Exposure

by Askew, Kim

  “It’s not an option,” agreed Cat. “You’re hanging with us.”

  “We hereby decree.” Kaya said.

  “Okay,” I said, taking a bite of my apple. “Since I don’t have a choice. But I’m going under duress.” I still felt a little awkward about the whole thing, but I realized not going meant Mom would have needlessly spent money on the dress. And besides, I think my mom was even more excited about the whole thing than I was.

  “Now that that’s settled, let’s get back to where we left off yesterday,” Kaya said, leaning in closer and lowering her voice to a loud whisper.

  “Where were you yesterday?” I said.

  “Oh, don’t worry, Skye … we’ll get to you soon enough.” Kaya looked at me and giggled. “Cat, I believe it was your turn….”

  “Yes, what will it be, Cat?” said Tess, her eyes glinting mischievously. “Truth or dare?”

  “As if I would actually submit myself to another one of your wicked dares,” said Cat. “I still haven’t emotionally recovered from the last mortification.”

  “Oh puh-leaze … an ‘I Heart Fabio’ poster taped on your locker — for one measly day — isn’t even remotely the worst we could do.”

  “In that case, I’d much rather reveal a deep, dark secret this time around.”

  “Excellent,” Kaya said.

  “Okay, so you know Nick?” Cat said.

  “Nick Horne?” I said, “Sure, he’s on the hockey team.”

  “Yep,” she said, pausing to make sure we were all attentive. “Well, I ran into him over the weekend at the video store.”

  “And?” Tess waved her hand in a get-to-the-point fashion.

  “Well, turns out we were both looking for the same movie. You wouldn’t know it, but Nick is quite the cinefile.”

  “That’s your secret?” Kaya scoffed. “That doesn’t count. If that’s your secret, it’s entirely unacceptable. You’re going to have to do a dare instead.”

  “Wait,” said Cat. “That’s not it. My secret is that I kind of like him.”

  “Nick?” Kaya said, stunned, “Wait, what? A jock?”

  “So what? He’s more than a jock.”

  “Okay, tell us everything,” Tess said. “When did you start liking him?”

  As the girls whispered excitedly to one another, I grew lost in thought. It was my turn next. Would I choose a truth or a dare? Dares were out of the question. I couldn’t stand to make myself vulnerable, possibly opening myself up to ridicule. But ‘truth’ was just as dicey. Although … maybe this was my last chance to finally let someone in on my truly deep, dark secret. If I told the girls what I’d overheard the night of Duncan’s death, maybe they might have some good advice. At the very least I could get it off my chest, which would be a colossal relief. But what would they think of me for remaining quiet this whole time? Was it fair to burden them with what I knew?

  “Skye,” Kaya said, interrupting my train of thought. “We still have five minutes left before fifth period. Your turn.” The girls looked at me expectantly.

  “Actually, there is something I’ve been keeping from you,” I said and inhaled deeply. “But this isn’t a game, and it really — ” Before I could finish the sentence, Kristy bounded up to our table and grabbed a chair next to Cat. I realized I was shaking slightly. I’d gotten so used to holding onto this secret that the thought of actually telling it was terrifying.

  “Girls,” Kristy said, “I just wanted to remind you that Duff and I are running for Prom King and Queen, and we’d really appreciate your vote.” As if we could forget, I thought to myself. For weeks the halls and communal spaces had been plastered with candidate posters, and Kristy’s were a blindingly hot pink.

  “Actually I was planning to write in ‘Marge and Homer Simpson,’” joked Cat, brandishing her soup spoon decisively in the air.

  “Cute,” Kristy said, not letting it sway her. Truth be told, I was almost beginning to like Kristy, when before I’d often wondered what a nice guy like Duff saw in her. She could take a joke at her own expense, and — in spite of her obsession with the trappings of popularity — she was clearly smarter than she let on. Ever since our chat the night of the party, she’d actually acknowledged me around school, which is more than I could say for most of the people in her social stratosphere. “Well, I’m just saying keep us in mind.” She stood up to leave, but added, “Skye, the lip gloss looks great.”

