“Am I allowed to see the dress now?” she asked as we got closer.
“Hey,” I said, folding the dress bag over the back of the chair. Wren and Jazz deposited their things next to mine. “Fancy seeing you here.”
Leif laughed. “We bumped into each other in the bookstore.”
“Yes, I was desperately lost in the self-help section when I realized the books I needed were somewhere else. He sort of saved me.”
“Nice.”
“Any change from the dress?” she asked.
“About forty. Oh, um, we were going to get some nachos, is that okay? We’ve got time, right?” I asked.
“Sure.”
“Want anything?” I looked between them.
“No, I’m on my way out,” Leif said, but he still sat there, sipping his drink.
Wren, Jazz, and I walked over toward the food stands.
“That’s cool your mom is going to be an instructor,” Wren said.
“You think?”
“Yes—she’s amazing in class. Didn’t you see her doing mermaid last week? She just sits there, in the pose; I can’t even get my foot to stay in the crook of my elbow that long, I’m always wobbling, and she’s there totally chill, like she could sit that way for hours.”
“No, I didn’t notice,” I said, looking back at them as we waited on line.
Leif finally got up and gave my mother’s shoulder a pat before walking away. Nothing sexy about that—except the smile on my mother’s face was . . . well, it was obvious that seeing him made her happy. She opened one of the books. He came toward us, looking more college student than guru with his messy hair and his messenger bag slung over his shoulder.
“See you next week,” he said as he walked by us.
“Bye,” Wren said as our heads turned to follow his exit. There was a slight scent that followed him—some citrusy, spicy cologne that enveloped us as he passed.
“I need to get to one of those classes,” Jazz said. “He even smells good.”
“I think that’s just the nachos,” Wren said. “I’m seriously starved, can we get the deluxe? You can have my share of the jalapeños.”
“Yeah, sounds good,” I said, looking back at Mom.
She was still smiling.
Once at home, Mom insisted I model my purchase for her and Paul. I tottered down the stairs, holding the bottom part of the dress up so I wouldn’t trip to my death.
“Ready?” I called.
“Yep,” my mother said.
“Okay, I’m turning the corner now.” I reached the landing and pivoted toward the dining room, where my mother and Paul sat. Paul had his hands over his eyes. My mother gasped.
“Mads . . . that’s gorgeous,” she said, getting up from her seat. Paul uncovered his eyes.
“Va-va-voom,” he said, grinning. I shook my head at the corny compliment, but it did feel kind of good. It was a great dress. And I happened to rock it pretty hard.
My mom grabbed my hands and held them out to the side to get a better view. “You sure Sister Teresa is going to let you get away with so much skin?”
“It’s not that bad, is it?”
“I’m just teasing. You look lovely.” She put her hands on each cheek, played with the ends of my hair, pulling some strands toward my face. I knew my hair was in desperate need of serious shaping. It was starting to look shaggy instead of pixie.
“We should lighten up the color around your face before next Friday. Were you thinking of going a little spiky and edgy or kind of soft?”
“I can’t decide—maybe softer, but messy? And I was thinking big earrings, but keeping the rest bare, no necklace or anything. Lighter makeup—bright-red lip, maybe?”
“I love it,” she said.
“You two are speaking a different language,” Paul said, standing next to Mom. He did a quick once-over and shook his head. “Our little Mads all grown up.”
My mother looked at him, and a faint smile crossed her face, then she took my cheeks in her hands again, tilted her head to the side.
“My beautiful girl,” she said. “You guys are stopping here for pictures, right?”
“I guess,” I said, pulling away. For some reason the moment was overwhelming—the way my mom looked at me. What Paul said. I liked it, the little rush of happiness I felt when he said Our little Mads, but I wasn’t sure why. It all felt familiar. And comforting.
“I’m gonna get changed. Are we ordering from the Indian place for dinner?”
“Order out? No way, shrimp scampi is on the menu tonight—will you be joining us?” Paul asked.
“Sounds good,” I said, heading back up to my room.
