“Miles said he’d call me later,” Arden offered. I couldn’t tell whether she meant it as a defense of his behavior or was simply relating the next step in the story. “So I went home and tried not to completely fall apart.”
“Why didn’t you text me?” asked Lydia. “I would have come over!”
“Because I was hoping everything would be okay. I figured I could tell you when there was a happy ending.” Arden blinked hard. Caught up in the blow-by-blow, I’d forgotten we already knew how this story finished.
“Did he call?” Lydia pressed.
“Yeah. The next day. That’s when he said it was too much, and he couldn’t keep me happy and fulfill his other quote-unquoteobligations,so maybe we should take some time apart.”
“But that’s not the same as breaking up,” Lydia said eagerly. “It’s temporary.”
Arden pressed her palm to her stomach, inhaling in a series of staccato breaths, each one accompanied by a tiny squeak.
“Are you hyperventilating?” Terry asked.
She shook her head, lips fluttering as she released a long exhale. “Lamaze breathing.”
A nearby chaperone jerked her head in our direction. Oblivious, Arden continued her respiratory exercises. Lydia gently steered her toward a deserted corner.
“What are you doing?” Arden gasped between breaths.
“Going where none of the teachers will assume you’re in the middle of a Lifetime movie.” Satisfied we were out of earshot of any adults, Lydia crossed her arms. “Okay. Go ahead.”
“I lasted almost three days, and then I couldn’t stand it anymore, so I called him back and told him to go ahead and do it if he was going to break up with me.” Arden paused. “That was ... a pretty long call. I was a tad emotional.”
“Because you’re not an android,” Lydia said at once.
“Tell that to Miles,” Arden sniffed. “He said he couldn’t handle the drama.” She shrugged. “That was that.”
Terry’s mouth moved as she counted under her breath. “So you broke up with him on Wednesday?”
Arden lowered her chin in a shaky nod. “I thought he might change his mind. But he hasn’t.”
There was a beat of silence before Lydia grabbed her by the arm. “Let’s get out of here. We’ll put on pajamas and eat junk food and you can scream and jump up and down, because I freaking love your drama—”
“No!” Arden pulled away. “You don’t understand. This”—she gestured at the crowded gym—“is the only thing keeping me going. What does it say on my list?The Big Dance. Not Breakups and Ugly Crying!” Her hands twisted. “I can’t lose Winter Formal on top of everything else.”
The four of us stood there in fraught silence until Terry said, “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I don’t want to end up like that freaky lady Mary told us about who got dumped at the altar and spent the rest of her life staring at a rotten wedding cake.”
“Miss Havisham,” I supplied.
“If that’s what you want.” Lydia’s voice was heavy with reluctance.
“It’s not like I’m completely alone, right? I still have you guys.” Arden lifted her chin. “But I’m not going to get sappy right now, because this is a party.” Squaring her shoulders, she beckoned to a guy in combat boots and mad scientist glasses. “Hey, Michael. Do you want to dance?”
“Totally.” He held out a hand to Arden, and the two of them disappeared into the crowd.
“Wow,” said Terry.
“She’s got skills,” Lydia agreed. Catching sight of Pittaya threading his way toward us through the throngs of people, she started in that direction. “See you on the dance floor,” she tossed over her shoulder in parting.
Terry and I exchanged sheepish smiles. So this was how it felt to be a wallflower, another circumstance I’d read about but never experienced for myself.
“Do you want to sit down?” I indicated the scattering of small round tables and folding chairs, which were meant to approximate a Parisian bistro (the paper napkins had pictures of croissants).
Terry turned to follow me, coming to an abrupt halt when a boy I vaguely recognized from my English class stepped in front of her with a hopeful smile. Terry sent a questioning look my way; I shrugged helplessly. If there was a graceful way to decline such an invitation, I had no idea what it was.
