by Susan Oloier
“Father Dodd will just replace me with someone else.”
“Noelle, just do it.”
“Why?”
She thought for a moment, then responded perfectly. “Because Chad’s in the play.”
Right, Chad. And Trina.
Four
October brought relief from the heat, and the smell of orange blossoms wafted through the air. Landscaping crews replaced marigolds and garden pansies with gazanias and mums. The cadmium yellows, vermilion reds, and orange Creamsicle colors blended together in fall hues.
Homecoming spread like a fever through the school. The football team declared its determination to beat Saint Mary’s in the big game. Personally, I had no loyalty to my school. As far as I was concerned, they could cancel football altogether. Grace was different. She knew nothing about the sport, yet she expressed the excitement of a cheerleader. Nothing would stop her from attending the game or the dance, not even the critical thing called a date.
Grace convinced me to go. Football was one thing, but the dance—going without dates—singled us out as outcasts again. Grace assured me that other students were going dateless. I wasn’t so sure.
Homecoming festivities took place on Saturday. Saint Sebastian played Saint Mary’s High School of Glendale. Classes, studying, and any religious ceremony moved to the end of the students’ agendas. Every word, every action, revolved around Homecoming.
I met Grace at her house in the morning. She wanted to coordinate dresses, makeup, and hairstyles. We decided to shower and primp at her house. My place was out of the question. Grace and I couldn’t compete with Becca and her dominion over our shared bathroom.
I carried a navy blue pleated dress to her house along with a pair of stolen mules from Becca’s closet. Aside from my tennis shoes and loafers, I didn’t have any other shoes. I considered the pilfered mules another side benefit to having an older sister.
“Is that what you’re wearing?” Grace scrutinized.
“Yeah. Why?”
She shifted uncomfortably. “Well...it’s a dance, Noelle, not Sunday mass.”
“Well, what are you wearing?”
She raced to her closet and revealed a full-length purple gown with a cowl neck halter.
“It’s a David Meister. Don’t you just love it?”
“Who’s David Meister?”
Grace gave me a push. “You’re too funny, Noelle.”
I may not have known who David Meister was, but I did know that it was an over-the-top bridesmaid dress. And my shirt-dress paled in comparison. I lifted it like a toilet rag.
“This is all I have.”
“Maybe you can wear something of mine.”
“I don’t know.”
She returned to the closet and instantly pulled three different dresses out. I imagined her trying them all on before deciding to wear the purple number.
“How about this one?” she asked as a tangerine moo moo stared back at me. It looked like a relic from my grandmother’s wardrobe.
“No.”
She held up a teal baby-doll dress that I swore was a nightgown.
“I refuse to attend a dance in anything resembling sleepwear.”
“This is all I have, Noelle.”
“And this is all I have, Grace.” There was a tone to my voice.
But the last dress she held out was nice. It was tea-length with egg noodle straps, cut lower than anything I’d ever worn. The silver color shined like blue ice. The label read Jessica McClintock, and I wondered where she got it. I wanted to try it on. I hoped Grace and I still wore the same size.
“It probably won’t fit.”
“Well, it’s too small for me.” She pushed the dress into my arms.
In the bathroom, I wriggled out of my T-shirt and shorts, slipping the Jessica McClintock over my hips. I pulled it over my tiny chest and glanced in the mirror. I loved it.
When I stepped out, Grace seemed surprised at first. “It looks great, brings out your eyes.”
I looked again. It did soften the stone blue of my eyes. I felt Grace’s stare from head to toe, saw her head cock slightly in my peripheral vision.
“The only thing is that it makes you look a little … flat.”
I glanced down. “That’s because I am … flat.”
“I’m just saying.”
I figured she didn’t expect the dress to fit so well.
“But you look great.” She threw her arms around me.
So I chucked the shirt dress aside. I would wear it if I ever went to church again, which was doubtful.
Football. A game I knew nothing about. We pushed our way along the bleachers, and Grace sidled up next to Chad.
