You'd Be Home Now (59)

“What kids?”

“Liza and a boy named Daniel,” I say. I leave out Jeremy, because the Luther aspect might freak her out.

Joey raises his eyebrows. “You and Liza patch it up? That was quick.” He drinks orange juice from the carton until my mother takes it from him with an annoyed look.

“She’s my partner in Drama Club. And we eat lunch together. We’ve kind of been forced together, but it’s not so bad.”

My mother looks at me steadily, sipping her coffee.

I wait to see if her face is going to morph into the Look. If it heads in that direction, I’m in trouble. I hide my hands under the lip of the kitchen island so she can’t see them shaking.

She’s stays quiet.

    “I’ve never been to a dance, Mom. This shouldn’t be…hard.”

“Jesus, Mom, just let her go. She never goes anywhere.” Joey shakes his head.

“All right then, Emmy.” She sets her coffee cup on the counter. “You can go with Joe. He doesn’t have to work that night and it will do him good to get out, too.”

Beside me, Joey does a double take. “Uh, did anyone ask me if I wanted to go to some stupid school dance? Which I don’t. And if we all recall, the last time I went to a party with my sister, it didn’t turn out very well.”

“Joey,” I say. “It won’t be like that. It doesn’t have to be.”

“Joe.” My mother’s voice is hard and sad at the same time.

I look at Joey and mouth, Please.

He takes a long breath. “Okay. Okay.”

“Thank you,” I say. “Thank you.”



* * *



—

I look over at Daniel in Watson’s class. Everyone is reading quietly. Mr. Watson is busy at his desk.

“I’m going to the dance,” I whisper. “My brother’s coming with me, so I don’t need a ride.”

“Nice,” Daniel whispers back. “Very cool. Mr. Baseball can’t pick you up?”

“Stop it,” I say. “It’s not like that. You don’t know anything.”

Daniel shrugs. “I probably don’t. But you know what I do know?”

“What?”

He holds up his copy of Charlotte’s Web. “I think the case can be made that this pig has some sort of anxiety disorder due to early piglet abandonment. I might have to add that to my paper.”

I can’t help myself. I laugh.



* * *



—

    On Friday night, my mother hands Joey the car keys. “Rules,” she says. “Back by midnight. No drinking, no drugs.”

“I’ll be with him, Mom,” I say. “Don’t worry.”

“Rules,” he answers. “Tattooed on my brain.” He taps his head.

My mother’s eyes look watery.

“I’m so pleased,” she says. “Look at the both of you. So lovely.”

“We need to go,” Joey says, nudging my shoulder. “Before the waterworks start.”



* * *



—

The gymnasium is an explosion of pumpkins and gourds and orange-and-yellow streamers. White and royal blue lights, the Heywood High colors, hanging from the rafters, dangling among the sports championship banners. Some kids are really decked out in dresses and heels, hair pinned prettily up. Most kids are casually dressed. I’m wearing a gray cotton dress over leggings, with a long pink sweater, glittery gray butterfly barrettes I stole from the thrift store on Rose Street in my hair. My stomach feels flippy and excited. I’m looking around for Gage, but I don’t see him yet.

“Well,” I say to Joey. “What now? I’ve never been to one of these.”

“Stay away from the punch. Probably not spiked, but you never know. Just drink water. Find your people, I guess. I’ve only been to one, freshman year, and I was stoned, so I don’t remember much.” He winces. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.”

    “I’m not sure about that,” I say, pointing but trying not to be too obvious. “Over there.”

Joey’s tutor, Amber, is leaning against a wall, checking her phone. Her hair is up, pretty tendrils hanging down the sides of her face. She’s wearing jeans and a tank with a shrug. She looks around the gym. I can tell Amber is nervous, like me. She’s tapping one foot and keeps blowing tendrils of hair away from her cheeks.

Joey seems frozen, just staring at her.

“Go,” I say. “Talk to her. It’s not like you don’t even know her.”

“Right. But usually we talk about homework. It was built in. I can’t really go over there and talk about math at a dance. Like before, with a girl, I’d be high, and so would she, and so…you know, you just talked shit. I don’t want to mess this up.”

He pulls his hood over his head. His protective mechanism. I reach up and pull it down. If I’m about to do what I think I’m about to do, he can damn well go over there and talk to a girl he already knows is into him.

“Stop hiding,” I say. “Just go.”

He nods and takes a deep breath. “Text me,” he says. “If we get separated, let’s meet back in this spot at nine, just to check in.”