Chapter 39
Thirty-Nine
TikTok caption by @CassidyandBrianMVH.
It’s finally here. It’s the day of the Homecoming dance. Mateo—a son of one of Mom’s clients who she called in a favor with so I would have a date—will take me to the dance and then we’ll go out to dinner. (Not Salty’s, my favorite restaurant, but I won’t complain.)
The past two weeks have gone by in a haze.
Every time I see Suzy in the hallway, she looks away and pretends not to see me.
I texted and called her, but eventually I gave up.
She needs space, and she’ll talk to me when she’s ready.
And she can’t avoid me tonight, right? We’re going in the same group.
Zeke texted to say that we were done tutoring, that I didn’t need him anymore. Instead of sitting with me at lunch, he’s been eating in the common area or outside on the front steps, by himself like he was before. It makes my heart ache every time I see him and he pretends not to see me.
I put on my gorgeous dark blue dress and reach for the earrings, still in the box that they were gifted in. But then I put on a different pair.
I have no idea who’s going to win the crown tonight. The webpage that was keeping track of votes has been hidden, so no one knows the final count. The result will be a surprise.
Mom enters my bedroom, and her mouth drops open. “Oh, Callie,” she says. “You look stunning.”
Dad is FaceTiming on Mom’s phone to see me off to the dance. He whistles. “Callie Berry, you look beautiful.”
I smooth out the skirt of the dress and tuck a curl behind my ear. I had my hair done in a sweeping updo that leaves some strategically placed curls to dangle around my neck. It’s exactly what I wanted.
“Thank you,” I say.
“Mateo’s here,” Mom says.
I grab the first bottle of perfume I see off my armoire and spritz it on. My nose fills with the scent of pineapple and passionfruit, a nice beachy perfume. Great. Now I smell like a fruit basket.
Oh well. I set the bottle down. It’s not like it matters, anyway.
I descend the stairs with a sinking feeling in my stomach.
Luckily my foot healed exactly as the doctor said.
No heels for me—I’m wearing simple white flats with cute bows on the toes tonight—but at least I can walk without pain.
Mateo looks up at me with a shy smile. His shaggy black hair is curly, and there’s a gap in his two front teeth that some people probably find charming.
It does nothing for me, and honestly I’m feeling slightly humiliated that my mom had to set up a blind date for me for Homecoming.
“You are so . . . pretty,” Mateo says without meeting my eyes. He shoves a bouquet of lilies into my arms.
“Thank you.” The discomfort in my belly grows. It seems like Mateo wants to attend this dance with me even less than I want to go with him.
We pose for pictures, and Mom and Dad gush and fuss over me for a little while longer before I hand the flowers to Mom and we head out the door.
“Take good care of my girl!” Dad yells from the phone.
Mom is a little teary. “I’ll see you there, Callie.”
“That’s right!” Dad says. “Mom’s chaperoning, so be on your best behavior, you two.”
I give them a wave. “Love you both,” I say.
We head across the dewy lawn, practically six feet apart. Mateo says nothing and doesn’t look my way. I’m unreasonably annoyed when he walks to the other side of the car and I have to open my own door. I climb into the car, and Suzy and I lock eyes. I freeze.
She looks stunning, with perfect makeup—eyeliner that highlights her dark eyes and sparkling eyeshadow—and hair half pulled up into a bun, half in waves about her shoulders.
She’s wearing an ice blue floor-length dress with billowing sleeves.
Next to her is a tall boy with straight dark hair pulled into a low ponytail.
Dave, I think his name is, from her tennis team.
Troy is driving and chatting with Dana, who sits shotgun and wears a knee-length dress that looks like a rainbow barfed on it.
I could never pull off the look, but Dana has dyed the highlights in her hair multi-color to match, and it actually works.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey.” Suzy gives me a small smile, which gives me just a tiny bit of hope.
“You look beautiful.”
“You too,” Suzy says.
Mateo closes the door, and we head to the dance.
Music blazes in the high school gym, and my mood improves somewhat.
Strings of fairy lights are hung in loops across the ceiling, leading to a mass of green and gold balloons in the center.
I’m hit with a blast of smells, clean sweat and sweet perfume.
The warmth of the room is welcome after the chill of the night air.
The mass of dancing, singing, and laughing students lifts my spirits. Maybe this will still be fun.
Dana looks at Troy and screams, and she drags him into the fray.
“Catch up with you guys later!” Troy calls.
