could legitimately excuse myself long enough to phone Xavier. But even if I borrowed Molly’s cell, there was nowhere private to call from. Teachers were stationed at the front doors to prevent anyone escaping into the gardens, and the bathrooms would be full of girls touching up their makeup.
The night seemed lackluster after all the buildup. It wasn’t Jake’s fault. I could see that he was trying. He was an attentive escort, and when he wasn’t asking me whether I was enjoying myself, he was cracking jokes and exchanging anecdotes with the others at our table. But as I looked around at the girls picking daintily at their food and brushing imaginary lint off their dresses, I couldn’t help thinking that there seemed little purpose to the event apart from sitting there looking pretty. Once everybody had given one another the once-over, there wasn’t much left to do.
Even when he was conversing with the others, Jake’s eyes rarely left my face. He seemed intent on following my every move. Sometimes he tried to draw me into the conversation by asking pointed questions, but I answered mostly in monosyllables and kept looking at my hands. I didn’t want to spoil the night for anyone or appear sulky, but my thoughts kept creeping back to Xavier. I found myself wondering what he was doing, imagining how the night would be if he were here by my side. I was in the right place, wearing the right dress, but with the wrong boy, and I couldn’t help but feel a little melancholy about it.
“What’s the matter, princess?” Jake asked when he caught me staring longingly out at the ocean.
“Nothing,” I answered quickly. “I’m having a lovely time.”
“Filthy lies,” he joked. “Shall we play a game?”
“If you like.”
“All right… how would you describe me in one word?”
“Driven?” I suggested.
“Wrong. Driven is the last thing I am. Fun fact: I never do my homework. What else makes me unique?”
“Your hair gel? Your suave nature? Your six toes?”
“Now that was uncalled for. I had number six removed years ago.” He flashed a smile. “Now describe yourself in one word.”
“Oh…” I hesitated. “I don’t really know… that’s difficult.”
“Good,” he said. “I’d never like a girl who could sum herself up in one word. There’s no complexity in that. And without complexity, there’s no intensity.”
“You like intensity?” I asked. “Molly says all guys want a girl who’s chill.”
“Chill just means easy to get into bed,” Jake replied. “But I suppose there’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Isn’t that the opposite of intense?” I said. “Make up your mind!”
“A game of chess can be intense.”
“Er… yes, it can. Perhaps the idea of girls and chess pieces is interchangeable for you?”
“Never,” Jake said. “Have you ever broken a heart?”
“No,” I replied. “And I never want to. Have you?”
“Many but never without good reason.”
“What sort of reasons?”
“They weren’t right for me.”
“I hope you ended it in person,” I said. “And not over the phone or anything like that.”
“What do you take me for?” Jake said. “They deserved that much. That little shred of dignity was all they had left in the end.”
“What do you mean by that?” I asked curiously.
“Let’s just say that you love and you lose,” he replied.
We sat through a tedious speech by Dr. Chester about how this was our “special night” and how we were all expected to behave responsibly and not do anything to tarnish Bryce Hamilton’s reputation. Dr. Chester said he trusted we were all going to go straight home when the prom ended. There were a few sniggers from the audience at this, which the principal chose to ignore. He reminded us instead that he had sent letters home discouraging after-parties and advising parents to think twice before offering their homes as a venue.
What Dr. Chester didn’t know was that the after-party had been planned months ago, and the organizers hadn’t been naive enough to think they could get away with holding it at somebody’s house with their parents just upstairs. It was going to be held at an old, abandoned factory just out of town. The father of one of the seniors was an architect who’d been working on converting the space into apartments. He’d encountered some objections from local environment groups, and the project was temporarily on hold while waiting for permits to be approved. The factory was spacious, dark and, most of all, secluded. Nobody would think to look for the after-party there. No matter how loud the music, there would be nobody to complain because there were no residential streets nearby. Somebody knew a professional DJ who had offered his services free for the night. The kids could hardly wait for the prom to finish so the “real party” could start, but I knew I’d never contemplate going, even if Xavier had been there with me. I’d been to one party in my human life, and that was enough.
Dinner followed the speeches, and when we’d finished eating, we lined up on a raised platform to have our photos taken for the school magazine. Most couples adopted a standard pose, arm around the other’s waist, the girls smiling demurely, the boys standing rigid, terrified of making a wrong move and ruining the photo — a crime for which they knew they’d never be forgiven.
I should have known that Jake would do something different. When it was our turn, he dropped to one knee, plucked a rose from the table arrangement and clenched it between his teeth.
“Smile, princess,” he whispered in my ear.
The photographer, who had been clicking mechanically, brightened when she saw him, grateful for the variation. As we stepped down from the dais, I saw other girls glaring pointedly at their partners. Their eyes said, “Why can’t you be more like that romantic Jake Thorn?” I felt sorry for the boy who did try to mimic Jake’s gesture and ended up pricking his lip on the rose’s thorns. He was led away to the restroom by his lobster-faced date.
After the photos, a dessert of wobbling creme caramel arrived. This was followed by an interlude of dancing, and finally we were called back to our seats for the announcement of the awards. We watched as the prom committee, including Molly and Taylah, climbed onto the dais, carrying envelopes and trophies.
“It is our pleasure,” began a girl named Bella, “to announce this year’s award winners for the Bryce Hamilton Prom. We have put a lot of thought and effort into these decisions and before we start we want you to know that you’re all winners inside!”
I heard Jake suppress a snort of laughter.
“We’ve added more categories to the list this year in recognition of the effort you’ve all made tonight,” the girl went on. “Let’s start with the award for Best Hair.”
It seemed to me that the world had gone mad. I returned Jake’s look of dismay as we sat through awards for Best Hair, Best Gown, Most Transformed, Best Tie, Best Shoes, Best Makeup, Most Glamorous, and Most Natural Beauty. Finally, the minor awards were over, and it was time for the announcement that everybody had been waiting for: the winners of Prom King and Queen. Excited whispers flew around the room. This was the award most hotly contested. Every girl in the audience was holding her breath and the boys were pretending not to look interested. I wasn’t sure what all the fuss was about. It wasn’t exactly something to include on their resumes.
“And this year’s winners are…,” began the speaker. She paused for dramatic effect and the audience groaned in frustration. “Bethany Church and Jake Thorn!”
The room burst into wild applause, and for a split second I scanned the crowd for the winners until I realized it was my name that had been called. I maintained my stony expression as I walked up onto the dais with Jake, although his disgust seemed to have morphed into amusement. Everything felt wrong as Molly placed the crown on my head and presented me with my sash. Jake, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying the attention. We had to lead the crowd in a waltz, so I gave Jake my hand and he slipped his arm around my waist. Even though I’d practiced waltzing with Xavier, I didn’t feel so confident now that he wasn’t with me. Luckily angels have the advantage of catching on to things relatively easily. I followed Jake’s lead, and soon the rhythm of the dance was bolstered in my mind. My limbs moved like water, and I was surprised to find that Jake was just as graceful.
Ivy and Gabriel passed by us, their bodies moving in sync, flowing like silk. Their feet hardly touched the floor, and they looked as if they were floating. Even with their somber expressions, they were so entrancing to watch that people stopped and stared, giving them a wide berth on the dance floor. My siblings soon got tired of being the entertainment for the evening and headed back to their table.
As the music changed tempo, Jake whirled me to the edge of the dance floor. He leaned forward so that his
