Best. Night. Ever.

by Rachele Alpine

  Finally I get a text reply.

  Not exactly in place.

  I step away from the pepper and write back.

  What does that mean?!

  I knew I should have smuggled in what we needed.

  I’m working on it.

  Great. What good is having an accomplice if he can’t get the job done? Although it’s not like I could have held interviews for the position.

  The gym is slowly filling up, and all the padding on the walls doesn’t seem to be helping to quiet the noise in the room. Girls are chatting, boys are laughing, there are even kids being all dramatic already, and the dance has barely gotten started.

  “You sure you want to do this?” asks Uncle Garrett from behind me. I jump a little, the sound of his voice knocking me out of the careful observations in my head. I need to take in every detail for this to work.

  I nod my head wildly. “Totally sure.”

  “Okay, but you’ll be monitoring camera one, the stationary camera,” he says.

  Shoot. That means I peppered the wrong one.

  “All you have to do is make sure it stays pointed exactly where it is and that no one bumps into it,” he says. “I need you to follow instructions this time, understand?”

  Okay, I might not have the best track record when it comes to proving I’m responsible (skipping out on babysitting my cousins and constantly forgetting to give Uncle G’s messages to my dad come to mind), but I do know my way around video equipment. I hold back a sneeze from the pepper.

  “Yes, I understand,” I say. “I’ll get the job done. Don’t worry.”

  But he doesn’t look away. He eyes me and smooshes his face up like he’s reconsidering. I can’t blame him; I probably wouldn’t let me do it if I were him. I’m guessing he’s thinking about last month, when I took the girls out for dinner, which consisted of ice cream and candy. Or maybe the time I offered to help with the garden and accidentally pulled out all the flowers instead of the weeds. (To be fair, they’re superhard to tell apart sometimes.) It could also be that he still hasn’t forgotten the Jade-snagged-an-early-piece-of-Aunt-Mariana’s-birthday-cake incident.

  He loves his job, and I admit, letting me help might not be the best career move for Uncle G. Plus, he’s right; I’m actually not planning on following instructions very closely. He has every reason to worry.

  “Jade, this is a big night for these kids, so I need you to stay focused,” says Uncle Garrett.

  “Oh, I’m focused for sure,” I say. I’ll admit, the guilt is slowly creeping its way through my body, trying to get me to change my mind. And okay, yeah, I do feel bad that my uncle will be caught in the middle of all this. But I can’t back out now. I seriously can’t. When our band was cheated out of that win, there were so many tears. We even had to do that thing where you put cucumber slices on your eyes to make them less puffy.

  So I won’t let anyone distract me from my mission tonight.

  TESS { 7:33 P.M. }

  TO SAY THAT I’M ANNOYED Leif isn’t here yet is probably the understatement of the year.

  I told him to meet me in front of the gym next to the giant puffin statue at 7:20. If he thinks I’m going to wait out here by this ridiculous school mascot (since when are there puffins in Ohio, anyway?) when it’s getting colder by the minute and my arms are covered in goose bumps, he’s mistaken me for some other girl.

  I mean, you’d think he’d be excited that I asked him to the dance. He didn’t even have to do any work! He just had to get dressed and show up—on time. How hard is that?

  I slide my phone into my boot. No way am I carrying a little purse. Because where would I put that when I’m onstage with the band? And these boots have plenty of room for anything I need to carry. I smooth my shimmery purple metallic dress and wish Mom had gone for letting me put a purple streak in my not-really-blond-but-not-really-brown hair to match it. That would’ve been killer. My best friend, Carmen, put red streaks in her hair last week and it looks crazy good. When we walked by together, everyone would’ve been like, “There go those two girls from that amazing band Heart Grenade. Did you hear they’re going to be on TV?” Except Carmen’s not going to be on TV, because her parents dragged her to a stupid wedding. I can’t believe we’re finally hitting the big time and she won’t be here for it.

