by Liz Czukas
“Okay, okay, okay.” He held up his hands. “I get it. But if you go home now, all you’ll have is the bad memories.”
I didn’t answer.
“Buuu-uuut,” he drawled. “If you go to the kick-ass after-party, you’ll have fun, and you won’t even care about what happened at the dance.”
“Seems unlikely.”
“Prom is not about the dance, Heart. It’s about the rest of the night. Trust me, last year, prom was lame until we got out of here.” He jerked his thumb toward the exit. “There is no way the school-sponsored part of the evening can compare to the rest of it.”
“Then I’ll just spend it with my friends, which is what I should have done in the first place.”
“You wound me, Heart. Aren’t we friends?”
“That’s not what I meant.” I flushed with immediate guilt that I’d hurt his feelings. But the truth was, we weren’t really friends. I mean, we definitely weren’t enemies or anything like that, but apart from our secret Jeopardy!-watching sessions, we didn’t really do anything together.
“Just come with me. It’ll be fun.” He tilted his head until he could look me in the eyes. “I’ll be gone next year. We’ll never have this chance again.”
I swear to God, if my brother doesn’t end up in sales, something will have gone horribly wrong with the universe. He could sell ice to penguins.
I held off answering as long as I could. I really didn’t want to be manipulated, but he’d hit on all the hot spots. The most important of which was that he was leaving. He was right about that. Next year, my little family would be cut down by a third. It would be just me and Dad. Just me, watching Jeopardy! alone with my dinner every night.
Then shrieking laughter pulled our attention to the far side of the ballroom. Phil could see what was happening before me with his extra six inches.
“No way,” he said.
“What?” I darted and weaved, trying to see around the bodies between the commotion and me. “What?”
“Go Foley!” Phil shouted.
And then I got my first glimpse of pasty white flesh. A senior who went by Foley so ubiquitously that I couldn’t even think of his first name was streaking across the dance floor with SENIORS scrawled across his chest in black and orange, and a corsage covering his privates like some kind of fantastic fig leaf.
“Oh my God.” Part of me wanted to cover my eyes, but it was way too late for that. The image would be burned into my brain for the rest of my life.
Foley was on the move. Dodging around his fully clothed classmates like a running back on the perfect touchdown run. Chaperones were converging from all sides, but Foley had the eye of the tiger. He saw openings where no one else could, spinning out of reach more than once, the red-and-white corsage bobbing and leaping as his penis defied gravity in time with his pace. Just before he darted through one final gap in the chaperones’ human net and headed for the exterior doors, I had the hilarious revelation that he must have threaded the wrist strap around his wang to keep the corsage in place so effectively.
I was certain that Foley had just become the stuff of legends.
Cassidy turned to me, mouth agape. “Did that just happen?” she shouted.
“I think it did.”
A giggle bubbled up from her mouth, but she made a sad face. “His poor date!”
“That was legendary!” Phil crowed, wrapping his arm around my shoulder again. “Did you see that?”
“Oh, I saw it.” I nodded.
“This is the kind of shit that’s going to make Blanchard’s so epic. You have to come.” His eyes were lit up like little flames.
“I don’t ever need to see Foley’s schlong again, thank you very much.”
“Just come with me.” He pulled out the puppy-dog face again. “You know you want to.”
“I want to hang out with my friends.” I held my hands out to indicate the people around us.
Phil thought for a second, then brightened. “Problem solved.” He leaned away from me to shout loudly to the No Drama Crew. “You guys should come to Blanchard’s house for the after-party!”
Schroeder made a face and gave me a look that said he wasn’t thrilled, but Ally and Cassidy perked up.
“Yeah?” Ally asked.
Phil nodded. “Yeah. It’s going to be huge.”
“I thought we were going to the lake,” Schroeder said.
“We have until sunrise,” Cassidy said.
“Then you should totally come,” Phil said again.
“Come where?” Neel asked, popping into the conversation. Once Ally had explained the invitation to him, he nodded. “Yeah, all right.” Neel was always willing to try anything. The more chaotic and social he could be, the happier he was. From the look on Schroeder’s face, I knew he was thinking the same thing I was: With Neel and Ally on board, the chances of the No Drama Crew not going to Blanchard’s party were practically nonexistent.
“Great. Then we’ll see you there.” He tugged on my wrist. “Come on, Heart, we gotta meet the others back at the limo.”
“I’ll just go with my friends—” I tried.
“I need your help with Troy. He’s about ready to pass out.”
“But—”
“Just come with me. We’re all going to the same place.”
Now I had to decide whether to make a scene, pulling away from my brother like a crabby toddler, or give in and suck it up for one more limo ride. I shot a glance over my shoulder. “I’ll see you guys there,” I called.
“Hell yeah!” Neel shouted, but I saw the look on Schroeder’s face. He was not happy.
Well, that made two of us.
19 Wherein Ryan and I get drafted into an after-party, and I discover a secret fort at the prom
TAILS
The only thing missing from Foley’s naked run through prom was the old-fashioned sound of a needle scratch and the music going silent. That would have made it perfect. But the DJ just kept the music playing as we all watched the skinny, naked senior lead the chaperones on a merry chase.
