See You at Harry's(51)

“Ha-ha.”

“We’re serious,” I say. “You’re going! Call Gray and tell him to meet us there.”

“How? Dad took the car.”

“Yeah,” I say. “But he didn’t take the truck.”

Sara dangles the spare keys in his face.

“No. Way.” He reaches for the keys, but she holds them just out of reach.

“Get ready!” I tell him. “We have to leave at seven!”

He kisses me on the cheek and grabs his tux off the back of his closet door. “Some privacy, please?” he asks.

I race to my own room, shut the door, and turn to face my dress. I take a deep breath. Can I really? Should I? I reach forward and touch the soft fabric. I picture it flowing behind me and Ran as we pedaled home. I see Cassie’s excited face when she invited me and think about all the trouble she went to so I could have the perfect dress. And I know the answer.

When I’m ready, I stand in front of the mirror and stare at the stranger in front of me. I move just a little, and the fabric dances around my legs.

“Hey-eh!” Sara says, coming in without knocking. “Where’d you get that dress? It’s beautiful!”

I turn. “Cassie loaned it to me. It was her sister Maddy’s.”

“Oh, yeah, I think I remember that. She wore it to Prom. Don’t tell, but you look way better in it.”

“Thanks.”

“Except, um . . . You really need to do something with your hair.”

I check it in the mirror.

“Here, let’s put it up again.” She grabs a brush and band from my dresser and pulls it back, then twists it up and somehow gets the band around it just right.

“There’s a bow,” I say. “On my dresser.”

Sara holds it up and makes a face as if it’s contaminated. “Um, no. Hold on. I have an idea.”

She runs down the hall to her room and comes back with an armload of makeup. But first she shows me what she’s holding in her hand. Three silver butterfly clips. They are tiny, with pretty sparkly wings.

“Where did you get those?” I ask. I’ve never seen her wear them.

She shrugs. “One time Mom and I saw them in a thrift store and I liked them, but I never really had a chance to wear them.” She carefully attaches them to my hair in the back, then gives me a hand mirror and shows me how to hold it so I can see the back of my head in my closet mirror.

“Beautiful,” she says.

“They are,” I say, turning my head so that the butterflies glitter in the light.

“And so are you,” Sara says quietly. “Now, come sit on the bed so I can do something about that sad face.”

I sit while she rubs color into my cheeks, gently brushes silver sparkles on my eyelids to match the butterflies, and curls my lashes. When she’s done, she walks me to the mirror again.

“Well, there you go,” she says. “A real homecoming princess.”


I turn and hug her. I squeeze my eyes shut to keep from crying. “Thank you,” I say.

“Don’t mention it.” She looks like she’s about to cry, too.

“I wish you could be at the dance with us,” I say.

She smiles but in a sad sort of way.

“With Gil,” I say.

She shakes her head. “No, we’re through.”

“How come?”

She looks away. “It’s just too hard,” she says. “Knowing how often I chose sneaking off with him instead of taking care of Charlie.”

“It’s not your fault, Sara. You know that.”

“I know. But even so, I just can’t. It wasn’t meant to be, anyway. I mean, Gil’s not really my type.” But she says it more like she’s trying to convince herself.

She turns me around so we’re both looking in the mirror again. “I wish Mom and Dad were here to see you like this.”

I shrug, like it’s no big deal. But inside, I wish it, too.

“Come on, let’s get Holden and blow this joint.”

I follow her down the hall. When we pass Charlie’s room, I feel a tug and pause. Sara stops and puts her hand on my shoulder. “It’s OK to have fun tonight,” she says. “He would want that.”

I nod, and we keep walking. And I can’t help it. I’m smiling.





SARA POUNDS ON Holden’s door. “Your carriage awaits!”

We follow her outside, and she opens the passenger door of the truck for us. Before we get in, we pause to look at Charlie’s enormous face under the bad paint job. “He would’ve loved this,” I say.

“Come on.” Sara walks around to the other side, and we all climb in. The truck jerks a bit while Sara gets used to the clutch, but pretty soon we’re rolling down the driveway and on our way.

Sara fiddles with the radio and comes to a Rolling Stones song. She cranks the volume, and Holden starts singing, “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” at the top of his lungs. He elbows me, so I join him, even though I can’t really sing. Sara joins in, too. I can’t remember a moment like this, when we all seemed happy at the same time. Maybe when we were younger and going on a fun road trip with our parents. Maybe.

When we get to the school, I feel butterflies in my stomach and realize I never ate dinner. But it’s OK because they’re nervous butterflies, not hungry ones. Holden slides out and takes my hand, helping me so I don’t trip on my dress. We stand by the open door.