Chapter 23
WALMART PARKING LOT
The Wednesday before homecoming half the school gathers in the Walmart parking lot to work on parade floats, as per Varda tradition.
Well, the word “floats” might be overly generous.
Mostly what we do is decorate a bunch of pickup trucks with balloons and crepe paper.
This year’s theme is “Enchantment Under the Sea,” and I’m watching a wide array of creative visions develop around the parking lot.
Most people have gone all in on a glittery mermaid vibe, with giant seashells and pearlescent bangles, but there are also pirates, sea monsters, and some kind of tentacle-heavy creation from the theater kids.
I snap a quick picture of the scene and send it to Jonah.
ME
Greetings from beautiful landlocked Varda County
JONAH
Who drew that dolphin? Follow up question: have they seen a dolphin before?
ME
That one’s all Sophie
JONAH
She knows how to do a google image search, right?
ME
I’m not about to ask
Across the parking lot the swing choir already has a plywood yellow submarine strapped onto the side of a Toyota Tacoma and are taking pictures with their heads sticking out through the portholes.
I can see Katy inflating dozens of translucent balloons for the Key Club.
There’s no sign of Max, and Hayden’s off picking up a massive Starbucks order for the rest of the girls.
It makes me feel a little vulnerable to be without so much of my support squad, so I’ve been staying out of the way as much as I can.
It doesn’t help that my own personal shadow is here, lurking at the edge of the parking lot.
Deputy Mays is in his sheriff department car with the windows rolled down, aviators hiding his eyes.
He hasn’t spoken to anybody. Most everyone is studiously ignoring him, but a few people keep darting glances over at his car.
Sophie stomps over to where I’m sitting, her face borderline furious. “That guy was always such a jerk,” she snaps. “And now he’s messing with tradition. No one can drink while he’s here. How are we supposed to get this done without a little help from Jack Daniels and company?”
“Maybe I should just go home,” I say. “I bet he’ll leave if I do.”
“I’m not about to let him chase you off,” she snaps. “But I do need you to come and help with the float. Those dumb bitches don’t know how seaweed is supposed to look.”
It’s useless to try to tell her that arts and crafts aren’t my strong suit.
I hop up out of the bed of the truck and drag myself over to the rest of the team.
I think I catch a strange look passing between Vanessa and Bella, but I try to ignore it.
So far, no matter what else has happened, the cheer team has supported me.
Molly even got into a flame war on Sekrit on my behalf, calling out a bunch of the people who’d been talking shit.
It didn’t help—and mostly seemed to get a bunch of the worst people riled up—but I still appreciated it.
“Hey,” I say, climbing up on the cheerleading float. “Sophie’s on a tear, huh?”
“You have no idea,” says Tammy Bates, who has a strand of crepe paper in her hair. She holds up her usually manicured fingers to show her chipped nails. “She made me sandpaper the clamshell!”
“She’s a monster,” whispers Molly, glancing to where Sophie’s scrutinizing the hand-glued sequins on a big piece of tarp.
I can’t help it—I break out in a sudden and unexpected grin.
This is so normal compared to everything else that’s been happening lately.
Sophie’s right. This is the last time we get to gather like this to make something fun and beautiful and pointless.
This is the last time we get to argue and play like this.
I pick up a paintbrush from where someone left it. I’m planning to find a place to start painting—but first, I snap a selfie of myself holding the paintbrush up, and I send it to Jonah.
ME
I’ve been conscripted.
JONAH
cutie
I know how corny it is but I can’t help but glow.
I am in the middle of responding when a commotion breaks somewhere to my left.
The crowd has gotten suddenly quiet—so quiet you can actually hear all the different Bluetooth speakers playing different music. I look around to try to see what’s happening. There’s an ugly laugh from somewhere. Next to me, Bella gives a little gasp of shock.
Bryce Sanders is in the middle of the parking lot, standing over a chalk body outline like you’d find at a crime scene. He’s holding a big piece of cardboard with a target drawn on it. In big red letters, it says: SHOOTING MY SHOT TO TAKE IRIS TO HOMECOMING.
“Iris Henley!” he shouts. “I don’t care what everyone says about you, I still want to take you to homecoming.”
I want to be sick, but I can’t even move. I can’t tear my eyes away. People are laughing. Some are filming too.
“You fucking jackass!” Sophie strides at Bryce and gives him a little shove, unafraid even though he towers over her. “What are you thinking?”
“It’s a promposal,” he slurs, looking surprised. “Come on, it’s funny. Because everyone thinks she’s a killer, right?”
“No one does a promposal for homecoming. And even if they did?” She jabs a finger at his chin. “This shit isn’t a joke. It’s not funny.”
In my periphery I see phones angled toward me, trying to get pictures or video of my reaction. Bryce looks toward me and tries to catch my eye. I look away quickly. I’ve never been so grateful for Sophie; I don’t think I could speak now if I wanted to.
Sophie pokes him in the sternum, hard. “Get the fuck out of here.”
Then she turns on her heel and walks away, toward me.
I have a few seconds to see Bryce’s expression turn confused and then angry before the crowd closes back in around him.
The truck bounces a little as Sophie climbs up next to me. She’s breathing hard, her face flushed with rage. “Are you okay?”
I look down at my lap. I know people are gawking, talking about me, but for once I barely care. Maybe later I can be embarrassed. Right now I’m just shell-shocked.
“Yeah. Yeah, it’s fine.” I give her a weak smile. “What an idiot.”
“I could fucking kill him,” she snarls. “Look, Hayden’s running late but as soon as she gets here I’ll take you home, okay?”
“I’m okay. I just need a minute is all,” I say.
She gives me a sidelong look, then nods. “Want me to see if any of the girls have a Xanax, or…”
“No,” I say quickly. Then, again, more deliberately. “No, thanks, I don’t want anything that’ll mess with my head. Really, I’m okay.”
I lean my back against the truck’s rear window when she’s gone, looking out over the parking lot.
Someone’s led Bryce away, and it looks like people are going back to their projects—though not without sneaking glances at me first. I am almost sure pictures of the “promposal” are going to be uploaded to Sekrit within minutes. I take a shaky breath.
I glance down at my phone. Shit, I was in the middle of texting Jonah back. I’d typed in I did not know being a mermaid would be so much work but I hadn’t sent it. He’s been looking at my little dot-dot-dot for like ten minutes now. He’s already replied.
JONAH
Everything ok?
I delete the text I was in the middle of writing and start again.
ME
I’m so sorry, I just got interrupted by a douche trying to talk me into going to homecoming with him
There’s no response for a minute. I think with a mixture of relief and disappointment that he hasn’t been sitting there waiting with bated breath—of course he hasn’t. I’m just sliding the phone back in my pocket when he replies.
JONAH
Oh damn, should I be worried?
ME
lol
Just out of curiosity what would happen if I said yes?
I can feel myself blushing as I hit send. None of our interactions have been that forward. But he’s the one who asked if he should be worried, right? He prompted it. Still, it feels risky.
I’m tired of having so much out of my control, though. I’m tired of letting other people’s actions toss me around.
JONAH
well first I’d worry a little bit
but then I’d probably have to drive out this Friday
so I could take you to this dance myself
I don’t let myself think about it. I just type.
ME
Then maybe you should worry
I close my eyes and count to ten. When I open them, he’s replied.
JONAH
I’ll be there by six