10. Mandy
Almost as fast as everyone shows up, they all start to disperse. Ethan takes his siblings, little Althea, and Beth, and they load right back up in the car, leaving a huge mess on my counter.
David—noticeably not invited to the hospital either—blinks a few times and says, “I guess I’ll head for the resort and make sure my parents got settled in. Maybe I should get dinner and take it to the hospital for everyone?”
“I’m sure they’d appreciate that,” I say. What I don’t say is, Now get out of my house, because you weren’t invited. I’m a little proud of myself for exercising restraint.
“Well, I’m not leaving,” Amanda says, the moment David walks out the door.
“Me either,” Maren says. “You cannot end the story like that.” She folds her arms.
“But Abby wants to know what happens, too,” Emery says. “And she’s with Donna.”
“How did we wind up with a goody two shoes like you?” Maren asks.
“Just tell us what happened,” Amanda says. “We’ll fill Abby in later.”
“Don’t you need to get to the hospital too?” I ask. “Donna’s your friend.”
“Sure,” Amanda says. “Grab your bag. You can talk while I drive.”
I roll my eyes, but she’s not totally wrong. We both ought to go.
“Me too,” Maren says. “I’m coming.”
“To the hospital?” Amanda asks. “You’ll be stuck there?—”
But Maren already has her bag in hand, and she’s walking toward the door. “Let’s go. Once we’re in the car, she won’t have a single thing to distract her from the story.”
Unfortunately, she’s right. Once we’re in the car, there’s no way to put them off. I feel Maren and Emery’s eyes on the back of my head like a gun pressed there. Even Amanda keeps glancing my way as she puts the car in drive. “Spill,” she finally says.
* * *
“I’ll make you a deal,” I say.
“A deal?” Denise asks. “What are you talking about?”
“People only know who they voted for,” I say. “They have no way of knowing who anyone else voted for, so how about this?”
Denise frowns.
“I’ll vote for one of them, and you’ll make one little change for me.”
“No,” Denise says. “That’s not how this works.”
I shrug. “Alright, then I’ll continue to abstain.”
“You have to pick one of them.”
“I don’t,” I say. “You can’t make someone vote.”
Denise takes a step toward me, her pointer finger out and wagging. “But?—”
“If you want me to vote, you’ll have to do something for me.”
“What?” She finally stops, one eyebrow arched.
I may have won the vote by our class, but Denise is the most qualified person at our school. There must be a lot of people who voted for her. “You tell everyone that the girl who got the second-most votes won.”
“Whoa,” Tommy says. “You can’t do that.”
I spin toward him. “Why not?”
“Because she didn’t say it was tied for the girls, just for the boys.”
Denise is shaking her head. “It’s not tied for the girls. You won by a landslide.”
“See?” Tommy asks.
“Who cares?” I ask. “Who got the second most?”
Denise blushes bright pink.
“Come on. Who is it?” It has to be her, right? It’s got to be.
She shakes her head silently.
“Mandy, come on,” Tommy says. “You can’t ask her to do that.”
“It was you,” I say. “I’m sure it was. You can be the prom princess instead, and no one else needs to know.”
“But they will know,” Denise insists. “They will.”
“Did anyone other than you even see the ballots?” I ask. “There’s no way that they could possibly?—”
“Five people voted for me,” she practically shouts. “Five people, and they were all other girls. You got twenty-eight. It wasn’t even remotely close.”
My mouth snaps closed.
“See?” Tommy says. “No offense Denise, but it has to be Mandy.”
“This is so dumb,” I say. “And furthermore, if you won’t be the prom princess, then I’m not voting to break the tie for the prince.” I fold my arms over my chest.
“By your own logic,” Tommy says, “you should vote for someone. No one will ever know you were the tiebreaker.”
I spin around. “You and Denise will.”
He splutters. “Like I’d tell anyone.”
“What about her?” I point.
