Part 8 (1/2)
”Prom?”
”Yeah,” Baker smiles.
”And he gave you a flower?”
”A rose. Look, smell it.”
Hannah holds the rose up to her face, but she can't smell anything. ”Awesome,” she says, the word sc.r.a.ping up from some hollow place inside her stomach.
The door opens and Michele hurries into the office, heading straight for the vice president's desk without looking at either of them.
Hannah hands the rose back to Baker. ”I'll see you later.”
”I'll call you about the AP Lit homework,” Baker says, her eyes touching Hannah's only briefly before she looks at the rose again.
Hannah has her hand on the door when Michele's grating voice stops her. ”What is that?”
Michele is looking at the rose. Her jaw hangs loose from her face.
Baker eyes her without blinking. ”It's a rose...” she says slowly, as if speaking to a child.
”Who gave it to you?”
”Clay. Why?”
Michele pushes her tongue against her front teeth. After a long second, she says, ”Did he ask you to prom?”
”Yes,” Baker says, ”and I don't see why you care. He broke up with you almost six months ago. And then you ratted him out to Father Simon. Remember?”
Michele's face flushes pink. She breathes heavily through her nose as her eyes fill with tears.
”He asked me to go with him,” Baker continues, her eyes still unblinking, ”and I want to. So I'm going.”
Michele wrenches her booksack off the desk and storms out of the room, pus.h.i.+ng Hannah with her shoulder in her haste to get out the door.
Baker blinks very fast, her eyelashes fluttering like bird's wings. She sets her lips hard against each other and tosses the rose onto her desk.
”That wasn't like you,” Hannah says quietly.
Baker drops down into her chair and slumps her shoulders over her desk. ”A lot of things haven't been like me lately,” she says.
On Thursday morning, when Hannah pulls into her parking spot, she notices Clay standing with Baker at her car. Baker holds a skinny, rectangular white box in her arms.
”What's he doing here?” Joanie frowns. ”He never gets here earlier than us.”
”'Morning,” Clay says when they step out of the car.
”Hi,” Hannah says. ”You're early today.”
Clay shrugs and looks over at Baker. ”Felt like it.”
”Clay brought us donuts,” Baker says, opening the white box's lid. Inside, there are half a dozen donuts, glazed and covered in chocolate icing.
”Baker's favorite,” Clay says.
”Wow,” Hannah says, nodding at the donuts. ”That was nice of you. What's the occasion?”
”No occasion, just wanted to.”
”Wow,” Hannah says again.
”Do you want one, Han?” Baker offers. ”Joanie?”
”I'm good,” Hannah says while Joanie shakes her head.
They hang around the car and wait for Wally and Luke to arrive. When the first bell rings and they all start to walk inside, Joanie jogs up to Hannah and knocks her elbow. ”The h.e.l.l was that about?” Joanie snickers. ”Are donuts supposed to be romantic or something?”
”Ha,” Hannah laughs, her stomach hollowing out, ”Yeah. I don't know.”
Though Baker offers her a donut three more times that day, Hannah can't bring herself to eat one.
The six of them spend Friday night hanging out at Clay's house, finalizing their plans for their spring break trip to Destin. They drink c.o.ke and eat Doritos while Joanie flips through the TV channels to find a good movie.
”I'm still trying to convince them not to come,” Clay says.
”They're going to,” Wally says.
”Yeah, that's not gonna work,” Luke says. ”Besides, if your parents don't end up going, I doubt any of ours will let us go.”
”Our parents definitely won't,” Joanie says.
”My mom's already uneasy enough,” Baker says. ”I think the only reason she feels okay with it is because she thought your mom was like the most religious person ever in their bible study group.”
”Not too far off,” Clay smiles.
”I don't see why you don't want them there,” Hannah says. ”We like your parents.”
”It's not that, it's just that I think we'll have more fun if they're not there.”
”Clay, we don't always have to be drinking,” Hannah says. ”I think we're all perfectly okay with a chill week at the beach.”
”I didn't say we always had to be drinking, I just wanna be able to have a beer here and there.”
”Your parents' house is our best bet.”
”Yeah, I get that, I just still think they might come around to the idea of us being there without them.”
”Your mom won't go for that,” Wally says. ”You know she won't.”
Clay huffs in frustration. He looks down the couch, to where Baker's sitting. ”What do you think, Bake?” he asks.