  Carmen’s parents are way more open-minded than my mom is (except when it involves skipping her cousin’s wedding, apparently). When I asked Mom about putting streaks in my hair, she looked horrified and was all “No, Tess! Why would you ruin your beautiful hair like that?” So I went for the next-best thing and got these purple clip-in hair extensions at the mall. Mom liked those about as much as she liked me wearing my boots to the dance—meaning, not at all. Which is why I snuck them out in a bag that I’ve ditched behind the bushes outside the science lab. I put them in my hair using a compact that I stashed in my boot.

  At least it’s just me and Mom. I can’t imagine trying to sneak past two parents with my not-exactly-traditional style. She’ll find out what I’m wearing when I’m on TV with Heart Grenade tonight . . . but there are at least three hours until she picks me up and I have to deal with that.

  My phone buzzes against my ankle as I’m rubbing my hands up and down my arms. I pull it out right as I spot that really quiet girl Ellie shivering on the sidewalk. She was here before I was, standing around like she’s waiting for someone too. I wonder who she’s going to the dance with. She’s always seemed way more into books and daydreaming than guys. Her dress looks like something the women wear in those BBC movies Mom loves to cry over. It’s different, that’s for sure, but I’m the last person to judge different.

  I check my phone. It’s Carmen.

  Sooooo bored. WHY am I here????

  I promised I’d text Carmen updates all night. So I snap a picture of myself looking really ticked off (which I am) and send it to her.

  L is late & this is how I feel abt it.

  Seriously, if he couldn’t get here by 7:20, why didn’t he just say so?

  “Heck no, we won’t go!” This girl I don’t recognize is marching down the sidewalk. She brushes past Ellie, holding a sign up above her head. Ellie sort of stumbles into the grass. If I were her, I would’ve pushed the girl right back, because really, how rude is that?

  “If you agree, walk with me!” the girl shouts. I can’t even read what’s on her sign, and I’m kind of tempted to go over and ask her what she’s protesting. I mean, if she’s protesting the economy or whatever it is people protest about, there are probably way better places to do that than outside Lynnfield Middle. But I have bigger problems right now.

  Like, where is my date?

  Seven thirty-five. Whatever. He can meet me inside. I’m not standing out here and freezing any longer.

  As I slide through the doors, I think—for just one second—about asking Ellie if she’s coming in too. But she always has this terrified look on her face, like she wants to run away from me. So I don’t ask.

  In the lobby, music streams from the open gym doors and kids are walking around all dressed up. It’s weird to see people you go to school with wearing clothes way nicer than they normally do. Like, Ryan wouldn’t be caught dead wearing that polo shirt–and-khakis getup to school. Ryan’s eyes get big when he spots me, as if he’s somehow surprised to see me here. I tilt my head, but he shuffles off through the lobby. Weird.

  I head to the gym and bump past two boys who are taking up way too much space in the doorway.

  “Hey!” one of them shouts when his drink sloshes over the edge of his cup.

  I fix them with a glare. “Relocate.” Then I smile. “Please. People need to get through here.”

  They slide off, muttering stuff I’m sure isn’t very nice. But I don’t really care. What I do care about tonight: 1) finding Leif, and 2) making sure my band doesn’t implode onstage—and on TV!—without Carmen.

  I move inside and spy Genevieve hovering near Sydney and a couple of other girls. Genevieve is
supernew to the band and she’s filling in for Carmen tonight. Carmen told me she thinks Genevieve is angling for her spot as lead singer, but I don’t believe that for a second. Genevieve seems way too nice for devious plans, and I know that Carmen’s just bummed that she can’t be here tonight.

  Genevieve looks a little freaked out as I approach her. I’ve barely had time to talk to her since she joined. I bet she’s nervous about tonight. Her friends are laughing like crazy, but she’s kind of quiet.

  “Hey! You ready for the show?” I ask her.

  She looks down and stubs the floor with the toe of one lime green Chuck. They’re really cute. “Nice shoes,” I add.

  “They’re too much, aren’t they?” she asks.

  “What? No. Of course not.”

  “Okay.” She scans the crowd like she’s looking for someone.

  “Have you seen Leif?” I ask as I tap out a rhythm against my thighs with both hands. It’s a habit I’ve had since I was a kid.

  “Leif?” Genevieve asks. She’s looking everywhere but right at me.

