“Samaya, you told me to smack you if you started to lose your perspective again. I need to put on my tie and comb my hair, then I’ll be there to deliver that smack.”
“But I—”
“Samaya, this is theacademicbanquet, and you areyou. I get it. You don’t want to go because you’re sad about Daniel, and because of the people you don’t like who will be there. And those are valid reasons to stay away. But tonight isn’t about your popularity, or your boyfriend, but about celebrating how hard you’ve worked for your accomplishments.”
I sighed. Cass was right. Not caring so much about what people thought of me didn’t mean I couldn’t be proud of my hard work. Because I’d worked freaking hard. I deserved to celebrate my achievements. Thiswas my last academic banquet before graduation. If I didn’t go tonight, I’d probably regret it one day.
“So you want me, you, and Owen to go together?” I asked.
Cass nodded. “Yes! You and I were always planning to go together. So what if you don’t have a date anymore? And also? Now Owen is coming, and I’m completely freaking out. Youcannotleave me alone.”
I frowned. “I don’t have a dress. I canceled my dress order.”
“What did you do that for? Don’t you have anything else?”
I stood and opened my closet door. I wasn’t really a dress person—it was mostly T-shirts and sweatshirts in here.
“Nothing nice enough. Except my dress from last year’s dance.” Something bright caught my eye. “I could wear the lehenga Devin bought me in India.” I laughed at that idea. But then I thought about it. I did love that lehenga. A lot.
I pulled it out of my closet and put the camera in front of it so Cass could see it. “Should I wear it?”
Cass shrugged. “It’s gorgeous. If you like it, wear it. Who cares where you got it? It’s just clothes—it’s not that deep.”
That was such a Cass way of looking at it. But they were right. I loved the outfit. Why should I be deprived of it because Devin was a disaster? “But accessories and hair. We’d need to leave, like, now, right?”
“Can you do this in half an hour? I’ll get there as soon as I can to help you.”
“Maybe? I’ll give it a shot.”
I disconnected the call and texted Tahira that she needed to help me get dressed in that lehenga in half an hour for the dance.
Tahira must have flown up the stairs because she burst into the room almost immediately. “Leave this with me,” she said. “That outfit isgorge. I have just the jewelry for it.”
Tahira and Cass managed to get me into my outfit and jewelry, and my makeup done, with time to spare. I was in the bathroom adding some intentional, smooth waves to my normal unruly waves while Cass,in a three-piece gray suit, sat on the edge of the bathtub, watching a YouTube hair tutorial and telling me what to do. Owen was apparently talking to Dad in the basement family room.
Tahira poked her head in, singing “It’s Raining Men.”
“Is Owen getting antsy?” Cass asked.
“Nope. Dad is pretending to know what the NHL draft is. But there isanothercute boy at the door. Shall I send this one away or bring him in like the last one?”
I lowered the curling iron, annoyed. “What are you going on about, Tahira?”
“That cute pie-making boy of yours is here. And he has a pie, which makes him even cuter. Most people bring flowers for their date before a dance, but who am I to argue with nonconformity?”
There was only one pie-baking boy in my life. Which meant ...
Daniel was here.
I unplugged the curling iron and pushed past Tahira to rush down the stairs.
Cass followed me but went straight to the basement door. “I can give you ten minutes. I’ll stall Owen.”
I opened the front door, and there he was. He was also wearing a suit, but no tie. His dress shirt had the top button open, the rich blue glowing against his tawny brown skin. I could see a stretchy bandage where his cast used to be. His hair was brushed and styled, instead of his normal messy but ridiculously shiny look.
And his eyes ... but wait. Daniel’s eyes looked dark in the dimming sun. They didn’t have their normal twinkly-with-joy look. Instead, he looked anxious. His lips were in a straight line, his posture seemed stiff, and his brows furrowed. He leaned forward ever so slightly in the doorframe.
And he was, indeed, carrying a pie. In a box.
