by Hazel James
I play Ed Sheeran’s Thinking Out Loud without taking my eyes off her. She sways from side to side and gently taps the beat over her heart. I pour all of my feelings into the words I sing to her, changing the part about falling to “seventeen” instead. At the end of the song, I whisper, “I love you” into the mic. She mouths the words back to me and blows me a kiss. I feel a small lump in the back of my throat, so I’m grateful for Fletcher’s interruption.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he jokes. “We want to say thanks for hanging out with us tonight. We had a lot of fun and we hope to do this again next month. This is our last song of the night, and it’s an original so we hope you like it. And if you don’t, just pretend and clap anyway, okay?” The audience laughs. “I had a wonderful muse for this song, and she’s sitting in the front row. Avery, when I drove you home from our first date, we talked about wishing for something more. I’ve been wishing for you for a long time and that finally came true. Here’s to the future and our something more.”
Fletcher closes his eyes and plays the intro, and Avery’s already tearing up. She clamps her hand over her mouth as he moves into the first and second verse. By the time he reaches the chorus, she’s sobbing.
Something More
My future’s looking brighter
Than it ever has before
For the first time I’m not afraid
I want to wish for something more
The real world is scary
I’ve been out there on my own
Tired of thinkin,’ believin’
That I’m better off alone
So now it’s time for something more
I’ve watched you
I’ve wanted you
Please say you’ll be mine
Give me your hand
And I’ll make you understand
This is our time
For something more
I’ll be your one
I’ll be your only
I’ll be the reason
You’ll never be lonely
It’s our time, it’s our time, it’s our time
For something more
“Thanks again, everyone. We’ll see you next time,” I say. I flick the mic off and high five Fletcher. As expected, Avery launches herself at him. I hop off the stage and pull Rachel into a hug.
“If I wasn’t head over heels in love with you already, I definitely would be after tonight,” she says against my chest. “Thank you for playing that song for me.”
“We didn’t have a song yet, and I thought that one was pretty fitting. We may be seventeen, but there’s no way my heart will ever beat for anyone else.”
“That’s good. I’d hate to pull an Avery and shank a bitch.”
I laugh and press a kiss on the side of her head. “You really have a way with words, Ray.”
Avery finishes the rundown of today’s plans as she buckles up in the back of Mom’s car.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me. I thought you said the whole point of you designing my prom dress is so I don’t have to be held hostage in a fitting room.” She’s lost her damn mind if she thinks I’m spending all day playing dress up. “Mom, tell Avery she’s being unfair.” This was supposed to be a female bonding experience. From the looks of it, I’m in for a day of torture instead and we haven’t even left Avery’s driveway.
“Relax, Ray. I just need you to try on two different styles. I have ideas for both, but I need to see which one looks best on you and which one you’re more comfortable in,” Avery says.
“That’s easy. Neither.”
“Mrs. W, how have you put up with this girl for seventeen years? I know she didn’t get her fashion sense from you.” Avery gestures to Mom’s ensemble. She’s always been good at being put-together. I’m perfectly comfortable in my track pants, thank you very much.
“Rachel never wanted to play dress up, even as a little girl. She used to play Flo Jo instead. And call me Gina. I decided Mrs. W sounds too stuffy. Where are we heading to first, Avery?”
I look back at Avery and our mouths drop in unison. “Mom, are you feeling okay?” She swats my hand away when I check her forehead for a fever.
“I’m quite fine, thank you.”
“Why the change in names?” Avery asks.
“I turn forty-five this summer and I feel old. It’s time for me to cut loose a bit.” She grins and wiggles her eyebrows as she merges onto the highway.
“That’s what I’m talking about, Gina! Oh, and head to the mall first. We’ll go to the fabric store after that.”
“Oh, did you post that hashtag yet?” I have the perfect birthday present for James. My only fear is that whatever psychic thing he’s got going on will ruin the surprise. The fact that I have a boyfriend is weird. The fact that I have one who can predict the future… kind of… is even weirder.