“This looks like a good place.” Grace gave me a childish shove as though I didn’t know what she was doing. Chad was with two friends: Joe Pendleton, who was framed like a bulldog, and another guy with blonde corkscrews for hair.
Grace spoke much too loudly. Chad pushed back his brown bangs and smiled at me. I half-grinned, then turned away. There was no way that smile was intended for me.
“Who’s winning?” Grace asked, inching closer.
“Saint Mary’s, seven to nothing.”
“Cool.”
Chad looked puzzled, but asked, “Going to the dance tonight?”
Why did he look at me with his coffee eyes and long lashes when he asked the question?
Grace intercepted it. “Thinking about it—if there’s nothing else to do.”
Nothing else to do? Who was she kidding? She’d planned this since the beginning of the school year. Besides, we were losers without dates.
“So you don’t have dates?”
“It’s not because we didn’t have the opportunity.”
He looked away, embarrassed. Her comment seemed to spark the bulldog’s interest. His lip curved slightly into a lopsided grin. The blonde head of curls shoved Chad conspicuously.
“Maybe we’ll see you there,” he said.
“Maybe.”
The crowd made a collective cheer, and Grace turned her attention to the game.
I felt nervous next to Chad and his friends. I studied everything around me, except them. The players trampled the field, its grass tanned and crisped from the Phoenician sun. The one holding the ball floundered through a storm of bodies, only to be knocked to the ground. Our side of the stands cheered. That’s when I saw her. She flitted on the sidelines with an explosion of pompoms.
The guy with the serpentine hair nudged Chad and gaped at Trina in her short cheerleading outfit. All I noticed was how her hair was pulled back in a rat-tail and how rat-like she truly was. I looked at her, searching for a hint of cellulite, unshaven arm pits, or anything to make me feel better. There was nothing. I really hated her.
Just like every other guy, Chad probably had a crush on Trina, too. Grace shriveled. I knew she felt blasé in comparison, a mere shadow of what she thought were Trina’s marks of beauty.
I caught Chad looking at me, but I ignored him. Was there something on my nose? A zit forming on my chin? He frazzled me, made my stomach turn like a roulette wheel. I wasn’t even interested in him. Why did he have that effect on me? I touched my face, hoping my hands would mask the freckles. That had to be what he was staring at. Damn my DNA.
My digestive system took a final spin when someone startled us from behind. Grace screamed. It was Jake. The reeling I felt from Chad’s glances temporarily gave way to Jake’s lure.
“What are you doing here?” Grace instantly changed from self-pity to excitement.
“Came over for the big game. I’m alumni now, you know.” He smiled and winked at me. “Hi Noelle.”
It was all I could do to return his gesture. Any clearness of thought evaporated.
“I didn’t know you were coming,” I said.
“I only live ten miles away.”
Grace attained instant stardom when Jake was around. He was last year’s big man on campus. I watched him work the crowd.
With Ja
ke’s appearance, Chad and his friends momentarily melted away. Dissolved because they had to. It wasn’t right to like a best friend’s crush. It just wasn’t.
Saint Mary’s won twenty-eight to seven. Though the students of Saint Sebastian’s immediately mourned the loss, all thought quickly turned to the dance. Everyone was fueled by the crowning of the Homecoming king and queen. Though I tried to fight it, I allowed myself to get caught up in the hoopla, as well.
Mrs. Hallaran ordered pizza for us while we got ready. Grace twisted her hair into a pile of rotini on top of her head; a mud mask covered her face. I showered. That was enough.
We listened to John Mayer, and Grace mouthed the words into her hairbrush. As we scarfed pizza, Grace helped me apply eye shadow, mascara, and lipstick. My mother would have had a heart attack. By the time Grace emerged from the bathroom, she looked pretty good, despite the fact that she had spackled the makeup onto her face.
I lagged behind. My hair lay limp like angel hair pasta, but it still looked better than it did last year.
“Come on, Noelle.”
