“Smart aleck,” Dad says with a chuckle.
“Did she write back?”
“No.”
I peek up and tell him I love him.
“I love you too,” he replies, then disappears out the door.
I snuggle deeper under my covers. Dad respected my decision not to go. I can’t believe it. I still have no idea why Dad continues to go to church. None. But he has a reason, and I should be okay with that, whatever it is. I hope Veena shows today—Dad’s email is kind of a big deal. I bet it took a lot of courage to write to her like that. It kinda reminds me of the times Tate would call, to see why I wasn’t at church. It’s funny—I doubt his parents would care that much if he quit attending services and Sunday school. He must go for his own reasons. Maybe he likes hanging out on the playground and eating stale doughnuts. Maybe he likes organ music. Maybe he likes stained glass windows.
Maybe he likes praying silently.
Or hanging out with me.
“Wait!” I yell, hopping out of bed and yelling down the hall. “Dad, give me two minutes! I’m coming with you!”
Spending time with Tate, who became a real friend when I wasn’t even watching, is a good reason to go. And I need to tell him about the pre-prom dinner reservations I made at Parthenon.
Plus, it’ll make Dad happy, and that makes me smile.
The gym is decorated with fake Corinthian columns and lots of ivy and gold leaves and whatnot. Sam Henry’s wearing a toga that sparkles à la Edward Cullen. His girlfriend, Jordan, is carrying a spear, and a bronzed shield is slung over her shoulder. Her blond hair is pulled up into a high ponytail. I can’t believe she dressed up as a gladiator!
Bunches of dead Romans are probably rolling over in their graves.
“Man, our prom sucked compared to this,” Tate says.
“You just wanted to wear a toga,” I reply.
Tate grins. “Damn straight.”
I smile down at him. “Punch?”
He takes my hand, and we make our way to the refreshments table, not caring a lick about the people staring at us. He’s four inches shorter than me, and he’s wearing gold Converses to match his gold wreath and bracelets. Tate went all out.
He uses a ladle to pour me some frothy red punch, and then we go sit down at a table together. “Thanks for bringing me,” he says, leaning close to my face. I notice him glancing around the gym.
“Are you looking for Drew?” I whisper.
He nods, sucking on his lip. “There’s Will,” Tate says, elbowing me.
He comes into the gym, wearing a ring of ivy on his head, straightening his crisp white toga. His arms are muscular and tan. He nearly trips over the long folds of cloth. I bring my fingers to my lips to cover my giggles.
“He didn’t bring a date?” Tate asks. He puts a hand on my forearm.
“No idea.” I sip my punch, hoping he didn’t bring Kate Kelly. An ache fills my chest. From across the gym, his eyes meet mine. I remember Mom’s words: All that matters is what you want. What you need. But I’m not sure that I deserve him. I hurt him bad.
Bottoms up. I gulp down my punch. “Will you excuse me?”
“Will you excuse me?” he asks, focusing on Drew, who’s dancing with Amy.
“Yeah.” I lift my skirts and edge around couples slow-dancing, keeping my breath steady as I head toward Will. I stop a few feet away and play nervously with my hair.
“Hey,” I say.
He nods once and stares at the band. “Hey.”
“Did you see Sam Henry? His toga is sparkly.”
“Really?” Will gets up on tiptoes and scans the crowd. A look of revulsion crosses his face. “He never ceases to surprise me.”
I rock on my feet. “It’s amazing Jordan puts up with his silliness.”
He lifts a shoulder. “She loves him.”
Sam has his arms wrapped around her from behind. He’s whispering in her ear and she looks so pissed, but it’s a game they play all the time. Whatever he said makes her whip around and threaten him with her spear, then they’re kissing softly and dancing. The way they’re so natural together makes me envious.
I say, “Love makes you stupid sometimes, I guess.”
“Sure does.” Will’s tone is harsh.
I give him a tiny smile. “I just wanted to say hi. Have a great prom, and I’ll see you at graduation, ’kay?”
He raises his eyebrows. “Okay. Bye.”
Pain rocks my chest. I leave him there and look for Tate. I find him talking with Drew. They’re sitting at a table together, alone except for the flickering candles surrounding them. I fold my arms and smile, hoping they’ll figure out if they like each other enough to risk being together. To risk facing all their friends and family and the church and the world. If he and Tate fall for each other, I’ll be happy for Drew, and that’s enough for me.
I pull my cell out of my purse and send Tate a quick text. Have fun. I’ll be outside. Then I send Mom a text. Join me at prom?
She came to town this morning, to help me get ready. We spent the afternoon at a spa in Nashville. It was the most fun I’ve had in a long time. We both got French manis and pedis, and Mom said she thought I look beautiful. I think I do too.
Outside the gym, I sit on the steps and admire an oak tree, its leaves rustling in the warm wind. I prop my chin on my knees. Watch the fireflies. Listen to the crickets. I never imagined I’d come to senior prom to sit alone outside on hard concrete steps. I think about the whole world and wonder if anyone is out there for me. I shut my eyes and pray.
God, I don’t want anything from you. I’m only saying thanks for giving me my mom back. Even though now I know she was never gone. And neither were you. I’m not happy that you had to test my faith this way, but you showed me what I needed most: Mom. Thanks for that.
A couple minutes later, she drives up and parks by the curb, then hops out of the car, sporting slim jeans and a white tank top. Her brown hair hangs long around her shoulders. She looks happy and beautiful. She sits down beside me and hooks her arm in mine.