I was laughing so hard my stomach hurt up until the moment he turned and gave me a clear view of his bare butt. I flinched and closed my eyes, but it was too late. The image was already a permanent part of my memory. “Oh, gross!”
Cassidy turned to me, mouth agape. “Did that just happen?” she shouted.
“I think it did.”
A giggle bubbled up from her mouth, but she made a sad face. “His poor date!”
“Right?” I laughed. Ryan might not dance, but at least he wasn’t naked.
“I wonder where his clothes are,” Neel said.
“Not on his scrawny ass, that’s for sure,” Ally said.
“Do you think there will be any more?” Cassidy stood on the toes of her sparkly Chuck Taylors.
“God, I hope not.”
“Such a prude,” Ally chided.
“This has nothing to do with me being a prude,” I said. “No one wanted to see Foley’s butt tonight. Much less his junk dressed in flowers.”
Cassidy laughed. “I gotta go with my girl on this one,” she said, bumping my shoulder. “I did not need to see that.”
Lisa joined us, slipping her arm through Cassidy’s. “So what are you all doing after prom?”
“We’re going to the lake,” Cass said. The No Drama Prom-a Crew had plans to finish out the night in Neel’s family’s house. He lived way out in a chichi part of town where the best of the best houses were on a small, private lake. It’s good to have two parents who are anesthesiologists, I guess.
“That’s just our final destination,” Ally said. “We’ve got the whole night.”
“Well, I for one am starving,” Neel said.
“Don’t your parents have food at their house?”
“I’ll never make it that long.”
“Neel, it’s a twenty-five-minute drive.”
“More like forty from here,” Neel countered. “I’ll probably eat one of you along the way if I ha
ve to go that far.”
Lisa ignored his zombie-ish growling and gnashing. “You guys should come to Frank Blanchard’s house. Marcus wants to go.” She rolled her eyes, like letting her boyfriend suggest an activity was sheer madness.
“Blanchard lives near me,” Neel said. “Dude’s got brick walls around the property, and gates. Have you seen that place? I’ve always wondered what it was like inside.”
“See? It’s practically on the way.” Lisa clapped her hands once. “It’s settled!”
Cassidy shook her head, hands on her hips. “Just like that?”
“Yep.” Lisa smiled. “It’ll be fun.”
“We have to clear it with everybody else,” Cassidy said.
“They’ll be fine with it.” Lisa waved off that suggestion. She was very decisive, my friend.
“I should check with Ryan,” I murmured, more to myself than the rest of them, but I also didn’t need Lisa overhearing. She was too happy she’d roped some theater geeks into crashing Blanchard’s jock fiesta—there was no way she’d want to hear hesitation on my part.
I headed back to the table where Ryan and some other guys were still hanging out. He was laughing as I approached, and I was glad he was having fun, since I’d been unintentionally ignoring him for a while. I told him about Blanchard’s party and asked if he wanted to hitch a ride back to his dead car instead. He told me he’d called his parents and they’d arranged to have it towed anyway, so we were at the mercy of whoever was willing to drive us home later.
“So . . . ? Party then?”
He shrugged. “Why not?”
To my left, Schroeder appeared and walked straight to the table where Ryan was sitting. He promptly dropped to his knees, disappearing beneath the long white tablecloth. I did a double take, then went down on one knee to peek under the cloth.
There he was, down on one elbow as he dug through the huge pile of stuff we’d accumulated under the table.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Looking for my phone.” Schroeder pawed through the abandoned tuxedo jackets and came up with what he was looking for. “Got it!”
I grinned, crawling the rest of the way under the table and letting the cloth drop behind me. “And here I thought you were just pickpocketing everyone.”
“I did that earlier.” The dim space lit up when he brought his phone to life.
“Did you hear we’re going to Frank Blanchard’s house? How weird is that?”
In the dim light, I could make out the shape of his body. “What? Why the hell would we do that?”
“Lisa.” That was the only explanation I figured was necessary.
“I don’t want to go to that guy’s house.” The screen on the phone timed out, plunging us back into darkness.
“It’s apparently not far from Neel’s place.”
“So, let’s just go to Neel’s then.”
“I’m sure we won’t be there long.”
“Then let’s not go at all.” He sounded tense.
I squinted at him, trying to read his face, but we were cloaked in shadows. “What’s wrong?”
He sighed and flopped onto his back on the floor. For just a moment, I got the squickies at the thought of what he might be lying in, but I shoved that aside.
“I can’t stand Frank Blanchard.”
“Why not?”
“Besides the fact that he’s the Crown Prince of Doucheburg?”
I snorted. “Yeah, besides that.”
“We went to elementary school together. He was a year ahead of me, obviously. And he pretty much hated me.”
“Why?”
“Why do sixth graders do anything? I don’t know. I just know he went out of his way to make my life miserable.”
Because I am at least partially a horrible person, I wanted to laugh. Thankfully, the rest of me seemed to be in charge at that moment, so I managed to sound sympathetic when I said, “I’m sorry.”
“Luckily, he seemed to forget who I was by the time we got to high school. Or maybe it was because I ended up taller than him. Who knows? But I don’t want to go to his house.”
