Page 94 of Guava Flavored Lies

With a laugh, Lauren tore out of the neighborhood.

“How’s your hip? Are you in pain?” Lauren reached out and took her hand.

“It’s just a little bruise. I think I’ll live.”

For a few minutes, Sylvie tried not to guess where they were going. After some familiar turns, she glanced over at Lauren.

“Are we going where I think we’re going?”

Lauren shrugged before reaching over and taking her hand in hers. “I guess you’re going to have to wait and see.”

When they pulled up to the sprawling Spanish-style catholic school, Sylvie furrowed her brow.

“Didn’t we have enough trespassing for one day?”

“Ye of little faith,” she joked, driving through the parking lot and around the side of the gymnasium. The white stucco building was set off from the rest of the school and impossible to miss.

Lauren parked and jumped out of the car, but Sylvie hesitated.

“Are you coming or not?” Lauren didn’t wait for a response before walking away.

Unsure of how wise it was to break into their old high school, Sylvie remained in the car.

With unreasonable confidence, Lauren cut through the manicured lawn toward the building bearing an enormous brown cross painted under Our Lady of Solitude High School in light blue letters.

In the distance, Lauren’s outline blurred. She was obviously doing something at the gym door, but Sylvie couldn’t tell what.

Is she picking the lock? What are we Oceans 305?

Lauren glanced over at the parking lot and waved. Then, she was gone. Disappeared into the building or swallowed up by the darkness, Sylvie couldn’t be sure.

Sylvie threw the door open wide. “We better not get arrested Lauren,” she grumbled.

The grass, damp from having been watered recently, wet her leather flats as she crossed the lawn. As she neared the building, she was greeted by the thump of a song she hadn’t heard in years.

Rhianna’s Pon de Reply bounced against the wood floor and floated out of the slats of jalousie-style windows. The same leaky windows that tortured generations of girls during sweltering, summer afternoon PE classes.

Sylvie’s heart raced to match the rhythm of the music. Unable to resist her curiosity a moment longer, she pressed down on the handle and yanked open the heavy double door.

Inside the empty gym, the overhead lights were off. Just like it would’ve been during a real dance, the space was illuminated by spheres of light swirling slowly around the space.

Standing a few feet away from the door, Lauren waited while holding a spray of tiny orchids.

Stunned, Sylvie floated toward her, her legs moving of their own free will.

“Do you want to go to the dance with me? This is as close to the corsage I brought you that night that I could find. I thought it would help recreate that night. Make it right.”

Sylvie couldn’t process that she was standing in their high school gym with Lauren. That they might have a chance to try again. “You brought me a corsage that night?”

“I did.” She winced as if embarrassed by the memory. “And I would’ve worn this to the dance, if I wasn’t already in too much trouble to test Sister Gloria’s dress code.”

Overwhelmed, Sylvie looked around the cavernous space. “How did you even pull this off?”

“Our alma mater is still very willing to accept generous donations,” she replied with a sly grin. “So . . . do you want to dance?” Lauren slid the corsage on Sylvie’s wrist and held out her hand.

An impossible to identify emotion expanded inside Sylvie. Warming her. Filling her with an undeniable truth that desperately wanted to escape her chest.

Wrapping her arms around Lauren’s neck, Sylvie pulled her in and kissed her. She hoped she could interpret the message on her lips. Understand the words she was too afraid to speak aloud.

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