Page 43 of The Words We Lost

There’s a long pause, and I wonder if Joel’s realizing the same thing I am: that the sooner I find the notebooks, the sooner I’ll be leaving town.

“So are you going to be able to sleep tonight?”

I frown, trying to guess at his meaning. “Because of all the excitement?”

“No, because of my clown reference from earlier. I was hoping you weren’t still traumatized and picturing red balloons.”

“Well, I am now,” I squeal. “Thanks a lot.”

He laughs, and I smile reluctantly.

“Will it help if I assure you there’s nothing to worry about when it comes to that shower drain—”

“Joel! Stop!”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckles. “But you do know you can call me if you need anything. Although, you do have my car so...”

“So I suppose I’ll have to play the hero of my own story, then.”

“I’m not sure you’d be willing to let anybody else play it even without a car in your driveway.”

When we fall silent, I struggle to reach for a topic of conversation that will lead us back to the light, impromptu banter we—

“I’ll see you at seven for coffee and reading,” he says.

“Okay.”

“And I do, sincerely, hope your dreams are as sweet as they are clown-less.”

“Joel—”

“Good night, Indy.”

15

“When the Party’s Over”

In a small seaport town with only one public high school, there were only so many occasions worth getting fancy for, which was exactly why the annual staff dinner hosted at Cece’s aunt and uncle’s mansion in spring felt like Prom 2.0. And given her best friend had never attended a formal event in her life due to her unconventional upbringing and schooling, Cece was determined to make sure Ingrid’s night was incredible—starting with a makeover courtesy of the CVS cosmetics aisle and her mother’s hair tools.

“Close your eyes.” Cece aimed the hair spray bottle at Ingrid’s long, beach-wavy hair for the second time in five minutes. It had taken her nearly an hour to figure out how to get it to curl like the girls they saw in the magazines, as she was probably less skilled with a curling iron than she would be with a sword. But just like in her writing, she improvised well. Ingrid’s hair looked better than a Disney princess at a royal ball, if she dared say so herself.

Ingrid tugged awkwardly at her gown, the way she’d been doing since the minute she put it on. “That’s okay, I don’t think I need any more of—”

“Eyes!” Cece bellowed just as a cloud of aerosol shot from the canister and coated Ingrid’s luscious locks.

Ingrid gagged and waved her hand through the thick air in Cece’s mom’s bathroom, nearly tripping on her hem as she stumbled into the hallway for clean oxygen. She’d better figure out how to walk in those heels soon, because the clock was ticking.

“Please don’t spray any more of that. My hair won’t move for a week as it is.” Ingrid coughed again. “This is a dinner, not a wedding.”

Cece grinned. “Pretty sure that dress could fast-track a wedding if you wanted it to.”

“It’s not—we’re not—” Ingrid clamped her mouth shut, seemingly flustered over her inability to tell a decent lie, especially when it came to Joel.

“It isandyou are.” Cece batted Ingrid’s hands away from tugging at the jewel tone, floor-length gown they’d picked up last weekend from the formal wear consignment shop in Oak Harbor. The front swooped low in a gathered, cascading fabric, while the back laced together with thick pieces of satin ribbon. It was quite literally the prettiest dress Cece had ever seen on a real life human and not just a store mannequin. “Stop fidgeting. You look beautiful, and I guarantee I won’t be the only one to say so.”

Ingrid rubbed at her bare arms. “I wish you were going with me. It feels weird dressing up alone.”

“I am going, just not as a guest. That honor is only reserved for non-family hotel staff tonight. And honestly, as fun as it is to dress up, I have a feeling that watching Joel play waiter while you’re at one of the tables is going to be the best entertainment of my whole year. Mark my words, he’ll make sure he’s the server at whatever table you’re seated at.”

---