The Weight of Blood (32)

“Yeah! She’s basically, like, ruined our entire senior year,” Charlotte added.

“How?” Wendy balked, offended. Up until then, senior year had been everything they’d dreamed of. She had made sure of it, down to the very last detail.

Charlotte counted her fingers. “Jules is suspended. The Black kids hate us. Reporters are putting our business on front street. And prom has turned into a shitshow. I mean, all this change, and Maddy’s not even going to prom!”

Wendy blinked, the words somehow blindsiding her: Maddy’s not going to prom.

And though she tried, she couldn’t shake Kali’s words.

“You wanna help Black people? How about you start by actually helping them instead of just helping yourself?”

If Kali could see through Wendy’s weak plotting, could Kenny? What would it take to make it seem like it wasn’t about her but more about the greater good for everyone?

And at that exact moment, an idea that would eventually change the entire fate of the town hit Wendy in the gut.

From David Portman’s Springville Massacre: The Legend of Maddy Washington (pg. 123)

There were many questions after that night of carnage, but one stood out among the rest: What was Maddy Washington doing at the prom in the first place?

According to testimony, Maddy had been considered an outcast among her peers, teased, bullied, and tormented relentlessly throughout her years at Springville High School. No one could recall her attending a single after-school event, football game, homecoming dance, or Halloween bazaar. She entered the school seconds before the bell rang, then exited just as quickly.

Thus, the concept of Maddy going to the prom with the most popular boy in school seemed almost unfathomable.

This was where the finger-pointing began. Because if they had never thrown that pencil, if they had never uploaded that video, if they had never decided to combine dances, and if her date had never asked her to the prom, half the town would still be alive.

May 20, 2014

Parked in a clearing facing the power plant with a view of the reservoir, Wendy and Kenny lay in the back of his truck, a fleece blanket covering their half-naked bodies. Kenny kissed her neck, lips trailing down to her collarbone. He ran a hand up her left leg, squeezing her hip. Wendy stared through the sunroof at the night sky. This was usually her favorite part of sex. The part where he lavished her skin, making her feel like the most beautiful creature on the planet. She held him tight, trying to remain present, but her mind kept wandering back to Maddy.

“Maddy’s not even going to prom.”

Maddy had to go to prom. For optics, it needed to appear like they were one big happy family and that she, in turn, had forgiven them. But Maddy couldn’t go with just anyone, and definitely not alone. The “new” Black girl had to go to the All-Together prom with a Black guy to further drive home the point that all the Black kids were happy at Springville High. Maddy needed a Cinderella-style night.

And there was only one guy Wendy could think of who would be the perfect prince.

Kenny stopped, pushing up on his forearms to stare down at her.

“You okay?” he panted, uncertainty marring his face.

Wendy hesitated before uttering, “Yeah. Of course.”

She tried pulling his mouth back on hers, but he tilted his head.

“You seem . . . distracted.”

Wendy nibbled on her bottom lip. Kenny nodded and rolled onto his side with the groan of a boy who knew he wasn’t about to get laid. Without her human blanket, her skin grew cold and she sat up, pulling her knees in. Her eyes wandered across his body, from his six-pack abs to his cut shoulders—so perfect he took her breath away.

“What’s on your mind?” he breathed, a hint of annoyance in his tone. He might as well have said, “What is it this time?”

Wendy plopped her chin on her knee and sighed. This wasn’t the place she wanted to have the conversation. She hadn’t even thought through all the details. But she needed to start the ball rolling sooner than later.

“It’s just . . . I need you to do something for me. Something important.”

He chuckled, leaning on his elbows. “Okayyyy. Sure. What’s up?”

Wendy took a deep breath. “I need you . . . want you . . . to take Maddy Washington to prom.”

Kenny stared at her for several beats before letting out a loud laugh.

“Good one, babe,” he said, shaking his head.

Wendy remained very still, eyes focused on the blanket, trying not to lose her nerve, hoping she’d played her hand right.

Kenny measured her face and his smile fell. “Wait, are you serious?”

“Yes,” she admitted sheepishly. “It’s important.”

He shot up. “But . . . but why?”

“Because I want to make things right. It’s not like I was planning to go to prom anyway. And what girl wouldn’t want to go to prom with Kenny Scott?”

He sighed. “Is this about Jules?”

She shrugged with a wince. “Sort of, yeah.”

He shook his head. “Wendy . . . you didn’t throw the pencils. And you didn’t show up to school in fucking blackface. You’re not Jules!”

Wendy’s chin trembled. The words were meant to be complimentary, but they didn’t land that way. She knew she wasn’t Jules, that she could never be Jules, that she’d never live up to such perfection. And yet deep down, behind her spleen, hid the truth: she didn’t want to be Jules. She didn’t want to be the type of person who tormented people without care.