I combed my hair and threw a clip on the side. Then I scurried into the closet and slipped the silver dress on. Grace zipped it for me. When I pivoted around, her mouth was agape.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing. You clean up pretty well.”
I turned to the full-length mirror. She was right, I did.
Hip-hop music boomed throughout the gymnasium. The bleachers, basketball hoops, and smell of sweat were poorly blanketed in streamers, balloons, and a strange brew of perfumes. I wanted to leave. My being there was all wrong. I should have been home, buried in the folds of my comforter. Instead, I stood in the midst of a crowd of people I either didn’t know or couldn’t stand.
Most had dates. As a matter of fact, Grace and I were the only ones who didn’t. My face grew flush, and I felt like an idiot. But when I glanced at Grace, she beamed. I couldn’t take the moment away from her.
Couple after couple waltzed into the gym. Not another single loser like us. I wanted nothing more than to walk out and pretend we had never been there.
Then Trina walked in. A mermaid-style, metallic purple dress clung to her. It was strapless and showed off her pushed-up cleavage. Her date, some junior named Zach Thomas, held her arm. They looked like Barbie and Ken.
“Look, Noelle.” She gestured toward the entrance.
“Not again with her,” I said. The words dripped from my tongue like poison.
“She looks—” Grace searched for the right word.
“Hideous?” I interjected.
“Beautiful.”
“Please.” I panned the auditorium, hoping to find a diversion. I did. I reflexively reached for the clip and adjusted it as Chad slid into the gymnasium. He wasn’t alone. A plain girl in a simple black dress accompanied him. I had never seen her around Saint Sebastian’s. Her mother probably let her go to public school. Lucky thing.
“He has a date?” No other words escaped Grace’s mouth.
I shrugged. Why wouldn’t he have a one? He wasn’t a loser like we were.
Tears welled in the corners of Grace’s eyes. Her black mascara began to create brush strokes under her eyes. Then the tears really started to flow.
I gave her a generic pat on the arm, so as not to draw further attention to our pathetic selves. “You know what? She’s probably just a cousin or something.”
“Right,” she sniffed. “A cousin.”
She gripped hard to me like I was a life preserver in the sea of strangers. A familiar voice passed over us like a crashing wave.
“I didn’t know this was a lesbian party.” Trina. Zach glowered at her side.
Grace released my arm. She bolted in the direction of the girls’ bathroom and left me standing completely alone. My eyes fish-hooked into Trina; I wanted to gut her. Instead, I darted after Grace. After all, she had once saved me back in seventh grade from Jerry Searfus at what was supposed to be an innocent pool party. Had she not found me in the girls’ locker room, cornered and afraid with his hand groping inside my bikini top, I don’t know what would have happened to me. Maybe it was my turn to help her.
Muted sobs echoed from the handicapped stall. The click of my heels resonated on the floor. When I reached the last door, I tapped on it. “Grace, come out.”
“Leave me alone.”
“Come on, Grace. You’re going to ruin the night.”
“It’s already ruined,” she barked angrily through her sniffles.
“Who cares about Trina or what she thinks?”
“I do.”
She whipped the stall door open. Her makeup smudged in dark circles at the base of her bottom lashes. Her eyes were already reddened and starting to puff. I snatched some paper towels, offering them to her. She refused.
“I know you’re upset, but don’t let her have that much power over you.”
“Noelle, get a clue.” Her words were hiccups between sobs.
“About what?”
She remained silent, then turned to the mirror as if speaking to herself. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
“Is it too much to ask to want to be accepted? To be popular? To be a little bit like her?”
“I don’t want to be like her,” I said. “I hate her.
Grace rolled her eyes at her reflection.
“Why can’t you just be happy being yourself?” I asked.
“Because…” But a series of sobs completed her sentence.
I pushed the paper towels at her, but she let them flutter to the floor like broken butterfly wings.
She stared at me for a long time. I knew she wanted me to sympathize and support her every word, but I couldn’t. “Why don’t you go back to the dance and leave me alone?”
“So you can cry in here all night? No way.”
