“Hello?”
“Momma,” I say into the telephone. My voice starts shaking as soon as I hear hers. That always happens. It wasn’t easy plastering a smile on my face, asking to borrow Laura’s cell phone, or making my way through the crowd and out of the cafeteria while keeping my tears in check. But the minute I hear my momma’s voice—
“You having a good time, sweetie?”
I fall apart. Tears stream down my face, silent and quick. I wipe at my eyes, glad for the first time all night that I’m not wearing much makeup.
“Um, will you come and get me?” I squeak out.
“What’s wrong, Ricki Jo?”
I take a deep breath, try to get it together. Even though I’m hiding in the girls’ locker room, I can hear the music and the chatter from the dance echoing faintly down the corridor. The other end of the phone line is quiet.
“It’s just—” I start, the words spilling out, one on top of the other. I can’t keep myself together as I cry into the phone. “I just really thought he liked me! I mean, he asked me to the dance, and it’s like everything was perfect and he—” I hiccup and feel stupid, but I can’t stop. “And now Mackenzie!” I wail, not really making sense. “My supposed best friend is all over him, and she’s—There’s no way I can—”
Momma knows me. She’s patient. She lets me vent and cry. She lets me sob like a baby, and she probably doesn’t understand half of what I’m actually saying. I am sitting on the locker room bench, my elbows on my knees, my head hanging low in the prettiest dress I’ve ever worn, on the night that was supposed to be some kind of dream come true. And I’m crying… over a boy… over the boy.
“Ugh,” I mumble, shaking my head.
I’m so mad at myself. I feel like a fool. Flirting. Puh-lease. I always let him off the hook, every time he acts like a jerk: the paper football, the cheerleading tryout, leaving me passed out in the barn, asking me to homecoming as his pity date. I look so hard for the good in that boy, which is stupid because all the bad is right out there in the open.
I can hear the other kids in the gym corridor outside, taking a break from the dance, getting snacks and taking pictures. They’re laughing and screaming and having a great time. And then there’s me, crying on the phone to my mom. Pathetic.
“So you want me to come get you?” Momma asks softly. “Or do you want to maybe stay at the dance a little longer and see if you can work things out?”
I roll my eyes. “Momma, how am I supposed to work things out? You should’ve seen how he was. No. I just wanna come home.”
“Ricki Jo?”
My head snaps up at the sound of a voice that’s not my momma’s and I nearly pee my pants. I totally thought I was alone in here, but Candace must’ve been in one of the bathroom stalls the whole time. She’s standing across from me, her face the mirror image of what mine must look like—splotchy-pink and wet—and I wonder why she’s upset. Then I feel the blood rush to my ears when I realize she must’ve heard me crying like a baby over Wolf.
“I’ll call you back,” I say to Momma, furiously wiping my face with the back of my hand. I snap the phone shut and stand up to face Candace. “What are you doing in here?”
She’s leaning against a bathroom sink in a cute green maxi dress and gold flip-flops. As I walk toward the sinks myself, eager to splash some water on my face and check the damage, I see that she’s wearing a little eye shadow and lipstick and her normally frizzy red hair is calm, framing her face in soft curls.
“I heard,” she says to me in the mirror as soon as I’m next to her.
“So what?” I say meanly. “Guess you wanna brag? Say ‘told you so’ and all that?”
She looks baffled, shakes her head, and wipes at her eyes again with a mutilated tissue.
“No, seriously, you have every right,” I continue, shooting all the anger I have for myself at her. “Congratulations. Wolf’s a jerk. You were right. Happy?”
And at that, a weird look crosses her face. “Am I happy?” she asks incredulously.
The tension is still there, thick between us, and I’m struck by how stupid it is. We got off on the wrong foot at the beginning of the year, and we haven’t been able to put things back together. Good Lord. I don’t have to be her best friend, but since when did I stop treating people right?
“I’m sorry,” I say, sighing and dropping my shoulders. “I’ve been a jerk. This whole year I’ve treated you like crap. And I don’t really know why,” I confess.
She dabs at her eyes with the tissue in her hand. “Oh.” She shrugs. “I guess a week at Four-H camp doesn’t mean we’re gonna be thick as thieves. We probably both just had weird expectations. I thought, since we kind of knew each other, that I could show you around and stuff. But you made your own way, and that’s cool. I shouldn’t have taken it so personally.”