“Yup, I did it right after Fletcher dropped me off so I wouldn’t forget.”
“What’s a hashtag?” Mom asks.
“It’s something we use on Twitter and Instagram. I bought tickets to a Lake Street Dive concert for the day after our birthday. Avery suggested using a ‘LakeStreetBirthday’ hashtag so they would give James a birthday shoutout at the concert. We figured it might take a while, so we wanted to start now.”
“What’s Tweeter and Instagram?”
“Twitter, Mom. It’s social media. You post stuff in 140 characters or less. And Instagram is for sharing pictures.”
“Hmm. Maybe I should get on social media. Three younger ladies in my book club talk about their Kinder app. I think that’s where they set up playdates for their kids. They seem to really like it.”
“You sure it isn’t Tinder?” Avery asks.
“Yeah, Mom. I’ve never heard of Kinder. Besides, their kids are all school age and no one has playdates once they’re out of diapers.” She can’t possibly be this naïve.
“It could be,” she says, shrugging her shoulders. “I’ll have to pay closer attention when we meet next week.”
“Just promise me you won’t make any social media profiles without my help. There are a ton of sickos out there and I don’t want you getting taken advantage of.” The last thing I need is my mother’s face on the wrong app.
“That sounds like something I should be saying to you.” She parks the car and claps her hands. “Let’s get started!” Avery squeals from the back seat and jumps out while I say a silent prayer for strength or patience…8 or the ability to speed up time to get this afternoon over with. It’s too bad I’m too young to drink. I haven’t even made it five feet from the car when Avery starts in.
“Hey, while we’re here maybe we could—”
“No.”
“What about—”
“No.”
“Oh, come on. Just—”
“I agreed to try on two dresses after you promised me I wouldn’t be subjected to an afternoon of fitting rooms. Don’t push your luck, Murphy.” I give her my sternest look for about five seconds before sticking my tongue out at her. We link arms and continue across the parking lot. “Come on, Vera Wang. Let’s do this.”
Avery’s on a first-name basis with half of the sales staff, which isn’t the least bit surprising.
“What’s a fitting suite?” I ask, following an associate named Della. Her hair is huge. She makes me think of the phrase “the higher the hair, the closer to God.” Turns out a fitting suite has a seating area for guests and a phone that calls the sales counter if you need help. She hangs both dresses in the fitting room.
“Miss Avery says to start with this one. Do you need help with the zipper?”
“No, I’ll be fine.” It’s just a dress. How hard can it be? There’s a table in the corner of the room that I’m sure is meant to hold my clothes, but I drop them on the floor anyway. I undo the side zipper and step into the dress. It’s a strapless but I’m small enough that I don’t need a bra. The zipper goes up halfway and sticks. I try a few jump-and-tugs, but that doesn’t work. Neither do twist-and-tug
s. I try unzipping it, but it doesn’t budge in that direction either. I have just enough hips and boobs to prevent me from sliding it down or lifting it over my head. I’m officially held hostage by fabric and metal, but I refuse to let this dress defeat me. I try the jump-and-tug again, but catch sight of my B cups flopping around in the mirror. I look like a cross between a New Age dancer and a dolphin.
“How are you doing in there, Beef?”
“Fine! Just fine. I’ll be out in a sec.” Or an hour. Possibly next Thursday. I grab the dress with my right hand and yank the zipper with my left hand as hard as I can. The metal cuts into my finger, but it finally goes up. After making sure my boobs are where they’re supposed to be, I open the door.
“Don’t you just look lovely!” Mom’s grinning, but Avery just cocks her head to the side.
“Turn.”
I do a one-eighty with my finger in my mouth to keep blood from dripping on the dress. I don’t care what Avery says, I’m not wearing anything with a zipper to prom.
“Okay, you can change.”
