See You at Harry's(49)

The dark circles under my eyes match the gray fabric. But when I fake-smile, they disappear a little, and I can see the old me there. I turn, letting the skirt swish around my legs. When I look down, I see a pair of pretty silver ballet slippers next to the tub. I put them on and stare at myself.

Cassie knocks on the door. “Don’t forget the hair clip on the counter!” she yells through the crack.

There’s a big silver bow on the counter that I assume goes with the dress, too. I pull my hair back and clip the bow in place.

Then I look again.

My neck looks longer than I knew it was.

I look so . . . different. Older.

I step closer again and stare at my stranger self in the mirror.

You look so sad, she says to me with her eyes.

“I am,” I whisper.

She nods. I know.

The familiar pain in my throat rises up, and I cover my mouth to hold in the sob that wants to escape.

I don’t know who I am anymore.

I take off the dress and carefully hang it back up.

Cassie’s door is closed. I can hear her and Ran talking inside. Well, I can hear Cassie talking inside. She’s saying something about next year and a limo.

I knock.

Cassie shrieks. “Ooh! Come in, come in!”

I open the door and find Ran and Cassie sitting on the edge of Cassie’s bed with their eyes squeezed shut.

“OK, on the count of three, we’re opening our eyes. One. Two. Three!”

They both look.

“Just me,” I say.

“What happened? Didn’t it fit? I was sure it would fit!”

“It fit.”

“But we wanted to see!”

“Sorry.” I look at my feet.

“Well, I should go home,” Ran says. He avoids eye contact with me.

Cassie sighs dramatically. “Oh, Fern. You can be happy sometimes, you know. You don’t have to be sad every second.”

I see my face in the mirror again.

“I know,” I say. “But . . . it’s hard.”

She stands up and hugs me. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to push you. We’re just worried about you — that’s all.”

“We know you’ll be OK,” Ran adds. “And it’s OK to be sad. Or to feel whatever you’re feeling. Everything is OK.”

All will be well, I think. Say it.

Except it won’t be. Because Charlie isn’t coming back.

“Want me to take you home?” Ran asks.

“Sure.”

Cassie follows us to the door. I hold the dress up high in one hand so it won’t touch the floor. “It’s really beautiful,” I say. “Thanks.”

“I can’t wait to see you in it! I just know you’ll be gorgeous.”

I smile and she squeezes my free hand.

Outside, Ran gets his bike. It’s the kind with the pegs on the wheels for tricks. Once he’s on, I step up on the back pegs. I wrap one arm around his waist and hold the dress up behind me with the other. We slowly make our way down the sidewalk, my silver dress billowing behind us like a too-light shadow trying to dance out of my arms.





IT’S SATURDAY. The big day. So far, Holden and my dad have been pretty good at avoiding each other. My dad gave up on coming home for dinner the past few nights because he’s been busy at work, gearing up for the “big move,” which means that Harry’s Ice Cream is making its way to local convenience stores. My dad pulled the Harry’s ad off of TV and went with an image of the front of the restaurant for the label instead.

But time is not on Holden’s side because when my dad decides to come home for a break between the lunch and dinner rush, Gray also decides to show up with Holden’s tux. And that’s when, as Sara would say, the you-know-what hits the fan.

Holden runs for the door before my dad can get there. He grabs the tux from Gray and starts to shut the door, but my dad gets there before Gray can escape.

“What are you doing here?” my dad asks, glancing at Holden’s tux.

“Uh, bringing Holden’s tux to him. It’s the dance tonight,” Gray says, cool as can be. “Pick you up at seven, right?” he asks Holden.

Holden blushes. “I’ll be ready.”

“Hi, Gray,” I say, peeking around my dad’s shoulder.

“Hey, Fern.”

My dad is not distracted. “Young man, how old are you?”

Gray straightens. He’s taller than my dad. My dad straightens, too. But it just makes his enormous belly stick out farther.

“Seventeen.”

“Do you know how old my son is?”

“Uh, fifteen?”

My dad shakes his head. I can tell Holden is pleading with every molecule in his body for my dad to just go with it. But there is no chance on earth that is going to happen.

“He is fourteen years old. Fourteen. Don’t you think you are a little old to be dating my son?”

“Um, I’m just gonna go now.”

“That’s right. And please don’t come back.”

Holden tries to push past my dad, who is blocking the doorway. “Gray, don’t listen to him. Come back at seven!”

“I don’t know, man,” he says, backing up. “Your dad is intense.”