It’s funny to me that she’s able to say all of that so easily. Usually she drops an F bomb and stalks off when people (even teachers) confront her. But tonight she’s different. She just lets the words tumble right out, barely even looking at me. Like she’s far away.
I don’t know what else to say. And I guess she doesn’t, either.
“Um,” I manage to say, “are you okay?”
“It just sucks,” she finally says. “All night, I figured he just stood me up.”
“Oh,” I say, finally understanding why Candace was hiding out in the bathroom, same as I was. I guess I’m not the only one with boy troubles. At least mine showed up. I give her a confident smile with a touch of attitude, totally in her corner now, and say what I want someone to say to me: “Well, it’s his loss.”
She gives me a puzzled look. “Ricki Jo!”
“What?” I say. And then, because I’ve never seen her so dressed up and because I mean it, I add, “You look really pretty tonight.”
And she starts to cry all over again.
Geez. What did I say?
“I was so excited when he asked me last night,” she says, sniffling, still staring like a zombie and walking over to the benches. “He called me and we were just joking around like always and he asked if I was going to homecoming. I wasn’t gonna come. I mean, the game, yeah—I’m in the marching band—but the dance? Not really my scene.” She wipes at her cheeks and smiles at me. “But we started joking about it, and then, I don’t know. It felt good to be asked. And me and Luke are good friends, you know? So I just went out to the Fashion Bug after school today and grabbed this dress—and it was on sale—and the whole time I was getting ready, I got more and more excited.”
She wipes at her eyes and cheeks with the already crumpled tissue and takes deep breaths, trying to calm herself. I take a deep breath, too, trying to steady myself because I’m completely stunned.
Luke asked Candace to homecoming?
“And so when he didn’t show up, and still didn’t show up, and I saw Paul Foster here… I don’t know.” She unfolds the tissue from her hand and blows her nose into it for what must be the second or third time. I watch her as if she’s moving in slow motion.
Luke asked Candace to homecoming. I’m seriously dumbfounded. First of all, Luke doesn’t even like Candace that way, or at least he’s never said anything about her to me. I mean, I didn’t know he liked anybody like that, let alone enough to take someone to a high school dance. And second of all, I don’t know, it just seems like she’s not really his type. I mean, he’s no Casanova, but I figured him to like more laid-back girls—spunky, maybe, but less chip-on-the-shoulder and more bounce-in-the-step. I squint at the locker in front of me and feel my forehead wrinkle like it does in algebra when I’m trying really hard to understand a difficult equation. And then suddenly, it hits me: I’m jealous. I’m actually jealous of Candace Baker.
I shake my head and smile wryly. This night just keeps getting better.
“I was gonna egg his house tonight before I ran into Paul,” Candace says bitterly, snapping me back to the conversation.
“Wait, but Luke wouldn’t stand you up,” I say with certainty.
“I thought he stood me up,” she says. “I’ve been cussing him out in my head for the past two hours, while he’s been laid up at the hospital.”
She grinds her jaw, obviously mad at herself, but I shut her out. I can’t breathe. I can’t have heard her right.
Laid up at the hospital.
No. Impossible.
“Luke’s in the hospital?” I finally ask.
Then it’s Candace who has the surprised look on her face. “I figured you knew.”
I stare at her, speechless, because these days, I probably wouldn’t know about anything concerning anyone but myself.
“What happened?” I ask, fear coursing through my body.
She sighs and turns to face me. “Okay, so I was pretty pissed off, like I said. We were supposed to meet by the back doors of the gym at ten thirty, you know, fashionably late or whatever. I waited and waited and called his house and nobody answered. I just kept thinking how dumb I was to get all dressed up for this, you know? Spend all that time getting ready just to be stood up. It wasn’t even my idea to come! I think school dances are lame, but Luke begged me.”
He begged her? Luke thinks school dances are lame, too. For the gazillionth time, I wish Luke and I weren’t in this stupid fight. I should have known all of this, everything, and hearing it from Candace is pretty much killing me.
“Anyway, I was about to leave just now, when I saw Paul Foster running out of school like a bat out of hell. I caught up to him and grabbed his arm and… I don’t know, he was pretty wasted. But he said his mom had just called and something bad happened at home while Luke was, I guess, getting ready for the dance. I don’t really know the details, but Paul was so upset… and said it like”—she takes a deep breath and looks up—“like it had something to do with their dad?”