Chelsea and Nicole notice that we’ve arrived, and they point and scream.
Instantly, a bunch of girls swarm us, complimenting our dresses and hair.
Mateo stays toward the edge of the group, bobbing his head with the music.
The song playing finishes, and Butter by BTS comes on over the speakers. I squeal.
My eyes automatically search for Suzy, and when they land on her, I can’t help but smile. I’m so relieved when she smiles back that I think I could melt into a puddle.
Suzy is a dorky dancer. She’s an amazing cheerleader, and when someone choreographs the moves for her, she can dance like Rihanna. But when it’s unchoreographed, she is an awkward, gangly, sight to behold. I love it.
Suzy comes dancing over to me, doing the sprinkler of all things, and she whacks Dave in the back of the head, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
We dance and sing along to all the words, even the Korean ones, me copying her strange moves and then giggling to myself when people around us start copying me.
The song ends, and I’m breathless. I don’t know where Mateo ended up; the crowd carried him somewhere.
“Do you want to sit?” Suzy asks.
“Yes, please.”
We glide across the dance floor and take a seat at the chairs arranged around the walls of the gym. There’s a table covered in a lacy tablecloth to our right, and a few girls sip soda or grab mints from a glass bowl. I tentatively reach out and put a hand on top of Suzy’s.
“Suze, I’m so, so sorry.”
“No.” Suzy squeezes my hand. “I’m the one who’s sorry.”
I look at her, surprised. I open my mouth, but Suzy holds up a hand.
“I was mad. You messed up.”
“I did.” I’m not even phased, I’m just relieved. “I know. I messed up so bad. I trust you with everything, I don’t know why I didn’t trust you with this. And I’m really, really sorry I missed your tournament. I would’ve loved to be there cheering you on.”
Suzy smiles, and the veneer of ice she’s been wearing for the past few weeks melts away. “I’m sorry I didn’t give you a chance to explain, and I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you. From now on, we tell each other everything.”
I grin. “Everything. I don’t even need boys. I just need my best friend.”
Suzy beams, and I pull her in for a hug.
“So . . . did you ever confront Brielle about dropping you?” Suzy pulls away.
“She didn’t admit to anything, but . . .”
“We both know she did that on purpose.”
I lean back in the chair. “I could’ve been out for the season, and I was lucky that my head injury wasn’t worse.”
Suzy growls. “We’ve done everything we can to get you that spot on the podium. It’s going to work.”
Suzy goes on, reassuring me that our night will be a success, but I don’t hear. I want to listen. I’m grateful that we’re talking, but I see him.
Zeke stands in the middle of the dance floor, hands in his pockets, a bubble of space around him. People dance, jumping and screaming, but he is still. He looks like he’s waiting for something. Me?
Zeke’s eyes meet mine, and it makes my breath catch in my throat. He’s so good looking. How did it take me so long to see it? Broad shoulders strain against his tux, and he’s wearing a navy blue tie. It matches my dress perfectly. Did he do that on purpose?
I stand. “I should—”
Suzy turns her head to follow my gaze. “Yeah.” She smiles. “You should.”
I turn back to her. “You sure?”
“We’re good, girl.” She pulls out her phone and starts texting.
I walk across the dance floor. A slow song comes on, but I hardly even register it. Zeke’s here. But did he come alone? If he asked someone else to the dance after me, I don’t know if I could handle it.
I am bursting at the seams with love for this boy, and I think I broke his heart.
I stop when I’m in front of Zeke, leaving some distance between us. We’re close enough to talk, but far enough away that we won’t accidentally touch and scramble my brain.
“Hey,” I say, and that’s all, because Zeke brings out all the awkward, gangly parts of my personality that I try so hard to hide. And somehow he still likes me.
Liked?
“Hey.” Zeke smiles sadly. “It’s good to see you. Your calculus quiz go okay?”
He’s just concerned about my grades. My heart falls. “Yeah. It went well.”
Zeke steps a little closer. “I hear that the mathletes are still accepting applicants for their big tournament coming up.”
I open my mouth to automatically reject the suggestion. “I’ll think about it,” is what comes out instead.
Zeke smiles, and I smile back.
Someone bumps into me from behind, and I stumble forward. For a horrible moment, I’m falling through space, my ankle still too weak to compensate for the jostling. I move my arms to brace myself for the fall—
But Zeke catches me, and I collapse against his chest. His strong arms wrap around my back and hold me close. I pause for a moment in his arms.
I clear my throat and quickly right myself.