Red(47)

“Thanks,” Felicity said. “You look really great, too.” She leaned over, brushed the wet grass from her feet, and slipped her shoes back on. “What are you doing out here?”

“It was loud in there. And hot. And I don’t really do the whole dancing thing.” He shrugged. “Wait, what are you doing out here? Where’s Brent?”

It reassured her that there was at least one person here who hadn’t witnessed her moment of humiliation. “He brought Gabby Vaughn instead of me,” she said. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard. Everyone’s talking about it.”

Jonathan’s eyes widened. “He ditched you for Gabby? Really?”

“He didn’t ditch me. It’s a comm—” Felicity broke off just in time as she realized she couldn’t use the community service story on a dateless brown-haired guy. “It’s complicated. But yeah, he’s in there with her right now. You can go look for yourself.”

“I mean, I believe you. I just … I’m really surprised.”

“You and everyone else. Best gossip of the year, apparently.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, nobody was talking about you when I got here. Topher Gleason came in right behind me wearing this baby-blue dress that looked like a cloud. Everyone wanted to take photos with him. It was kind of amazing, actually.” Felicity laughed despite herself—the fact that there was already fresh gossip cheered her up considerably.

Her phone beeped, and she pulled it out to find a new text.

HAYLIE: prom court procession is soon, where r u?

Felicity sighed. “We should probably go back in. They’re announcing the king and queen in a few minutes. Are you ready?”

“Honestly, I don’t really care who the king and queen are. Do you?”

Felicity’s reflex was to say, “Of course I do,” but that wasn’t really true. She had counted the ballots herself; she already knew Georgia Kellerman and Zach Masters had won. And she could certainly live without seeing her rival parading her boyfriend around like a prize poodle.

“No, actually,” she said. “I don’t care at all.”

When Jonathan turned and looked her in the eye, the intensity of his gaze surprised her. “Hey, Felicity? I know this sounds kind of weird, and I don’t want you to take it the wrong way, but … tonight kind of sucks. Do you want to get out of here?”

For a moment, Felicity was at a loss for words. People didn’t just leave in the middle of prom. But when she thought about it, there was nothing Felicity wanted more than to escape from this horrible, humiliating night.

“Yes,” she said. “I would love to get out of here.”





13


     SATURDAY, MAY 22


Five minutes later, Felicity was sitting in the front seat of Jonathan’s dark green pickup truck. As they roared out of the parking lot, a bubble of happiness and excitement expanded in her chest, leaving no room for the hopelessness she’d been wallowing in all evening. She felt as if she had gotten away with a crime and was fleeing the scene, gloriously unobserved.

A small part of her knew that if she were really a good friend, she would have stayed to watch Haylie in the prom court ceremony. But surely Haylie would understand that she couldn’t possibly be in that room while the whole school watched her boyfriend dance with Gabby. If their roles were reversed, Felicity would let Haylie off the hook without question. So she sent an apologetic text telling her friend that she couldn’t handle the ceremony, dashed off a similar one to Brent, then banished all thoughts of prom from her mind. Jonathan hadn’t told her where they were going, but Felicity realized she didn’t even care. Anywhere but Scarletville High was fine.

Jonathan drove with a little half smile on his face, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music on the stereo. Felicity didn’t recognize the song—it sounded like a love child of punk and pop, peppy and defiant in equal measures. It wasn’t the sort of music she’d expect Jonathan to play, but she liked it a lot. “Who is this?” she asked.

“It’s my friend Amy’s band, Sharks in Heaven.”

There was only one Amy in Jonathan’s class, and she was the captain of the debate team. “Amy Riley?” Felicity asked skeptically.

Jonathan laughed. “That’s a really funny image, but no, different Amy. She lives in Seattle. I met her at this summer arts program I went to in Boulder last year. What do you think of them?”

“They’re really great.” Felicity stuck her hand out the window to surf the air currents as they sped through the dark, then closed her eyes and let the music wrap around her. The combination of Amy’s strong voice and the wind against her palm made her feel exhilarated and free. When the song’s catchy chorus repeated, Felicity found herself humming along.

I won’t be your cookie-cutter girl,

can’t mix me from a recipe.

All the right ingredients in all the right proportions

sometimes make an anomaly.

I’d rather be a rock star than a groupie on the sidelines,

I look so much better with these blue streaks in my hair.

I’m not the perfect little princess you expected,

and if that means you can’t handle me,