Her face brightened. “That’s right! I remember you. The row by the wall.” She let go of the corsage. “You didn’t take physics?”
I shook my head. “I decided to coast senior year.” It wasn’t worth mentioning that my medication side effects last fall meant I couldn’t have passed physics even if I’d given it a shot.
She stared out at the dance floor, the disco lights turning her dark curls into different colors. I thought once more of the night I met Ava with her white gauze. What color had her tape been?
I couldn’t remember, and a panic sent heat through my chest. Blue? Yellow? Pink? I racked my brain, but I couldn’t come up with it. Was I already forgetting her?
Sheila turned to me. “Are you okay?”
I realized I wasn’t. The panic was growing, not receding. I felt woozy. “I have to sit down,” I said to Sheila.
She took my arm and led me to the tables. “Here.” She pulled out a chair.
I sank onto it. My headache raged. I hadn’t brought anything for it. There were meds in Gram’s car.
Sheila moved a chair next to me, and the other girls watched us with curiosity. “I remember you having to go to the nurse a lot,” she said. “Is something wrong?”
I didn’t want to say it. I barely knew this girl, and I was already a big enough freak.
I sat there for a moment, assessing myself. Legs: working. Eyes: fine. Head: rubbish. But the wooziness seemed to ebb.
The song ended, and the noise levels dropped. I drew in a ragged breath. Of course prom would get ruined inevery way possible. First, no Ava. Now, these stupid brain blips that rendered me useless.
Sheila leaned closer. “Should I get someone?”
“No,” I said. “I’m all right.”
I stared at the floor, listening to my breath, making sure nothing more was going to happen. But when the next song began, a rap anthem with a punishing beat, every thump of the speakers made my head pulse with pain. “I’m going to go grab some Advil from my car,” I told her. I almost added, “I’ll be right back,” but I didn’t.
“You want me to walk with you?” Her face was pinched with worry.
“I’m fine. Thanks.”
Carlos was out on the dance floor. So was Bill. I’d text them later, let them know I had to bail.
The cool air outside the hotel was pure bliss. So was the quiet.
I found Gram’s car and sat behind the wheel a moment, assessing again. I seemed reasonably okay. I opened the glove box and grabbed the small med container. It still had pills from three different prescriptions in it. My history in little colored discs.
I knocked out two Advil and popped them in my mouth. I should have brought a bottle of water with me. I managed to dry swallow and sat another moment. Latecomers in glittery gowns and black tuxes passed by. No one noticed me in my dark car.
I sat back in the seat, resting my head. Laughter filtered in. Prom night, and here I was, managing symptoms and wishing for quiet.
I wondered where Ava might be. How far would her mother have taken her to escape me? No internet. No phone. Maybe no memory of me by now.
I swiped my jacket sleeve at my eye. The night had been fun for a moment. We had pictures and memories of Carlos head-banging to bring up at reunions. It was enough.
I started the engine. I didn’t feel great, and occasionally the world seemed to swoop underneath me like I’d lost gravity.
But my eyes worked, and I knew the way home. So I drove.
When Gram looked up from her book as I came in, her eyes were sympathetic. “I’m glad you went.”
I stripped off my bow tie as I passed through the living room. “Thanks for making me go. It was cool.”
Then I lay on my bed and stared at the ceiling, reimagining every scene at prom, but this time, with Ava in them.
The weeks went on with no sign of Ava. I went to class, scarcely paying attention, and sat in the cafeteria with Bill and Carlos. The prom girl was working out for Carlos, so sometimes she and Sheila sat with all of us. Sheila kept her distance from me. I didn’t blame her.
