Chapter 43
Forty-Three
CHLOE
Life looks a little different now that Rhoads and I are official, going on a month. For one, my friends don’t spend every waking moment hounding me about him. For two, I’m getting a lot more dirty looks from girls in the hallway when they see us holding hands.
I just roll my eyes and move on.
Swooning girls? Where?
The soccer trophy arrived, and it’s now displayed in its full glory in the case near the weight room along with a newspaper article all about our win and a team photo of us all cheesing like there’s another prize for who can show the most teeth.
Now that it’s nearly subzero temps, Rhoads and I quit training outside during free period. Instead, we’ve been playing Mario Kart. I even beat him twice.
Now, the semester is nearly over and the event I’ve been dreading has arrived. Funny, though, I’m not dreading it anymore.
“Are you sure you want to go?” I ask Rhoads. “We don’t have to.”
We’re dressed in our formal wear—both of us this time—and standing in Jenson’s hospital room. He’s sleeping now. Or he’s faking it, so we’ll leave. We have been here a while. With all the physical therapy he’s had today, I’m sure he’s exhausted.
“I think it’s time I give Jenson a little room to breathe. And have a little fun.” He smiles, a genuine one. It’s like telling me about this hurt has lifted a veil. I can see the whole of him shining through. “Plus, having my girlfriend beside me feels nice.”
I kiss his cheek. “It’s good to be here.”
“Gross,” Jenson groans from the bed.
“I knew you weren’t sleeping,” Rhoads says.
“I would be if some people would get out of here.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll hold down the fort.” Candace crunches her snack, licking orange dust off her fingertips and flipping the TV on.
Jenson pulls the blanket down enough to glare at Candace. “I’m really fine here alone. Honestly, I’d prefer it. You’re the loudest eater I’ve ever met.”
Candace ignores her brother. “I’ll let you know if anything happens. I promise. Oh, here. Take something for the road.”
She hands me a silver cellophane package.
“Cinnamon?” I ask.
She screws up her face in mock horror. “I’m sorry? What did I do to offend you so much?” She laughs. “Not in a million years. It’s s’mores.”
“You are the best,” I say.
“You know what? I kind of am. Now go on.” She shoos us out the door.
* * *
Blue LEDs light the tunnel made of fake snowflakes that lead into the school gym.
Inside, a forgettable pop song blares from the DJ booth, colored lights flashing here and there and illuminating the pulse of bodies already dancing.
If what they’re doing can be called dancing.
Suddenly I wish we hadn’t come. That instead we’d gone to Peggy’s for hash browns or even just to Coffee Jungle to hang out in the canopy of the Tree House.
Anywhere but the site of the last dance’s humiliation.
A few weeks of not totally hating Graham hasn’t changed our past, hasn’t changed my memory of the last dance I attended. Though I’ve made steps forward, being here still sends a wave of nausea into my stomach.
I shake my head, take a deep breath, and grab Rhoads’s hand, dragging him into the gym.
It takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the dimness, but when they do, I can’t help but marvel at the decorations.
Charlotte has outdone herself this year.
Posters and memorabilia dating back to Cardinal Ridge’s inaugural year trace the school’s history around the perimeter of the gym.
A glistening globe catches my eye on a table filled with yearbooks. I pull Rhoads toward it.
“This looks familiar.” I pick it up and turn it over. Cobalt glitter falls from the top of the snow globe, shining among the tiny sports balls and die-cut numbers, commemorating Cardinal Ridge’s championship years. I smile as I catch sight of this year.
I bob the globe back and forth in my hands. Another number catches my eye, but it’s different from the rest. “Cardinal Ridge didn’t win a championship in 1960.”
“It doesn’t say 1960, does it?” A mischievous glint shines in Rhoads’s eyes. He winks.
It doesn’t. It just says 60. And it’s silver, not gold like the rest.
I sink against his chest, breathing in the citrus of his shampoo and smiling ear to ear. It’s the silver 60 from Dodd Everett’s birthday party. The one he plucked from my hair that night. And now it’s hidden in this school memorabilia, a secret just for us two.
“I think you’re stalling.” Gently, he removes the snow globe from my grip and places it back on the table. “You promised me dancing. I’m expecting rond de jambes and pirouettes and maybe even a relevé or two. Since you know all about those.”
I tap my pointer finger to my chin. “Hmm. I don’t know if this is the right kind of music…” I squeak out a laugh as Rhoads raises my hand above my head and spins me in a circle.
We find Janae and Dillon somewhere near the middle of the dance floor. Janae is rocking a white dress with a full skirt, and Dillon has on a powder blue suit.
“Fresh threads,” Rhoads says, gesturing to Dillon’s outfit and giving his friend a high five.
Dillon pops his collar. “Found it in the discount bin at Cardinal Ridge Thrift. Can you believe someone let this baby go? I mean, hellooooo stud.”
Janae just rolls her eyes. I laugh, and Dillon turns his attention to me. “What? You’re not laughing at my clothes, right?”
“No way. You’re definitely the best dressed here.”
“Nah, I’m second best. Ain’t nobody outdoing my girl, here.” He twirls Janae by the hand, and they both break out in beaming smiles. “Now. I believe this is a dance. So, get to it.”
Rhoads and I, gifted with neither Dillon’s confidence nor moves, bounce along to the beat without fanfare for a while. I lose myself in the music and even move closer to Rhoads, his hands on my hips.
Anita and Charlotte weave their way through the crowd toward us. Anita’s dark curls are pinned atop her head. She and Charlotte came together.
“So, coming stag isn’t so bad, after all,” Charlotte says without preamble.
“What does that make me?” Anita grumbles.
“You know what I mean,” Charlotte says. “You don’t care if I dance with anyone else, right?”
“Of course not.”
“That’s my point!”
“I mean, that’s great for you,” I say. “But I’m pretty pleased to have a date.” Rhoads pulls me so my back is to his chest, and his arms wrap around me.
Anita laughs. “Remember a few months ago when these roles were reversed?” She points between me and Charlotte.
“Funny how things can change, huh?” I say, just as I spot Graham across the room. “Speaking of. Be right back, okay?”
Rhoads gives me a squeeze then lets go. “I’ll be here when you’re done.”
I find Graham clustered in a group, laughing at a joke. His face freezes when he sees me, his eyebrows raised in question, his body tensing in fight or flight.
“Relax. I come in peace.”
“Give us a minute, guys.” Graham’s friends melt into the crowd.
“Thank you.”
His blond hair tinges blue in the flashing lights. “For?”
“For covering for me with my mom that night with the Littrels. I’m done obsessing over everything that happened between us. We both made mistakes, and I forgive you for yours.”
Graham’s expression grows serious. “Do you mean that?”
I nod. “I thought freezing you out would make me feel better, but all it did was make me bitter and cynical. I think I’d like to try not being enemies.”
He sighs, long and heavy. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that. I did a lot of soul-searching—as gross as that sounds—after we broke up. Needed to figure out what was wrong with me. I was an idiot.”
“It didn’t take you seven months to figure that out, did it?” I laugh. “Because I’m pretty sure I told you you were an idiot about ten million times.”
Graham shrugs. “The hard part was figuring out how to not be one in the future.”
“I think you can handle it. However, this does mean if you go down that road again, I won’t hesitate to punch you in your ridiculous face.”
He holds a hand over his heart. “That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”