“Y’all, get into some good trouble for me,” calls Saul.
Inside, Ruthie and I pose for pictures, and when I feel people staring—including her boyfriend from freshman year—I take her hand to give them something worth remembering.
The halls of the civic center are strewn with white streamers and paper lanterns. With the lights dimmed, I can actually forget that we’re in the same place where town elections and the annual craft show are held.
We first stop at the punch bowl, where we run into Adam, who is with a shorter Latino girl whose black curly hair is twisted into an intricate updo. Adam wears a fitted black suit with a black shirt and a skinny red tie to match his date’s A-line-cut tea-length dress.
“Well, well, well,” says Ruth, “Adam’s got a date.”
The girl, who I’ve never seen, blushes even though she doesn’t look the least bit amused by her date, who is chugging punch.
Adam glances around before saying, “Ruth, Ramona, this is my”—he coughs into his shoulder—“cousin, Sophia.”
I try not to laugh at how obviously he’s embarrassed by this. The good news is no one has to know this is his cousin, and the even better news is that Sophia is pretty hot. “It’s great to meet you, Sophia. I haven’t seen you at school before. Do you live around here?”
“Hell no,” she says. “I live outside Hattiesburg. My mom made me come down here for this.”
Adam groans into his fist. “Can you at least pretend to be cool with me for one night?”
Ruth and I laugh, and after a minute Sophia does, too.
“Well, I guess we’re gonna check things out,” I tell them.
“Cool,” says Adam. “Just leave me here with her then.”
I grab Ruth’s hand, but before we leave, I ask, “Do you know if Freddie—”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Adam tells me. “He’s been all weird and brooding lately. Like an angsty vampire.”
What if he shows up? Or what if he doesn’t? Or even worse: What if he brings a date? I don’t know if I could handle seeing him with someone else right now.
I nod and pull Ruth behind me to the dance floor. “Hey, Sophia,” she calls over her shoulder. “Save me a dance?”
Rather than shy away, Sophia says, “If you think you can handle this.”
I squeeze Ruth’s hand as we slip into the crowd. “Oh my God! Who are you? I bow down, Queen Sexpot!”
“I know! I know!” Her voice is giddy. “But it might be cool to know someone in Hattiesburg.”
“Ruth!” I pull her to me in a huge hug. “You didn’t tell me you got into Southern Miss!”
Her eyes water, which is as close as I’ve ever seen her come to crying. “It’s all happening so fast. Everything’s going to change.”
I hold her hands in mine. “Yeah, it is,” I admit. “But we can still be the same.”
She nods, and then a slow grin spreads across her face. “She was really hot.”
“Yeah, she was. Come on!” I yell at her over the music. “Let’s dance.” I’ve never really been the kind of person who dances, but the music reminds me of dancing with Freddie in Jackson Square and how our bodies melted into each other and how perfect that moment was.
I suddenly miss him so much. I miss parking my bike in his driveway every morning and swimming with him and eating all his different breakfast concoctions and making out in car washes and broom closets.
We don’t dance in the same way Freddie and I did, with our skin pressed together, but the sight of us is still enough to make a few heads turn. I watch intently as a couple of faculty members whisper back and forth and point at us. I dance so that Ruth’s back is facing them, and I wonder if they’re going to tell us we can’t be here or that we can’t dance together. It’s the first time I’ve felt in danger of being told I don’t belong simply because I’m being myself. It’s a feeling I want to forget, but one I know I will always remember. But then the librarian, Mrs. Treviño, steps into the conversation, and the other teachers quickly disperse. I heave a sigh of relief.
After a few songs, we sort of slip into the background like everyone else and we’re no one’s spectacle. I can’t stop myself from glancing around every once in a while, searching for Freddie. But I can’t imagine he’d have a date or that he’d come here by himself. Yet this is just the type of thingAgnes would force him to attend.
The pounding dance music slows into a quieter song and the crowd thins out. Ruthie’s eyes are wide and round, and the smile on her face is nothing short of thrilling. This is not the night she was expecting. “We can sit down,” she says as she catches her breath.
I pull her to me. “It’s not prom without a slow dance, right? This one’s mine. Next one is Sophia.”
