Chapter Twenty

I Want You Back

Saturday, October 1

Caleb sat at J.T.’s kitchen table drinking soda and eating popcorn while J.T.’s little sister danced around them, holding a poster covered with glitter and rainbows, and surprisingly decent printing that spelled out, Go to Prom with ME!

Mandy would love it.

“Nice, Mira,” J.T. said, “but Caleb needs to go big or go home, so we’re working on some other ideas here. Maybe you could go watch a movie or something.”

Caleb smirked as he watched J.T. try to rein in his irritation with his little sister. Mira was a cute kid, and she was freaking giddy about the whole prom-posal thing.

“But I helped you with one of Liam’s posters,” she protested. “I did the glitter and it was my idea to say ‘Liam, L I AM Yours.’”

Caleb cocked an eyebrow. “That was you? Give me some skin, Mira.” He held up a hand to high-five her. “Excellent wordplay.” She high-fived him, giggling and blushing, and J.T. shot a rubber band at him.

“Dude. Not with my sister. Save your flirting for Mandy.”

“I’m not flirting with your little sister. I’m acknowledging a fellow wordsmith.”

Mira giggled again, twirled in a circle, and ran out of the kitchen, still carrying her poster.

J.T. sighed, running a hand through his crazy blond hair. “We need to focus, Red Ranger.” He tore a page from his notebook and started writing. “Top three prom-posal criteria: one—it has to be personal, ideally something only you two would get. Like a secret joke or some special memory only you two know about.” J.T. cocked an eyebrow. “And keep it PG-13 since you’re doing this at school.”

Caleb scrubbed a hand down his face, wondering if this whole thing was a big mistake. He didn’t do big gestures or make scenes. It went against everything he believed in. He sighed and met J.T.’s steady gaze. “Whose criteria are these, anyway? Some girlie prom magazine?”

J.T. snorted and shook his head. “My criteria. And I know what the hell I’m doing, so pay attention.” J.T. grabbed a handful of M&M’s from the bag Caleb had brought. “So do you have any special memories? Secret jokes only you two would get?”

Caleb stared at the cluttered kitchen table, focusing on the salt and pepper shakers. Special memories? Secret jokes? The time at the park wasn’t something he could use in a prom-posal, and besides it was something he wanted to keep between them. He met J.T.’s narrowed stare.

“Other than the big secret of our entire relationship being fake, you mean?”

J.T. rolled his eyes. “But it wasn’t fake. Irony, man—you could write a paper on it.” J.T. doodled on the notebook page. “Maybe you could work something in, like ‘I was never faking with you, babe.’” His eyebrows danced suggestively.

“No,” Caleb growled. “That’s pathetic.”

“Okay.” J.T. shrugged. “We’ll think about that one later and move on to the next criterion: it has to be unique. You see all those guys showing up with cupcakes or flowers and a stupid sign asking girls to go with them? Total amateurs.” J.T. leaned back in his chair, looking smug. “Let’s use my outstanding prom-posal for Liam as our example.”

Caleb snorted. “Ego much, Blue Ranger?”

“Just working what I’ve got, Red Ranger, and I’ve got mad prom-posal skills.” He rubbed his chin. “Actually, my overall boyfriend skills are outstanding. You could learn a few things.”

“I don’t think so.” Caleb reached for a handful of M&M’s. “I haven’t had many complaints.”

J.T.’s eyebrows shot up. “Uh, except that your most recent ex is in therapy, dude.”

Caleb squirmed on his chair. “That’s an aberration.”

“Maybe. She did seem to have an excessive amount of baggage, based on that parking lot meltdown. And a penchant for drama.”

“I hate drama,” Caleb said. “Which is why it’s gonna kill me to do this stupid—”

“Prom-posals are not stupid, okay? Just get that through your thick skull. They’re a tangible way to express all the feelings that guys don’t usually know how to express.”

Caleb shook his head. “No. They’re a competition to show up other guys. And pretentious. Totally unnecessary.”

They glared at each other as Caleb thought of all the stupid and over-the-top “asks” he’d seen over the past couple of weeks: the guy who’d brought a pizza to his girlfriend with a note in the lid that said, “I know it’s cheesy but my heart will be sliced in two if you don’t come to homecoming with me.”

The golf team asshole who’d filled a girl’s locker with golf balls and left a sign that said, “It took all my balls to ask—will you go to homecoming with me?”

