Page 71 of Didn't See That Coming

When I came down the stairs in Mami’s black mermaid dress and Ferragamo heels, Jonas gave this approving nod, his chin jutting out in a smug smirk, and I had to fight the urge to punch him. I wonder if the number of times I’ve had to hold myself back from punching him is indicative of an anger issue. Or maybe it’s something that people commonly feel, should they be unfortunate enough to cross paths with Jonas. I wanted to scream,I didn’t dress up for you!But I bit my tongue.

“Have fun this evening,” Papi says. He claps a hand on Jonas’s shoulder. “I’m trusting you to look after Kiki.”

Oh god, kill me now. I had more faith in Papi than this clichéd show of patriarchy. “I can look after myself just fine,” I hiss through my teeth.

“Kiki,” Mami scolds, though she does so without her usual bite, probably so she doesn’t scare Jonas, “Papi is just showing that he cares about you.”

“Well, considering the number one concern that women have when they’re on a date is that their date might rape and kill them, isn’t it weird that we keep expecting our dates to ‘look after’ us?”

“Kiki!”Mami snaps.

I press my mouth into a flat line. My stomach feels tight, and it has nothing to do with the unforgiving corset that’s sewn into the dress. “Sorry,” I mumble to Jonas. “Didn’t mean to imply that you’re a rapist-slash-killer.” Just an asshole, I mentally add, though I wisely decide to keep that thought to myself.

“It’s all cool.” Jonas laughs. “It’s what I’ve always liked about your daughter, Om, Tante,” he says, addressing Papi and Mami like I’m not there. “She always speaks her mind, no matter who she might offend. I find it refreshing. I love girls who can challenge me.”

Mami and Papi beam, lapping up every piece of bullshit he’s feeding them. On the surface, it sounds good. But if one were to scrutinize his words, they’d know that Jonas is as sexist as they come. He likes “girls who challenge him,” as though my having my own opinions and not being afraid to voice them is purely for his entertainment; when he gets tired of it,he’ll expect me to stop being “sassy” or “feisty” and expect me to be pliant and agreeable.

“Well, have a wonderful time!” Mami calls out as Jonas escorts me out of the house.

He’s opted to leave the Aston at home today, going instead for a chauffeured Rolls-Royce. He makes a big show of opening the door for me, and I can hear Mami sighing happily from the front door. All her dreams are coming true; her daughter is going to a ball with a member of the highest echelon of society. I know that she’s been dreaming of this happening to me ever since Sharlot got together with George Clooney; she hasn’t stopped bitching about why Sharlot was able to do that and I wasn’t, and how if I had any wits about me, I would do as Sharlot did and bag myself a billionaire.

Whatever it is that Jonas has up his sleeve, he’s obviously very excited about it. He rubs his palms together. “You’re in for the night of your life.” His eyes shine and he fidgets in hisseat.

I somehow doubt it, I almost say, but since it’s our last day as a couple, I’ve decided not to be a raging asshole about anything. Instead, I give him my blandest smile and gaze outthe window. The charade is almost over. After tonight, I can call it quits with Jonas and come clean to Liam. My heart rate quickens as I daydream about life as not-Jonas’s-girlfriend.

Jonas chatters about various uninteresting things the whole way to school—or maybe they are interesting, just not interesting coming from him. Either way, I keep zoning out and nodding once in a while and going, “Mm-hmm,” and hedoesn’t seem to realize that he’s basically having a conversation with himself. When we arrive, I can’t help but notice that he doesn’t open the door for me; his chauffeur does. Not that I needed Jonas to open my door, but it’s just funny that he made such a big show of opening the door for me at my house, in front of my parents. He stands a few paces away,holding out his elbow, his chin proudly up. Do I really have to take hisarm?

Benign and boring, I remind myself. We’re almost at the finish line! I take a deep breath and link my hand through Jonas’s arm. I even manage to keep myself from wrinkling my nose or sneering with open revulsion, so go me!

We ascend the front steps together and make our way toward the gymnasium. As we walk down the hallway, music spills from the gym and a handful of students all dressed to the nines are scattered here and there. Jonas waves to them, and I take the chance to pull my hand away, but he catches it and pats it. He probably thinks he’s being reassuring, but to me, it only comes off as patronizing.

“Hey man! You look great!” some guy I recognize from Year Eleven Justice calls out.

“Thanks, bro!” Jonas shoots back in what he probably thinks is a really smooth way.

We come to a table set up next to the doors leading to the gymnasium and sign in. I scan the guest book quickly, trying to spot Liam’s name. I see Peishan’s name near the top of the page but no Liam. My stomach sinks ever so slightly. Even though Liam isn’t my date, I was looking forward to seeing him in a tux. And, okay, I was looking forward to having himsee me all dressed up and wearing makeup instead of the usual bare faces we have to go to school in. Interesting that he and Peishan didn’t come here together.

“Don’t forget to vote for the Spring King and Queen,” the boy manning the table says, pointing at a large box.

Jonas and I shuffle toward the box, pick up a card each, and write down our votes. Next to the word “King” I write down Liam’s name. No hesitation there, he’s the perfect Spring King. Then there’s the queen. Hmm. I should write down Peishan’s name, but gah. I squeeze the marker and then force my hand to write her name. I don’t want to be the kind of jerk who doesn’t vote for a perfectly nice person just because I’m jealous. Peishan’s name comes out as a jerky scrawl, but it’s written. I fold up the paper and drop it into the box.

“Ready?” Jonas says, smiling down at me. The kind of smile that would send most hearts racing.

I force a smile back at him. “Sure.”

And with that, we go through the double doors.

I have to pause to take in the amazingness of the place. Mingyang’s dances have always been pretty humble affairs, the decorations done by the student council and usually involving a lot of balloons. But Xingfa’s Spring Dance is in a league by itself. There is no way that students could’ve done these decorations. The walls have all been covered by soft silver-and-white curtains. The ceiling is draped with the same cloth swooping here and there, dotted with a thousand twinkling lights so it resembles a magical night sky. There are a dozen towersof beautiful flower arrangements. Lilies and roses and orchids drip from massive vases, their scent filling the room. A liveband is in full swing, the music loud enough to fill any uncomfortable silences but not so loud that one would have to shout to be heard over it. A stage has been set up at one end of the gym, the sides wreathed with flowers. There’s a large buffet on another side and sofas on the other. Clumps of students occupy most of the sofas, and still more are milling around the buffet. Nobody is on the dance floor yet.

“There they are,” Jonas says, nodding at one of the sofas.

I glance over to see Jonas’s meathead buddies. Great. I don’t even bother with a pretend smile as Jonas leads me to his group of friends. The guys are all manspreading, of course, and the girls are perched demurely on the very edge of the sofa. They all look amazing. I notice fancy, blinged-out watches that probably cost more than one year’s tuition, blinged-out handbags, and jewelry with stones so big I hope they’re fake but, knowing this crowd, I’m willing to bet money that these are all real diamonds and sapphires and pearls.

“Hey, bro!”

“Brooo!”

“Braaaah!”

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