The Rest of the Story(57)

“Now, I’m in,” Jack said.

“You’re driving,” Bailey said.

“Actually, I’m not,” he told her. “I’m staying with Roo. But even if I wasn’t, I could walk home. Just like you did the other night.”

“That wasn’t my choice,” she said, glaring at him. “It was because you were being an—”

“And we’re going outside!” Taylor announced in an enthusiastic voice, getting to her feet. She gathered up the corsages in her hands, holding them against her. “Everyone, follow me.”

We all traipsed out the door and gathered around the couch, where Bailey still sat, her expression dark. Roo fetched some plastic cups, pouring a little bit from the bottle—rum, I saw now—into seven and lining them up on the porch rail. When everyone took one, only a single cup remained.

“Who are we missing?” April said, glancing around.

“Saylor doesn’t drink,” Jack told her.

“Oh. Sorry!” Taylor said. “I’ll just—”

Before she could finish this thought, Bailey reached over and picked up the shot. Then, as we all watched, she threw it back, then tossed the cup over the rail.

Taylor raised her eyebrows. “O-kay then. What should the rest of us drink to?”

Roo handed me an empty cup, then held out his own shot to the middle of the circle. “To summer. And to us.”

Even though I’d never been one to imbibe, I knew that normally, toasts were taken all at once. Here, though, like so much else, it was different. Lake rules.

“To summer,” Jack repeated, pressing his own cup against Roo’s. “And to us.”

Slowly, we went around the circle to April, Vincent, and then Taylor, each of them following suit. Then it was Bailey’s turn.

“Fine,” she said, adding her own shot to the cups pressed together.

“Do it right or don’t do it at all,” Roo told her.

She sighed, rolling her eyes, then said, “To summer and to us.”

Now, I was the only one. From where I was standing, through the nearby window, I could see the fridge and the picture of my mother, although the specifics were blurry at a distance. Still, I knew she was there, caught in that beat of time as I was in this one.

I held out my empty cup, putting it in the circle. “To summer, and to us.”

Everyone drank. Then April put her hand on the doorknob. “Okay. Everyone ready?”

“Yes!” Taylor said.

“No,” Bailey grumbled at the same time.

Ignoring her, April opened the door. “Welcome,” she said, “to the first annual North Lake Prom.”

She stepped back, waving an arm for the rest of us to enter: Jack and Taylor first, laughing, then Vincent, with Bailey, Roo, and me bringing up the rear.

“We were just in here,” Bailey said. “How different can it really look?”

A lot, actually. Maybe it was really the change in scenery. Or the fact that I’d been busy examining the pictures and worrying about Bailey instead of watching April and Taylor work their decorating magic. But as I came in, Roo’s living room seemed transformed.

There were the lights, of course, tiny and white and strung across all four walls, then meeting in the center of the ceiling, where they were bound with gardenias. The furniture had been pushed to the corners and covered with white sheets, leaving an empty stretch of hardwood floor. Off to one side was the kitchen table, which held a speaker, a punch bowl, and the rest of the corsages, laid out neatly in a row. To someone else, maybe it could have been a room where we’d just been. But I was new here, and could see it as something special. Because it was.

“Is this a punch bowl?” Jack asked, peering down at the table. “Seriously?”

“Formals always have punch!” April told him. “Take it from a party planner. It’s like a rule.”

“Right,” he said as he picked up a corsage, holding it out to Taylor. She grinned, then stepped closer, watching as he affixed it to her tank top. “Hey, does this mean we can skip your prom this year now? Because that would be—”

“No,” she replied flatly. She took his hand. “Dance with me.”

“There’s no music.”

“I can fix that,” Vincent, by the door with Bailey, offered.

“No!” Roo and April said together. Then she pulled out her phone and tapped it a few times. A moment later, as a pop song filled the room, Taylor stepped into the center of the floor, pulling Jack with her and grabbing April with her other hand. As she began to shimmy, grinning, and he clapped his hands, April let out a whoop.

I could feel my cheeks flushing as the small room got warmer and louder. Vincent slipped around me to the table, picking up a corsage, which he then brought back to Bailey, holding it out to her.

“You don’t have to,” she told him.

“I want to,” he said. “Okay if I put it on?”

“Fine,” she said.

Vincent carefully removed the pin, then attached the small bundle of flowers and stems to her dress as she watched. This was not the corsage she’d wanted, nor the place she’d planned to get it. Still, I hoped so much she could still see it for the sweet act it was.

“Wanna dance?” he asked her once he was done.