“If she tells a soul, I’ll tell everyone she only got five votes to your twenty-nine.” Tommy’s smile is diabolical.
“It was twenty-eight, and who even cares how many votes she got?” I ask. “She won’t care about people knowing that.”
“You should have voted for yourself,” he says. “Then it would have been twenty-nine. I’m quite sure Denise was one of those five votes for herself, and I think she does care.”
It’s clear from her face and the way all the blood has drained away that she will care, and possibly that she also voted for herself.
“Which guy do you choose?” Tommy asks.
“Why do you care?” I step closer to him, our faces inches apart. “It doesn’t even matter, who wins prom prince.”
“Then just pick someone,” he says. “No big deal.”
“I pick Jed,” I say. “Because at the last dance I didn’t pick him, and it was a disaster.”
Tommy nods slowly, and then he turns. “See? Done.”
Only, that wasn’t the end. When they posted the prom prince and princess on the bulletin board the next morning, it was like some kind of explosion. Everyone was talking, whispering, hissing, laughing, and poking each other.
Everyone but Jed.
He kept ignoring me, and that meant that I hurt Tommy’s feelings for no reason at all. It made me mad. Really mad. So when lunch came around, and Jedediah walked up to the front of the lunch line with a tray, shoving in front of poor little Nicholas Kensey, I took my chance.
“Hey,” I say. “Stop being such a big bully. He was there first.”
Jed spins around, not realizing it was me calling him out, probably, and then he freezes.
“Didn’t know who caught you, huh?” I tilt my head. “Well, it’s me. The ghost who used to be your best friend.”
Jed’s eyes widen, but he still doesn’t speak. He just stares.
“We’re also prom prince and princess.” Tears start to well up in my eyes. I can’t help thinking of all the times we swam in the creek. All the times we scrambled up on our horses’ backs and raced through fields with a halter as our bridle. All the times we sat on the edge of his parents’ lake and fished, leaning back and reading or joking around while we waited for something to bite.
All those years, thrown away because I paid just a little bit of attention to Clyde.
“Are you really never going to talk to me again?” I drop my hand on my hip. “I thought the prom prince and princess ought to go to the dance together at least.” My heart’s hammering in my chest. My throat is so tight that I’m worried it might close off.
And Jed’s just staring.
People are starting to murmur.
Stupid Nicholas Kensey’s snickering, his tray pressed to his chest, his eyes wider than the bottom of the plastic water glasses in front of him.
“You can’t go together,” a voice behind me says. “Because you said you’d be my date.”
I spin around, unsure who in their right mind would poke their nose into the middle of this nightmare.
But it’s Tommy. Of course it is.
“Technically I guess you never said you’d go with me, but I asked anyway.” Tommy lifts his chin. “Or did Jed already ask you?”
He’s knocking the volleyball up in the air and pushing Jed to hit it. If there’s one thing the Brooks boys can do, it’s play ball. I will Jed to see what Tommy’s doing, to comprehend what his little bump is supposed to encourage.
But Jed’s whole face turns bright red, and he throws his brown tray against the wall. It shatters, and hard plastic chunks explode outward all over the cafeteria. I stumble backward, bumping into the person behind me, and then I rush out of the other door, desperate to get away.
I’m not even two steps out the back door when Tommy catches me. “Mandy.” His hand wraps tightly around my wrist. “Wait.”
I can’t bring myself to turn back around. I’m crying. It’s embarrassing enough for him to know, but if I slow down to talk to Tommy, who knows who else might see me? “I know what you were trying to do.” I twist my hand and my fingers wrap around his wrist. I squeeze. “I know you were trying to help. I do appreciate it.”
He tugs, his fingers lightening up, but not releasing me. “I wasn’t trying to help.”
I can’t help spinning around when I realize he’s angry. Tommy’s almost never angry. “What?”
He drops my hand like it’s on fire. “I wasn’t trying to help him. I’m sick of helping Jed.” There’s a muscle working in his jaw, and I want to reach out and touch it.
