I nod, showing it to Mrs. Coleman. She smiles as she looks at it, but I can tell she doesn’t love the one I picked out. In her opinion, it’s probably not fancy enough for her daughter. But I know Emily will like it. I asked the florist to make it with bubblegum-pink ribbon, Em’s favorite color.
Emily’s dad comes in, frowning and fiddling with an expensive-looking camera. “Must be the battery.” He looks up and notices me. “Oh, hey there, son. Looking sharp.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Here she is,” Mrs. Coleman says, beaming as she looks up the curved staircase. When I see Emily at the top of the stairs in her prom dress, my heart flips, and I’m overwhelmed by the feelings I’m usually so good at keeping concealed.
She’s gorgeous. I mean, Em is always beautiful—even during gym class, or when she’s makeup-less and frizzy-haired, I think she’s beautiful—but right now she looks like royalty. I can’t believe how good she looks in that dress. She refused to tell me about it or show me pictures, and I was like, okay, whatever. But right now I wish she had prepared me so I wouldn’t be so stunned. Her dress is a dark, sheeny emerald green, with thin straps and a top that’s fitted around her curves. Her hair is curled and up in a style I’ve never seen her wear before. It looks like she must have a million bobby pins holding it up.
She descends the stairs smiling. At the bottom, she trips on the last step, and I jump forward and grab her arm.
“Thanks,” she says, laughing.
“Wow,” I say, letting go of her arm. “You look really nice.”
“Thank you.” She grins at me. “You do, too.”
My heart tugs, knowing we’re only going to prom as friends. She has no idea how hard this evening is going to be for me. When she asked me to go with her, I almost said no, because I knew it would be so tough. But I also knew it would kill me to see her go with someone else. It had to be me and her.
I open up the plastic clamshell and offer her the corsage I bought for her. She beams and holds out her wrist and I slide it on. Then she picks up a similar clamshell from a nearby table and takes a boutonniere out. As she pins it to my lapel, she worries her lower lip between her teeth, something she always does when she’s concentrating. She’s adorable when she does that.
Her parents take photos of us, then see us off, telling us to be safe and have a good night. As we walk out to my car, Emily skips ahead. I try to speed up so I can open the passenger door for her, but she beats me there and gets in before I can do it.
“Oh my God, Rock. My mom has been driving me crazy today,” she says, checking the flip-down mirror as I start the engine. As I drive away, she unclasps the small satin purse she brought with her, pulls out a joint, and flashes me a grin. “Want to share this before we go to the dance?”
“Pothead.”
“I am not!” She punches my shoulder. “Take that back. You know I hardly ever do this.”
I find a good place for us to stop. We get out of the car and sit on the hood. I take a quick puff of the joint but shake my head when she offers me more. She shrugs and finishes it off herself. I kind of want to suggest that we skip the dance and just hang out here, looking at the stars, but I know how much Em has been looking forward to prom. I don’t want to deprive her of that.
Besides, the selfish part of me is hoping she’ll be okay with us slow dancing together when it comes time.
We get back in my car and I drive us the rest of the way to prom. The place is decorated in an under-the-sea theme,and there’s blue and silver balloons and streamers everywhere. Emily starts dancing right away, moving her body to the upbeat music, dragging me onto the dance floor with her.
When the first slow song comes on, my heart stutters as Emily comes closer to me. But then she leans into my ear and tells me she’s dying of thirst and is going to get something to drink. I nod and we walk off the dance floor toward the tables where there are big bowls of blue punch.
We never go back to the dance floor after that. There are some people messing around outside, seeing who can throw stuff the furthest, and Emily wants to watch them instead of going back in. Then someone starts passing around a bottle of peach vodka. I pass on it, but Emily takes a long swig. The second time the bottle comes around, I tell her maybe she shouldn’t have any more, but she just laughs and teases me, calling me a party pooper.
Later, when I’m dropping Emily back at her house, she smiles at me and says, “Thank you so much for taking me, Rock. I know that wasn’t your thing. You didn’t have a horrible time, did you?”
“No. I didn’t.”
“You’re such a good friend. I owe you one. Tell you what. I’ll play that video game with you that you’re always trying to get me to play.”
I laugh. “Okay. Deal.”
Then she leans in and gives me a kiss on the cheek. It’s not something she’s ever done before, and it makes my heart feel like it’s going to explode out of my chest.
I try to ignore the fact that she’s probably only doing it because she’s still a little buzzed.
“Night, Rock,” she says, smiling at me again.
When I get home that night, I find her corsage on the floor of the passenger seat. I almost throw it away, but I hold onto it instead. I set it on my bedroom dresser, and it stays there until the flowers are completely wilted.
Emily’s body is pressed gently against mine when I wake. I feel her stirring next to me as I come into consciousness, and I hold my breath for a second, bracing myself for the possibility that the sober light of morning might make her feel differently about last night.
She yawns and shifts a little in the bed. Not away from me, though. When our eyes catch, warmth spreads through my chest.