I thought about that for a moment, wiggling my mouth back and forth like a pendulum. It’s probably a really good thing we were in the dark; I’m sure I looked like a complete dork. “I have an idea!”
“What?”
“Let’s go to his house and do something terrible to him.”
He laughed softly. “I don’t want to be that guy.”
“It doesn’t have to be anything permanent or dangerous. It’ll just be our little private Screw You.”
“Like what?”
“Um . . . we’ll short his sheets or something.”
Schroeder laughed, this one a much healthier, happier laugh. I was glad I’d apologized to him earlier, hearing his laughter now.
“That’s your big revenge plot?” he asked.
“It was just an idea.”
“Hmm.” He came back up to lean on one elbow, bringing us much closer together again. “It would have to be a really great idea.”
“We’ll think of something.” I could make out his features now that he was nearby, so I wiggled my eyebrows at him, hoping he could see me.
“All right, fine. But you have to help me.” A faint scent of mint drifted to me as he spoke.
“On my honor.” I crossed my heart, bumping into the now almost completely wilted corsage still clinging to my left boob. I growled at it and sat back to unpin it from my chest. “Do you think Ryan will notice if I leave this thing under here?” I asked.
“You don’t like it?” Schroeder asked.
I didn’t answer, exactly. “I didn’t even know they made corsages without a wrist strap anymore.” The pin was hard to unfasten in the dark of our table fort. “I mean, look at this thing. Why would you put flowers on your—” I cut myself off.
This time, I got a full-fledged grin out of him. “Just ditch it,” he said.
My heart responded with all kinds of annoying leaps and patters. I really needed to kick Ryan’s butt.
20 In which Troy reveals his boxer shorts, and I get beat up by a girl
HEADS
The alcohol had finally gotten the best of Troy by the time we got him in the limo, which meant he just sat in his seat with his head lolling backward and his eyes half-closed. I crawled as far into the front of the seating area as possible, wedging myself between Doug and Austin, which wasn’t ideal, but I didn’t expect either of them to molest me, at least.
“This is gonna be suh-weet!” Austin crowed. “I hear Blanchard’s parents moved into the guesthouse for the night, and they’re gonna stay completely out of the way. It’s going to kick ass.”
Frank Blanchard III was our school’s answer to Richie Rich. Though I’d never been to his house, I’d heard about it plenty. It had gates. And a guesthouse. And probably a staff of servants.
“How are we supposed to get home from the party?” I wondered aloud, just in case my friends didn’t show. It didn’t seem impossible that no one had thought of this. “We don’t have the limo all night, do we?”
“I left my car at his house earlier.” Austin tapped his temple.
While I admired his forethought, I couldn’t exactly give him an A+ for his counting skills. There were eight of us. Unless Austin had recently picked up a Lincoln Navigator I wasn’t aware of, I had a feeling we weren’t all going to fit.
Not that I really had to worry about it, since I was planning on escaping with the No Drama Crew as soon as humanly possible.
Maybe we could just leave as soon as we got there. Go off and do our own thing for the night. Then again, I’d seen the look on Neel’s face. I had a feeling he intended to party. Still, a girl could dream. A girl has to dream, or else sink into a self-pitying depression of epic proportions on prom night when she finds herself squeezed between two acquaintances of dubious quality in the back of a limo where she must keep a wary eye on her would-be make-out buddy for the night.
&
nbsp; I attempted to fish my phone out of my purse so I could send a text message to Cassidy, imploring them to rescue me from the party. It was almost impossible with all the crap from Aunt Colleen stuffed in there, but I managed it without even having to take the condoms out.
Sometimes, it’s the small victories that keep a person going.
Bringing the phone to life, I pulled it close to my chest so no one could read what I was typing. Not that anyone was even paying attention to me.
“Hey, check it out! There’s a DVD player in here.” Next to me, Doug attempted to pull open a compartment near his hip, but his body was blocking the door. Of course, he thought the solution to this problem was brute force, so he yanked even harder. His elbow thrust back into mine, and my phone shot out of my hands.
Now, you would think in a limo filled with human bodies, half of whom were wearing puffy skirts, the phone would find a soft landing place. But I was in the middle of the prom from hell, so of course, my phone made a beeline for the windows and somehow managed to hit one of the metal strips between them. Although it was too noisy to hear it, I could swear I felt the sound of the touch screen shattering. It didn’t explode. It didn’t drop a single shard of glass. It just burst into a perfect spiderweb of cracks beaming out from one corner like a work of art.
“Oh no!”
It was Olivia who picked it up and held it out to me. “Here you go.” She didn’t even seem to notice the screen.
“Crap!” I whispered, cradling my phone like a bird with a broken wing.
“Don’t sweat it,” Doug said. “You can get it replaced. Just have them switch the chips and you won’t lose anything.”
I didn’t answer. How could I possibly explain to someone like Doug that I didn’t exactly have the funds to trot down to the cell phone store and get whatever the latest, greatest model was? I was on my dad’s business plan, and they don’t even get new phones every two years like a regular plan. I clicked the power button and the screen lit up, but I was too afraid to touch the shattered screen to write any messages.
