And do you, Dana, take this man, Robert, to be your husband? To honor and cherish him, as long as you both shall live?”
Dana looks up at Dad. Her eyes are glistening with tears. “I do,” she says.
Dad’s been smiling since the beginning of the ceremony. I glance at Anne, who is standing next to me. Like Dana or not, she has to admit Dad’s happier than he’s been in a long time. Anne, sensing my gaze, looks back at me. She gives me a half smile. Maybe she’s finally accepting this. When we put our bridesmaid dresses on and came downstairs, Mom surprised me by telling us how beautiful we looked. She didn’t make one comment about hurt feelings or Dad. Maybe she’s finally accepting it too.
And me? I shift my feet, uncomfortable in this fluffy gown. I’m finally accepting I don’t have to like it all the time either.
I catch Elisabeth in the audience, trying not to laugh. She always laughs during emotional events. When I went with her to her grandfather’s funeral, wanting to offer support, she laughed all the way through that service. It’s her way of handling the emotion since her father died. We all have our ways of moving through pain, I guess.
I try to catch her eyes, but she’s in a full giggle, her hand tightly over her mouth.
Next to her sits Brooke, who’s become a good friend. She is shaking Elisabeth’s arm, trying to get her under control. Brooke was thrilled with the photograph I submitted for the contest, and even more thrilled when I actually won. As a fellow artist she knew how much it meant for Summer Arts, the best arts camp on the East Coast, to offer me a full scholarship as a result of my win. Now she’s coming with Dad, Dana, Elisabeth, and me when we go to D.C. in June for the gallery opening, only one month from now.
I wanted to invite Tiffany, too, but I knew she would have ignored me. We’re still not friends. There’s nothing I can do to repair that.
Finally Dad and Dana kiss, and we walk back down the aisle. Then we are forced to pose for a million pictures. Finally we are set free. I walk down a corridor into a large ballroom buzzing with Dad and Dana’s guests. Tables are set with white linens and glowing candles. Funk is already blaring through the speakers. I search out Elisabeth and Brooke. Two days earlier, hanging out at my house, the three of us pinky swore we would stick with one another during the entire wedding. None of us wanted to get stuck alone at this thing. And none of us wanted to get stuck talking to Aunt Joan or Uncle Al for an hour.
Just as I find them, and as Elisabeth is about to make a snide comment about the dress, someone touches my arm. I turn around to see one of the cutest guys I’ve ever seen. Cuter than Jason ever was. Cuter, possibly, than any boy I’ve ever seen. He has curly brown hair. He’s wearing a black jacket with no tie. When he smiles, he reveals two perfect dimples. Oh, my God.
“I saw you standing up there during the wedding,” he says. I swallow. Why, of all times, must I be wearing this hideous dress? “My name’s Gory.”
I tell him my name. I tell him Elisabeth’s and Brooke’s names. They both smile and blush, clearly as awestruck as I.
“Would you like to dance?” he asks me.
Would I like to dance? I think. Um, that would be a yes.
But I glance at my friends. Their smiles are huge. They huddle against each other. If there’s anything I’ve learned this past year, it’s that my friends have to come before boys. I made them a promise, and I plan to stick with it. They have stuck with me, after all, even though I still have a reputation at school. Even though Ashley and her friends won’t talk to them because of it.
“I think I’m going to just hang out here,” I tell the gorgeous Cory. His smile lowers a bit. “I’m sorry,” I add.
“What in God’s name are you doing?” Brooke says when he walks away.
“There is no one at our school who looks like that” Elisabeth says.
“I know,” I say. I watch him walk away. Wouldn’t you know it? Even his walk is hot. “But I wanted to hang out with you guys tonight.”
“You could hang out with us anytime,” Brooke says.
I look at Elisabeth. “I’m with Brooke on this one,” she says.
“Really?”
“Jessica,” Elisabeth says, “just because you screwed up in the past doesn’t mean you can’t do things the right way now.”
I hug Elisabeth. “Have I told you you’re the greatest friends ever?” I say.
“Now go,” Brooke says.
I spot Cory by the buffet. He has a plate in one hand. He’s reaching for a stuffed mushroom with the other. I take a deep breath and approach. My heart is beating fast. This is different, after all. Like Elisabeth said, I’m going to do it right this time.
“Hey,” I say when I get close.
He turns around, surprised.
“I guess I can do one dance.”
“Oh,” he says. He puts down the mushroom and the plate. “Okay.”
We move out to the dance floor, where a bunch of other people shake their booties. Most of them are subdued, but a few are embarrassing themselves. I hope he doesn’t actually want to dance, not when I’m wearing this dress.
“Who do you know here?” I ask.
“My mother is Dana’s friend,” he says. “They went to art school together.”
“Your mother’s an artist?”
He nods. His eyes are a deep blue. I try not to think about that, to focus on the conversation. That’s a part of doing it right. “A photographer,” he says.
I raise my eyebrows. “Wait,” I say. “Did she just do a show on paper?”
“Yeah,” he says, confused.
“I was at the opening,” I say. “Dana took me.” I smile. “She’s my new stepmom.”
He nods, getting it. “I couldn’t go that night,” he says. “I had a game.”
“You missed your own mother’s gallery opening for a game?” I tease.
“I see I shouldn’t have,” he says. “I missed an opportunity to meet you, as well.”
I blush and look away. Brooke and Elisabeth stand near the buffet now. They wave. I smirk back at them.
“Why’d Dana bring you there, anyway?” Cory asks.
“I’m a photographer too,” I tell him.
He laughs. “Just my luck. I find someone I think I like, and it’s my mother.”
I laugh too. “You don’t know me well enough to know you like me,” I tell him.
He raises his eyebrows. “Point taken.”
The song fades, and another one starts.
“Well,” I say, “thanks for the dance.”
“That’s it?” he asks. His smile falls again.
“We’ve got all evening to meet up again,” I say.
I feel his eyes on me as I walk away.
For the rest of the wedding I laugh and dance and eat with my friends, forgetting he is even there. So when he comes back to ask for my phone number before he leaves, I am surprised. I write it on a cocktail napkin, and he stuffs the napkin into his jacket pocket. He reaches for my hand. My first reaction is to pull back. It will take me a while to get comfortable with a boy’s touch again. To trust my body is safe in someone else’s hands. When his hand finds mine, though, his touch is gentle. He pulls my hand to his lips and kisses it. The kiss is soft and warm. Enough to reach that silent self inside. The part that is slowly getting bigger. The part that is finally getting seen. He releases my hand,and I smile, keeping my secret to myself. Keeping lots of things for myself these days.
As I return to my friends, a song we love starts, and we bounce out to the dance floor. With my friends I don’t care what I look like dancing in this dress. I don’t care that my hair falls halfway down as I shake my head to the music. I don’t care that I’m probably offbeat. I’m letting my body do what it wants for once. No longer confusing that with what I think it should be doing, or what I think some guy thinks it should be doing. We laugh and clap and spin around. A flash pops, and I look up to see the photographer has taken a picture of us. I make a mental note—I’ll want a copy of that photograph.