Which is really stupid. Clearly he just wanted to keep me from being embarrassed. It’s one of the things I like the most about him. Above all else, Tommy always protects things. He’ll protect his mother. His pets and animals.
And his friends.
But in this case. . . “I wanted him to be forced to say something,” I say. “I wanted him to face me.” I sigh. “I’m starting to think that he never will.”
“Go with me anyway,” he says. “You can’t let him ruin prom for you.”
“It’s just junior prom.” I shrug. “Who cares, anyway?”
“You do,” Tommy says. “You act like you don’t, but this matters to you. You want to go, and you deserve to get a crown. All the guys want you and all the girls like you because you’re nice and smart and funny. That’s rare. It should be fun for you, and he’s ruining it like a little baby. You ruined his year unintentionally when Clyde asked you out, and he wants to do the same to you.”
“When will it ever be enough?”
“That’s why I want to hit him. He’s a real mush brain.”
“Mush brain?” I laugh. “You sure know how to dish out the insults.”
“If you want to deal out a major insult to him for being dumb, then come to prom with me and enjoy it.”
“I don’t think he’ll even come.” And I really don’t think he will.
Not while I’m picking a big, floofy pink prom dress. Not while my mom’s doing my hair. Not even when Tommy shows up in his dad’s car to pick me up.
“Whoa, he’s letting you drive?” I ask.
The long, black Chevy Classic—a V8, as I’ve heard over and over—is sparklingly clean, not a speck of dirt showing on its entire shiny, sleek length. Tommy’s dad has had the nicest car in town for years, but I’ve never seen anyone behind the wheel other than Mr. Collins.
“I offered to weed Mom’s entire front flowerbed,” he says.
“That sounds terrible.”
Tommy shrugs. “It was worth it.”
To get behind the wheel, he means. He’s always loved that car, and he’s never had an excuse to really ask to drive it. When he opens the door for me, it almost feels like a real date. He’s wearing a dark suit I didn’t realize he even had, and on the seat, there’s a little bundle of flowers.
“What’s that?” I freeze, peering at it. There are tiny pink roses that just match my dress and a spray of delicate white flowers that look like lace bunched up below them.
“Everyone gets wildflowers for their hair and stuff. I asked your mom if you were, and she said no.” He shrugs. “I thought you should have some flowers. You are the princess.”
I can’t help rolling my eyes. “I don’t care about that.”
“Still.” He reaches over the center of the car and lifts the flowers. “This can go on your wrist.” He shows me a rubber band. “Or I can pin it to your dress.”
I think about his hands trying to reach underneath the small straps on the top of my dress and a tiny thrill runs up my spine. “My wrist is fine.” Because I’m kind of stupid, and I’m worried I’ll shiver while he tries to pin it, giving myself away.
But then he holds out his hands, like he’s going to put it on me. My hand trembles embarrassingly as I extend it toward him. His hands are quick and deft—I’ve seen them do crazy things with ropes when calves are misbehaving—but I don’t expect them to be quite so warm or anywhere near as large as they are when he captures my hand in his. His fingertips brush against the tender skin on the center of my palm, and he freezes, looking up at me slowly.
When his bright eyes meet mine, my heart catches somewhere in my throat. I forget to breathe. I’m just staring at him, my hand still trembling a little, but captured well and truly between his.
“Mandy?” He tilts his head. “Are you alright?”
“Fine.” I yank my hand back and slide into the seat. Of course, my skirt doesn’t exactly comply. It’s all bunched up, and before I can figure out how to get it all subdued, Tommy has leapt to my side and he’s gathering it up himself to tuck it carefully next to me.
When he closes the door, his face is just above mine, his eyes softer than usual. Now, in this moment, I’m not the one who’s frozen. It’s him. My heart isn’t in my throat this time. It’s hammering, like a frantic woodpecker, right where it’s meant to be in my chest. It’s so loud that I’m worried he can hear it.