Her anger heated up. “Just go!”
I wanted to give her a hug, but for the first time she didn’t seem to want any part of it. I knew Grace craved popularity. But I didn’t understand her. She was being over-the-top. All I meant to do was help, and this was the treatment I received. I stormed away and returned to the dance. I really just wanted to go home.
The anger lodged in my throat. I couldn’t believe Grace—my best friend—would take things out on me. I wasn’t the one who made the comment. I wasn’t the one who showed up as Chad’s date. And I wasn’t the one who sent her to the bathroom crying.
I returned to the gym, hovering on the sidelines against the wall. Becca was hidden in a far corner, lip-locked with Carl. His hand slid over the cup of her bra. I wondered where the chaperones were when you needed them. Then I noticed Trina sidling up flirtatiously to Chad who stood without his date. She touched his arm while batting her mascara-coated eyelashes at him. What a slut! Even though I stood there alone, my hatred for Trina kept me company. I conjured up thoughts of hurting her even more than she’d injured Grace. I imagined the humiliation she might feel if her dress, like snakeskin, was suddenly shed in front of the entire school. I pictured hacking her sun-bleached tresses away with gardening shears. I visualized stuffing her into one of the lockers in the darkened Phys-Ed changing room and leaving her there for the entire weekend. I plunged so deeply into my anger that I was unaware of the passage of time until a tap on my shoulder pulled me back to reality. It was Chad. I glanced right and left, sure that someone else must have wanted my attention, like the gym teacher or the janitor. I gaped, speechless. His eyes were warm and sweet.
“Noelle, right?”
I nodded, scraping to find my lost words.
“Wanna dance?”
Dance? He had to be kidding. Why would he want to dance with me? I looked around for his date, for Trina, for his laughing friends who dared him to ask me. No one was in sight. He shifted uncomfortably.
“What about your date?”
“She doesn’t care.” He noticed my puzzled look. “We’re just friends.”
“O
h.”
“So…you want to?”
I was so distracted by Chad actually talking to me that I lost track of my capacity to think.
“What?”
“Dance.” He smiled, apparently amused by my absent-mindedness.
I felt an obligation to go after Grace who was probably still hunkered down in the bathroom. But I really wanted to dance with Chad.
“Sure.”
As we slipped onto the dance floor, I expected a bucket of pig’s blood to spill on my head. But nothing like that happened. Oxygen by Colbie Caillat played. It felt surreal. Chad held me close, and I stared into the crescent moon of his neck. He smelled like a mixture of sweat and Romance. I danced with a boy one other time in grade school gym class, a forced episode of square dancing. This was different. In three minutes, I lost myself completely. Chad, a boy I didn’t even know, exercised hypnotic powers over me and mesmerized me with his charm.
As the music died, I noticed Trina’s eyes crawling all over me. I stayed near Chad, wanting Trina to wallow in her jealousy, mold-green and putrid.
“Thanks for the dance.”
I meandered off the dance floor. I expected Chad to return to his date or to find his friends and collect his bet money, but he followed me instead. Nervous, I glanced around for Grace. She was nowhere to be found.
“Can I call you sometime?” Chad awakened me from my stupor.
Was this some kind of joke?
“You want my number? Why?”
A strange look clouded his face. I scanned the gymnasium. Trina & Company watched everything. Apparently, I waited too long to respond.
“If that’s a problem…”
I still said nothing because my brain refused to cooperate, to say the one word I wanted it to say: yes.
“All right,” Chad said finally as he turned away, slighted. I wanted to stop him, but I was too late. He was gone. I had ruined my chance. What a total jester I was. I worked hard to recoup from my absolute mind freeze. I needed to find Grace anyway. But as I caught sight of Trina making her way toward Chad, something possessed me.
I pulled a pen and paper from my purse and jotted down my number. I waltzed over to Chad. He hovered on the perimeter of the room, talking with Joe from the game. Their conversation puttered to a halt as I approached. I knew Trina was watching.
