Page 40 of The Two of Us

“You should go before she finds you in here.”

No longer concerned about the headphones, I slip out his door and run back downstairs just as Alima enters, cradling a large kit in her arms.

“I found it!” She grins.

I force a smile, not trusting myself to speak.

“Honey, are you okay? You look flushed.”

“Yeah.” I swallow. “Never better.”

***

After Cat and I get ready at my house, we’re picked up by Maitland and Brandon. Maitland’s dad graciously offered to drive us to the dance and pick us up afterward. We squeeze together for photos in the front yard and laugh when Alima cries at how beautiful Cat looks.

“You look stunning,” Brandon whispers into my ear. He reaches for my wrist, wrapping it in a corsage swallowed by white lilies and baby’s breath.

My dad clears his throat. “Bible width apart, son.”

“Dad, quit it,” I grumble. He isn’t even religious.

We pile into the car and when I look out the window, I see a red Corvette parked in the King’s driveway. The Lucky Four are already crammed inside, blaring music through the speakers.

Cat squeezes my arm. “Tonight’s going to be so much fun.”

I squeeze her back. “You bet it is.”

I’m not one for school dances, but even I have to admit that the decorating committee blew it out of the water. The once understated gym has been transformed into a colorful, fantastical world. A red carpet guides us to the entrance, leading us through the open mouth of the Cheshire cat. Multicolored lanterns hang from the ceiling and strobe lights throw the gym into bright Technicolor. I wave at the familiar teachers volunteering at the check-in and food stations. Even Mr. Moinyhan is here, which I’m sure is not by choice. He wears a purple suit and a top hat with a leaning tower of teacups on it. I don’t think he enjoys it.

“Hi, Mara. Hi Cat. You girls look lovely tonight.”

Mrs. Shannon, our algebra teacher, smiles, checking our names off her clipboard and collecting our tickets.

“Thank you, Mrs. Shannon,” we reply in unison.

Cat loops her arm through mine, pulling me inside. “Come on, I want to dance!”

I snatch a cup of punch from the refreshments table and down it in one gulp, praying some rebel student managed to sneak a splash of liquid courage into the bowl.

Dancing in public isn’t too bad when there are tons of people around you cloaked in semidarkness. The four of us form a little circle of privacy, thrashing our bodies around with no skill whatsoever, and surprisingly, I enjoy the hell out of it. We’re doing our own version of the wave when a voice amplifies over the speakers, informing us that homecoming court is about to be announced. Girls squeal left and right as we all shuffle to the outer rim of the gym, providing a space for the nominees to stand in the middle. Principal Sacks, who’s usually a very serious man, stands in the center wearing a Mad Hatter coat and an orange wig.

“Settle down. Settle down.” The room quiets.

He reveals a black envelope from his coat pocket. “We’ll start with the freshman. Your freshman homecoming court representatives are… Catherine King and Maitland Brown.”

The crowd goes wild. Cat stares at me with wide eyes as I jump up and down, cheering. She has no idea how many people love her and that’s exactly why she deserves to be on court. Maitland grabs her hand and leads her to the center of the gym where a volunteer places sashes around them, handing Cat a single red rose.

“Moving on. Your sophomore homecoming court representatives are… Sasha Baker and Ambrose King.”

Screams resound throughout the gym as Sasha struts to the center, already reaching for her sash. Her baby-blue minidress and white stilettos make her look like the Alice our entire theme is centered around. Ambrose joins her, thanking the kid who passes him his sash. His hair is clean cut and styled to perfection, a far cry from the state it was in when I saw him this morning. He’s gorgeous in a maroon suit and somehow pulls off the most horrendous rainbow bow tie. There’s a sharp pinch in my chest. I can’t watch Ambrose and Sasha be irritatingly perfect anymore.

I stand on my tiptoes to reach Brandon’s ear, yelling over the screams in the room. “I think I’m going to run and grab some punch!”

He glances back at the court, conflicted. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, stay. I’ll be right back!”

I extract myself from the crowd, seeking solace in the quiet, empty hallway. A few teachers chat among themselves and I refill my cup with punch as the rest of the homecoming court representatives, as well as the homecoming king and queen, are announced inside. I take advantage of the low traffic flow and slip out one of the back doors into the courtyard.

---