It was nice having Paul in the house. My mother seemed lighter, mellower around him. And I certainly appreciated the home-cooked meals, even liked hearing him whistle Springsteen songs as he worked in the kitchen. But why didn’t my mother smile at him the way she smiled at Leif this afternoon? Was Paul too boxed up in the friend compartment for her to ever consider he could be more? It was hard to believe that in all the years they’d been friends, they never once looked at each other that way. I mean, Paul was kind of dashing, for an older guy.
My wheels turned.
If I didn’t join them for dinner, they’d be alone.
And if they were alone . . . shrimp scampi, bottle of wine . . .
What if the reason Paul wanted to call New Jersey home was Mom? Maybe that was the bigger reason he was here—even if he didn’t know it yet. They could use a nudge in the right direction.
I called Wren. She picked up on the third ring.
“Hey, can I still come over tonight?”
“Yes, please, I only have to put a bazillion mint lentils into these little starfish-shaped boxes for Brooke’s shower. Want to help?”
I wasn’t sure what a mint lentil was, but if it got me out of the house for a while . . .
“Can we order a pizza?”
She laughed. “Yeah.”
“I’m in, see you soon.” I hung up. I grabbed my coat and went down to the kitchen. Mom sat at the café table, a glass of wine in front of her as she helped Paul devein the shrimp. They were laughing about something as I walked in.
“Hey, you know what, I forgot I told Wren I was going to help her with something, so I’m going to have to bail on the shrimp. Is that okay?”
“Yes—do you need a ride?” Mom asked, probably desperate to stop working with shrimp guts. My mom, knives, and the kitchen were not a happy combination. The fact that she was even doing this with Paul, well, spoke volumes. At least I thought so.
“No, I should walk off those nachos from before.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing,” Paul said as I went out the front door.
Funny . . . I could say the same thing.
SIX
JESSE
TANNER AND I LURKED IN FRONT OF SACRED Heart, watching as groups of couples walked up the steps into the building. For such a small school, it fit an endless mass of people. All dressed up. As in, not in jeans, like us. Every so often we’d get a look that made me feel like I should be holding out a donation cup or something.
“This doesn’t look like the sort of dance you can just show up to, T,” I said.
He craned his head to get a better look into the vestibule. There was a table with two girls sitting behind it. Two very dressed-up girls.
“There’s a sign that says it’s fifteen at the door,” he said.
“Per couple, which we are not,” I said. “Let’s just get outta here, hit a movie or the diner.” I started walking toward the VW, which I’d parked about a block away, but slowed when I realized Tanner wasn’t following me.
“Dude, we’re here,” he said, waving his arms around. “We might as well figure out a way to get in, or stand by the gym door.”
“I’m not standing by the gym door to hear Smegma,” I said, walking back to him. I’d felt pathetic enough the night Duncan caught me sitting in the Beetle trying to avoid him and Hannah.
No matter how curious I was to hear their sound, I wasn’t going to freeze my ’nads off and risk the humiliation of getting caught lurking.
What the hell were we doing here?
“When the crowd thins out, I’ll go in and chat up the ladies,” Tanner said. I laughed but his face was determined.
“Oh, you’re serious?”
“Why not? I’m sick of waiting for shit to happen,” he said.
He’d made an effort—his usual white-boy ’fro tamed and combed to the side. And he reeked of some shower gel stuff that he claimed was supposed to smell “exotic and spicy.” I’m sure whatever that was supposed to smell like wasn’t something you needed to brace yourself against. Tanner was surrounded in a formidable cloud.
“Fine,” I said.
We waited a good five minutes until the front door was dead. Tanner loped up the steps and opened the glass doors to go inside. He shoved his hands into his pockets as he stood there, and both girls looked up at him. There was no way they were letting us in.
The one girl whispered in the other’s ear. She gave Tanner a once-over. He gestured toward the door—toward me, I realized in horror—and shrugged, arms out to the side, hands up. They kind of squinted, one girl shielding her eyes from the overhead light like she was saluting someone, and looked right at me. I wasn’t sure if they could see me in the shadows, but I slunk back behind the fence. One of the girls shook her head and smiled. Tanner walked out.