  “Yessss . . . you know, blond hair, plays basketball, parents own the bank?”

  I really don’t care how much money Leif’s family has or how good at basketball he is. I pegged him as the perfect guy to hang out at the dance with because he’s smart. He was the only one who actually gave me any competition during the History Warriors competition last fall, and he was the only other kid from our school who got invited to the Greater Ohio Youth Leadership Conference. Not to mention that we check out the same books from the school library. So when he told me that my drum solo in Heart Grenade’s “Hear Us Roar” was the best part of the song, and then gave me his yogurt in the cafeteria a few weeks ago when I forgot my lunch and had to make do with the freebie crackers and soy nut butter from the cafeteria, I decided he was the one I needed to ask. Not to mention that, well, he’s cute. Like, really cute.

  “Have you seen him?” I ask Genevieve again.

  She shrugs. I’m going to take that as a no.

  “Hey,” she says. “I’ve been thinking about tonight. . . .”

  “Yeah?” I’m listening while I scan the gym for Leif’s white-blond hair, in case his brain backfired and he thought I said to meet him inside instead of outside. How anyone can actually have hair naturally that color is beyond me. He basically looks like he walked out of a Viking village and is going to pillage the art room or something (in a very cute way, of course).

  “And I’m feeling—”

  “There he is. Really. Do you think I could’ve been more clear that outside is outside, not in the gym? Sorry, but I need to catch up with him. I’ll see you later.” I stride into the mass of kids, eyes locked on Leif’s shock of hair behind a big group of girls who are (for whatever reason) doing some kind of cha-cha line. I go right through them, and the two girls I push past jump away so fast you’d think I was a teacher coming to give them detention.

  “Leif!” I shout over the music. At least fifteen people turn and stare at me. Hmm. Maybe I should dial it down a notch.

  Except he didn’t even hear me. And when I take a few more steps, I can see why. He’s talking to the one person I’d be happy to never see again.

  Mariah.

  And she’s wearing . . . I blink really hard, like that’ll make everything change. It doesn’t. When I open my eyes, she’s still wearing a shimmery purple dress.

  The exact same dress I have on.

  My face goes hot, and my fingers are all twitchy when I yank my phone from my boot to text Carmen.

  Mariah has my dress!!!!!!

  Are you serious??? Wish I were there.

  I wish she were too. I could use my best friend at my side right now. And I haven’t seen Faith or Claudia, my other bandmates, here yet. Looks like I’m on my own.

  I drop the phone into my boot, stretch out my fingers and curl them in, throw my shoulders back, and march right up to Mariah and Leif. “Mariah,” I say in the iciest voice possible.

  She tilts her head, and her eyes widen just a little when she sees my dress. “Tess,” she says in an equally icy voice.

  At that exact second, some kid flies up and blinds us with a camera flash. “Yearbook!” he shouts as he runs off. Good thing he’s fast, because if he’d given me another second, his camera would be on the floor, in pieces.

  “I didn’t know you were coming. I thought you would’ve been home studying after that algebra test.” I give her a smile. The whole school knows how annoyed Mariah was at the B she got on that test. She even spent ten minutes arguing with Ms. Huff about it after class. I got an A+, which she knows because Ms. Huff is one of those teachers who holds up the test with the highest grade and brags about the student who got it. It was the first time Mariah’s test wasn’t the one being shown off at the front of the room. My getting the top score was almost like payback for when she beat me for the Quiz Bowl captain’s seat. Which was payback for my landing the gig as Heart Grenade’s drummer last fall. Which was payback for her winning the school talent show in fifth grade. Which was payback for . . . yeah.

  Mariah and I have a little history.

  She tosses her shiny, shoulder-length dark hair like that B was nothing. But I know better.

  “Nice dress,” she says.

  I make a noise that’s not really a word. I’d never admit it, but a part of me wonders if she’s wearing the dress better than me, with her simple heels and one-color hair.

  I decide to ignore her. I found Leif, and that’s who I was looking for anyway.

  I angle myself so that Mariah’s behind my back. “Hey, L, want to go grab something to drink?” I think he likes it when I call him L. At least, he hasn’t said that he doesn’t.

