Tracy Flick Can't Win (Tracy Flick #2) (56)

There was a smattering of polite applause as the Principal made his way down the red carpet. One of the kids threw a handful of confetti at his head, a little harder than necessary. Weede stopped and stared into the crowd, looking a little annoyed as he brushed himself off.

“You might want to save that for the important people,” he said.



* * *



It reminded Diane of her wedding day, and not in a good way. She was tired and cranky—sandwiched between her father and sister in the back seat of the limo—and her dress was a little too tight. And of course her sister wouldn’t shut up, because silence was her sworn enemy.

“We’re going to the high school, Daddy. You remember the high school, right?” Gail leaned forward so she could see their father’s face. “You went there a long time ago. Diane works there now.”

Their father gave a vague nod, like all that was fine with him. Diane hoped he would stay like this, sweet and placid, but you never knew. He could get disoriented sometimes, and even a little belligerent, which was why they hardly ever took him anywhere. But Diane wanted him at the ceremony. What was the point of getting inducted into the Hall of Fame if your loved ones couldn’t be there to watch? And besides, she thought, maybe some tiny part of him was still awake in there. Maybe he’d be proud of her, even if he couldn’t say so.

“You met Mommy in high school,” Gail reminded him. “Her name was Marie Coluccio. You remember Marie, don’t you?”

“Marie’s right here,” their father said. He placed his hand on Diane’s knee and gave it a squeeze. “She’s my girl.”

“No, Daddy,” Gail said. “That’s Diane. She’s your daughter. Marie’s not with us anymore. Remember what a pretty singing voice she had?”

Oh God, Diane thought. Not this.

Gail hummed a few bars, and then she started singing, very softly. Her voice wasn’t nearly as good as their mother’s.

“Almost heaven, West Virginia. Blue Ridge Mountains, Shen—”

“Please.” Diane slit her throat with her index finger. “I can’t with the singing. Not right now.”

Gail was offended, but she stopped.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m just tired.” Diane removed her father’s hand from her leg. “I didn’t sleep well.”

She left it at that, because there was no point explaining that the reason she was tired was that she’d spent the night with Jack inside his giant RV. Gail had always disapproved of their relationship—of course she had; what was there to approve of?—and she’d been frustrated by Diane’s failure to get over it and move on with her life. Diane didn’t blame her for that. She was frustrated too.

It had been wonderful, though, being alone with Jack again. They hadn’t had sex, hadn’t even tried. They just talked for a while, and then they held each other—he felt so frail and bony in her arms—and then they fell asleep together on the fold-down bed, which was surprisingly roomy and comfortable. It was the first night they’d ever spent together, and there wouldn’t be another, but that was okay. It felt like an ending—a proper goodbye—the closure that had been denied her for all those years. It was going to be awkward, though, seeing him again at the ceremony, listening to him make a speech that would undoubtedly be witty and touching, but would omit the essential truth, which was that they’d loved each other for a while, and then he’d broken her heart. But it was better than nothing, she supposed, better than being ignored and forgotten.

This is my life, she thought as they turned onto the access road that led to the high school. It’s the only one I have.

There were a lot of people waiting by the side entrance, and they cheered when she got out of the limo.

“It’s Diane!”

“Front Desk Diane!”

“Looking good, Diane!”

Gail went first, hustling across the red carpet, covering her face with her hands as if she’d just been arrested for a terrible crime, and then it was Diane’s turn. She threaded her arm through her father’s, just as she had on her wedding day, and they started walking towards the school. It was slow going—her father took tiny, shuffling steps—but that was fine with Diane. She wanted to savor every second. She remembered how unhappy her father had been walking her to the altar, because he disliked Lance and thought she was making a mistake, and of course he’d been right. He was happier now, just a little puzzled by the applause and the confetti.

“Is this for me?” he whispered.

“It’s for both of us,” she said, and pulled him a little closer.



* * *



Paige called while Vito was on his way to the high school. He thought about sending her to voicemail, but he’d been avoiding her all day and felt guilty about it.

“Hey,” he said. “I can’t talk for long. I’m five minutes from the red carpet.”

“You’re so fancy,” she said. “I just ate a microwave burrito in my sweatpants.”

“I’m jealous,” Vito told her, and he meant it. He would’ve been a lot happier sitting with Paige at her little round table, peeling an orange they could share for dessert. “How was your day?”

“I got through it. How’s it going up there?”