There’d even been a few literary ones: the guy who’d made a sign asking, “Will you be the Daisy to my Gatsby?” and another poster with the Fault in Our Stars quote about falling in love slowly then all at once. The poster said, “Come to homecoming with me? Okay? Okay.”

And the worst one: a guy who’d lain on the parking lot with a chalk outline drawn around himself and a chalk message that said, “I’ll die if you don’t come with me to homecoming.” Probably the perfect match for Elle.

Caleb squeezed his pencil, wondering how he’d gotten here—sitting with his childhood best friend and arguing about the worthiness of prom-posals.

God, he hated high school.

“Back to my example,” J.T. said. “If you recall, in addition to the Liam wordplay on the first poster, I also did a nerd box of love on the big ask day. Sort of a nerd-o-gram, if you will.”

Caleb groaned, wondering if maybe they should settle this debate with an old-fashioned Power Rangers beatdown. “You still have that Power Rangers Blaster gun? Because I sort of want to shoot you right now.”

J.T. grinned. “It’s in the special memories box my mom keeps. She’s got all kinds of weird stuff in there, like my Tickle Me Elmo doll, Power Rangers toys, Thomas the Tank Engine stuff…”

Caleb’s shoulders tensed, and it took him a minute to realize why. He had no idea if his mom had ever started a memory box for him. And he’d probably never know, since she’d apparently forgotten he existed.

“Hey…sorry,” J.T. said, the humor gone from his voice. “I wasn’t thinking…”

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter.” He exhaled, forcing the tension out of his muscles. “So, the nerd-o-gram. That was the personal part? Not generic?”

J.T. nodded, looking relieved to be off the topic of moms. “Yeah. I made a box that looked like the Death Star. Not easy making a round container, but I did it. Then I stuffed it full of comic books and Lego Star Wars guys. And then of course, the pièce de résistance: moi.”

Caleb stared at him, torn between confusion and the desire to laugh. “You?”

“Yeah. Me. Dressed as Darth Vader. With a sign that said, ‘I can’t Force you to say yes, but I’ll stay on the Dark Side if you don’t come with me to homecoming.’”

Caleb couldn’t hold back his laughter anymore. “How the hell did I miss that?”

J.T. shrugged. “I did it at lunch, outside, when you were hiding out in your corner of darkness in the caf.” He grabbed another handful of M&M’s. “Before we started hanging out.”

Caleb nodded, thinking of all the stuff he’d missed hiding out in his corner. “So Liam’s a nerd.”

“You’d better not be insulting my boyfriend.”

“Just stating prom-posal facts. Nothing wrong with nerds.” Caleb took a drink from his soda. “What’s the third criterion?”

J.T. rubbed his hands together. “It has to be un-rejectable.”

“That’s not even a word.”

“But you get what I mean. She, or he, has to be so wowed that they’ll say yes. No possibility of rejection.”

Caleb sighed. “This whole thing is bullshit.” He glanced at J.T., who was puffed up and ready to go all Blue Ranger on his ass. “Not bullshit for everyone. For you, it’s great. For a lot of people it works. But not me.”

J.T. narrowed his eyes. “So after your big screwup, you think you can just walk up to Mandy and ask her to homecoming and she’ll say yes? No prom-posal at all? Like it’s the 1970s or something?”

And suddenly it clicked in his head. If he had to do this stupid thing, and apparently he did, that was exactly what to do: a 1970s theme. He glanced at J.T., whose eyes widened like he’d just read Caleb’s thoughts.

“Dude,” J.T. gasped, looking like an excited little kid.

“Dude,” Caleb growled. “Chill. We’re not going crazy with this. Maybe just a few things from the seventies but—”

J.T. jumped up from the table, sending M&M’s scattering across the table and onto the floor. “Come on, Red Ranger. Time to power up.”

The Party It Up store was Caleb’s worst nightmare, next to the Build-a-Buddy store. He froze in the lobby, overwhelmed by the riot of colors and the obnoxious eighties music floating through the store. He sighed as J.T. tugged on his jacket sleeve. Mandy probably loved this place.

“Disco aisle, here we come,” J.T. chirped. He grabbed a cart, got a running start, and hopped on the back, riding it like a scooter and pissing off the moms who yanked their toddlers out of his way. Caleb followed him, shrugging apologetically to the scowling moms. If he survived this day without killing the Blue Ranger it would be a miracle.