But without a word, Tommy breaks away and circles around to the driver’s seat. Maybe I imagined all of it, because it’s gone as soon as it arrived, the strange awareness of him, the nervous energy at his closeness.
For years, the best-looking guy I’d ever seen in real life—the coolest, too—was Clyde Brooks. He was tall, handsome, and almost larger than life.
But my vision changes when Tommy shows up with flowers.
Thomas Collins, wearing a suit, his dark hair combed carefully back so he almost looks like Elvis, is stronger, more handsome, and more heart-racingly debonaire than Clyde ever was. I can’t help noticing that my mom and dad are standing in the front window, even though they promised they wouldn’t, watching. Mom’s smiling and her hand is pressed against the window wistfully, like she’s worried she won’t see me again or something.
If she had come outside, I might have died of embarrassment. She’d have been sure to make some dumb comment about my date.
In that moment, I remind myself how stupid I’m being. Tommy’s my friend, and he asked me out today from of a sense of loyalty. There’s a reason I wouldn’t let Mom and Dad come out and gush and take photos. There’s a reason I’m keeping things low-key. I can still hear his voice echoing through my brain.
“I do not like Mandy!” He had been yelling it. And then he’d said, “She sings like an angel, and that’s about all I care about.”
He appreciates my singing voice, and that’s that.
“Everything okay?” Tommy’s dark brows draw together. “Should I slow down?”
Yes. I’ll fob off my moment of idiocy on his unusual speed. “It’s definitely faster than our bikes.” I force a smile.
“That’s true.” He’s smiling, and his hair’s blowing softly because he cracked the windows, but moments later, we’re stopping.
In the wrong place.
“The dance is?—”
“I know where the dance is,” he says. “But we have to eat something first, right? And you can’t show up right on time. What kind of princess does that?”
“But you don’t have to?—”
He’s already opening my door. “I do, though. The least I can do is get you some food at the Hub. It’s hardly fine dining.”
“Tommy.”
He holds out his hand, lifting both his eyebrows and shrugging. “Mandy, stop arguing and get your cute, fluffy self out here.”
Fluffy. I ignore his hand and climb out myself, shoving him to the side. He’s calling me fluffy, which is a word reserved for cute, bouncy baby chicks and like, fuzzy little lambs, so clearly any romance I was hallucinating existed exclusively in my head. “Aye, aye, captain.” I salute.
“Careful with that hand.” He reaches for my wrist, and again, my heart stutters at his casual touch.
But he’s just checking on the flowers. “They look just fine. I swear, that lady said she had used a whole spool of thread putting them together, but I didn’t believe her.”
“Wait, your mom didn’t make this?” I take a closer look.
“Where would we get roses this early?” he asks. “I drove into Green River for it. That big yellow florist shop.”
Why would he drive all that way? And pay so much?
“Let’s go.” Instead of releasing my hand, he slides his fingers down, lacing them between mine and drags me along behind him. The clicking of my heels just after the clomping of his dark dress shoes sounds. . .almost right, in a strange way.
I don’t have long to obsess, though. Teri’s waiting for us when we walk through the door. “Two prime rib dinners, ready to go.” She bobs her head at Tommy, and I realize he must have talked to her in advance. They don’t have anything but burgers, chicken fingers, french fries, and hot dogs on their menu, usually.
“Are you sure?—”
But he tightens his fingers on mine and pulls me further along. “Stop kicking at all the pricks, and just come eat some nice food, prom princess.”
I can’t help rolling my eyes, but I’m also a little bit in awe. When we reach the booth in the corner, there’s a tiny vase with little pink roses that just match my corsage. “Whoa,” I say. “This is—did you get these, too?”
The lighting isn’t that great in the corner, but it almost looks like Tommy’s blushing. “They had some leftover roses when they finished, and the lady said I could have them.” But that means he came by here earlier to drop them off. It was a lot of work.
