Push(70)

Peter is waiting for me downstairs, dressed in a black tuxedo and looking a little sheepish. Michael is sitting on a chair next to him, and I get the distinct feeling that they were talking about something before I came downstairs. Peter’s face is a little flushed. My mom takes a handful of pictures, and Peter and I walk out to his car.
We are going to meet a couple of his friends and their dates for dinner at Caprice. Because we go to different schools, I have only met Peter’s friends a couple of times. They were nice, though, the few times we did hang out, so I think tonight is going to be a lot of fun. On our way to the restaurant, Peter tells me how much he likes my dress and how beautiful I look. I thank him and let him know that he doesn’t have to compliment me because I am already a sure thing. Unless he throws himself at some other girl, there is no way he isn’t getting a piece of ass tonight. It’s prom night, for God’s sake. Everyone does it on prom night. Peter’s parents even booked a suite at the downtown Sheraton for a bunch of us. They’ll be there to chaperone our little after-party, of course, but there are ways around that.
Before we get to the restaurant, I ask Peter what he and Michael were discussing before I came downstairs. He tells me quietly that Michael said he has to bring me home at eleven, right after the dance ends. I am not allowed to go to the after-party, even though my mother already said it was all right. If he is late in bringing me home, I’ll be in trouble. Peter wasn’t going to tell me about Michael’s demand until after the dance. He didn’t want it to ruin our night.
I tell him that it won’t ruin our night because Michael is full of bullshit, and we are going to completely ignore him. Peter looks worried. But I tell him not to worry because Michael is just being a dick and trying to manipulate and control me like he always does. This is my prom night, and I’m not going to let Michael ruin it.
Peter is silent for the rest of the drive, and when we pull into the parking lot at the restaurant, he asks me if I’m sure I want to risk it. The school year is nearly over anyway, I tell him, and Case Western has already accepted me. I’ve got nothing to lose. Okay, he says, we’ll do whatever you want.
* * *

When the dance is over and everyone heads to the Sheraton, Peter tells me he is happy to take me home if I’ve changed my mind. He doesn’t want me to get in trouble because he knows perfectly well what Michael is capable of. I tell him again that I won’t let Michael ruin this. Not tonight. Not my senior prom.
Peter’s parents are so amazing. They paid for the room, and rather than watching over us like a couple of mother bears, they spend the evening in their adjoining room. The door between their room and our double suite is slightly ajar so they can hear if we are getting too rowdy, but other than that, they pretty much leave us alone. Peter’s friend Hayden sets up the music system he brought from home, and we spend an hour or two just dancing around and being silly. One of the other boys brought a bottle of booze in his duffel bag, and we pass it around until it’s empty. My head is a little foggy, but no one seems to be drunk. No one is out of hand. No one is doing anything but having a good time.
At three in the morning we are all sitting around in our sweats playing truth or dare and laughing our asses off. There is a knock at the door, and Peter goes over to get his parents. Everyone gets really quiet wondering who the hell it is. But I already know it’s Michael. Fuck. For a second I consider hiding in the other room, but I know that I am probably safer right here, in front of everyone else.
Mr. Beckman looks out the peephole and sighs. He opens the door and starts conversing with a man who I assume is the hotel manager. Behind the manager are two police officers. And behind the police officers is Michael. He is standing there with his arms folded across his chest and a smug, sideways grin on his face. I can see him in the tiny space between the door frame and Peter’s father’s body, but I don’t think he can see me. The manager is telling Mr. Beckman that Michael is looking for his daughter. Peter’s dad turns to me and smiles sadly. The expression on his face tells me that Peter has told him all about Michael. That he knows what a prick Michael really is.
And with that, Michael and the police officers come into the room. My face is getting hot, and I want to sink into the floor, to vanish into the ground. Everyone’s eyes move to me, waiting to see what I will do. But instead of walking over to me, Michael heads straight for Peter.
“Peter,” he says, “I told you very clearly that Emma had to come home right after the dance. Why is she here instead?” My mouth is open. I want to gasp for air.
“Because this is where she wants to be,” Peter says. I am completely taken aback. I have never heard Peter speak to anyone like this before. He is usually so compliant and respectful toward adults. Inside, I am cheering like a f*cking lunatic. Hell, I’m giving him a standing ovation.
As soon as the words are out of Peter’s mouth, Michael raises his fist, as if he is going to hit Peter. I am on my feet in an instant, rushing over to where they are. Mr. Beckman grabs Michael’s arm, and the police are telling everyone to calm down. The world is spinning; everything is crashing down around me. What the f*ck was I thinking, telling Peter to bring me here instead of taking me home? Michael is going to go over the edge right here in front of everyone.
Mr. Beckman lets go of Michael’s arm and pulls Peter toward him. Then he tells me I’d better go home with my father. Peter tries to argue, telling him not to send me home with Michael. Mr. Beckman asks Peter if he knew that Michael wanted me home right after the dance. When Peter says yes, Mr. Beckman tells everyone to get their things together because he is going to call everyone’s parents to come pick them up.