The question in her voice hurts me and I nod slightly, hoping I’m not betraying Luke’s trust. I lie back on the narrow bench and think about the other times, think about that day at the vet’s office when Luke talked about making a stand, protecting his momma, becoming a man. I close my eyes, feeling sick to my stomach.
She finishes. “And now he’s in the hospital.”
I clench my teeth together, angry.
“And I’m a jackass. I was so mad at him for not being here. Not worried about him, but angry.” She shudders. “I know I shouldn’t, but I feel guilty. It’s like he’s this fun guy at school, you know? Everybody likes Luke. Nobody could’ve guessed—”
I moan loudly, like a growl almost. I feel everything she says like a knife to my gut, twisting with each word. Candace reaches out for my hand but I shake her off, get up, and walk around and around the bench, my heels click-clacking on the concrete. I pound a locker with the bottom of my fist. I knew. I could have been there for him. I knew there was pain behind those smiles. I knew.
Finally I grow tired. I let out a huge, shaky sigh and force myself over to the sinks. I lean down and turn on the cold water and splash my face. It feels good, cool, soothing. I turn off the faucet and reach over for a paper towel, dab my face dry, study myself in the mirror.
I hate what I see.
“I gotta get over there,” I say determinedly as I reach for the door to the cafeteria.
“We can’t,” Candace says, following me. “Visiting hours aren’t ’til tomorrow!”
I ignore her. No way I’m abandoning Luke now. I swing the door open and, confident for the first time in these high-heeled shoes, I start to cross the room, focused on one thing and one thing only: getting to my real best friend and begging him to forgive me. I fight my way through the throng of students heading outside, getting knocked around but standing my ground and pulling Candace along behind me. I look at the sweaty student body in front of me like a puzzle, see a hole in the crowd, and sidestep into it just as someone else comes barreling through.
“Sorry,” Mackenzie says, slamming into me hard. I glare up at her, and when our eyes meet I see that she’s teary, too.
Oh, great, I think to myself. Some dance.
“Are you okay?” Candace yells to her over the music.
I roll my eyes and tug at Candace’s hand. Who cares? Luke is waiting.
“I…” Mackenzie starts. Then she looks at me and grabs my shoulders. “I’m sorry, Ericka. I really am.”
This is possibly the only thing in the world that could have delayed me from grabbing my things and figuring out a way to get to the hospital. I have to see Luke, no matter what the visiting hours are, but Mackenzie’s hands are pushing down on me hard and her blue eyes are pleading.
“Here,” Candace says, handing her a wad of toilet paper. Mackenzie looks surprised. “We haven’t really had a great night, either.”
Mackenzie tears off a long piece and folds it, carefully dabbing at her bottom row of eyelashes. “He’s not worth it,” she says loudly, looking intently into my eyes. “He’s scum. He’s trash. I… I was so stupid. Your friendship is worth—” She fights her tears, and once again I am struck by how pretty she is absolutely all the time. Candace and I looked like freakin’ lepers when we were crying, but Mackenzie pulls it off. Still, I stiffen, having fallen for this act a couple of times already.
“Yeah, you’ve said all this before,” I say drily. I mean, I’m not trying to be a jerk, but I’m finally getting perspective on who my real friends are, and I don’t want to be as naïve as I’ve been before. “And to tell you the truth, it looked like my friendship was the last thing on your mind when y’all were out there rubbing all over each other on the dance floor.”
She looks down at her own hands. “Yeah, I know. Apparently, he got the same idea, because he—” Mackenzie stops, takes a deep breath, and looks up at us, her eyes a mixture of rage and embarrassment. “Because he spanked me. He slapped me on the butt so hard that I actually almost fell down.” She shakes her head in disgust and looks out toward the dance floor. “I hope his hand falls off.”
I sigh. Wolf is Wolf. And although I wish his heart were pure gold, I guess I’ve always known that it’s more of the brass variety.
I stand on tiptoe, getting pushed and shoved from all angles. I’ve got to get out of this crowd, get around all this chitchat, grab my stuff, and get to Luke. I feel bad for Mackenzie, but I’m actually glad it wasn’t me out there after all. Candace squeezes my hand hard and I look at her. She’s giving me that same look that Luke used when I fought with her—that kiss-and-make-up look, that play-nice look.
