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I stifle a laugh, undeterred now by how different the man in front of me acts from the real Sam I know beneath. I am determined now to see this out, one way or another. And I will raise my mug, and expectations, to the long-awaited meeting ahead. Nothing can stop me. Nothing can deter me from this determined feeling of elation at meeting at long last. Nothing.

For better or worse, to tonight.

Chapter 18

Unless this devil of a dress kills me first.

And, more specific, the way the hem of this dress makes my thighs bulge under the can lights.

In a banquet hall of several hundred people.

I pull at the unrelenting fabric of the “warrior blue” dress sliding up my thigh to unreasonable levels. Thirty minutes into a very stubborn dispute, Olivia eventually got her way on having me wear the horrible, cap-sleeved dress from her college graduation. I put up a fight, but the battle was lost after Mom and Dad, both marching in place on the living room rug in quaking pearl earrings and jostling necktie (supporting Olivia in getting some extra steps in before the banquet), took her side.

Mom shuffled her champagne-sequined handbag from one hand to another, looked at me, and said, “Honey, you look beautiful. And really, what’s there to worry about? Nobody will be looking at you onstage anyway.”

So here I stand, not in a flattering floor-length dress with one shoulder clipped by a beguiling gold feature, like my red one last year. Instead, I’m showcasing a knee-length, two-sizes-too-small spandex number from the nineties with cap sleeves and my rear end sticking out like two buns in a hot oven. My skin looks pale and sickly beneath the spotlight.

Olivia, on the other hand, holds the microphone with one incredibly toned arm, looking like a model straight out of a magazine.

My parents stand to my left, nodding enthusiastically with each of her words.

Ferris is to my right looking . . . well . . . looking quite green.

His eyes are glued on Olivia as she speaks, but instead of nodding at the parts of the speech where we’ve all been told to, he’s just staring. Staring. And brooding. So intently there’s a decent chance he doesn’t even hear her.

Wow.

I’ve had my turn with first-time jitters up here, but he looks like he’s about to lose it.

“Anyone can say they have a dream,” Olivia says, sweeping one arm over the crowd. “People fill up their in-boxes and heads with dozens of goals and dreams. But you know what makes you different from most people?” Her hand, in a rather startling move, slams on the podium with each of her following words. “Actually. Doing. Something. About. It. That’s where you are different. That’s where all of you who’ve made the effort to come out tonight, to show you really mean business, shine. And we are in February, people. The year has just begun. So make this your year. Not only to reach your step goals and health goals but to start making real, tangible achievements in every area of your life. It all starts here. Just joining us tonight is step one of a fantastic journey.”

A round of applause moves through the room, and my mother, father, and I lift our hands in supportive clapping. There was actually a drill for clapping. Appropriately enthusiastic but not too attention grabbing.

Ferris doesn’t clap.

At this point I break “protocol” and turn my head. “Ferris,” I whisper.

He doesn’t move.

“Ferris,” I whisper again as the clapping starts to dim.

I nudge his side and he jolts as though forced out of a dream.

“You okay?” I mouth.

And his eyes, once they’ve locked on mine, don’t move. His stare is fixed on me now.

I give him an overbright smile, baring all my teeth as if to say, See? This is what we do when we have stage fright. We just look straight ahead and smile, and then turn my attention back to Olivia.

But he’s not doing it. He’s not changing his position.

It’s time for another group nod, and I give it my biggest and brightest.

And I’m just settling into another round of nodding and clapping when I feel a tug on my elbow. Ferris is holding on to my arm.

“I need to talk with you,” he says.

My eyes widen. “Now?” I hiss. “We’re a little busy.”