There was a soft rap on the window behind her. Hendricks jerked around, her nerves on edge.
A second later, she heard Portia’s voice. “Open up, girl, it’s me.”
Groaning, Hendricks crossed her room and unlatched the window. “You can use the front door like a normal person, you know.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Portia held out her freshly manicured hand, her long pink nails like talons. “Help a girl out.”
Hendricks grabbed Portia’s hand and helped her crawl through the window. Portia was dressed more casually than Hendricks had ever seen her, in plain black leggings and a button-up shirt, but her makeup was flawless, and her curls had been piled on top of her head in an elaborate updo.
Hendricks saw a flash of Samantha Davidson, her hair done up in a similar style, but quickly pushed the thought away.
“You look amazing,” she said, meaning it.
Portia beamed. Then, blushing she added, “Tell the truth, do you really think Vi will like it?”
“She’s going to love it, you know that,” Hendricks said.
“Good, I want everything to be perfect for tonight.” Portia beamed. “Just wait till you see my dress. It’s this unbelievable vintage gown. You’re going to die.”
Hendricks squeezed Portia’s hand, grinning back at her. Prom was in just a few hours. She felt wistful, and a little nostalgic for this night, even though it hadn’t happened yet.
Portia and Vi were going to have this perfect, romantic evening, and Hendricks couldn’t help being a little jealous of that. But she was excited to go to the prom with Connor. It was going to be fun, at least, and fun was definitely something she could use a little more of in her life.
Portia’s eyes flicked from Hendricks’s damp hair to her sweatpants and old Walter School T-shirt. “So you haven’t even started getting ready.”
“That’s not true!” Hendricks said. “I took a shower.”
Portia frowned. “For some reason that just makes me sadder.”
Hendricks flushed. “Yeah, well not everyone needs three hours to get ready for a dance. I’m waiting to put my dress on until right before I leave so I don’t stain it or anything.” She nodded at the dress hanging off the back of her closet.
It wasn’t quite right for prom. Hendricks had bought it for her friend Andie Rosenberg’s bat mitzvah back in Philadelphia. It was short and black, with little glitter swirls all over it. She hadn’t worn it since she was thirteen, but she’d tried it on this afternoon and it still fit. Sort of. The fabric was stretchy.
Hendricks had been perfectly fine with her dress until she saw how Portia was looking at it, her lip curled a little, like it smelled. Now she felt embarrassed. She pulled the dress off the back of her closet door and held it up to herself, trying to look more excited than she felt. “What do you think?”
Portia tilted her head to the side, her nose wrinkling. “It’s . . . sad.”
“Come on, no it’s not.”
Portia plucked at the hem. “Yes, it is, Hendricks. It wants to know why you hate yourself. And . . . isn’t it a bit small? And . . . black?” Portia glanced back at Hendricks, one eyebrow arching. “This is prom. I wore something more cheerful to my aunt’s funeral.”
“Stop, it’s the only dress I have,” Hendricks said, irritated.
Portia chewed her lip. “Right. It’s the only dress you have. Got it.”
Something about her expression made Hendricks suspicious. “What did you do?” she asked.
“I didn’t do anything, it’s just . . .” Portia leaned out the window, and, with a grunt, pulled a black garment bag in from outside. “I had a feeling that you wouldn’t be remotely prepared for the biggest social event of the year, so I brought my . . . backup dress.”
Hendricks stared at the black bag. “Backup dress?”
“Yeah, I got two just in case my tailor didn’t finish mine in time.” Portia wouldn’t meet Hendricks’s eyes as she said this. “I was being pragmatic.”
Hendricks let out a short laugh. She had no doubt that whatever vintage masterpiece Portia was wearing tonight had been finished for weeks. There was no way she would ever need a backup dress. Which meant . . .
“You bought me a dress,” Hendricks said, dumbfounded.