I roll my eyes and sigh. “I guess I didn’t have to be so—”
But before I can make any apologies for my own behavior, the jerk of the hour spins me around by the waist.
“Ericka!” Wolf shouts, looking very pleased to see me. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”
“Oh, please,” Mackenzie says with a snort, turning away and rolling her eyes at Candace.
“It was just a joke!” Wolf yells, shaking his head and obviously just as annoyed with her as she is with him. Then he looks down at me and flashes that grin of his.
I raise an eyebrow, surveying the state of my date. He’s ditched his jacket, his sleeves are rolled up, his collar is loose, and his tie is wrapped around his head, hanging off to one side. His hair is soaking wet and his face is glistening as if he just played an entire game of basketball.
“You got all sweaty looking for me?” I ask dubiously.
His expression falters a tiny bit before the music changes and he dodges the question completely. His eyes light up like a kid at Christmas. “The Electric Slide!” he yells, dipping his shoulders and twisting my hips to the music. “Awesome!”
I narrow my eyes and really see him for the first time. Wolf’s a hunk, for sure, but I finally see the ugly under all that handsome. I can’t help but think about Luke, and how Wolf isn’t even half the man he is, and how blind I must be to have taken this long to see that.
“I’m leaving,” I yell over the music. As impossible as it may have been only hours ago, I easily wiggle my hips free from his hands and walk right past him, weaving through our grooving student body to get my things from our table. Everybody looks worn down, hairstyles wet from sweat and strapless dresses getting hiked up all over the place. I grab my purse and pull my coat out from under a big pile. Mackenzie appears at my side and seems to have the same idea.
When I turn around, Wolf is right behind, staring at me in total shock. I grin. That feels good.
“See you in Spanish,” I say, and walk toward the exit.
Candace meets me outside and I’m grateful for the nip in the air. Mackenzie surprises me by following us outside, too.
“Ericka!” she calls. “I really am sorry.”
“I can’t believe y’all were fighting over Wolf!” Candace says, nudging me. Then she adds, quieter, “Don’t worry. That’s the closest I’ll come to a told ya so.”
I crack a small grin—it’s still not that funny—and look at Mackenzie. “Yeah, me, too.”
“I shouldn’t have been so mean to you this week,” Mackenzie continues. “And I shouldn’t have danced with him so much tonight, but I knew that would make you mad, and I’ve just been so jealous.”
I am again amazed that someone like her could be jealous of anyone. And then I shake my head, eager to get out of here and get to Luke. “Listen, Mackenzie—”
“I just—ugh! I feel so gross, you know?” She absentmindedly rubs her lower back and I can see she’s still in shock. I nod up at her. It does feel gross. Not that I was spanked, but it is gross that this and all of Wolf’s other pranks and stunts are giggled at and taken in stride just because he’s so good-looking.
“I learned my lesson, though,” Mackenzie continues, putting her hands on my shoulders and looking me straight in the eye. “I shouldn’t have let a boy come between us. New Girls BFFs?”
I hesitate and really think about the way a best friend—a truly best friend—should behave. And it isn’t the way she’s treated me. And it isn’t the way I’ve treated, well, anybody lately.
I look Mackenzie in the eye and, for the first time, see someone who’s not perfect, someone really similar to the person I was looking at in the mirror earlier, and now that I know I’m just as good as she is, and maybe just as bad, I think our friendship might have a chance.
“New Girls,” I say, holding off on the BFF part, ’cause you need to be a good friend before graduating to the Best category. And I can think of only one person who deserves that title right now. I just want to get to the hospital.
Mackenzie hugs me fiercely. “I’ve missed you,” she says and I hug her back, happy to smell her salon-washed hair again.
“Listen,” I start to say again, trying to free myself from her grip.
“I know,” she says abruptly. “We’ve got to go. Candace filled me in while you were telling off Wolf, and Mark’s waiting in the car.”
“What?” I ask, wondering what in the world her brother has to do with anything.
But without answering, she loops me with one arm and Candace with the other and marches us through the parking lot. In the front row, Mark flashes his lights at us, and we all climb into the backseat of his brand-new Ford Explorer. His date pouts in the front seat, making it pretty obvious that it was not her idea to leave the dance early. I don’t know what’s going on exactly, but I’m anxious, excited, and eager to see Luke.
And Mackenzie, of all people, has a plan.