The disco aisle reminded Caleb of Mandy’s bedroom, which made him think of that kiss and the subsequent argument that had led to this insanity. He surveyed the fluorescent and shimmering party supplies hanging in the aisle and decided that if this stupid prom-posal meant he got to kiss Mandy again, for real, it would all be worth it.

“Look at this!” J.T. exclaimed, holding up a portable, spinning disco ball. “You should get it.”

“She already has one in her bedroom.”

J.T.’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve been in her bedroom? When the hell did that happen?”

Caleb contemplated saying something dirty, but decided he couldn’t risk pissing off his wingman by yanking his chain. “I gave her a ride home that night her gran was sick.”

“Yeah.” J.T. nodded. “But I still don’t see how that ends up with you two in her room.”

“She wanted to show it to me.” Caleb smirked. Maybe a little chain-pulling was okay among friends. “Nothing happened. Well, okay, something did but not what you’re thinking.”

J.T. put the disco ball back on the shelf. “That was the night you blew it, right?”

Caleb sighed. “Yeah. Don’t rub it in.”

“I’m not. Just assembling prom-posal facts.” J.T. studied him closely. “First you sloppy-kissed her, then you told her about how you screwed up with Gus.”

“I am not a sloppy kisser.”

“That’s not what she says.”

An older lady who’d started down their aisle shot Caleb an amused glance, then hurried past them, laughing softly to herself. Caleb wished he could light the whole store on fire.

J.T. grinned and tossed him a package of “disco fever” buttons that said stuff like Boogie Down, Disco Diva, Can You Dig It, and Funky Town.

Caleb tossed the buttons back to J.T. “No way.”

“Go big or go home, Red Ranger. Picture yourself covered in these buttons.” J.T. glanced back at the spindles of party supplies and yanked off a rainbow Afro wig with muttonchop sideburns. “And this.” He chucked it at Caleb, laughing, then turned back to the shelf and gasped, yanking a package off the shelf.

“This!” He spun toward Caleb, gesturing like a game show host to the package displaying a guy wearing white disco suit, one hand pointed in the air in a stupid dance pose. “You. Have. To.”

“Never.” Caleb lunged for the package, but J.T. was faster, backing up and holding it over his head.

“This is it, Red Ranger. If I can dress like Darth Vader, you can do Travolta.” J.T. grinned maniacally. “I’ll even teach you the Hustle. You know she loves to dance.”

Everything in Caleb wanted to yell or hit something and get the hell out of this crazy store. But instead he took a long breath and stared down J.T. “You think I’m going to wear that fucking suit? And do a disco dance in front of everyone?”

J.T nodded enthusiastically. “Un-re-jectable. Trust me.”

“I’d rather…rather…” He couldn’t think of anything worse than what J.T. was suggesting.

J.T. grabbed two pairs of fake rhinestone-studded glasses like Elton John used to wear and tossed them in the cart. “Those are for Liam and me.” He crossed his arms over his chest, looking smug. “Dude. You pull this off and it will go down in history as the best prom-posal Sky Ridge High has ever seen.”

“If I do this…and that’s a big if…I’m doing it where no one else can see it.”

J.T.’s mouth opened in surprise. “But the public display is half the fun! Then she gets bragging rights with everyone telling her how awesome it was and how lucky she is that you did such a kick-ass prom-posal.”

Caleb squinted. “Seriously?”

“Dude, have you been paying at attention at all the past three years? Or do you just sit in that dark corner and tune out everything?”

Instead of pissing him off, that almost made him laugh. “Pretty much tuning it out.”

J.T. shook his head. “Well, maybe it’s time you tune in, Red Ranger.”

Caleb’s sigh was long and loud, but he grabbed a disco ball necklace off a rack, thinking how much Mandy would like it. Maybe his wingman was right, and it was time to tune in.

“I don’t like dancing,” Caleb growled, but he took the stupid white suit from J.T. and tossed it into the cart, along with the necklace.

J.T. did a victory fist pump. “Don’t worry. I’ll teach you the steps and you only have to do it once. Well…maybe twice, because once she sees you can do the Hustle she’ll want to do it at homecoming, too.”

Caleb squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to make everything fade to black, but instead all he saw was a rainbow of colors: Mandy’s laughing face framed by her red hair, her sparking green eyes when they argued, those same eyes wide with sadness when he told her about his mom, and the glow bouncing off her that day in the coffee shop when they’d finished the rough draft.

He opened his eyes. “One dance, Blue Ranger. That’s it.”

“Deal.”