Do Over (14 page)

“Likely.”

“You’re going to be like the only guy I don’t have to explain fashion terms to, aren’t you?”

Trey stared at me a long moment. “Yeah.”

I laughed.

Midway down the hall, Trey leaned closer and sniffed my hair.

I tucked a strand behind my ear. “What?”

“Did you switch perfumes? What is that?” Trey took a step closer.

I relaxed. “Oh, Star got me some new bath lotions. This one’s ‘Brazil Nut-strawberry’, I thought of you when I picked—”

His kiss cut off my sentence. Sweet, light, and too short.

“Mr. Tresmont, no PDA in the hallways,” the teacher said.

Trey broke away and spoke low enough, so only I could hear him. “Damn it Paisley, I—”

The teacher said, “And you, Ms. Johnson, I don’t suppose you want detention with your father. Not over this.” Her eyebrow arched. “Do you?”

I shook my head, and ran a hand over my hair.
No, I do not. How many days ‘til graduation? Ten?

***

Tap, tap, tap.

I banged on the wood lectern. “Updates, please. Tell me about the venue.”

Carla shook her head. “It’s too late to book the cheap ones, and we can’t afford the good ones.”

I put the gavel down on top of the lectern. It slid an inch and the rhinestones made a scraping sound. “Even with all our fundraising?”

“No go,” Carla said.

“The lake?”

Lauren glared at John. “We didn’t apply for the permit in time.”

Amy cleared her throat.

“Any ideas, Amy?”

“You won’t like it.” She pushed her tortoise shell glasses higher on her small nose.

“Try me.” The room felt so hot and humid today, I hoped the AC wasn’t on the blink. I touched the handle of the gavel with my fingertip and it slid down another inch.

Amy squirmed. “My dad rents the big white wedding tents.”

“How much?” Carla asked.

Amy’s words were rushed. “He wouldn’t charge us.”

John caught on. “We can put them up in Prom Field.”

Lauren gasped.

I stiffened, and knocked into the gavel. The base dove for the edge of the lectern.

Amy nodded reluctantly. “They’re pretty.”

My heart beat faster. I scanned the room. “Any other ideas? Anything?”

“That sucks,” Zoe said.

Eyes widened, heads shook, mouths pouted, and hope died.
Outdoor tents.
We knew what agreeing to this meant.

I drew in a deep break. Okay. Suck it up. I reached for the gavel, but I couldn’t make my stiff fingers lift it. “I second Amy’s motion. All in favor say
aye
.”

“Aye,” the volunteers said without enthusiasm.

Zoe remained silent.

“All opposed say
nay
and be prepared to present an alternative to Prom in a Field.”

Silence.

“Anyone?” I banged the gavel on the lectern. “The ayes have it.” I released the handle and let gravity have it. A dull thud followed gavel’s landing and some of the end rhinestones popped off. I stared at them a moment, lying there small and sparkly on the cold linoleum floor, then I said the words, “Prom in a Field is back on.”

With that proclamation, morale took a dive deeper than a prairie dog hole. The volunteers’ shoulders hunched, cell phones emerged, and the texting began.

Stupid John. Was he grinning? He was
definitely
grinning. “I know this is a heart break, so I need your help. No looking back. Tell me one good thing about Prom in a Field.”

“We don’t have to cancel prom,” Zoe said.

I pointed at Amy. “We can make it pretty.”

“It’s free,” Carla said.

“My idea wins.” John jabbed his elbow to his side with his fist in the air.

Competitive freak.

“My dress is stunning, no matter where we are,” Lauren said.

Good. My team moved through the drill, picking up enthusiasm with each statement. We’d make this happen.

John caught up to me at the end of the meeting. “Uh, I need your help with something.”

I frowned up at him, thinking
no
.

“Come on, Pez, I’ve been helping.” The slight beg to his voice caught my attention.

“Fine, what?”

John glanced down the corridor and whispered,” I want Lauren to go to prom with me.”

I wrinkled my nose.

“She’s intense.” His eyes brightened when he described Lauren. “I thought if I kept volunteering, she’d get to know me and go out with me, but she won’t let me close.”

John looked vulnerable--well as vulnerable as a behemoth could look.

“Help me?”
he begged.

“No.”