  “Thanks,” I said, still inwardly freaking about what I’d almost revealed to the girls. The clatter of a lunch tray crashing to the ground made us all start and crane our necks to the front of the cafeteria. An irate Beth stood screaming at Craig as they stood in the cafeteria line.

  “Goddammit, Craig. Will you wake the hell up? This sweater is cashmere! You think ketchup just washes out, no problem? It’s ruined!” Craig looked annoyed as he handed money to the cashier. “Get some napkins,” Beth said.

  “I’m not your freakin’ personal assistant. Get them yourself!” Craig grabbed his tray from the counter, headed over to a table, and sat down with his back to Beth.

  “I’ve never seen two people more destined to be King and Queen,” Kaya said.

  “They are seriously royal pains in the ass, and utterly perfect for each other,” Tess said. Then, after getting a raised eyebrow from Cat, she added apologetically, “Sorry, Skye.”

  “That’s okay,” I said, hoping I sounded appropriately nonchalant “I couldn’t care less. And you’re right. They’re totally a match made in hell.” Just then the fifth bell rang out, and my friends started stacking their lunch trays and gathering up their belongings.

  “Looks like you’re saved by the bell, Skye,” Cat said. “But don’t think you’re off the hook.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Be Bright and Jovial Among Your Guests Tonight

  “SKYE, JUST RELAX,” Margot said as she aimed a mascara wand toward my left eye. “Look over my right shoulder and try not to blink.” Blink? The left side of my face was spazzing out of control and I had to fight the urge to run screaming from the room like the totally mental wife in Jane Eyre.

  The way my mom and Margot were acting, you’d think they’d been living for this moment their entire lives. All of their combined beauty products were arrayed on the bathroom counter, and Mom was waving a hot curling iron in the air as she danced around singing — no, make that shouting — along to Aretha Franklin’s “Respect.” Margot wiggled her butt to the chorus and I was terrified she’d poke my eye out.

  When Mom had called to suggest that I get ready for prom with the two of them, I’d protested. I normally spent all of two minutes in front of the mirror, and that was when I remembered to brush my hair. But Mom was as persistent as the girls had been in convincing me to go in the first place, and Dad said he had to agree with her. Prom was making fools out of us all, I thought, giggling.

  “So, honey,” Mom said, putting the curling iron down and rifling through a selection of eye shadows. “What’s the deal with this Craig guy? Has he wised up yet?”

  “It’s so over, Mom….” I said with a sigh. “It’s so over, it never even started.” For once, I decided to stop pretending that I didn’t care. It was exhausting keeping up a show of indifference and, with Mom at least, it wasn’t working anyway.

  “Well, you never know,” Margot said. “Strange things can happen on prom night.”

  Mom nodded her head in agreement.

  “I doubt it,” I said. “His girlfriend wouldn’t let him out of her sight. She’s hellbent on their getting crowned Prom King and Queen, and I’m sure she’ll be dragging him on the campaign trail up until the very last second.”

  “Who needs him, then?” Margot said. “I think it’s great that you’re going to the prom on your own. I guarantee you’ll have more fun that way.”

  “Hear, hear,” Mom said. “I am so proud of you! I only wish I’d been confident enough to do the same thing. Before I started dating your dad in high school, I ended up taking this guy nam
ed Marcus Finkey to the Christmas formal my sophomore year.”

  “Really?”

  “He was my friend’s younger cousin, and he had breath that could wilt flowers. He wore a purple tux, and he kept wanting to slow dance. I spent half the night in the bathroom trying to avoid him!”

  “Oh god, that sounds like a nightmare,” I said with laugh. “But hey, it’s not like I’m the Joan of Arc of high school formals fending off paramours with a shield and sword. My options were limited.”

  “Some girls would spend the night moping in their room,” said Mom, “But not my Skye-bear.”

  “What do you think,” Margot said, turning to my mom. “Cream blush or powder?”