“Not an open dance. We need a Sacred Heart chick,” he said, trotting down the steps.
“Well, that settles it, then,” I said, turning. He grabbed my sleeve.
“I think you should talk to them,” he said.
“And say what?”
“I dunno, something that will get us in.”
“Why would they listen to me?”
“I didn’t really try that hard. Jess, come on, you’re a front man, start acting like one. These girls would be pressed against the stage for you. I’ve seen it. Just, you know—”
“What? Sing to them? This is a stupid idea.”
“Sure, a stupid idea, like finding a drummer or taking off that fucking wristband, or anything that means leaving her behind.”
Every so often, T would cut to the chase. You’d think he was clueless and goofy and then, there it was—a spot-on revelation. But the drummer thing—both guys were good. It felt like choosing one over the other would be shutting down a world of possibility. Although in my gut I thought I knew which choice would be the best for us.
“That’s not what this is about.”
“Really? So if Hannah came up to you right now and told you it was all a mistake and she wanted to hook up again, you wouldn’t crawl right back to her.”
“No.”
“Bullshit.”
Before I could think about it any more, I tore up the stairs and opened the door. Jesse the front man can handle this. Own it, I thought, even though I generally believed anyone who talked about himself in the third person, even in his head, was a complete nimrod. The girls looked ready to be challenged. No backing down now.
“Hey,” I said, sauntering up to the table. I hooked my thumb in my belt loop, taking the laid-back, I-don’t-really-need-to-get-in, caj approach.
“Hi,” the girl with the dark hair said.
“This dance—you really have to know someone to get in?”
“It’s a Sadie Hawkins dance, you have to be asked,” the other girl said with a smile. The smile was key. Genuine. Cute. An endless stream of girls in dresses and guys following them flowed into the gym. The doors were only about ten feet away and wide open. I could see the stage. Plasma wasn’t on yet.
“I’m just here for the band, is there any way you could look the other way for, like, five minutes? I’ll even pay the fifteen dollars. I swear I won’t stay long.”
“Why do you want to see the band?” the dark-haired girl said, putting her chin in her hand.
“I hear they’re really good.”
“Liar,” the other girl said.
“Okay, maybe I want to see how good they are. Kind of friendly competition.”
They looked at each other. There was a cheer from the gym. The band walked out onto the stage. Kenny Ashe pulled his guitar strap over his head. Duncan settled down behind the drums. When the rest of the guys were in place, Kenny counted off the song. The sound exploded into the gym, “Dance, Dance”—really? Duncan was a little fast on the beat.
“Please,” I said.
There was a slow second, a moment I knew they were wavering. Then a tall girl in a short black dress with legs for miles walked over to us.
“Hey, ten more minutes and we can officially close the door,” she said. Her cool green eyes darted over me—my Vans, leather jacket, the frayed pocket of my jeans. Whatever progress I’d made had just gone back to square one.
“Can I help you?” she asked, looking at me like I was something she’d flick off a friend’s sweater.
Front man, Jess.
“He just wants to see the band, Ava.”
She crossed her arms. “You can’t.”
“Look, I’m friends with them, I’ll just stay for one song, two tops,” I said. “I’ll even stand at the doors, how’s that?”
“We’re at capacity.”
“But . . .”
“Do I need to get someone more persuasive to walk you out?”
Who? The Sadie Hawkins police? I wanted to say, but I didn’t need to call more attention to myself. I shook my head and went back outside. Tanner waited at the foot of the steps.
“So?”
“They opened with Fall Out Boy, can you believe that? Then some girl kicked me out.”
“Damn.”
“Wait,” I said, checking out the fence around the property. From the top stair the fence looked easy to get over. “There must be another way in—a back door or something. If I get in, I can let you in one of the gym doors. Give me a boost.”
“Huh?”