“That’s it? That’s all you’re gonna say?” I did not just endure torture at the hands of a dress for a “turn” and “you can change.”
“I saw what I needed to see. Go try on the second one.” I roll my eyes and go back into the room. I manage to get the dress off without ripping anything or causing more bodily harm and return it to the hanger. The second one is mocking me from the hook, but at least it doesn’t have any zippers.
“Rachel, honey, let me know if you need help. I used to powder your little behind, so I’ve seen it all before.”
“Thanks for the unwanted visual, Mom.” This one is completely different from the first. It’s a halter, and the dress closes like a robe with hidden buttons instead of a sash. I can work with buttons. When I open the door, Mom gasps and Avery’s hands fly to her mouth.
“Yes! That’s it!” Avery does a happy dance and brings me down to the three-way mirror. “I’m going to use this bodice but the straps will be different. And this color palette is all wrong for you, but I’ll fix that too. What do you think about a slit running up your left leg?” She has a faraway look in her eyes that’s both inspiring and scary.
“Sounds great. Now let me get out of this thing.”
Ten minutes later, I’m back in my clothes on the way to the food court.
“I think a salad sounds great, what do you think?” Mom, ever the picture of Southern charm, is out of her mind if she thinks I’m eating a salad right now.
“You have fun with that. I’m going to Buck’s Burgers. This girl needs some fries and a large Diet Coke after that experience.” I get in line and Avery joins me. Her phone starts singing “YMCA” by the Village People, which means her dad is calling. She has such a twisted sense of humor.
“What’s up, Pops? No, I’m off until after my birthday. Really? Sweet! Thanks!”
“Was that about your birthday car?” I ask after she hangs up.
“Nope. He booked three round-trip flights with his rewards so I can take Fletcher and Sam to the city this weekend!” She doesn’t quit smiling as she dials her phone. “Hey, Mom! Can you make sure Fletcher is off Saturday and Sunday? Dad’s flying us up. ’Kay, lemme know. Love you too.”
It’s our turn, but Avery’s already dialing her phone again so I order for us both. Judging by her facial expression, she’s talking to Fletcher now. I grab our bags and lead the way to Mom’s booth.
“It looks like you’re going to finish your bucket list by the end of the school year,” I say with a mouth full of fries a few minutes later.
“What bucket list?” Mom asks.
“Avery, James and I made a bucket list a few weeks ago. Avery’s was to design our prom dresses and take Fletcher and Sam to the city. James wanted to work with animals and perform on stage, which he’s done, so all he has left to do is ride in a helicopter.”
“What about yours?” Mom asks.
“Mine is to run a marathon, see Lake Street Dive in concert and get a tattoo.”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear the word ‘tattoo.’ I heard your father talking about running a marathon next month in Durham. He finished up that last contract, so he’ll have more free time to train. Maybe you can sign up for that one too?”
“Maybe. I don’t think I’m that out of shape yet, so I should be able to do it.”
We finish our lunch and head over to the fabric store. Thankfully, that experience wasn’t as painful as the fitting suite. Avery ended up choosing fire engine red for her dress, which isn’t at all surprising, and a variegated blue for mine. It sort of made me feel like a mermaid, but I refuse to admit that I’m excited to see what she comes up with. I’ll take that secret to the grave.
Later that evening, I flop on my bed to start my favorite part of the day. “What’s up Mr. Tennyson?” James’ face fills my screen, causing my heart and stomach to dance the tango.
“Not much. How was your girls’ afternoon?”
“I survived.”
“That good, huh?”
“It wasn’t bad. It was actually pretty fun, but don’t tell Avery or Mom that. I have a reputation to uphold and all.”
“Scout’s honor,” he says, holding up two fingers.
“So I think I’m gonna run in a marathon next month. Mom told me about it at lunch.”