  An hour later, I shimmied gingerly into the sapphire, almost-new gown that the manager of Savvy Seconds had brought from the back room for us the weekend earlier. Looking into the full-length mirror hanging on mom’s bedroom door, I seriously felt like I was having an out-of-body experience. The dress hugged my frame in all the right places, almost as if it had been made for me. I turned and peered over my shoulder to check out the plunging back. Mom had pinned a white orchid to the side of my head, and my hair cascaded down in smooth waves. I could’ve sworn I’d been magically transformed into some sort of Pre-Raphaelite princess. It’s amazing what a little makeup, a curling iron, and one hell of a dress could do, I decided.

  I practically floated back to the bathroom where my fairy godmothers were waiting and had Margot zip me up. They fawned over how much bluer the dress made my eyes look, and we made goofy model poses as Mom snapped some candid shots with her phone. If prom itself was even half this fun, it was going to be an incredible night, date or no date.

  We were interrupted by the doorbell.

  “Aha, our special guests have arrived,” my mom said as we traipsed back down the hallway to the living room — me wobbling in a new pair of three-inch heels. Mom opened the door to the apartment and revealed Dad and Ollie.

  “Surprise,” Mom said in a singsong voice. “I thought you wouldn’t mind having your boys along for dinner.”

  Dad was dressed handsomely in the Charlie Chaplin suit I’d borrowed at Halloween, while Ollie had on his green footie pajamas and a black clip-on bowtie.

  “Who’s the celebrity bombshell?” Dad said, eyeing my glamorous getup. “We’d better get some family photos, ASAP, before the little guy figures out how to get that tie off.” Mom extended her arms to relieve him of my baby brother, who gurgled happily as she kissed him on the top of his blond head. The four of us posed while Margot snapped our picture. It occurred to me that there might not be anything very typical about our little brood, but the fact that we could all still get together as a family had to mean something, didn’t it?

  As much as I enjoyed our family dinner at the elegant, if past-its-prime French restaurant known for its crack-like chocolate mousse, I could barely eat a thing for fear of ruining my makeup. While Dad paid the check I began to get butterflies in my stomach in anticipation of the rest of the night. The only thing that would trump the humiliation factor of showing up without a date was being seen getting dropped off by my parents’ station wagon in front of the Royal Plaza Hotel. I tactfully told Dad and Mom as much as we drove to the hotel, and instructed them on executing a stealth military-style drive-by at the corner. Ollie was already fast asleep in his car seat when I slammed the car door and made a break for the hotel entrance.

  In the lobby, a blushing bellhop fell all over himself to give me directions to “Ballroom C,” and although I still felt like a giraffe on roller skates in my high heels, I couldn’t help but bask in my newfound revelation: I looked hot.

  “Miss Kingston! Quite a change!” said Principal Schaeffer, who was positioned outside the ballroom along with some other faculty members, checking students in. “What, no camera around your neck tonight?” He shoved a ballpoint pen in my face and pointed out where I should John Hancock the “I won’t drink” contract all attendees were forced to sign upon entry. He was either unaware or had turned a blind eye to the fact that most seniors were skilled in the art of smuggling booze. Even I knew sneaking the hard stuff into prom was as simple as washing out travel-sized plastic bottles of hand lotion or hair spray, then refilling them with vodka. Voila — instant shots to be downed in the bathroom. Adult chaperones inspecting purses were none the wiser. Didn’t it strike them as odd that so many girls carried fifteen-pound tote bags with a week’s worth of toiletry items instead of smaller clutches? Duh. I had no intention of getting trashed tonight, but I imagined dozens of my classmates had already hit the sauce.

  Upon closer inspection of the grand ballroom, my first impression of the Prom Decorating Committee’s handiwork was “amateur.” There was a crudely adorned stage and a glittering disco-ball-topped dance floor, but the only other thing that disguised the room from being the site of tedious business conferences by day were reams upon reams of crepe paper and a large white banner that read, “Party Like It’s 1399!!” in a medieval Gothic typeface. That, and the photography area: an archway of silver and white balloons, under which couples posed for cheezed-out portraits in front of a cardboard “stone” wall dotted with paint by numbers coats-of-arms. A silver monstrosity of a castle with bubble-gum pink turrets was shoved in the corner as if an afterthought. Gross. One more reason to be grateful I didn’t have a date. Nevertheless, I was starting to feel just a tad conspicuous standing by myself in the middle of this cavernous room. I did a quick scan for Cat and company, but didn’t see them anywhere.

