“You ready for the dance next Friday?” she asks while driving.
I've come to be suspicious about her casual questions. “I'm ready. Why?”
“I just want to tell you that I've volunteered to chaperone.”
We've been together all day and she's just now telling me this? “Okay.”
“I'm not checking up on you, Ryan, if that's what you're thinking. Dexter asked for faculty volunteers and I never do anything to help out, so this seemed like a good way to stay in her good graces.”
“You're in her good graces now?”
“Ever since I've been dressing like a frump. I'm not even on her radar.”
The longer skirts and flats haven't fooled anyone. Every guy in school knows the kind of body her clothes are covering. Me most of all. “Whatever it takes to keep our principal happy,” I say.
Two blocks from my house, she rolls to the curb. I make for the door, but she stops me.
“You had a good time today, didn't you?”
“I had a great time.”
“Good.” Her smile is cheerful. “I want you to always have a good time with me.”
I watch her drive off. Then I jog home, where Dad's waiting to grill me about my day at the Underground.
•••
The problem with a high school dance in the gym is that it's so…well, so high school. The pep club has decorated the place with murals, glitter and balloons, but it's still a gym. A disc jockey, a senior who has a part- time job at a local radio station, is spinning tunes onstage, and whirling rainbow-colored lights are spraying the room and the mob of kids who've shown up with bright colors.
I'm glad I came. For the first time in a long time, I feel like my former self. Just Ryan. Honey looks good, too. I hadn't figured she'd be as pretty as she is tonight. When she first came down the stairs at her house, I took a step backward because she looked like a model or something.
Truth is, all the girls look pretty, even the ones who seem ordinary in classrooms and halls.
“Whoa!” Joel says. “Look thataway.”
We all turn and my heart lurches. Lori's standing there and Coach Mathers is practically slobbering on her. She's wearing a short, low-cut black dress and superhigh heels that sparkle in the lights.
Taylor grabs Jess and Honey. “Come on. Let's get a close-up. I'll bet ten bucks that dress is designer. I swear I saw it in
“I'd rather not,” Honey says, holding back, but Taylor won't be put off.
The three of us guys trail after our dates, me last because I don't know how to act around Lori. Not in front of everybody.
“Hello, Ms. Settles,” Taylor gushes. “You look fab!”
“Thank you, Taylor. All you girls are lovely.” She's using her soft teacher voice, her eyes warm and friendly. She doesn't even look my way.
“Hey, Coach,” Honey says.
“My star player,” he says to Lori.
“So I've heard,” Lori says. “You're one heck of a basketball player, according to the newspaper. Good for you. Girl power.”
Honey smiles, but I know she doesn't like being singled out. And I know she doesn't like Ms. Settles. She squints and I notice that she's looking hard at Lori's throat. “That's a pretty necklace,” she says.
Lori touches the silver knot on the hammered silver chain resting against her skin. “Thank you. It was a gift from a friend. For Christmas.”
Taylor and Jess agree that the necklace I gave Lori is “really pretty.” It surprises me that she's wearing it, but so what? No one knows who gave it to her.
“You all have fun,” Lori says, and she and Coach walk toward the food tables.
A slow song begins to play and Taylor and Wade peel off to the dance floor. Honey turns to me and she's white as a ghost. “You okay?” I ask.
“Just a little sick to my stomach,” she says. “I didn't eat dinner.”
Sure came on sudden, I think.
Jess grabs her arm. “To the girls' room. We'll see you guys in a few minutes.”
I watch them weave through the dancers, the lights reflecting bright spots of color off the backs of their dresses and hair until they disappear into the shadows on the far side of the gym.
Honey
The bathroom is foggy with hair spray. Girls are preening at the mirrors, smearing on lip gloss and gobs of mascara. The mix of so many different perfumes makes me more nauseated, and I rush into an empty stall, lock the door and lean against the cool metal wall, fighting for control.
Jess bangs on the door. “You okay?”
“I will be,” I lie. My stomach is churning, my heart beating hard. When I close my eyes, all I see is Lori Settles' necklace—the Celtic love knot on its silver chain nestled at her throat. A Christmas gift from a friend.
“Want me to go get you something to eat?” Jess asks.
“No. I—I don't want to throw up.”
“Bad news. How about some cola?”
“Not now.”
I take deep breaths, force myself to calm down. I've seen that style of necklace twice, once here in Atlanta. Whoever gave it to Settles could have bought it right here in the city. And once in a velvet box in Ryan's room.
“Do you need to go home?” Jess again.
“I don't know yet.”
I hear the voices of other girls saying, “What's up with Honey?” and “Is she all right?”
“Stomach bug,” Jess says.
No germs, I think—fear. My legs feel wobbly. “How about a wet paper towel,” I say to keep Jess busy. I need time to think. Why would Ryan give Lori Settles a necklace? A bribe for grades? Stupid. I discard that notion quickly. Why? I can't face the ugly thought that keeps banging against the inside of my head.
“Incoming,” Jess says, passing a soggy wad of paper towels under the door of the stall.
I take them, wring them out into the toilet and press them to the back of my neck. The cold feels good and revives me. I do more deep breathing. You're being stupid, I tell myself. I'm letting it ruin my night. There are plenty of people who could have given Settles her necklace. Maybe even Coach. Or a friend from her past. Or one of those firemen from that time we worked the carnival. I remember how a few of them were falling over themselves to talk to her. I'm betting the necklace Ryan bought is still in his room.
“Status report,” Jess says.
“Better,” I say, getting a handle on my emotions. “I'm coming out.” I unlock the door and step out into a circle of curious girls.
“Show's over,” Jess tells them. “Scram.”
They scatter and I walk to the mirror. At least I didn't cry, so my mascara's in place. I fumble for lip gloss, smear it on.
“Whatever it was, I'm over it,” I say.
“Probably your period,” Jess says. “Sometimes just before I start, it knocks me out.”
“You're probably right,” I tell her. “Mother Nature can be a royal pain.”
hey look so fresh-faced. The girls in their pretty party dresses. The boys in sports jackets or suits. I can tell none of the girls get dressed up much because their bodies aren't at ease with the swish of filmy fabrics, or the cut of strapless dresses over underwire bras, or the lift of high-heeled shoes. They walk stiff-
