Page 66 of Her Alien Neighbor

She steps off to the side as the lights go out and the light from the projector fills the room. Vitamin C’sGraduation (Friends Forever)starts to play, and the words “Class of 2002 Superstars” appear on the first slide.

There’s occasional laughter and applause from the crowd as Maggie clicks through photos of our fellow graduates in their respective jobs. Out of three hundred people, there are only about fifteen featured, and I suck in a breath when a still from the car commercial I was in pops up.

I look at Maggie and see her waving to me and pointing to the screen. Feeling oddly compelled to thank her, though she must’ve added me at the last minute once she knew I’d be coming, I give her an awkward thumbs up. Most people clap, but I hear Trevor’s sharp and mocking laughter across the room, and my muscles tighten.

Sam gives me a knowing look and claps louder, lifting her arms over her head to do so.

She always knows the right moments to be obnoxious. It’s an art, really.

Following the superstar slideshow is another slideshow with candid photos from senior year. The song changes to Green Day’sGoodRiddance (Time of Your Life)and there are hoots and hollers from people in the crowd who are featured in the photos.

The song is coming to a close when a photo of Trevor and me at prom fills the screen, and my stomach turns at the sight of me smiling next to him, of his hands on my hips, knowing what’s in store for me that night.

Maggie grabs the mic again once the song ends, and she introduces the 2002 prom king and queen for a slow dance. Nate Timmons, the star of the soccer team, and his ex-girlfriend, Quinn Wright, the valedictorian, rise from their seats and meet each other on the dance floor. They’re both married with kids now and dated for only two months at the end of senior year, but both are good sports about the whole thing.

Before Celine can begin her heartbreaking ballad about love lost on the Titanic, Wyatt Young, aka Trevor’s best friend, trips as he runs up the stage, and grabs the mic from Maggie. “Hey! We should all get on the dance floor! What do you say?” he slurs into the mic, a bottle of beer clanking against the mic in his hand.

The crowd gives him a placating cheer, just enough applause to not make him feel bad, but no one gets up to dance with Nate and Quinn.

“Trevor!” he shouts, “Get off your ass, bro.”

I throw my head back and empty my glass. The whiskey burns as it slides down my throat.

He coughs, not holding the mic away from his mouth while he does it. “Ask Vanessa to dance with you! Come on, for old time’s sake!”

Everyone in the room turns to look at me. What thefuck?

Wyatt notices and finds this hilarious. “Be careful, though,” he warns. “Watch where you put your hands!”

Laughter follows. People actually laugh at that. It’s only male laughter that I hear, which, sadly, doesn’t surprise me. Then Trevor puts up his hands in an “Okay, okay,” gesture and approaches me.

The spotlight follows him across the room, and when he stops in front of me and bows, the crowd goes quiet. “Vanessa, what do you say? Shall we dance?” he asks, holding out his hand.

Suddenly, it feels like I’m drowning. My mind spins and my breathing turns shallow and labored as the object of all my nightmares waits for my response, while everyone else just sits there, watching.

He leans closer, causing me to jerk back. “I forgive you, by the way.” He must see that I’m confused, so he adds, “You know, for the whole thing back then.”

He forgives me?Heforgivesme?

Is this really happening?

My eyes land on Beth, her mouth twisted in an angry grimace and her gaze narrowed at me as if this is somehow my fault. Caitlyn leans close to Beth and whispers something, causing Beth to nod vengefully as they glance back in my direction.

“N-no,” I say, the word barely making its way out of my mouth.

“What’s that?” Trevor asks, dramatically putting a hand to his ear.

My cheeks turn hot, and my palms sweat as I repeat, “No. No, thank you,” I say in a louder, more forceful tone.

His feet remain planted as he stares at me, still holding out his hand. It’s like he didn’t hear me. Or he chose not to.

It’s too much. I can’t take it anymore. Why did I come to this? What was I thinking? I continue to blame myself for this situation as I launch myself off my chair and race to the bathroom, tears staining my cheeks.

Sam finds me leaning over the sink at the far end of the restroom about a minute later. She comes to stand at my side, then grabs a handful of paper towels, holds them under the faucet, then presses them against my forehead. “That sucked,” she says quietly. “Wanna ditch this bitch and eat ice cream at your place?”

Chuckling, I sniffle, wiping the snot from my nose. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.”

She uses the paper towels to wipe the tears from my face before throwing them away. “We just have to grab our bags, then we can leave.”

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