizzy. I shut my eyes to block out the spotlights. “Tired. It’s so loud and hot in here.”
“Where’s Gyver tonight?”
Gyver. Coldplay. I needed to talk to him. I needed to go home.
The door looked so far away. All the way across an out-of-focus, sequined, gossiping crowd. The opposite direction from the Calendar Girls.
The music stopped. All eyes in the room automatically flicked to the stage.
Mr. Bonura picked up the mic and tapped it. “Good evening, East Lakers. You all look nice tonight—what have you done with my students?” He paused for laughter that didn’t come. “It’s time to announce Fall Ball king and queen. Could I have the royal court on stage?”
It was a bitter Wonderland nostalgia—watching Hillary, Ally, Lauren, and Molly Cohen weave through students who parted to create a path. I could almost see myself behind Lauren; her seeking last-minute reassurances as I tucked one of her escapee red curls back into place. I blinked and they were at the stage. Ryan was paired with Molly; I was in the audience.
Hil was squinting into the lights—studying the crowd with a frown. It disappeared when she caught my eye, replaced by a smile and a wink. And a flash of my keys as she struck a model pose and dangled them from a finger.
I lifted a hand to wave back, but the motion knocked me off balance. I shut my eyes and swayed. An arm slid around my shoulders.
“It’s got to be hard watching Ryan up there. But he’s really not the guy for you,” Meagan soothed.
I leaned against her, grateful for the support. If she wanted to blame it on my breakup, I was okay with that.