Part 7 (1/2)
When I walked into the house after school that day, I expected to find Nana making dinner. But it was quiet, and I followed that quiet upstairs to find the door to the guest room closed. I stepped closer to knock, but heard something soft and m.u.f.fled on the other side. It sounded like one of the animals we sometimes heard in the woods at night.
It wasn't an animal. It was my grandmother, crying.
I jumped back, ran down to the kitchen. How long had she been doing that, while I was at Meg's, trying on our dresses and experimenting with hairstyles, snacking on Oreos and diet soda? I wondered how often she did that while I was at school, and then I stopped that wondering as quickly as I could.
There was no room in my head for the thought of Nana losing it. I needed her strong and wise and stoic. I needed her to remind me that my life could work, because her life seemed to be working.
I needed her to not need anything from me, because I had nothing to give.
Still, I found myself turning to go back upstairs, prepared to knock and see if she was okay, when the phone rang. I dove to get it so that Nana wouldn't be disturbed. ”h.e.l.lo?”
”h.e.l.lo . . . Is this Laurel?”
”Yes?”
”Laurel, it's Suzie Sirico.” She said it like we'd been chatting every day, the best of friends. Way too bubbly.
”Oh. Hi.”
”I just thought I'd call and see how you and your grandmother were doing.”
”We're okay,” I said. ”Busy.” I really am busy, I added to myself. I have new friends and I'm going to the prom with Joe Lasky in an awesome dress!
I glanced up at the stairs, where I now heard the door to the guest room creaking slowly open. I pictured Nana on the landing, listening to try to figure out who I was talking to.
”I want to make sure you have my number if you need it.” Suzie's voice, so steady and sure of itself, was possibly the most annoying thing I'd ever heard.
Was this how people in her line of work were supposed to drum up new business? G.o.d, she was no better than a telemarketer.
”We have your number,” I said, not sure if that was true. ”Thanks for calling.”
I hung up as Nana came into the room. Her face was freshly washed but her eyes tired, unfocused.
”Was that Suzie Sirico?” she asked.
”Yes,” I said. ”I have to get started on some homework.” With that I brushed past her, knowing I should stay and chat or help her cook dinner, but unable to make myself turn back.
Chapter Nine.
The limo driver's name was Manny, and he did crossword puzzles while waiting for people to be done with their weddings or finally arrive on late flights at the airport. He had a wife and a baby, and his sweet '78 Mustang was just back from the shop.
We learned these things about him during the ten-minute drive from Meg's house to the Hilton. It was easier to talk to Manny, through the open smoked-gla.s.s window dividing the front seat from the rest of the car, than make conversation with one another. I sat with Meg in the way-back, Joe and Gavin facing us. Gavin had a line of perspiration beading across his upper lip. He'd wipe it away, then two minutes later it was back.
”The Sweat Mustache,” whispered Meg, her breath minty against the side of my face.
Joe playfully kicked my foot, which was dressed in one of Nana's black satin pumps and looked unattached to my body. I kicked back and smiled. Other than a light arm around my shoulder when we were posing for pictures, it was the first time we'd touched all evening.
At three, Meg and I had had our hair done at the Cosmos Salon. Hers: an updo with lots of curls. Mine: all down and straight. I got it trimmed a bit, to shoulder length, and even a few inches' weight off my head felt like a huge relief. We had spent the time since then getting dressed in Meg's room while Nana and Mrs. Dill drank tea downstairs. Meg showed me her new bra and announced her plans to fool around with Gavin at one of the after-prom parties. Later, I threw up in the Dills' hallway bathroom sink.
We'd done photos on the front steps, then, after the guys arrived, more in the driveway and over near the big pine tree at the edge of the lawn. Nana went inside twice to get Kleenex, and each time she took too long.
I thought of the photo of my mother in her prom dress. It would have been easy to suggest we take one picture inside, of Joe and me in front of the stairs, and even though it wasn't our house, it would have counted enough to make it into the double frame. But I didn't want to. Not then, at that moment, when things were moving along so smoothly.
