The Names They Gave Us(2)

I find Lukas where I left him, near the refreshment table. He ducks out of his conversation with the track team guys, frowning a little. “Everything okay? You were gone awhile.”

“Yep. Swim team stuff.”

He leans down to peck my cheek, an elegant motion that makes me feel like we’re at a gala or a fund-raiser. Lukas wants to be a doctor, but tonight, I can see him as a young senator. He’s thoughtful and engaged in every conversation, and, especially in his traditional black tux, he cuts a regal figure. Blond hair just long enough to comb, a healthy tan, and a strong nose.

“Is my tie okay?” he asks. “I’ve got to announce king and queen soon.”

“Your first official act as Senior Class President Pratt!” I grin, teasing him a little as I straighten his bowtie. “Fancy!”

He smiles a bit sheepishly, though I know he’s proud to have been reelected. It’s a nice addition to his already impressive CV. Mine’s not bad either, though I can’t bear to think about it. Unlike Lukas, I have absolutely no idea where I want to go to college, or for what.

The lights dim lower around us as the DJ transitions to a slow song, and I nod toward the dance floor. “Shall we?”

“All right,” Lukas says, taking my hand. He’s much more comfortable chatting with people than dancing. He confessed this before our first homecoming together, to make sure I wouldn’t have a disappointing evening. But at least he’ll entertain a few slow dances. Even though we’re only swaying, he wears his working on calculus homework expression.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing.” I smile, my pressed lips trapping the laughter.

This dress would be a little hard to truly dance in anyway. I thought I’d go for a pale pink or blue gown—something simple and floaty. But I surprised myself with this one: the color of milky tea, with crystals like a dusting of sugar. I tend to think of my coloring as plain: pale, freckled skin; unremarkably blue eyes; and ash-brown hair that falls nearly to my waist. But the neutral-tone dress works somehow, makes me look brighter by comparison. I think the mermaid silhouette and Hollywood glamour look surprised Lukas too. On the way here, he glanced at my neckline and tugged at his collar. “Are you sure it’s not . . . a little . . . showy?”

I laughed and said that if my pastor dad was okay with the dress, it was fine. He still looked a little disquieted, which I hoped was a compliment. Lukas is fast to share his well-thought-out opinions in class, but he can be hard to read in other ways.

In fact, it took me all of freshman year to realize that he liked me. We were both the new kids—me transferring from Sotherby Christian so I could join the swim team, him from North Carolina. He brought his faint Southern drawl with him, along with a collection of brightly colored polo shirts and his impeccable manners.

We met in second-period freshman biology, two days before my mom’s cancer diagnosis. Sometimes, when memories of that time come back like tremors, I think about what a good friend Lukas was to me. He handled the havoc with such grace—looking up statistics to comfort me, earnestly sharing scripture for whatever I was feeling. I’m a pastor’s kid; I know Bible verses. But sometimes it’s nice to have people present them to you. Like they thought so deeply about your situation that they sought outside help. He did all that without ever even holding my hand.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks.

“When we met.”

He smiles, his gaze passing over my face. “It’s so different to see you with all this makeup on.”

“Good different?” My deep lipstick needed bold wings of eyeliner to balance it. Even though I have an online channel where I share makeup tutorials, I don’t use many products day to day. My parents don’t exactly love when I wear lots of makeup. And my parents don’t exactly know about the video channel.

“Sure,” Lukas decides. “Just different. You look like a slightly alternate-universe Lucy.”

“Hollywood Luce,” I suggest.

“Your parents didn’t think anything of all the makeup?”

I lift one shoulder. He’s unduly reverent toward my parents, so he considers my video channel a lie by omission. Whereas I think I’m keeping them from unnecessary worry.

But in this moment, with my best makeup artistry and my hair swept to one side, it feels like the culmination of what I hoped high school would be, all at once. I compose a quick prayer of gratitude—that I have both my parents still; that I have Lukas, who is steady and good; that I have swim team and a chance to be a good leader. Tonight, everything feels like it’s supposed to.

The second crisis cracks my world into pieces.

Lukas and I stay after the lights go up, exposing a sticky dance floor. He and the rest of the student council take down the balloon arches, and I pick up a few corsage petals that have been trampled underfoot. Most of the chaperones are seeing students out, making sure no one is drunk or being particularly stupid as the limos take them to afterprom.

I’m waiting for Lukas outside the ballroom when Principal Cortez comes back up the stairs. “Lucy, sweetie, what are you still doing here?”

“Oh, Lukas is helping tear down, so I figured—”

“Well, he can go too.” She touches my arm. “You’ve got enough going on.”

“Okay . . . ,” I reply. I guess I do have a lot going on, with swimming and my AP classes.