He slides into one side of the booth and points at the other, but in the process, our hands separate.
My hand feels lonely, now.
I never realized how lonely my hand has been my entire life. Not until it was mourning the loss of Tommy’s fingers did I fully comprehend it. It’s strange, missing something you didn’t even know you wanted until moments before.
“I—this is a lot,” I say. “You didn’t need to do all this.”
“Jed should have done it.” Tommy sounds bitter, but when he looks up, his smile’s bright. “You really are a princess, Amanda. You deserve someone who treats you like one.”
My heart darn near does a back flip. “Thanks.”
A moment later, Teri brings out a basket of sliced bread and their famous cinnamon butter. As she walks off, she winks at me. I’m not sure why or what it means, but I’m beginning to. . .hope.
Tommy says Jed should be doing this, but Jed isn’t. Tommy is. He’s bringing me a corsage, and decorating our table, and when the prime rib comes, it’s the best meat I’ve ever had. “Why is this so good?”
“Prime rib is slow roasted,” Tommy says.
“Actually, that’s not quite right.” Teri’s bringing out some kind of tray, but before she sets it down, she smiles. “You have to let the meat come down to room temperature, and then you cook it for just five minutes per pound at five hundred degrees. . .and then you turn the oven off and let it sit for two hours.”
Tommy blinks.
“You can’t open the oven in that time or you’ll ruin it. Then you pull it out, and.” She waves her hands. “Voila.”
“I thought you were the waitress,” Tommy says.
She shrugs. “Small place. I get to do a little bit of everything.” She leans closer. “And believe me. If I let Chuck do the prime rib, you’d be sawing pieces off with a serrated knife.”
I’m chuckling as she lowers the tray.
“Oh, I don’t need dessert,” I say.
“Should’ve told him that.” Teri’s smirking as she slides five different plates onto our table top. “He ordered them all.” She’s laughing as she saunters off.
“You ordered—” I look around more carefully. “A cheesecake, a chocolate cake, some kind of fruit tart, a cobbler, and. . .what is that?” I lean closer.
“It’s called Broken Glass Cake,” Tommy says. “Teri said it’s new, but I think it’s basically different flavors of Jell-O, cut into squares and frozen in place with whipped cream.” He shrugs. “It looks pretty, though, right?”
“How much did you really think I could eat?”
He sighs. “There aren’t a lot of ways to make something special in Manila, but I’m trying, okay?”
I glance around. It’s prom night, and not another single teenage couple is in here. Not that we’re a couple. Now I’m the one blushing, and just because of my own errant thoughts.
“Are you alright?” Tommy’s looking at me strangely. “Mandy?”
“Fine.” I dig into the Broken Glass Cake, and thankfully, it’s better than I expected it to be. Strawberry, Lime, and Lemon Jell-O all mix pretty well. But when we both reach for a bite of the cobbler at the same time and our hands collide, I can’t help my gasp.
Tommy’s mouth turns up on the edge.
I know what he said, but I can’t help thinking that maybe he’s changed his mind. Maybe he does like me after all. The way he’s staring at me, the effort he’s put into this, and the way his hand is still touching against mine. . .
“Alright, you two.” Teri walks up, hands on her hips. “If you don’t go soon, you’ll be late for the announcement of prom court. Tommy made me promise to have you out of here in time.” She tosses her head at the clock on the wall.
Tommy clears his throat and stands. “Right.”
“I didn’t bring money with me,” I say. “But?—”
“Your date already paid,” Teri says. “He paid a few days ago, when he first came in here and dictated this crazy menu.” She’s smiling broadly now. “Pretty cute one you got there.” She winks again, and this time, Tommy sees it.
I might die.
But Tommy acts like he didn’t see a thing. He just walks me back to the car, opens the door, and helps me tuck my dress into the space before closing the door. Once he’s walked round and climbed in himself, he smiles. “Ready?”