  “Skye Kingston?” I glanced over and saw Duff Wallace hanging his tux jacket on the back of a chair at an empty table. I smiled and gave a quick wave, not expecting that he’d actually motion for me to come over. I was half-surprised he even remembered me. “I barely recognized you!” he said, as I greeted him with a tentative hug. “You look amazing!!”

  “Welcome home! How was Scotland?”

  “If I never hear another set of bagpipes again in my life it’ll be too soon.”

  “I can see where that might start to get a little grating over time.”

  “Like a duck being tortured. And did you know hamburgers over there are literally made out of ham?”

  “Eww, gross! You’re making that up.”

  “Okay, maybe,” he said. “But whatever’s in them, they are full-on nasty. And that’s only for starters. They eat lamb guts and something called blood sausage over there. Can you tell I’ve lost weight?” I didn’t know whether he wanted me to answer yes or no, and besides, he looked pretty much the same, so I grinned stupidly and said nothing. “So, who are you here with?”

  “I came stag.”

  “No kidding.” He looked genuinely surprised. I wasn’t sure whether he really was interested in chatting with me or just being polite, but since I hadn’t seen anyone else to glom onto, I decided to keep up the small talk for as long as he seemed willing.

  “So … what’s it like being back here now that you’ve seen the world?”

  “To be honest, I have mixed emotions about all this.” He motioned with his hand at the room in general, and I recognized a hint of glumness in his voice. “I never intended on missing my entire senior year here, and now that I’m back, well, everything seems different. Let’s just say I’m not thrilled about the regime change … if you get my drift.”

  No sooner had the words escaped his mouth than Craig and Beth walked by, looking like they ought to be entering the Academy Awards surrounded by a team of bodyguards, publicists, paparazzi, and screaming fans. Beth was wearing a floor-length strapless black gown with a corseted bustier to maximize her cleavage. A side slit running the length of her skirt exposed nearly all of her left thigh. Her smoky eye-makeup and the black rose affixed to her blonde updo made her look like a tragically beautiful blood-sucking vampire. I didn’t hear the catty remark she had just lobbed at Duff because I was too busy staring, trance-like, at Craig, who in turn couldn’t take his eyes off me. In his black tuxedo suit, he looked taller and mo
re dashing than I’d ever seen him. Bond-like, you might even say. By the time I snapped back to reality, Duff was issuing his former teammate a warning.

  “Careful, bro,” he said. “Don’t reject the black widow or she might accuse you of date rape and get you shipped to Siberia. Hell, you’re lucky to escape with your life. Just ask Duncan. Oh wait. He’s not around to ask, is he?” Beth’s eyes narrowed to mere slits.

  “Our lawyers agreed that your reason for leaving town wouldn’t be a topic of conversation,” she said, seething.

  “Oh that’s right. You get to lie all you want and I don’t get to say anything.”

  Beth scowled, but I noticed she didn’t exactly argue his point. Craig was visibly unnerved. He jerked Beth away by the elbow and walked her to the corner of the room where they proceeded to have what looked like a heated discussion.

  “Sorry about that, Skye,” Duff said. “Those two are just long overdue for a karmic ass-kicking. Or maybe a not-so-karmic one.”

  “It’s all Beth’s doing,” I said, grateful to have someone who seemed to perhaps know almost as much as I did about Beth’s wicked ways.

  “Oh, roger that,” he said. “The ironic part is, only it’s not so funny from my perspective: I wasn’t even at the party where she claims I roofied her drink. She almost ruined my life with her lies. It was her word against mine. She’s clearly mental, but MacKenzie? That dude’s only looking out for number one.”

  “No, Craig’s just collateral damage,” I argued. “Beth’s got this irrational hold over him, but he’s not who you think he is — ”