Portia rolled her eyes. “Calm down. It’s Rent the Runway. You can rent dresses for like forty bucks. I only rented this one in case my real dress looked completely ridiculous on me, which hey, it doesn’t, so you can try this one. I think it’s your size.”
Hendricks eyed her friend skeptically. She and Portia were completely different sizes. Hendricks was tall and narrow, while Portia a good six inches shorter and curvy. There was no way she was fitting into one of Portia’s dresses.
“You bought me a dress,” she said again.
Portia thrust the garment back at her. “Ugh, will you just open it?”
Still frowning, Hendricks unzipped the garment bag, revealing silvery-blue fabric. Her breath caught in her throat as she pulled the dress out and held it up to examine it.
It was . . . breathtaking. Designed to skim close to the body, with a plunging V-neck line and a slit that would show her legs.
Hendricks gave Portia a look. The dress wasn’t remotely Portia’s size or style.
Portia groaned. “Fine, I bought you a dress. Or I rented it. Whatever. Want to try it on?”
Hendricks stepped out of her sweats and tossed off her T-shirt, pulling the slinky silvery dress over her hips. Somehow the fabric hugged her curves, making her seem like way less of a bean pole than she did normally. It fit perfectly, like it was made for her. She pulled her hair up off her neck as Portia zipped the back up.
“Would it be okay if I messed with your hair a little?” Portia asked slyly.
Hendricks chewed on her lower lip, eyeing Portia’s elaborate curls. “I’m not sure . . .”
Portia pushed Hendricks into her desk chair. “Calm yourself. I just want to work with your natural messy-waves thing, okay?”
Deftly, she twisted Hendricks’s loose waves into a low bun by her left ear, leaving soft tendrils around her forehead and ears. She pulled a small makeup bag from the garment bag that’d held Hendricks’s gown and produced a handful of bobby pins, which she quickly stuck into Hendricks’s hair, pinning the look in place. The result was a casually cool bun that left Hendricks’s right ear and neck exposed.
“Voilà,” she said, taking a step back. “What do you think?”
“Whoa,” Hendricks said, impressed. “That looks great. Thank you.”
“Just one more thing . . .” Portia pulled a single, diamond-studded cuff out of her makeup bag and clipped it onto Hendricks right ear. “There. Now you look like a rock star who pulled herself together for the Grammys.”
Hendricks didn’t know what to say. The look Portia had created for her was so completely different from Portia’s own look, so entirely Hendricks.
She touched her diamond earing, her messy chic hair. “Thank you,” she said.
Portia rolled her eyes. “Jesus, calm down. It’s a dress and an earring, and I only brought them so that you didn’t show up in that . . . well, whatever that thing is.” She glanced at the dress still hanging from the back of Hendricks’s closet, sniffing.
“Anyway, my mom wants pics of me and Vi before we head out, so I should probably go get dressed.” She headed for the window again, but Hendricks caught her by the arm.
“No, no window,” she said, steering her toward her bedroom door. “You’ll use the front door like a normal person, okay?”
“I suppose that makes sense,” Portia said. She stopped at Hendricks’s door, suddenly serious. “We’re all getting to the school around eight.”
“Got it,” Hendricks said, nodding. “I’ll be there.”
“You better be,” Portia said. Then, with one last glance at Hendricks�
�s gown, she said, “I seriously can’t wait to see Connor go nonverbal over you. Tonight is going to be amazing!”
CHAPTER
24
Hendricks’s dad dropped her off in front of the high school, his voice a little choked as he told her to have fun.
Hendricks waved goodbye and hurried to join the group of teenagers dressed in all colors of the rainbow, looking like confetti as they milled around the school’s main entrance.
She paused, just for a moment, to take in the spectacle. She had to admit, she and the rest of the prom committee had done an amazing job. The school hardly looked like a school anymore. There was a red carpet draped over the front steps, and a giant red-and-white-striped life raft made out of balloons floated around the front doors. SS DREARFORD, a sign read. Couples were stopping beneath the balloons, grinning and snapping photographs with their phones. Portia had been right, they seemed way happier taking selfies than they would’ve been with a professional photographer.
