Chapter 32 Sabrina
I spend Saturday in the center of a joyful, chaotic tornado—and I’ve never been happier.
I text Tyler good morning by way of still thinking about how well you played last night—congrats, Homecoming champs.
(His response: you know they always rig the homecoming game, so winning isn’t that big of a deal—to which I mentally vow to be sure he celebrates tonight whether he likes it or not.) Then I drive downtown to Flora’s to pick up the flowers, praying the mechanic’s fixes on my car hold, because today is not the day for another breakdown.
I send Tyler a rambling voice memo while driving, telling him how nice it was to meet some of his friends from Brownsville (and to warn them that they better not make him suffer ever again), and then I hurry to campus to make sure all the decorations are set up.
I open my phone to a photo of Tyler raising a skeptical eyebrow, holding up two different ties for my approval, and I write back, the blue. Obviously. Plus it’ll match my dress…
You have my attention, he responds.
As I hurry onto the football field, I can’t stop smiling. I have to hand it to Tyler—the idea of having the dance under the lights was a stroke of genius. The field is even turf, so no heels getting stuck in the grass!
Not that I have any heels to worry about myself. There will be plenty of time to get dressed later. Once everything is perfect.
But the idea of Tyler in a suit makes me swoon on the spot. The breadth of his shoulders beside me, his arms around my waist, getting a chance to pick back up where we left off…
I lightly slap my own cheeks. Just hard enough that the sting will bring me back to my body. There’s no time for swooning. Not when there are flowers to arrange!
“Priya, can you check on the refreshments?” I scroll through the note on my phone with a frown.
“I told Ms. Dobbs to clearly label all possible allergens, but last year she got confused and labeled anything without carbs as gluten free. And Naomi, are you okay manning the photo booth? I swear it’s the easiest thing in the world to operate, but every time, people get so confused.
Not to mention the ones who think it’s a cubby custom-designed for their make-out sessions.
” I look up with a grin. “Although if you manage to get Jenna alone in there, I’d turn a blind eye.
What’s the update on that front, by the way? ”
Now that I have my own life under control, I have a lot of gossip to catch up on. But Naomi’s blushing, and she’s looking at Priya as if the two of them have some kind of secret. “So… Jenna was definitely not ready for a relationship after her breakup,” Naomi says.
Priya laces her fingers through Naomi’s, her cheeks flushing a rosy brown. “But I was.”
I have to blink a few times, looking between the two of them. Naomi giggles. “Turns out trying to orchestrate my homecoming date was far less effective than recognizing what was right under my nose.”
“And eventually realizing that watching every single video you sent me was a sign of deepest affection,” Priya adds with a smirk. “My screen time is out of control, and it’s all your fault. So… Sabrina, what do you say to the two of us working the photo booth together?”
As I recover, I start grinning too. Why didn’t I see it before?
Priya’s a perfect complement to Naomi—grounded, earthy, always going on hikes and touching grass.
A good reminder for Naomi to step away from her screen sometimes.
Meanwhile, Naomi reminds Priya to keep it light and enjoy herself instead of taking things so seriously.
And the way the two of them are always doing little favors for each other, looking out for each other at every turn…
Well, it reminds me a lot of Tyler. Sometimes the best things are under your nose after all.
Sometimes, they start as just friends.
My smile broadens. “Yes! Yes, of course!” I shoo them away. “Go forth and multiply. Well. Maybe don’t multiply anything other than your photos. At least not in public. And don’t hog the booth too much!”
Priya’s taking a step away when Naomi tugs her to a halt, frowning at me. “Wait, when are you going to get ready?”
“Oh, soon, soon.” I wave a hand dismissively, turning to straighten the balloon arch that’s drifting sideways. I frown toward the DJ—should I ask to check his playlist?
Naomi checks the time on her phone. “You should probably do it now,” she says. “People are going to start arriving any minute.”
“Of course, of course.” I’m so focused on assessing the field that it’s not until they both leave that I freeze in my tracks.
I left my dress at home.
