Chapter Twenty-Two

Riley

Prom night, Seven P.M.

Prom day passes in a blur of preparations. Although I’m not involved at all with the new prom venue, Owen claims there’s not much to be done. The owner of the winery offered to go above and beyond to make sure everything turns out nice because they’re dealing with some sort of bad press over a cancelled event. I still need to count the ticket sales and make sure we have enough money to cover the few vendors who aren’t donating their services in return for Catherine’s promise of free publicity. When I finally pull out my gown, running my hand over the light blue chiffon skirt and silver-beaded bodice, a mixture of relief and excitement builds inside me. After all the ups and downs of the past two months, prom is a reality. I should be overjoyed, but I’m nervous, too. Standing in front of the mirror, touching up my makeup, my hands shake as I apply mascara. I need to wipe off my first attempt and start over.

“What time is Jordon picking you up?” Mom asks as she zips the back of my dress.

“Seven o’clock. You’re not thinking about following us with a camera strapped to the hood of your car, right?”

Mom laughs. “I promise not to intrude on your date. But don’t worry, the pictures will be beautiful. I set up the photo booth in front of the dogwood trees at the entrance to the vineyard. Dad showed two juniors in the photography club how to work the equipment. They’ll upload everything at the end of the night so you and your friends can look at all the images on my website.”

“Thanks, Mom. Really, after all you did to help me out with the photo booth and decorations, I wouldn’t mind having you there—”

She laughs off my attempt at gratitude. “Yes, you would. And I get it; no one wants their parents at their prom.”

I tug on the strap of my dress and check my lip gloss. With cat-eye makeup and styled hair, the girl in the mirror doesn’t look like me, but who cares? Most of the time, I’m not even sure who I am anymore. Evil Skater Girl? Honor Roll Student? Or Failed Prom Committee Leader?

“When did you grow up?” Mom asks, tucking a loose curl behind my ear, her voice thick with emotion. “It feels like yesterday when I put you on the kindergarten bus.”

The hazy memory of waving goodbye to my parents on the first day of school brings a tear to my eye. “Thanks for setting up the photo booth,” I say, giving her a hug.

She smiles. “If you really want to thank me, you’ll let me take sample shots for my portfolio until Jordon gets here.”

I straighten my shoulders and strike a pose. “I’m all yours. Lead the way.”

Dozens of photos later, Sarah wheezes up our driveway. Thankfully, Jordon is on time, before a fake smile is completely frozen on my face.

“I can’t wait to meet your date,” Mom says, rushing to the back gate and throwing it open. Jordon steps out of his car and strides up the driveway, his arms swinging a bit as he moves.

“Wow,” I say, peeking over her shoulder. “Jordon, you look awesome.”

Smiling, he pushes his hand through his freshly cut, dark blond hair. Without his glasses, his eyes appear bigger, glowing with a richer shade of brown. “Thanks, Riley. You look great, too. These are for you.” He hands me a bouquet filled with blue, purple, and white flowers, which look perfect next to my blue dress. “Ready to go?”

“Wait one second, young man,” Dad says, stepping out of the house with a colossal camera strapped around his neck. “We’d like a few shots of you two together. I have everything set up inside.”

I’m very happy that the boy I asked to prom is a stage professional. Jordon appears completely at ease with my parents’ requests and even asks for information about their headshot prices, saying he might need to update his portfolio before he leaves for college.

Dad places the diffusers on either side of the dining room curtains, which is their favorite in-home backdrop, and arranges us in front of them. After Jordon and I pose for my parents and their dual cameras, we rush out of the house. I tap Sarah’s hood before I slide into the front seat. “You’re my good luck charm tonight,” I tell her.

“Hands off my car, Riley,” Jordon says. He’s smiling like it’s a joke, but I sense he’s cringing on the inside. I slide into the car, my hands curled into fists to prevent my fingers from accidentally brushing the dashboard or the vinyl seat. I don’t bother with the seat belt, because I can’t even find the damn thing.

“Are you okay driving without glasses?” I ask, a bit nervous.

“Contacts,” he answers with a smile. “I wear them on stage sometimes, depending on my character.”

We ride off into the glowing orange sunset, chatting quietly.

“What do you think about the new location?” I ask. “Did Catherine tell you how she and her mother found it?”

Jordon coughs and stammers a few times before he gives me an answer. “Not the details. She, uh, said it was a last-minute cancelation or something.”

I have a hard time believing Catherine is capable of that much spontaneity. Back in the day, when we were friends, she never left the house on Monday mornings unless her weekly schedule was burned into her brain. And Mrs. Reed was usually quizzing her daughter about her upcoming assignments before she made it out the front door.

Sighing, I tell Jordon, “Of course it worked out in the end. Catherine Reed’s senior prom would never be less than perfect.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Jordon’s hands gripping Sarah’s steering wheel a little harder. I should shut up. Although I’m not sure what Catherine thinks about Jordon, it’s obvious he has a major crush on her.

We’re silent as we turn into the vineyard’s parking lot. Jordon bypasses the valet and pilots Sarah into the middle of a row of empty parking spots. He cuts the engine, and we turn to each other.

His chest moves up and down as he inhales a shaky breath. “Ready to do this?”

My stomach does a double flip. I’m ready for prom to be over, but I won’t admit it to the poor guy who’s stuck with me for the rest of the evening. So I make an effort to push up the corners of my mouth, manufacturing the fakest of fake smiles. “Get ready, Hamilton Senior Prom-goers. Jordon and Riley are here.” I yank up the door handle with an excess of force, and it breaks off in my hand.