Chapter Twenty-One

Riley

The week before prom

“What’s going on, fearless committee leader?” Desmond asks when we meet in front of our lockers. “Was there another promtastrophe I don’t know about?”

I manage a weak smile. “Not this week.”

“Then why haven’t you said anything about prom? Carrie’s worried. She can’t afford to lose money on a dress that’s not returnable.” When I don’t immediately answer, he taps my shoulder. “Riley? Tell me you’re handling this.”

“It’s still on, in some form.” I focus on spinning my combination lock like it’s the first day of middle school and I can’t quite remember how the code works. I’m about to reveal the gym location news when I hear Owen yelling my name. Glancing over my shoulder, I see him running toward me, arms circling like propellers. “You’ll find out soon enough, Des. Mr. Slater’s making an announcement later today.”

The bell rings, and I slam my locker closed. “I’ve gotta go.”

Desmond jerks his chin in Owen’s direction. “Don’t you want to talk to him?”

“I’m late, and Madame Jones still gives out detentions. She doesn’t care if you’re a senior and about to graduate.” I wave to Owen. “Tell him to send me a text.”

Desmond huffs. “Now I’m your messenger?”

“No, you’re my friend.” After squeezing his shoulder, I take off, flying down the hallway and into AP French just as the bell rings. At exactly two o’clock, Principal Slater buzzes over the school-wide intercom.

“Attention, seniors, I have some important information to share.” Everyone in class pauses to listen. “Due to the recent sale of the Cleary farm, we needed to relocate this year’s prom. I’m happy to announce that we’ve secured an alternate site.”

“The gym,” I whisper. “Just say it.”

“The Miami Valley Vineyards.”

The entire class gasps. Me included.

“We’ll see you on Saturday at eight o’clock for a wonderful night.” The intercom clicks off.

Everyone turns to me and starts to clap. I scrape back my chair, jump to my feet, and point at the intercom. “He’s wrong. It’s in the gym.”

“No way, Riley,” Jane says. “Slater would never let us destroy his precious gym.” She jumps out of her seat and gives me a hug. “This is awesome. Thanks for working so hard to make our prom the best ever.”

“It’s not the best,” I insist, stepping back. “It’s the worst.”

“Mademoiselle Hart, are you okay?” Madame Jones calls to me from the front of the class. “Do you need a minute?”

“Yes. Oui.” I squeeze a breath out of my tight chest. “Several.”

Madame Jones writes me a hall pass, and I head for the administration wing. As I turn the corner, Owen barrels through the door of his science class, calling my name.

I walk faster. “I need to talk to Slater.”

He groans and starts to run. “Riley. Wait up.”

Realization hits me. I freeze. “Did you know?”

Owen throws his arm around my shoulders, hugging me tight. “About the change? I knew it might be possible, but Catherine’s mom just texted her an hour ago. Mrs. Reed was working on a potential new location. I didn’t want you to be disappointed if it didn’t work out, so I wanted to wait until we were sure to tell you about it.” Pausing for a breath, he turns me to face him. “I didn’t know about your plan to use the gym. You never said anything to the rest of the committee about it.”

I open and close my mouth a few times before I manage to say something. “No, it’s great. You and Cat found the perfect location. Together.”

Owen looks confused. “Why are you saying that? C’mon, Riley, you know that’s not what I meant. And our Project Morp wouldn’t even exist if you hadn’t done most of the organizing and planning.”

I fling my shoulders back and pull away from him. “But you and Cat saved the day, not me.”

Thanks to her mother’s connections, Catherine Reed will be remembered as the girl who saved prom. When did she decide she cared enough to get involved? When she realized Owen liked me? And really, does it matter at this point? The winery is even nicer than the stuffy old country club where past proms have been held.

But she’s still Catherine, my ex-best friend. Owen’s ex-girlfriend. In some ways, she’s always been better than me, and no matter what I do I’ll never measure up to her perfection.

I leave Owen standing in the middle of the hallway, ignoring his attempts to call me back.

I try to escape school without notice, but people are chanting my name as I pass by, cheering like I’m some miracle worker. They’re patting my back, squeezing my shoulder. Even Catherine’s friend Hannah hugs me.

I’m such a fraud, taking the credit for this. And I can’t help but wonder why Catherine isn’t telling everyone that she was really the person who saved prom—she and Owen. If everyone knew the truth, she’d easily lock up the Prom Queen vote.

My phone vibrates against my hip, but I don’t bother looking at it, just chuck it in the cup holder as I drive home.

“How’s the decorating?” Mom asks when she wraps up her daily photo-editing session and stops by my room. I’m sitting in front of a blank screen, wondering if I should just retire Evil Skater Girl for good. A few clicks and she’d be history.

“Turns out, all those new decorations I made are worthless. Catherine Reed’s mother found us a new location. Better than anything I came up with.”

Standing in the doorway, Mom eyes me sympathetically. “This is good news, right? Not something that should have us sulking in a dark bedroom alone?”

“Yes, but…it’s just the way everything went down. Like she and Owen didn’t trust me to find a solution, so they swept in and took care of it themselves.” Which is what I expected when I started down this whole path of saving prom. It just took longer than I thought to arrive at the endgame. “They let me work on the gym-prom and never told me about their plans.”

“They knew you were setting up a gym-prom?”

“I didn’t tell them specifics. But it was clear that I was working on something.” Wasn’t it? I spin my chair around to face Mom. “They could have come to me first. I was supposed to be running the committee.” And Owen, at least, was supposed to be my friend.

A buzzing sound emerges from the pocket of my denim jacket, thrown on the bed. Mom and I both jump. She pulls out my phone and holds it up.

“I think your date wants to talk to you.” She hands me the phone and disappears.

“Hey, Jordon,” I say.

“Hey…um, Catherine asked me to call you. She wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“Really? She specifically asked you…to call me?” My voice breaks. “Tell her I’m fine.”

“She feels bad about all the work you were doing behind the scenes. I think she was trying to be helpful, but Owen didn’t want to get your hopes up and crush them again if Mrs. Reed didn’t come through for us.” Jordon pauses to clear his throat. “Anyway, I’m checking in to make sure we’re still on for our date. What color is your dress? I need to order flowers, right?”

His relative calmness makes me second-guess myself. Am I being too petty? The prom is on, and it’s not in the gym. Isn’t that all I really wanted to accomplish? Who cares if it wasn’t me who got the job done?

“My dress is sky blue. Lighter than Sarah. I can snap a close-up of the material and text it to you. Thanks for asking.” My jaw clenches, but I manage to grit out one last sentence. “And tell Catherine I appreciate her help.”