Beyond the Point(37)

She couldn’t escape him, and yet he still hadn’t noticed her.

By April of her Yuk year, Hannah had given up all hope of having a date during the entirety of her college career. Basketball season had ended and Hannah had nothing to fill her newfound free time. A week earlier, in a striking role reversal, it had been Hannah on the bed in the fetal position.

Dani had just taken a seat in Hannah’s desk chair, snacking from a box of Cheez-Its, when Avery walked in from class.

“What’s with her?” she’d asked Dani, pointing at Hannah and dropping her backpack.

“Nervous breakdown number six of the semester,” Dani had said casually. “Standard issue.”

“I’ve told you a million times, Hannah, no one is ever going to ask about your GPA once we’re out of here.”

Hannah had rolled over and narrowed her eyes.

“It’s not about grades, Avery. It’s about . . .” She’d paused, then groaned. “Ugh. It’s about the two of you.”

Dani had laughed, pointing at herself as though she were completely innocent. “What did I do?”

“You’re always off with Locke,” Hannah had said, then pointed at Avery. “And you! There’s practically a line of guys outside your door every day, there to pay homage. Seriously. Have you checked lately? Someone’s probably out there right now.”

Avery had laughed, while Hannah pulled herself dramatically off the bed and stuck her head into the hallway. Dani chuckled and dug her hand back into the bag of Cheez-Its.

“She’s losing it,” Dani had said.

“Come on, Hannah. It’s not that bad.”

“Yes it is! This place is swarming with guys. I’ll never have odds like this again! And still . . . I haven’t been touched by a guy in two years. TWO YEARS! What is wrong with me?”

Avery raised an eyebrow. “Nothing is wrong with you. Maybe something’s wrong with them.”

In a flash, Hannah had crossed the room, lifted the window, and stuck her head into the balmy April air, looking down to the darkness of cadet area below. Around the concrete courtyard, the barracks squared off, every window lit up with golden lamplight.

“WHY WON’T ANYBODY DATE ME?” she’d screamed, her voice echoing off stone.

Someone walking across cadet area whistled up toward her.

“HELLO!” Hannah had shouted. “Hey! You! WILL YOU GO ON A DATE WITH ME?”

Soon, all three girls were in hysterics on the floor, laughing.

When they’d wiped the tears from their eyes, Avery said, “Hannah, we can get you a guy, if it’s a guy you want.”

“She doesn’t want any guy,” Dani had said knowingly. “That’s the problem. It’s a specific guy.”

With a deep sigh, Hannah had nodded, dropping her head into her hands.

“So what’s his name?” Dani had prodded.

“I just have this feeling.”

Avery had let out an impatient groan. “Okay, okay. What’s his name?!”

“Tim Nesmith.” Hannah had fallen again on her bed, cradling her pillow against her face.

“The guy on the parachute team?” Avery had asked, scrunching her eyebrows together in surprise.

Wrangling the bag of Cheez-Its back into its box, Dani had wiped her hands against her black shorts and then slapped them together. “Hannah. Why didn’t you say something sooner? Tim was in my Beast squad. We’re like this.” She crossed her fingers tight.

Against her better judgment, Hannah had permitted a bubble of hope to rise in her chest and dropped the pillow from her face. “Really?”

“Yes.” Dani limped over to Hannah’s computer, and spoke with full confidence. “You and I both know I can make this happen.”

West Point’s event calendar populated the screen, teeming with possibilities—concerts at Eisenhower Hall, half-price tickets to Broadway shows in the city. But apparently, as Dani scanned the options, her eyes landed on a recurring meeting in Cullum Hall, scheduled by the Cadet Hostess.

While social etiquette was dying everywhere else in America, West Point had to ensure the nation’s future leaders didn’t embarrass themselves at a dinner with a VIP guest, or at a ball with a foreign dignitary. That’s why West Point kept their very own Emily Post on the payroll, also known as the Cadet Hostess. The hostess’s office offered frequent classes throughout the year, in table manners, chivalry, and decorum. On the docket for April were six weeks of ballroom dancing lessons—free for any cadet who wanted to participate.

Convinced that it was the perfect cover, Dani had sent a series of instant messages to Tim that night, each message fired off faster than the one before. Hannah had watched over Dani’s shoulder in horror.

BBALL4EVA: Tim.

TIMNESMITH66: Hey Dani. what’s up. long time no see.

BBALL4EVA: Hey—Locke and I are doing ballroom dancing lessons this semester—and I need one more guy to join our crew. You interested?

TIMNESMITH66: ballroom dancing?:-/

BBALL4EVA: tuesday nights in Cullum Hall. Six weeks.

TIMNESMITH66: six weeks?! wtf. i don’t know mcnalley . . . I’m not the greatest on a dance floor.

BBALL4EVA: even more reason to come.

BBALL4EVA: and before you go giving me some crap excuse, might I remind you that without me, you never would have made it through Beast.