“Heyyyy, baby.” What a romantic greeting. “Are you ready for a party?”
“No, I’m ready for prom,” I insist. “Please tell me we will actually make it there instead of stopping off at the field to smoke behind the bleachers.”
“Of course, baby,” he waves a hand dismissively. “But we are totally going there after.” An eye roll is all I grant him.Why am I not surprised?
“Oh yeah, here.” Bryce hands me a plastic container bearing the corsage I asked him to get. A white rose against a bed of small fern leaves and baby’s breath. The jerk didn’t even have the decency to put it on me himself.
Not a battle I want to pick.
The limo is loaded with the usual suspects. Clay is in the car with his date Jasmine. Travis and Dan, two more wrestlers, are at the front with their respective dates. I recognize their faces, but I don’t know their names. I don’t think we share any classes since I’m the only one in the car who takes AP classes. I smile politely and compliment them.
“Hi,” I wave with my free hand that’s not holding the clutch. “Your dresses are beautiful.” I mean it, they are beautiful, but my words still come off asinsincere. It’s the anxiety of being around unfamiliar people that draws that side out of me.
“Thanks,” Dan’s date replies for them both. “You too. I love the color.” Great start to the night, awkward niceties that end in awkward silence. If this is how the night will go, I’m already dreading it.
I don’t even bother to ask their names because then I’d have to admit I don’t know them, and after four years at the same school—probably more, since it’s a small town—I should probably know them. My mistaken identity is often that of a snobby rich girl who can’t be bothered to socialize with peasants, and that’s fine. I let them believe it. Because the truth is that I don’t want to get attached to people I’m going to leave. I don’t want ties to this town. I just want to get out of here and never look back. If the stuck-up persona keeps people from trying to be my friend, so be it. I don’t care what they think because I won’t be here in a few months.
To my delight, we pull up to the event center downtown where prom is hosted every year. The venue is used for everything from weddings to job fairs. There’s a lush garden with sweeping wisteria crawling over the arbors and a little gazebo in the center. The entire garden is illuminated with twinkling fairy lights giving it an enchanting aura.
The theme this year is fairytale. Pretty cliche, if you ask me.
But I’ll give it to the prom committee, they ran with the theme and created a little girl’s fairytale dream. Hundreds of battery-powered candles lead the way to the main event space. The wall of windows opposite the entrance shines the golden hour light upon paper mache castle towers wrapped in ivy scattered around the perimeter between tables covered in lilac tablecloths. The support beams are garnished with more twinkle lights and flowers. The stage for the band is covered in more sweeping wisteria and vines that lead to a large print of a castle behind the instruments and musicians. They’re playing modern music, thank goodness we don’t have to listen to Disney music all night.
The sight is truly breathtaking. I’ve been both pessimistic and optimistic about tonight, hoping for the night of my life, but also worried it’ll disappoint. But the room looks so perfect I can’t help but feel a little hopeful.Maybe tonight will be as wonderful as I dreamed.
“Hey, Bryce.” I turn to face my date seeing he’s eyeing Chloe Taylor where she sits at her table, batting her eyelashes atmy date. While I’m annoyed by the inconvenience, I don’t really care if he is looking for someone else already. He and I will be done soon. After tonight, he will have served his purpose.
“Can you get me something to drink?”
“Sure thing, babe,” he grips my ass through the layers of tulle. “Want it to be afundrink?”
I don’t bother to hide my eye roll. “Sure. Thanks.”
He’s back in a minute with a drink for each of us in silver and white paper cups. I take one sip and decide this will be the lastfundrink I have tonight based on how strong he mixes them.
I want my wits about me tonight. No sloppy drunk girl at the prom stories. That might be ok for everyone else, but it’s not who I am.
“Look who showed up,” Clay says on Bryce’s other side. I scan the room and find Jason Alder sitting at a table by himself. He’s wearing a black sports coat and jeans but no tie, white shirt untucked. He’s actually pretty good looking when he cleans himself up a bit. “Why the fuck would the Mute want to come to prom? And by himself, no doubt.”
“You don’t know that,” I scoff at his presumption. “For all you know, his date is in the bathroom.”
“Yeah. Or maybe he brought his faggot brother as his date.” Bryce’s comments about that are getting really old. Is he really that offended by modern relationships?
I see the mischievous gleam in his eye warning me that his twisted mind is working before he speaks. “Hey, I have an idea. Let’s have a little fun tonight.” A well deserved chill races down my spine when Bryce turns to me and says. “And, babe, you’re going to help.”
Oh no.
Chapter Seven
Jason-Present
Skinny Love-Birdy
“I have a problem,” Mara announces when she walks into the kitchen this morning. She’s wearing jeans and one of my flannel shirts with a couple buttons undone at the top. Her hair is tied up in a messy bun and it looks like it hasn’t been brushed in a couple days. A far cry from the sleek ponytails she used to wear.
It’s been a week since she crash landed into our lives. We butt heads about as much as we get along, but that’s probably because I like provoking her. She’s so easy to rile up and looks kind of like a child when she does. She’s stormed out of a room several times in the last week.
But she’s also read aloud to me every night since that first one. Sometimes for an hour, sometimes for three. We’re almost done with this book. I hope she reads the next one I have picked out, this might be a one time thing. But I like listening to her read, her disagreeable personality aside, her voice is very soothing, gentle and feminine but not too high pitched. She sounds like a woman rather than a teenage girl. Most of the girls I’ve slept with always wear a little girl mask. They act helpless and raise the pitch of their voice, bat their eyelashes. Who wants to fuck a little girl? I’d rather have a woman.
