Miles obviously noticed my discomfort because he quickly added, “And Denny’s going. Dunno. It’s our last year here. I just figured the three of us would hang out.”
“I didn’t know Denny was going.”
“Yeah. He got a date with Amber Hieber.”
I let out a low whistle. “Dang. Nice job, Denny. She’s really cute.”
“She’s just going with him because of the dog.”
“Please,” I said, elbowing him. “You wish you had his charm.”
“Maybe,” he admitted. “So … do you wanna go?”
“I don’t know, Miles. Prom is just … it’s expensive. And it’s not really my thing, you know?”
This was a lie. I had been dreaming about prom since I was little. Sarah and I used to get dressed up in her mom’s old bridesmaid dresses and hold pretend proms in her living room as kids. I used to have dreams about dancing with some sweet boy for hours while slow songs played. About staying up all night gossiping with Sarah afterward.
Then the shooting happened, and those fantasies just sort of evaporated.
I hadn’t gone to my junior prom. Instead, Miles, Eden, Denny, and I had spent the evening at Ashley’s house, watching John Hughes movies and playing rummy with a set of Denny’s cards. They looked like any other set of playing cards, only they had Braille, too. It had been a fun night. Not romantic or fancy, but it had mostly kept my mind off of the imaginary prom nights Sarah and I had crafted all those years ago.
Part of me really wanted to go to prom with Miles. Wanted it too much. Me in a pretty dress. Him cleaned up in a tux. It would be way too easy to fall even harder than I already had.
He was staring at me now with those sad, sleepy eyes. And I couldn’t stop myself from wishing.
“I’ll think about it,” I whispered.
He nodded. “Cool.”
We fell into a comfortable silence, no longer touching as the clouds above us shifted and the stars became visible. Miles leaned back, folding his arms over his chest and looking up. With the sky now lit, it was safe for me to do the same.
After we’d been lying there for a while, Miles asked, “Gonna tell me what’s going on? Why you’re out here tonight?”
“I went and saw Sarah’s parents.”
He turned his head to look at me, two thick auburn eyebrows raised.
“You heard they’re writing a book, right? About Sarah?”
“Yeah.”
“Well.” I took a deep breath. “The story about Sarah—with the necklace and the things she said tohim… it’s not true.”
“Ah.”
“You’re not surprised?”
“Not really. I’ve kinda wondered. Especially with the whole Kellie thing. Dunno. The story just sounded too much like a movie to be real.”
“Sarah’s parents definitely disagree,” I said. “They didn’t take it well.”
“You’re just now telling them?”
I flinched, even though his voice hadn’t been harsh or even judgmental. “I’ve tried before,” I said. “Sort of. When people first started talking about it, I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t even know where it had started. And every time I tried to tell anyone, I’d panic. And then Kellie left town and I figured it didn’t matter anymore. But now, with the book …” I shook my head. “I should’ve told them sooner, but I didn’t, and now they think I’m a liar trying to take away from their daughter’s memory.”
“Sorry,” he said. “Is that what you and Denny were talking about the other day? When you drove him home?”
“Yeah. His scholarship letter made me realize Sarah’s story isn’t the only myth, you know? It made me wish we could all speak up. If we could all write letters like that …” I paused, then sat up. “Oh.”