“Do we want to see Plasma or stand out here like numbnuts waiting for shit to happen?” I asked, checking out the area to make sure we were alone.
He grinned and interlocked his fingers, then hoisted me up. I teetered on the top of the fence for a split second before grabbing a tree limb and dropping down onto the lawn.
“Wait, what should I do?” Tanner whisper-yelled.
“I’ll text you when I find a way in,” I said, heading toward the side of the school, although what I was going to do after I got past the shrubbery and statues of stern-looking angels, I wasn’t sure. Tanner’s “waiting for shit to happen” got to me. Is that what I was doing? Would I really let Hannah walk back into my life if she wanted? And if she did . . . would it make everything better?
Past the shrubs was a wide, tree-dotted lawn that ran the length of the building. I crouch-walked toward the classroom windows, hoping to find even the tiniest breach. Sacred Heart was ancient. My mother had told me once that she and her friends would climb out the window in the spring to catch some rays during study hall. I couldn’t imagine my mother being that ballsy, but if she could climb out a window, I could climb in. I only hoped they hadn’t updated their security system to more than the stone angels that guarded out front.
Each set of windows I tried was locked. Shit. Then I spied one toward the end of the building that was cracked open slightly. The lengthwise window opened outward. There were two panes in it, but it was one solid piece. I slid my fingers in and pulled. Nothing. I tried again, widening my grip. It gave a tiny bit. My fingers ached from the cold. I shook out the numbness, adjusted my grip, and pulled again, working it for a good minute until it opened enough for me to slip through. I took a last look outside for any telltale security lights or cameras in corners of the building, and wriggled my way in.
A thick drape covered the window. There was a moment when both feet dangled on either side of the windowsill, until my left foot finally found the floor. I gripped the sides of the frame and backed in. M
y fingers slipped and I toppled down, the drape fanning out around me as my ass hit the floor. I groaned and propped myself up on my elbows, letting my eyes adjust to the dark.
The only light in the room came from the dimly lit hallway. I pushed myself up to standing and brushed myself off before shutting the window. Desks were arranged in a semicircle—and on the chalkboard—they still had chalkboards here?—was the quote “To be or not to be, that is the question.” Ha. Well played, universe.
When I opened my messages to text Tanner, I already had two from him.
I’m in.
Side door to caf open.
For fucking real? I laughed. I felt stupid. Reckless. Alive.
I stepped into the hall. The sound of the band—Kenny Ashe’s muffled voice screaming out a song I couldn’t decipher—echoed through the empty corridor. Farther down, people milled around in front of two open doors. Cafeteria, maybe? I hugged the wall as I moved toward the action. As I got closer, I noticed a leggy silhouette turn the corner at the end of the hallway. The girl from the front who shut me down. My heart shot into my throat. No fucking way was I getting kicked out after this. I ducked into the cafeteria, crouching a bit to get lost in a throng of kids.
I worked my way over to a vending machine and studied it as if my life depended on finding a healthy snack. In the reflection of the glass I could see that I was unnoticed, at least for the moment. I peered over my shoulder, scanning the room for Tanner. My eyes landed on a familiar-looking girl in a black dress standing behind a long table covered in water bottles and several trays of cupcakes. Where did I know her from?
“Jesse?”
Someone tugged my jacket. I flinched and turned toward the voice.
There was a girl next to me. The short-haired one from yoga.
“Madison.” I could not hide my surprise as I checked her out. There wasn’t a word to describe how she looked. Only sounds, syllables. She was cute after class, but damn.
“Wow.” Smooth, Jess, why don’t you just grunt?
She lowered her eyes and smiled.
“Thanks,” she said. “Who are you here with?”
“I—um . . .” I stuttered as she gave me a once-over. I could see it was dawning on her that I wasn’t exactly dressed for the occasion. Her grin got wider. I knew it was okay to tell her the truth. I wasn’t sure why, maybe it was that smile—man, it was the kind of smile that gave you an adrenaline rush from just being on the receiving end. I had to smile back.
The Secrets of Attraction Page 7
