46 | The Winter Ball
The Winter Ball
Molly
THEY CALL IT a winter ball, like this is the fifteenth century and we’re all fair maidens who’ll be wed at this event.
The posters are plastered all over the notice boards in the halls, each one a glossy explosion of silver and blur glitter against a backdrop of a snow-covered castle. The script is all swirly and elegant, spelling out “Mayville College Winter Ball.”
I have to admit, the poster’s pretty, in a cheesy, Hallmark-movie kind of way.
“Doesn’t it sound like fun?” I ask, glancing at the girls.
Chloe, Claire, Rory and I had just finished our mixed PE block, and were walking towards our next classes.
Rory and I have history together, which is the same direction as the art class Claire has and Chloe’s study hall, so we usually all walk together.
“Sure, if you’re into the patriarchy,” Chloe hums. She adjusts the strap of her canvas bag on her shoulder, which was covered in pins from various dance companies and competitions in England and Ireland.
“Oh, come off,” Claire laughs. “You’re a dancer, I thought you’d love it. All that twirling and fancy footwork. It’s right up your alley, Chloe.”
“I’m a ballet dancer. This is completely different,” Chloe dismisses, her nose wrinkling in disgust. “This is...grinding. And sweaty teenage boys spilling WKD on your dress.”
“So you wouldn’t go if Finn Marshall happened to ask you?” I ask sneakily. Niall filled me in on Finn’s little crush on our friend Chloe, and I’ve been trying to figure out if the feeling is mutual ever since.
The way Chloe’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second before she schools her features into a mask of indifference is all the answer I need.
“Shut up,” she rolls her eyes, but there’s still a faint brush creeping up her neck. “But I might go if you guys’ll be there. It’s always fun to go to dances with girl friends. They always have great free snacks.”
“Well, I’m definitely going,” Claire exclaims. She’s practically bouncing on the balls of her feet, her energy infectious. “I’ve been waiting to go since I was in first year. You have to be in at least third year to go and it’s, like, a rite of passage.”
“I’ll probably go,” I say. The date on the poster says it's on Friday, December 21st, at the Malahide hotel. That’s the last day before winter break. “Maybe Niall will even wear a tie and everything.”
“Oooh, do you think he’s gonna ask you?” Claire asks.
“If he doesn’t, I will,” I say, a confidence I don’t quite feel swelling in my chest. But I’m trying to keep putting one foot in front of the other, telling myself Saturday night was progress. I let Niall in on my darkest secret, and he promised to keep it for me. “Rory?”
She shakes her head, though she’s looking at the snowflakes and glitter pattern on the poster with a sense of longing. “I won’t be allowed.”
“Can’t you ask?” Claire tries, the same wheedling, hopeful tone she uses every time she tries to get Rory to come to a sleepover or attend a game or something. And just like always, Rory shakes her head.
“It won’t make a difference,” she says, her voice quiet.
I sense it’s time to switch the subject, the familiar knot of pity and frustration tightening in my stomach.
Rory’s home life is a mystery to me, but it’s clear there are rules and things about it that we can’t begin to understand.
I give her arm a quick squeeze. “Are Niamh and Marissa going then, Claire?”
“Oh, def. I think we’re going dress shopping tomorrow—since Niall won’t have practice and can take us up to the mall. You know... we just need someone to ask him...” she trails off, her brown eyes wide and hopeful as she looks at me.
“When were you going to tell me you wanted me to ask him?” I ask, trying to pretend to be annoyed but failing miserably.
“Probably at the end of the day tomorrow.”
“Got it,” I laugh, shaking my head, already pulling my phone out to text Niall and say I need to ask a favor. “D’you wanna come Chloe?”
“Is Niall’s car even big enough to accommodate that many people?” she asks, looking skeptical.
“Probably not,” I admit. “But we’ll survive. Or we could always ask Joey to help cart us around, I’m sure he will. Hey—speaking of which, Rory, he gave me something to give to you.”
I swing my backpack around my shoulder, digging through the jumble of textbooks and other junk until I find what I’m looking for.
I pull out the ipod and mixtape Joey’d handed me earlier this morning while I was with Chloe in the fifth year common room.
He’d been all awkward and shifty, completely unlike his usual, everyman self.
He asked me to do it since he thinks he makes her nervous.
It’s all very adorable, really.
“What’s this?” She asks, her eyes widening slightly as she takes the small, plastic case from me. She holds up the mixtape, a simple TDK cassette with a handwritten label that just says “For Rory” in Joey’s insanely pretty handwriting.
I shrug. “Yours, I assumed. That’s your ipod isn’t it? The one he said he’d fix?”
I know Niall was the one who really fixed it, really, but I wasn’t about to let Joey down as a wingman.
“Yeah, but this isn’t... uh, nevermind,” she shakes her head, shoving both the ipod and the mixtape into her own bag. The bell above us rings, reminding us we better get going to class.
During history, I can’t help but watch her, since she sits right beside me. She’s supposed to be taking notes on the Tudors, but instead, she’s running her thumb over the mixtape under the desk, her expression unreadable.
Interesting.
??ˋ ?? ?ˊ?
“WHAT'S YOUR FAVOR?” Niall greets me at practice, when I come out of the locker room in my training kit.
He’s leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, a lazy grin on his face. I hold up my hands and he intertwines his fingers with them, giving me a quick kiss.
“There’s a mall in the city, right?” I ask, acting casual.
“Yeah, Dundrum?” he says, his brows furrowed. “What about it?”
“I was thinking maybe we could go there tomorrow? And bring Claire and her friends, maybe Chloe. For the winter ball thing.”
“Did my sister put you up to this?” he says more than asks, his smile fond and knowing.
“Maybe...” I admit, swinging our intertwined hands between us.
“Well, I do owe you,” he admits, his expression softening. “So yeah, I’ll drive. But I’m charging her. A tenner a head. Claire can pay me back in chores.”
“You’re the best,” I laugh, leaning up to give him another quick kiss.
“I know,” he says smugly, letting go of my hands to give me a quick squeeze around the waist before we walk onto the pitch. “Someone’s got to keep you lot in style.”
“Don’t get too full of yourself,” I warn, but I’m smiling.
“Too late,” he calls over his shoulder as he jogs over to join the rest of the lads, his laughter echoing across the pitch.