Shit. I swipe open my phone and dial my mom, pacing and biting my lip. It goes to voicemail. “Hi, Mom—sorry to bother you! I thought you were off today, but maybe you’re napping? I just forgot something at home, but don’t worry, I’ll figure it out. Sorry! Bye!”
I hang up, hot and flustered. I shouldn’t have called for help on her day off—pure desperation overriding my usual instincts to just take care of myself—so it’s probably a good thing she didn’t answer.
I don’t exactly have time to drive home and back and get ready, but…
whatever. It’s fine. I’ll figure it out.
My top priority right now is making sure this dance goes off without a hitch—we came way too close to not having any dance at all, and there’s no way I’m going to let this school down at the last minute. Everything needs to be perfect.
I square my shoulders and continue working down my checklist. With each ticked box, my pulse slows and my stress settles.
I run these events for everyone else; I’ve never really cared about the dance for myself.
There’s never been anyone I wanted to dance with so badly, I could neglect my responsibilities for them—no one I let get close enough.
That was the whole point of Tyler as my date in the first place!
But the thought of him brings a little flutter to my chest. Because there’s no denying that he’s different from everyone who came before.
He’s the guy who helped me open up, and face my real feelings, and let my hair down.
I want to see him dressed up. To steal a dance with him.
To let myself get carried away, just for one night.
After all this, I think we’ve earned it.
I take a deep, calming breath. As soon as I check on the DJ—
“Sabrina?” Haley’s hovering by the drinks table, arms wrapped around a gigantic orange Igloo water cooler.
Her hair’s clipped back with glittery barrettes and her short green dress shows off legs that are toned and tanned from soccer practice.
I’m marveling at the coordination it must take to juggle that water cooler in her heels when she says, “Ryan said you might need more water? So, I thought I’d bring this from the team’s gear. ”
My pulse skips a nervous beat. Ryan said Haley had told him to get serious if he wanted to be taken seriously—does that mean he told her his version of events, before I cleared things up? Old nerves about ruffling feathers rear their heads, and I swallow hard.
Just be honest, Sabrina.
“That’s really nice of you—thanks. And, um, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Ryan… I don’t know if he said anything about us, but I just wanted you to know nothing ever happened there, and I’m really happy with Tyler, and I’m super glad you two are figuring it out—”
She’s grinning. “Chill, Sabrina. We’re not really dating. I’m too focused on soccer season.” She takes a teetering step forward. “So… can I drop this somewhere…?”
“Of course!” I leap forward to help her settle it, and when she disappears with a cheerful wave that very clearly communicates no need for beef, I finally relax.
Honest conversations are doable. Maybe sometimes they’re even kinda… anticlimactic.
Thank God. Now, about that DJ—
“This place looks stunning!” Kara blows in, wearing a sequined little black dress, striding confidently in tall platform heels.
“And before you ask, I just checked on the ticket booth, and they’re ready to sell extras at the door.
” She grins. “With this new setting—genius, by the way—we might actually break Hamilton Lakes ticket sales records.”
“We really are the best team.” I grin back at her. “We said we’d run the most iconic Spirit Committee this school has ever seen, and we did it.”
“It was touch and go there for a moment,” Kara says with a solemn wince.
I shrug airily. “Oh, I was never worried. Not when the two of us were in charge. Our teamwork has never let this school down before.”
She loops an arm around my shoulders, the amber-and-cinnamon scent of her tickling my nose, and I’m slammed by a wave of complicated feelings. Pride that we’re doing something iconic in our last year at Hamilton Lakes and total terror at the idea of her moving across the country next year.
Kara must feel it too, because she squeezes me tighter. We’ll get to next year when we get there. For now, we’re here, and this is all I ever wanted from my senior year.
And then Kara snaps upright, fixing me with her steeliest stare. “Now, on to more important issues. What is wrong with you?”
I startle. “Excuse me?”
She points over my shoulder, and I turn to see my mom racing across the field with a black garment bag slung over her shoulder.
“She got your voicemail and tried to call you back, but you didn’t pick up, so she called me instead,” Kara explains. “We had a nice bonding chat about how self-destructively hyper-independent you can be.”