Hendricks straightened and started moving through the crowd. She could already hear the music from the gym. The heavy bass vibrated through the floor, making her high heels tremble. She actually felt a jitter of anticipation as she hurried inside. This was the most normal she’d felt in a long time.
Tonight was going to be fun. She’d make sure of it.
The gym was packed. There was a DJ booth in one corner, a giant, light-up anchor draped with fish netting set up in front of it. Strings of lights dripped from the ceiling, and a cardboard cruise ship took up one entire wall. The light was all blue-tinted, making everything seem like it was underwater. All the shadows in the room were darker and strangely fluid.
Hendricks rose to her toes, peering over the heads of her classmates. The music changed, a new song started blaring through the speakers. All around Hendricks, people burst into cheers. They started jumping, pumping their fists into the air, and singing along. The blue lights flashed on and off, on and off.
There was Blake, dancing with some girl she didn’t recognize, and farther away, Finn was staring down at his phone, his now-familiar twisted smile illuminated in the glow. Hendricks tried to wave at him, but he didn’t look up. She dropped down from her toes.
She scanned the room and finally found Connor, sitting on the bleachers in the corner of the gym in a tux and bowtie. Hendricks broke into a smile. Taking a deep breath, she made her way through the crowd.
He looked up as she approached and grinned. “Hey, you,” he said, and stood up, like this was one of those old movies where it was considered rude to sit when a lady was standing. Heat rose in Hendricks’s cheeks as Connor eyes moved over her dress. He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up. “Wow. You look . . . I mean . . . that dress is great.”
Hendricks swallowed. “Thanks. You look good, too.”
Connor laughed. “So,” he said, a little awkwardly. “What do you want to do? Dance? Grab some punch?”
Hendricks let her eyes close for a fraction of a second. She thought this part might feel weird, but it didn’t. She wanted to dance with him. They were friends, after all, and they were here together. Prom was all about dancing. A slow song came on.
“Let’s dance,” she said, and took Connor’s hand.
Connor’s expression changed immediately. His cheeks reddened, and his lips twitched. He reached for her, but instead of taking her hand, his hands slid around her waist.
“Is this okay?”
“Oh . . . uh, yeah.” Hendricks swallowed her nerves, as he pulled her in a little closer.
“I’m really glad you’re here,” Connor said.
“Why’s that?”
Connor blew air out through his teeth, his eyes going wide. “Where do I even start? Portia and Vi are already all over each other, no surprise there. And Blake . . . well, he’s here with Brandi Nelson? And I guess he never really talked to Brandi before, he only asked her out because he thought she was really cute. Turns out, she’s this born-again chick, and she spent the whole walk over here talking to him about Jesus, while Vi and Portia tried to grill her about the church’s stance on the LBGTQA-plus community.”
“Oh my God.” Hendricks choked out. “That sounds intense.”
“That’s not even the worst part.” Connor leaned in a little closer. “You’ll never guess who Finn’s into.”
Hendricks had no idea. “Who?”
“Ileana.”
“What?” Hendricks’s stomach flipped. “My Ileana?”
“Oh yeah. He’s practically ready to propose. I think maybe it was her badass car? Anyway, he spent all night asking me if I thought he was her type and if she ever went for younger dudes.” Connor shook his head. “It’s been, like, intense. I’m just glad you’re here now to save me from all that.”
The music changed, switching from a slow dance number to a song with a heavy bass. They wouldn’t be able to hear each other unless they shouted over it.
Hendricks moved away from Connor, releasing a laugh that sounded a touch brittle to her own ears. Connor didn’t seem to notice. He was still smiling his megawatt smile. It made Hendricks ache. She really loved that smile. And she loved this, when things were easy between them, just chill and friendly, the two of them gossiping about everyone else, making each other laugh.
“Come on,” Connor said, smile growing wider still. He nudged her shoulder with his fist. “You’re glad you came, too, right? This is fun.”