“That’s awesome! I’ll start working on my inspirational signs now. Mile one can be ‘Smile if you just peed a little.’ I guess I better hit the Internet for twenty-five more ideas,” he says, rubbing his chin in thought.
“You make a pretty awesome cheerleader. Just make sure they’re not too risqué. I’m gonna run with my dad and I’d like to keep my boyfriend after the race is over.” I smile at the word “boyfriend.” Hearing that word will never get old.
“Father-daughter marathoning, huh? That’s pretty cool.”
“Yeah, Mom said he finished up his last contract and will have time to train.” James closes his eyes for a moment and a look of pain flashes across his face. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I think so. That was weird.” He rubs the side of his face and lets out a breath.
“What happened?”
“I’m not sure. Just a bad feeling.”
“Is it gone now?” I try to keep the concern out of my voice, but I can’t. The last time he said he had a bad feeling, Gretchen ended up trying to kill herself.
“Not really. It’s okay, though. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“What triggered it?”
“When you said your dad finished the contract. I don’t have any memories flashing in my head, it’s just a weird feeling in my chest. That’s new.”
“Well as far as I know, Dad doesn’t work with the mob so hopefully it’s just a fluke.” He smiles and yawns.
“Can I pick you up tomorrow morning? I don’t want to wait until school starts to see you.”
I grin and roll my eyes. “Can’t wait an extra twenty minutes, huh? I guess I’ll be the one next to the impatient guy tomorrow. Goodnight, Mr. Tennyson.”
“Goodnight, love.”
I toss my phone on the bed and try to not dwell on James’ bad feeling. Today was actually pretty good, and him picking me up in the morning means he has to take me home too. That’s like winning twice in one day.
“This is so good I could cry.” I lean back in my chair, savoring the last bite of Gran’s cherry pie. Technically speaking, you’re not supposed to have dessert before dinner but I’m willing to break the rules. “I need to find out a way to make her bake pies for me when I leave for college.”
I still haven’t heard from State, which worries me. It’s not that I particularly want to go—I’ve pretty much decided that a bachelor’s degree in exercise and sports science from UNC is what I want. I just really don’t want to piss off my dad. He’s been reluctant about me dating James, but he hasn’t said no to me spending time with him and I’d like to keep it that way.
“You better get in line, Mrs.
Tennyson. I’m her favorite grandson.”
“You’re her only grandson. That means you’re her favorite by default. Speaking of, where is everyone?” I take the plate to the sink, stepping over Lazarus who’s taken up permanent residence in the kitchen. He lifts his head to scan the floor for crumbs but settles for some scratching behind his ear. He ranks in the top five ugliest dogs I’ve ever seen, but he’s super sweet.
“Mom’s at work. I think Gran and Grandpa are in Durham. They mentioned a meeting or something. They should be home soon though.”
“Hey, let’s get a head start on our Economics homework so we don’t have to worry about it for the rest of the week. Besides, I’ll feel less guilty about coming over to work on our project if we actually work on our project.” James crosses the kitchen and grabs my waist from behind. He runs his fingertips up my spine and brings his mouth to my neck. Goose bumps sprout along both arms, and I grip the counter to prevent me from keeling over right here in the kitchen.
“How ’bout we go back in my bedroom and make out for a little while instead?” He nips at my left earlobe and places kisses from the edge of my jaw down to my collarbone. I think I know why old folks call it “necking” now.
“Very tempting, Mr. Tennyson, but I’d rather your family didn’t walk in on me in a compromising position.”
“That’s what my door is for.” I don’t have to see him to hear the smile in his voice. He turns me around and takes me in his arms. I indulge myself with a kiss before backing away. This boy is seriously distracting.
“Maybe next time, Casanova. You and I have a date with homework now.” I walk back to the table and reach in my backpack for the packet Mrs. Mason gave us at the end of class.
“What are we doing this week?”
I scan through the first few pages. “Do you want the good news or the bad news first?”
“Bad news. Better to get it out of the way.”