And then Mom’s beside me, cheeks pink from how fast she was hustling, wisps of hair falling out of her ponytail and around her face. I got my blond waves from her, though she’s starting to get a few streaks of gray. I think they make her look elegant even in her day-off hoodie and sweatpants.
“You didn’t have to come all the way here.” I grimace guilty. “You were catching up on the Housewives, weren’t you?”
“Impossible to ever catch up. And they’ll be there when I get back.” She frowns at me. “As if I wouldn’t bring your homecoming dress to you! Sabrina, I know you’re more responsible than most girls your age—”
Kara coughs something that sounds like parentification under her breath.
“—but I’m still your mom.” Her eyes are shiny. “I know I’ve been busier this year dealing with my own feelings about the divorce, but… I still want to be here for you. I don’t want you to stop asking, okay?”
I nod. I don’t trust myself to speak past the lump in my throat.
“Now I want you to enjoy this beautiful night that you’ve put together, and to dance with the guy I know you’ve been sneaking around with, and enjoy every minute of it.
” She opens her arms, and I fall into a hug that’s just as comforting as ever.
“There are still grand romances out there,” she whispers into my hair. “And you deserve the best of them.”
When she pulls away, both of us are blinking back tears. I didn’t realize until now how much I needed her to tell me it would all be okay—that she’s still the mom who would do anything for me, and I can still be the girl who believes in love, and even the hard things can be beautiful in the end.
“Now, bring him home next week so I can meet him, okay?” She raises an eyebrow, and her sharp gaze reminds me of the mom who raised me—never missing a trick. Maybe she still doesn’t, even with everything she’s dealing with this year.
I nod, laughing soggily, and Mom walks backward toward the exit so she can wave goodbye the whole way.
Kara—who’s been silently observing, holding the abandoned garment bag—tracks her as she goes. “I’m gonna text her a referral to my therapist,” she mutters under her breath. Then her eyes snap back to me. “Now. Were you really planning to wear jeans to homecoming?”
I frown, looking down at my running-errands outfit. “I was gonna figure something out? I haven’t finished my list! And it’s fine, I have time—”
“You do not have time.” Kara glares at me. “And I know you have a thousand things to do to get this dance ready, but I can read a to-do list as well as anyone else. Gimme.”
She holds out her hand, and I obediently place my phone, Notes app open, into her palm.
“Good. Now, Sabrina.” Kara grabs me by the shoulders, forcing me to stop and look her in the eye.
“You are going to go into that locker room right now, and you are going to change. You are going to turn yourself into the princess you are, and then you’re going to come find me so I can do your makeup, because you still can’t get your cat-eye even after all these years.
And then”—she swallows, as if gulping back sudden emotion—“and then you’re going to enjoy the event you’ve poured your heart and soul into, and we’re going to dance until our feet ache, and we’re going to take a million pictures, and we’re going to store up as many memories as we can.
What’s the point of type-A-ing your way through life if you don’t ever slow down and enjoy the results? ”
She blinks hard, then looks me dead in the eye with the focus of the girl who stretched a budget into the biggest event the school has ever seen, who carries extra eyeliner in her bag just for my touch-ups, who’s saved me from every dark moment over the last few years, even when I tried to keep the darkness far away from her.
“You don’t have to do everything by yourself, you know. ”
In her voice, I hear the unspoken reminder that not everyone’s like my dad—that there are a lot of people who are still by my side.
Who only want to support me. Who are here for hard conversations and are glad when I tell them what I need.
Between her and my mom and Ryan and Tyler most of all, I’m starting to think: Maybe I’ll call my dad back, and be honest with him, and give him a chance to make some amends.
Maybe I’ll ask my mom if we can plan some time together, so I can catch her up and we can reconnect before this year is over and everything changes again.
Maybe even if those conversations don’t go exactly as planned, they might not be as scary as I always thought they were.
I wrap my arms around her in a tearful hug. God, I’m going to be lost without her next year.
“It’s a good thing you haven’t done my makeup yet,” I manage.
And then we’re laughing, and she’s pushing me away so she can swat me playfully. “Go, go!”
I turn with a smile, walking and then running toward the locker room. The place where this whole unexpected year began.