Chapter 9 The Prom Queen
THE PROM QUEEN
Wally looks handsome, in a classic all-American boy way, standing there in a tuxedo in Hannah’s front hallway. Hannah watches him fidget with the corsage box in his hands while they wait for Hannah’s mom to stop fussing over her dress and hair.
“Let’s get some pictures here before we leave,” Hannah’s mom says. “How about one with Wally giving Hannah the corsage?”
“Where’s Joanie?” Hannah’s dad asks. “Shouldn’t she be in some of these?”
“Shhh,” Hannah’s mom says, swatting his arm. “She’s in her room. She wants to be left alone.”
Hannah’s mom snaps several photos on an outdated disposable Kodak while Hannah’s dad stands quietly off to the side, a gentle smile playing on his face. Hannah smiles hard when Wally wraps his arm around her.
“You two look great together,” Hannah’s mom says, and when they walk outside to drive to Clay’s house, she whispers, “He’s the perfect boy for you, sweetheart,” right into Hannah’s ear.
Hannah’s sweating when she and Wally walk up the Landrys’ driveway.
Her mom and dad walk behind them, hand in hand, two proud parents ready to see their daughter off to the dance.
Wally leads them around to the backyard, from which they can already hear chatter and laughter, and Hannah’s heart pounds when she sees the prom party and dozens of parents gathered on the back porch.
She spots Baker right away: shining like a beacon in the middle of the group, clutching Clay’s arm, smiling ear to ear as she talks to Mrs. Landry.
She looks stunning.
Her midnight-blue A-line dress clings to her body.
An eye-catching slit runs up her leg, opening just wide enough to hint at her toned volleyball thighs.
Her hair is down in long, cascading waves that shimmer like syrup in the sun.
And when she turns around to talk to Dr. Landry, her open thigh catches the sunlight, and Hannah is suddenly awash in the tactile memory of kissing her there.
When Wally pulls Hannah over to the porch, Baker meets her eyes for a lightning-hot second—almost like she did it by accident—but then tears her gaze away.
Hannah’s heart pounds so hard that she vaguely worries she might faint.
She greets the classmates around her in a rote, robotic way until Clay comes over to say hi.
“Hey,” he says, sounding genuinely happy to see her. “I’m so pumped you came.”
“I’ve missed you,” Hannah says, hugging him hard. She breathes in the smell of his cologne and wonders if Baker has come to think of it like home.
Clay pulls away and gives her a very packed look, his eyes begging her to understand. She smiles and holds on to his arm for a few seconds, and he smiles back. Several feet behind him, Baker looks pointedly away.
Hannah’s parents say hi to the Landrys, Hannah’s mom grabbing Mrs. Landry’s arm as they laugh about something Hannah can’t hear. Clay joins them to tell Hannah’s parents hello, and Hannah’s mom exclaims over how handsome he is while Hannah’s dad shakes his hand.
“And where’s your pretty date?” Hannah’s dad asks.
“Yes, where’s Baker?” Hannah’s mom echoes, glancing around as if she might appear like a magic trick.
Hannah’s stomach turns over, but Baker comes to greet them without missing a beat, hugging Hannah’s mom as if nothing is wrong.
Mr. and Mrs. Hadley join the group, and Mrs. Hadley jumps into conversation with Hannah’s mom as if they saw each other just yesterday.
And then both moms turn to Hannah and Baker, and Hannah holds her breath—
“And look at you two, all grown-up and beautiful!” her mom exclaims. She bumps Mrs. Hadley’s shoulder and says, “I swear we were just taking pictures of them before the freshman dance—”
“Oh, when Baker had that awful updo from that terrible salon!” Mrs. Hadley says, like they’re all sharing a joke.
“Let’s get a fresh one so you can frame them side by side,” Hannah’s mom continues, oblivious to the tension between the two of them. “Go on, get together. You’ll treasure this forever.”
Hannah’s palms are so clammy she swears they must be dripping.
She tucks herself in next to Baker, an electrifying charge surging through her when their bodies touch.
Baker wraps a rigid arm around her, but her smile looks genuine, and a doubtful voice in Hannah’s head says, See, she’s perfectly happy. You’re the only one who’s hurting.
But when they pull apart, Baker looks her in the eye for the first time in weeks, and Hannah can read her all too well.
“You look beautiful,” Baker says in a polite, expected way, performing for the benefit of their mothers. But her voice is tight and restrained, like a faucet that can only drip when it wants to gush.
“So do you,” Hannah says, trying to measure her tone.
