When Zayne knocks, I make my way to the door. Dad is home from work, doing dishes in the kitchen and he hears the sound of my heels against the wood floor. “Now you wait a minute, Bardot,” he calls. “Let me see you before you go.”
I pause near the door. The steady ticking of the grandfather clock in the entryway is like a timer, counting down the seconds until I get to open the front door and see Zayne. Until we get to escape to the dance together.
Dad rounds the corner from the kitchen to the entryway where I’m still standing, waiting. When he sees me, he stops in his tracks and blinks a few times. “You look so grown up.” He swallows, blinking away the shine on his eyes and clears his throat. “Let me take a picture of you. Zayne can wait one more minute.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I smile and place my hand on the hip of my gown for the photo.
He snaps several, gazing at each one before taking the next. “Now a few with Zayne,” he says. “Go on. Let him in.”
A flurry hits the pit of my stomach, but I do as he says, opening the door to find Zayne waiting on the other side.
And my heart beats double its usual pace.
Zayne is dressed in a black suit with a muted yellow handkerchief in his pocket, matching my gold accessories. When he stares down at me, a couple of his dreads fall into his eyes. His gaze doesn’t waver from mine. “You look so beautiful,” he says in a low voice.
I want to melt at his words, to tell him how hot he looks, but my dad is standingright there,watching us. “Zayne, can I get a photo of you two together?” Dad asks.
“Of course.” Zayne walks in and stands next to me. He puts his arm around my waist and I try not to blush. I smile at the camera, letting my hands hang awkwardly while Dad takes an unnecessary number of photos.
“Okay, we have to go now!” I take hold of Zayne’s arm and half drag him toward the door again. “Bye, Dad.”
“Be safe out there, please, Bardot.” Dad shakes Zayne’s hand, and then finally,finally,we’re out the door and in his black Camaro. As promised, we stop by his house for photos, too. I’m nervous and embarrassed at first to see his family again, but they put me at ease right away, smiling and complimenting us as they snap photos.
And then we’re free again.
Dance, here we come. My first high school dance.
I try to imagine what it’s going to be like as we drive to school. The night twinkles, illuminated by the stars and the lights on homes along the way, already decorated for Christmas.
When we find a spot to park in the crowded lot at Fallbrook, Zayne gets out to open the passenger side of his car for me. I smile at him, my insides warming against the chill of the air at the comfort of his hand covering mine. Several other couples are arriving, and Zayne and I follow behind them to the school’s giant double doors. The cobbled walkway to the entrance is lined with topiary bushes covered in netted white outdoor lights. When we enter, the main corridor is dark, but there are signs to follow that lead us where we need to go. It’s a little eerie, walking through the ancient building at night. There are creaks and echoes that aren’t usually noticeable in the day, masked by the hum of voices and footsteps in the crowded corridors.
As we follow the signs, I can’t help but acknowledge how much fancier Fallbrook is than what most middle-class Americans get to experience. From what I’ve seen in movies, most high schools host their school dances in the gymnasium. But apparently, Fallbrook Christian Prep has an official ballroom, and this will be my first time seeing it. The other couples rush inside, but I take each step slowly, wanting to fully soak in every moment of this night.
Zayne pushes the heavy doors open, and I gasp.
Lantern-shaped lights float at the ceiling, like stars sprinkled across the night sky. Each table setting is topped with a seat assignment and bouquet of white roses, fairy lights, and silver tinsel. Heavy, silk runners are draped gracefully across each table in the ballroom. The scent of cinnamon, apple, and glue from the decorations is in the air. There’s a silver and white balloon arch at the left side of the room, and a salmon dinner buffet on the right.
It’s beautiful.
Zayne takes my hand again, threading his fingers through mine as we walk into the ballroom together. His thumb traces lines on my hand as it strokes back and forth. We find the table with our place settings on it, and I put my clutch on my assigned chair. The cloth napkin at my setting is even embossed with my name,Bardot Bennett.I look to the seat at my left, noting theZayne Silvermannapkin. Skimming over the rest of the names at our table, I don’t recognize anyone else.
ExceptJude Crowe.Great.
Out of the corner of my vision, Mabel walks over to us with a wide smile on her face. Meredith isn’t far behind her, but her gaze hovers around the room, refusing to land in my direction. “Dot!” Mabel exclaims. “You look so gorgeous, it’s unreal.”
I blush. “Thanks Mabel.” I half expected her and Meredith to be in matching dresses tonight, but instead, she has on acrimson, silk gown. Her curly hair is in a twist that lands just above her dress’s intricate collarbone cutout. Mabel is donning a simple but elegant chiffon dress in violet, her hair bone straight in a French twist. I gesture to them. “You both look amazing, too.”
Mabel beams. “Thanks.” But then her smile wavers as she leans in closer to me. “I, uh…saw the Little Birdie post. How are you doing?”
“I’m fine.” But it’s a lie. My stomach is now twisting at the mere reminder thateveryonenow knows what happened at Zayne’s house on Thanksgiving with my mom.
I glance at Meredith. She’s studying her nails, but obviously listening, because she looks up and adds, “What a shame. But you two,” she juts her chin in Zayne’s direction, “still seem cozy regardless.”
Zayne wraps his arm around my waist. “Everyone knows Little Birdie is boring,” he says. “She’s nothing but old news, a fly on the wall with no real source material.”
Mabel nods in an overaggressive way that leads me to believe it’s only for my benefit.
“I believe her,” Meredith lilts with a delicate shrug of her shoulders. Her red lips frame her teeth as she smiles. “Unless you’re saying none of it happened.”