  He shoves his hands into his pockets. His eyes dart between me and Mariah.

  “Come on.” I go to pull him away, but Mariah speaks up.

  “Excuse me, Tess, but Leif and I were about to dance. Isn’t that right, Leif?”

  I drop my arm and spin around. “Okay, little problem with that. Because he’s here with me.”

  Mariah blinks at me. “Um, no. He’s here with me.”

  I laugh. She’s probably mad that I asked him before she could. She doesn’t even like him. She only wants to dance with him because she knows I asked him and she has this need to one-up me in everything.

  “Right. Come on, L.” I take a step away, but he doesn’t follow.

  Mariah’s staring at him now. “Leif?”

  Leif shrugs and looks off toward a group of his friends, who are bumping into one another and laughing.

  Wait. What’s going on here?

  “Are you being serious?” I ask Mariah.

  “Are you?” She’s got her hands on her hips and looks madder than she was when I snagged the blue ribbon at the sixth-grade science fair over her second-place nutritional analysis project. I’d told her my homemade battery was going to take the whole thing, and I was right.

  We both stare at Leif now.

  He’s looking everywhere but at us.

  “Okay . . .” I turn my glare to Mariah. “I thought you’d be here with Ryan.” They’ve been inseparable since third grade. And he’s always gazing at her like she’s the most important person in the world. In fact, I can see him watching us now from the doorway.

  “Oh my God, no!” She actually flushes red. “He’s my best friend. That would be so weird. I’m here with Leif. And besides, aren’t you too busy with Heart Attack or whatever that band is to actually dance tonight?”

  Puh-lease. She knows exactly what the band is called. She pretends to hate the music because she’s jealous that I made it in and she didn’t. It’s probably eating her up that we won the contest and are going to be on TV.

  “We don’t go on till later. So no, I’m not too busy to dance. With Leif. Who is here with me, not you.”

  “With me, you mean,” she says.

  “I asked him on Monday.” I raise my eyebrows. She’s not going to win this.

&nb
sp; “So did I.”

  “I asked him right after second period.”

  “I asked him at lunch.”

  “So technically, I asked first.” I cross my arms and wait for her to admit defeat.

  “Who cares? Obviously he changed his mind, because he told me yes!”

  “Then why don’t we let him decide?” I swing around to hear him say that yes, of course he’s here with me.

  Except . . . he’s gone.

  I level a glare at Mariah. She pinches her lips together.

  It is so on.

  ELLIE { 7:38 P.M. }

  I GOT HERE EXTRA EARLY so I could have some time to calm my nerves before Kevin arrived, and now it’s getting chilly. I wrap my arms around my waist to keep warm. A stream of cars pulls up to the front entrance, and kids make their way inside, laughing loudly and talking over one another.

  I focus on each car door as it opens, waiting for Kevin to appear. I don’t even know what his parents drive, but every time a car arrives, my stomach swirls and my heart speeds up.

  A couple of girls from my Advanced Algebra class get out of a minivan. They see me and wave.

  “Hi, Ellie.” Amanda beams. “Your dress is so beautiful.”

  “Oh, thanks so much.” I smile. “So is yours.”

  Amanda looks down and rolls her eyes. “It was my sister’s from, like, ten years ago.”

  “Well, it looks really nice on you,” I say. And I mean it. Amanda usually wears cardigans. Tonight, her sparkly emerald dress makes her whole face shine.

  “You look great too, Lila.” I touch her wrist. “I love how your bracelet matches your necklace.”

  “Thanks.” Lila is so quiet I have to step closer to hear her. “I got the set for my birthday. Sapphire is my birthstone.”

  “Well, it suits you.”

  “Want to come inside with us?” Amanda shivers a little and wraps her shawl around her shoulders.

  “Oh, I would.” My face heats up. “But I’m waiting for someone.”

  I didn’t tell anyone about Kevin, unless you count my journal, of course. I mean, sure, my family knew, but I didn’t want to share it with anyone at school. Partly, I didn’t want to sound like I was bragging. But mostly, I wanted to save it just for me, to keep it close, like a well-worn diary.