And then it’s time for group photos. Hannah and Wally file in with the rest of their classmates—a whole line of them, handsome and beautiful teenagers, stacked boy-girl-boy-girl across the length of the Landrys’ fence.
Their proud parents fawn over them, holding up phones and fancy Canon cameras and, in Hannah’s mom’s case, disposable Kodaks, and beseech them all to smile, and to stand tall, and to remember this night forever.
And in the midst of cameras clicking away, and of parents shouting their ideas for clichéd photos, and of smelling Wally’s cologne and brushing up against the itchy material of his tuxedo—in the midst of it all, Hannah feels the gravity of Baker’s presence and aches to go stand next to her.
Finally, it’s time to go. Hannah hugs her mom and dad goodbye, and her mom whispers to have fun and enjoy looking at Wally’s handsome face all night. Hannah’s dad shakes Wally’s hand and instructs him to drive carefully.
“I will, Mr. Eaden,” Wally says, sounding as serious as Hannah’s ever heard him.
Hannah hugs the Landrys and Hadleys goodbye, and Mrs. Hadley clutches her arm and says, “Come by and see us soon, all right? Feels like it’s been forever.”
“I will,” Hannah fake laughs.
On the drive to dinner, Wally says, “That wasn’t as awkward as I thought it might be.”
Hannah says nothing. She thinks about how that was the first time Baker has touched her since the beach.
The ballroom of the Crowne Plaza Hotel is decorated with an archway of lilies and glitter.
A hand-painted sign—WELCOME TO ST. MARY’S PROM 2012!
—hangs above the double doors. Hannah and Wally step into the ballroom, which has already filled up with juniors, seniors, and the counted-upon teachers who linger along the walls, including Ms. Carpenter, who nurses a Diet Coke and chats with Mrs. Shackleford.
Purple and yellow balloons, packed together like organisms under a microscope, cling to the pillars along the wings.
A few people are seated at scattered tables, but most of the student body has already taken to the dance floor.
Father Simon weaves his way through the slow-dancing couples, stopping here and there to request that each boy and girl leave room for the Holy Spirit.
Hannah can only imagine, with a guilty pang, what Joanie would say about that.
“So, what do you think?” Wally asks. “Want to dance?”
They join their classmates on the dance floor. People all around them say hi, the girls mouthing So pretty! or Love your dress! to Hannah, the guys reaching over to clasp Wally’s hand. Wally loops his hands around Hannah’s waist, and Hannah laces her hands around his neck, and they start to dance.
She tries to lose herself in the soft rock song, to block out images of Joanie sitting at home in her bedroom, or Luke watching TV at his mom’s house, or Baker and Clay taking their time at dinner before they arrive at the dance.
She closes her eyes against Wally’s chest and concentrates on shifting her body from side to side, following his lead.
It’s about fifteen minutes later that Hannah notices Baker and Clay on the dance floor.
Baker faces away from Hannah, her back muscles visible when she strains to reach her arms around Clay’s neck.
Clay is chattering away with his whole face lit up in happiness, his boutonniere fastened a little lopsidedly on his tuxedo.
Hannah’s heart starts to ache more acutely than it has all night.
“So you know what my mom said before I left tonight?” Wally asks.
“What?” Hannah says, glad for the distraction.
“She said, ‘Hannah is much more beautiful than I was at seventeen, so you make sure you treat her well.’”
Hannah laughs. “Your mom’s gorgeous.”
“Try telling her that.”
“I have.” She gives him a genuine smile. “There’s some fucked-up stuff to unpack in that statement, but I know she was being sweet in her way.”
“She was.” Wally’s mouth lifts in a gentle smile. “And yeah, I don’t like how she framed it, but she was right about one thing: You are incredibly beautiful.”
Hannah blushes, feeling touched that he would say that, but also sad that it doesn’t matter.
They dance on and off for an hour, lost in the middle of the crowd. Hannah watches Mackenzie dance with Jackson, Lisa dance with Bryce, Ellie Thomas dance with Michael Ramby. She even watches Michele dance with Cooper, though Michele scowls over his shoulder, her eyes on Clay and Baker.
Father Simon nods curtly at Hannah and Wally whenever he walks by. Ms. Carpenter smiles fondly at them from the edge of the dance floor. Clay catches their attention once or twice, but Baker never acknowledges them. Hannah wonders if Baker has even noticed her at all.
“All right…,” the deejay says, his voice hovering somewhere between manufactured enthusiasm and genuine boredom, “if I can have everyone gather round, it’s now time for the prom king and queen announcement.”
The sea of students turns toward the deejay platform, and several people break out into applause and whooping. “That’s right,” the deejay says, “… very exciting moment for everyone here.”