Hendricks swallowed. Nodded. Connor was staring at her lips now, and she cringed, realizing she knew what he was thinking.
He wanted to kiss her.
She should’ve known that it would be impossible for Connor to see her simply as a friend. It wasn’t even that the idea of kissing Connor was so terrible. It’s just that she couldn’t think about kissing him without remembering . . .
She was a monster.
She could feel Connor watching her, trying to gauge her reaction, and so she forced her lips into a wobbly smile. Suddenly, her face felt hot. The space around her was too stuffy, the people too close.
“I’m gonna find the bathroom!” she shouted, so loudly that a few people around them turned and snickered. Hendricks slipped through the crowd and headed for the hall before she could do something else humiliating.
By the time Hendricks reached the bathroom, she was breathing easy again. Other than the almost kiss, things were going well so far. They were dancing and talking and, for the most part, things were good. And after her reaction, she doubted Connor would attempt another almost kiss for the rest of the night. So that was a relief.
She leaned over the bathroom sink, peering into her mirror to double-check that her hair was still in place. Somehow it looked even better than when Portia first put it up. The bun was kind of messy, and the curls were all loose and rocker chic. She felt a pang, thinking of how much she wished Eddie could see her like this, all glammed up—
She gave her head a hard shake. No. No more Eddie.
Eddie was gone.
Sucking in a deep breath, she pulled out her purse and started rooting around inside for the lipstick she’d brought. Reapplying lipstick was the sort of thing that nice, normal girls who weren’t hung up on their dead ex-boyfriends did at prom.
She uncapped it and leaned over the sink, puckering up.
The lipstick slipped from her grasp and clattered into the sink.
Hendricks hesitated, frowning slightly.
She reached for it—
The lipstick skated out from under her fingers. Then, it lifted very gently into the air and flew past Hendricks’s face before coming to rest on top of her purse.
Hendricks stood very still. She wasn’t alone. Her fear response was instant. Every hair on her body stood straight up. Her heart started to race. She glanced at the bathroom door.
Could she get there before he got to her?
Sh
e had to try.
She inched to the side, scanning the shadows of the bathroom for movement. There was nothing. Hendricks held her breath, her knees shaking. Her gown pooled around her feet, making it hard to move easily.
She couldn’t figure out why Justin was invisible this time. She could always see him before. She was nearly to the door. She reached out and grabbed it.
The lights flickered. On. Off. On.
And then the air around her seemed to shift. It grew cool, and then a familiar scent washed over her.
Cigarette smoke and baby shampoo.
Hendricks breathed it in, feeling her eyes well up.
Eddie.
Something brushed against her face. It was the soft press of fingertips against skin. Hendricks’s breath hitched. She moved her hand through the air for the fingers that had just touched her.
“Eddie,” she breathed. “Eddie, what—”
Lips pressed against hers. It was a strange sensation, at once real, physical, but faint and freezing cold. Cold shivered through her, but she didn’t move. She’d been dreaming about this moment for so long. Her eyes closed.
Arms encircled her waist. She lifted her hands and felt the soft, worn fabric of Eddie’s T-shirt and, beneath, the shape of his body. He was cold, so cold. Keeping her eyes tightly closed, she lowered her head to his chest and snaked her arms up around his neck. Her eyes were sticky with tears, but they were good tears, happy tears. Eddie was here.
Distantly, Hendricks realized that she could still hear the music from the gym. She’d been so focused on Eddie, that she’d barely even noticed the music filling the room. Now, a slow song came on. It was “The Way You Look Tonight,” which was totally cheesy and retro, but Hendricks loved it anyway because her parents had played it for their first dance when they got married.
Hendricks felt pressure on the small of her back, like Eddie’s hand was pressed there. They swayed in time with the music, her feet drifting across the floor, her heart soaring. This, this was all she’d wanted tonight. Just the chance to dance with Eddie again. It seemed impossible that it was actually happening.
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