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She shook her head. “No. I’ve already been rejected from a few other schools.”
I tried not to show the surprise on my face because I could tell by hers that the sentence had been tough to get out. She put all her value on her accomplishments. Not getting accepted into a college would’ve been difficult for her. “I’m sorry, Pep.”
She shrugged.
“You’ll get in. I know you will. If there was anyone in this world I’d bet on getting into college, it’d be you.”
She blew out a breath that kind of sounded like a laugh. “Thanks.”
I glanced around the darkened gym, watching the students dancing, feeling a bit of déjà vu. I wondered if she remembered. Regardless, I knew she needed a distraction.
“I’ll be right back,” I said. I sauntered off toward the bathroom, and once I was sure she wasn’t looking at me, I circled back around and walked over to the DJ.
When I reached our table once again, I asked, “Do you remember our eighth-grade dance?”
“No, I absolutely do not.”
“Liar.”
She rolled her eyes. In a mock tone she asked, “Why are you asking?”
“I’m just wondering if you’d run away from me if I tried to dance with you again.”
She looked at me with an expression that seemed like a challenge. “I guess that would depend on whether or not you’d be asking out of pity.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I did not ask you to dance with me out of pity, Penelope.”
Penelope had attended our eighth-grade school dance with a group of friends. I intended to ask her, but Easton made it apparent to me that she was off limits. Then, before I could convince him otherwise, I was asked by another girl. I didn’t want to say no and look like an asshole. During the dance itself, the DJ played one slow song, and all of Penelope’s friends either danced with other boys or with each other. Penelope stood at the corner of the gym by herself. It wasn’t that I pitied her, though. She had no issue with being alone in the corner of the room. I think that is sometimes where she preferred to be. She wasn’t embarrassed about it or feeling insecure that nobody had asked her to dance. They would have– other boys. They would have. But the no-limits rule set by Easton applied to more than just me. Plus, I called dibs on Penelope when we were nine, and I made sure every boy our age knew it too.
When I’d seen her standing alone, and my hands were on the hips of another girl, I realized there was nobody else in the world I wanted to dance with except for Penelope. So, I stepped away from my date, and left her standing in the middle of the dance floor as I walked straight for Penelope. I asked her to dance with me. And she ran away. She looked at me for not more than a fraction of a second, and then took off. An hour later, Lena picked us up and drove us home in a silent and painful car ride. A week later, school ended and I spent the summer in Hawaii with my mom. We never talked about it again.
“Penelope, look at me,” I demanded. “I did not ask you to dance with me because I pitied you.”
She scoffed, “You came with a date.”
“Who I left standing in the middle of the dance floor by herself so I could ask you. Because once the music started playing, I realized you were the only girl I cared to dance with. It had nothing to do with you being alone. If you had been with another boy, I would’ve interrupted that too.”
Heat bloomed across her face. “You left Becca Whitten in the middle of the dance floor,alone?”
“Yes. And she slapped me for it. Which I deserved. But I would’ve done it again.”
She burst into vivid, heart-filled laughter.
As if the DJ had been waiting for us, listening to our conversation, he answered my previous request and the beginning chimes of REO Speedwagon’sCan’t Fight This Feelingbegan to echo through the gym.
“You did not,” she gasped.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Penelope. This is the most cliche middle school dance song of all time. Of course they’d play it.” It also happened to the song that was playing during our own dance. The song that was playing when she ran from me.
She pointed out to the dance floor in front of us. Kids were blinking around at each other in confusion. The adult chaperones were laughing. “Not a single kid in here knows this song.”
I let a moment pass before I responded. The students looked around the room as if they weren’t sure if it was supposed to be a slow song or not. Yet, couples began to pair up. Arms on shoulders, hands on waists, and the swaying began. “Well, they seem to be getting the gist of it.” I held out my hand to her. “Dance with me, Pep? Absolutely no pity here.”
She snorted, “No way. Not in front of the students. We’re teachers, Carter.”
I waved her off. “They’re not even looking at us.”
She just shook her head.