At the Hilton, there was a long line of limos dropping kids off. Quick swishes of colors and fabrics. Gel on the boys' hair that glistened in the fading sun, and on the girls, corsages of every flower imaginable. If they put all their hands together, they'd make a field of bright, nonmatching blooms.
We watched everyone from the right-side window, quiet. When it was our turn, Manny got out and opened the back door. The guys exited first and moved away, cluelessly leaving Manny to help us step from the car.
”Thank you, sir,” said Meg, winking at him.
I just looked at the ground as he took my hand and pulled me onto the concrete, feeling everyone's eyes on me. When I raised my head to see where I was going, there was Joe, holding out his hand now like he was offering me a lifeline.
And then there was Andie Stokes and Hannah Lindstrom, with their dates, Ryan and Lucas. I wasn't sure who was with whom, but I couldn't imagine it mattered. Andie hugged me, tight, and then dropped back to check out the dress.
”Oh my G.o.d,” she said. ”You look amazing.”
”Thanks.”
”We have the best table. Come see.” She beckoned, and we all followed her into the ballroom. As we pa.s.sed under the orange and blue balloon arch, I turned to see where Joe was. But he wasn't behind me. I scanned the lobby until I spotted him talking with Mr. Churchwell, who shook his hand and clapped him on the back before letting him run to catch up. I turned back quickly so he wouldn't know that I saw.
Mr. Churchwell. It hadn't occurred to me before, but maybe he had something to do with all of this. With Joe, and with Andie and Hannah. But things were moving too fast for me to think more about it.
We did have the best table. It was farthest from the stage, centered along one side of the dance floor, next to French doors that opened onto the ballroom's balcony. Most of Andie's friends were already seated at the next table over-the second-best table-and we all waited for Andie to choose her seat. She did, and then everyone else fell into place, Meg and I next to each other.
I did a quick sweep of the rest of the room and the large circle of other tables. It was clear how the clique system of our school dropped invisible boundaries into this s.p.a.ce. The popular seniors were on our other side, and I wondered how it was that a bunch of juniors got the prime real estate. Fanning out before us were the in-between kids, the ones who were jocks or geeks or a little bit of everything. On the opposite side of the circle, across from where I stood, was one table of Railroad Crowd kids. Not even a full table; just two pairs of couples sharing with members of the only decent rock band at school.
One half of one of those couples was Julia La Paz, David's girlfriend. Or former girlfriend, judging from how enthusiastically she leaned into her date, another Railroad guy. I tried to picture David there with her, at the prom, but couldn't. I would have bet money that proms weren't David's thing. Maybe Julia had been relieved that they'd broken up and she could go.
Dinner was loud and awkward. Joe and I and Meg and Gavin tried to talk over the din, while Andie and Hannah kept shouting to their friends at the next table. After everyone was done eating, the DJ started up his party music, but n.o.body made the first move to dance yet. I took the opportunity to go back to the bathroom and stand for three minutes in front of the full-length mirror.
This is me, I thought, nodding to the girl I saw in my reflection. With mirrors I was always looking for something wrong, something that could be thinner or brighter or higher. But unbelievably, I liked everything I saw in this girl.
This is me at the prom, and I look a little bit pretty.
The girl in the gla.s.s nodded too, as if to say, Your secret's safe.
For a second, I imagined my parents standing behind me. Mom on my left, Dad on my right. Nodding and proud. Now stepping into the frame was Toby with his video camera, shooting me a thumbs-up.
I whirled around fast to make them go away.
When I came back from the bathroom, everyone at our table was on the dance floor. I stood by the doorway alone for a moment, watching. It felt odd to be the one staring at everybody, instead of the other way around. Within seconds, Mr. Churchwell was next to me with his hand on my elbow.
”You okay?” he yelled.