We only drive a few blocks, swinging around the corner to the school and then he slides into a space and cuts the growling engine just outside the gym. We’re late and there are still plenty of parking spaces.
The walkway into the gymnasium is decorated with a bunch of huge paper flowers—Denise knows her stuff—and I’m actually a little bit impressed with the enormous archway she made at the front entry. If I owned a camera of my own, it would be photo-worthy for sure.
“Wait,” someone says.
We spin around right as Chip snaps a photo with a large black camera. “Yearbook.”
Tommy blinks, probably trying to clear his vision, and then we turn to walk inside. At first, I’m worried it’ll be awkward. Everyone saw the scene in the cafeteria, and everyone knows Jed’s the prom prince and I’m the princess, but he yelled at me, and now I’m walking in with Tommy.
But before anyone can say a word, Tommy whirls me into the center of the room—the dance floor no one’s even using. I’m not sure whether I’m excited or horrified that it’s a slow song. That means he pulls me close to his body and we sway back and forth slowly. “So,” he says. “Tell me your biggest fear.”
“Fear?” I laugh. “Is that really a dance-floor conversation?”
He shrugs. “Why not?”
“How about you tell me your biggest dream? Let’s start there.”
“I want to see the world. The Taj Mahal. The Eiffel Tower. The Nile River.”
“Wow,” I say. “Really?”
He shrugs. “What about you?”
“That sounds pretty good,” I say. “I didn’t know enough to even know what things I’d want to see.”
“I’m sure my list will grow,” he says. “But for now, it’s a start.”
“Niagara Falls,” I say.
“Oh yeah?”
“Mom and Dad heard about it when they were emigrating, but. . .” I almost tell him they couldn’t travel up to see it, because they were busy dodging the paperwork trail that might have ended with Dad being drafted, but when they told me how sad they were to have missed it, I decided I’d like to go one day. A photo in front of the falls would have been nice, even if I was still in Mom’s belly.
I remember to shut up just in time to avoid that disclosure.
“I’ll add that one to my list, too. I hear it straddles the United States Canadian border, so that’s kind of cool.”
“Traveling is fine,” I say. “As long as I have a safe, comfortable home to return to. My biggest fear is winding up all alone.”
His eyes are sad, and he misses a beat on the song. “Why would you ever wind up alone?”
“Mom and Dad are all I have. They left their family on another continent, so if they die. . .” I shrug. “That’s it.”
“You’ll never be alone, Amanda Saddler. Never.”
It’s not a promise he can really make. Unless. . .
He leaves when the song ends to grab us something to drink, and they announce the prom court. Of course, Jed doesn’t show up. No shock there. I didn’t think he would, but apparently other people are surprised.
I pose for some yearbook photos, and then I’m headed down the stairs when I hear my name. I freeze, and I realize it’s coming from just around the corner. I can’t see the speakers, but the person who said my name has a very distinctive voice. It’s the poor kid whom Jed cut off in line that day, Nicholas Kensey.
“—Mandy’s the fox in our class. C’mon man. There’s no way you don’t like her.”
“I’m just helping a friend,” Tommy says.
“But you stood up to Jed for her.” Nicholas whistles. “He’s straight scary, so you had to think you were gonna. . .”
There’s some scuffling sound. “Listen, I was doing a favor for a friend who needed someone by her side, and that’s it. If I hear you so much as breathe anything about me liking her, I’ll end you. Got it?”
Nicholas has always been a little blunt, but I’m the real idiot here. Tommy couldn’t have been clearer that night after the play, and here I was, thinking maybe we could be more. Again.
When he comes back with my punch, I practically snatch it out of his hand. “Well, we got the photos. We can go home, now.”
Tommy doesn’t argue, and he doesn’t even look shocked. “If that’s what you want.”
“It is.”
He leads me out past the dumb old paper arch, helps me into the car, and drives me home. And that’s the end of our junior prom and my relapse into idiocy all at once.