Page 96 of It's in the Contract
Brielle shrugs one shoulder. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Katrina pulls out her phone and starts filming, laughing. I know how I must look. My hair is in a messy bun; standing up long enough to do anything else with it was too hard. My eyes are probably red, and I have on the bare minimum of makeup.
Still, I take a deep breath and get it together. “This isn’t over, Brielle.”
She just smirks and walks away. I fall into my chair, completely exhausted. The worst part is, she’s basically won. She’s ahead of me in votes, and I’m out of ideas.
Thirty-Nine
Get your party clothes ready, friends. Homecoming is tonight! And finalize those votes for Homecoming royalty. The results will be hidden after 5:00 today so the winners will be a surprise.
TikTok caption by @CassidyandBrianMVH.
It’s finally here.It’s the day of the Homecoming dance. Mateo—a son of one of Mom’s clients who she called in a favor with so I would have a date—will take me to the dance and then we’ll go out to dinner. (Not Salty’s, my favorite restaurant, but I won’t complain.)
The past two weeks have gone by in a haze. Every time I see Suzy in the hallway, she looks away and pretends not to see me. I texted and called her, but eventually I gave up. She needs space, and she’ll talk to me when she’s ready. And she can’t avoid me tonight, right? We’re going in the same group.
Zeke texted to say that we were done tutoring, that I didn’t need him anymore. Instead of sitting with me at lunch, he’s been eating in the common area or outside on the front steps, byhimself like he was before. It makes my heart ache every time I see him and he pretends not to see me.
I put on my gorgeous dark blue dress and reach for the earrings, still in the box that they were gifted in. But then I put on a different pair.
I have no idea who’s going to win the crown tonight. The webpage that was keeping track of votes has been hidden, so no one knows the final count. The result will be a surprise.
Mom enters my bedroom, and her mouth drops open. “Oh, Callie,” she says. “You look stunning.”
Dad is FaceTiming on Mom’s phone to see me off to the dance. He whistles. “Callie Berry, you look beautiful.”
I smooth out the skirt of the dress and tuck a curl behind my ear. I had my hair done in a sweeping updo that leaves some strategically placed curls to dangle around my neck. It’s exactly what I wanted.
“Thank you,” I say.
“Mateo’s here,” Mom says.
I grab the first bottle of perfume I see off my armoire and spritz it on. My nose fills with the scent of pineapple and passionfruit, a nice beachy perfume. Great. Now I smell like a fruit basket.
Oh well. I set the bottle down. It’s not like it matters, anyway.
I descend the stairs with a sinking feeling in my stomach. Luckily my foot healed exactly as the doctor said. No heels for me—I’m wearing simple white flats with cute bows on the toes tonight—but at least I can walk without pain. Mateo looks up at me with a shy smile. His shaggy black hair is curly, and there’s a gap in his two front teeth that some people probably find charming. It does nothing for me, and honestly I’m feeling slightly humiliated that my mom had to set up a blind date for me for Homecoming.
“You are so . . . pretty,” Mateo says without meeting my eyes. He shoves a bouquet of lilies into my arms.
“Thank you.” The discomfort in my belly grows. It seems like Mateo wants to attend this dance with me even less than I want to go with him.
We pose for pictures, and Mom and Dad gush and fuss over me for a little while longer before I hand the flowers to Mom and we head out the door.
“Take good care of my girl!” Dad yells from the phone.
Mom is a little teary. “I’ll see you there, Callie.”
“That’s right!” Dad says. “Mom’s chaperoning, so be on your best behavior, you two.”
I give them a wave. “Love you both,” I say.
We head across the dewy lawn, practically six feet apart. Mateo says nothing and doesn’t look my way. I’m unreasonably annoyed when he walks to the other side of the car and I have to open my own door. I climb into the car, and Suzy and I lock eyes. I freeze.
She looks stunning, with perfect makeup—eyeliner that highlights her dark eyes and sparkling eyeshadow—and hair half pulled up into a bun, half in waves about her shoulders. She’s wearing an ice blue floor-length dress with billowing sleeves. Next to her is a tall boy with straight dark hair pulled into a low ponytail. Dave, I think his name is, from her tennis team. Troy is driving and chatting with Dana, who sits shotgun and wears a knee-length dress that looks like a rainbow barfed on it. I could never pull off the look, but Dana has dyed the highlights in her hair multi-color to match, and it actually works.
“Hey,” I say.