***

I leaned against Trey and my blue Honda. “Like I’d help him. Like John should be rewarded for volunteering. I don’t even think he should be allowed to go prom.” I finished my diatribe and leaned more on Trey and less on my car.

Trey’s gaze rested on the stadium in the distance, and his jaw tensed. “Don’t be so hard on him,” he advised. “Everything worked out. Right?”

“Not really, no. We’re having Prom in a Field. It’s not what I’d call perfect.” Trey had no idea how many hours the volunteers had worked to save that money. Or, the big plans that rested on this event.

“About John and Lauren…”

“No way I’d hook them up.” I spoke with firm assurance. Mom would have called this Dad’s stubborn gene coming out.

Trey threaded his fingers through mine. “I like going out with you.” He almost sounded surprised.

“We’re not officially dating,” I reminded him.

“Coach will come around.” Trey examined our entwined hands. “I wanted to go out with you way before I asked.”

I squeezed his fingers and breathed in his cologne. I liked going out with him too. A lot. The sound of footsteps crunching on the asphalt turned my head and stopped me from smashing against him and showing him how much.
Stupid footsteps.

Zoe tossed her cheer bag into the front passenger seat of her car. She held up her hand in the shape of a gun, pulled the imaginary trigger, and winked. “Jumbotron Wocks.” She wound her pointed index finger around a strand of her hair and sucked on the end.

I wished Zoe wouldn’t use her cutesy voice around all the guys. Did they really like it? I glanced at Trey. He was staring at someone’s truck.

Zoe slammed her passenger door and moved to the driver side. She fired the imaginary gun at Trey again, and spoke louder, “I’m so glad I told you about the Twon, back when we dated.”

Trey’s gaze flew to Zoe and his whole body tensed.

Zoe’s eyes were on me, filled with malice. “
Best idea ever.
Your stepmom’s proposal to Coach gave me the idea.” A stray strand of her platinum hair clung to her lip-gloss while she spoke, bobbing with each word, like a conductor waving his wand.

My mouth went dry and I straightened away from Trey. “What’s she talking about?”

Trey said nothing. He crossed his arms.

Zoe slid into her car. She gunned the engine, rolled down the windows and turned up her music before speeding off.

When the car’s taillights reached the parking lot exit, Trey said, “Zoe found the Jumbotron on eBay. She told me about it.” His words, a flat confession of the facts, lacked inflection.

I shook my head.
John bought the Tron.

Trey continued with his eyes on the horizon. “I didn’t want the credit, so I told John, and he took care of it. Then when you freaked, John stepped up and took the blame, too.”

“Why would he do that?” I felt like the blood had left my face and pooled somewhere around my feet.

“He knew I wanted to go out with you.”

I blinked, shook my head, and pressed into my car. “I--”

“So it’s not John’s fault. Maybe you could talk to Lauren for him?”

“Zoe and you? How long did you date her?”

“I didn’t. Not really. Not like you define dating.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Trey shrugged. I raised my eyebrows until he said, “It’s been months, and you haven’t forgiven John.”

My face felt hot as the blood rushed back. The afternoon was hot and muggy. Standing around in the parking lot was sticky and uncomfortable. I didn’t want to be there anymore. I turned and unlocked my car with sweaty fingers that almost dropped the keys. “I gotta get home.”

“We should talk…”

“Not now, I should really go home.” My head throbbed, and my voice thinned out on the last part of the sentence as my thoughts coalesced into one simple truth:
Zoe and Trey together ruined prom.

***

“I feel so stupid,” I said to Lauren on the phone. “Like he tricked me. And with Zoe.” I jammed a pillow under my neck and scrunched down on the couch.

“That’s not really how it was.”

Lauren’s uncharacteristic reasonableness made me mad. “He could have told me.”

“Right. Like that would’ve gone well. You’d have given him the cold shoulder, like you’ve given John all this time.”

“Maybe I should.”

Mom popped in and dropped off a Coke. I mouthed ‘thanks,’ and swallowed some of the cold, bubbly liquid.

“Stop it,” Lauren said. “You love him.”

I choked and put the can down. “It’s like Zoe’s been laughing at me, and Trey knew. He wouldn’t have told me if John didn’t want to go out with you.”

“What?”

“Yeah, John wants to take you to the prom.”

“He’s asking
now
?” she said.

“He asked me to ask you.”

The heated plastic of my cell phone warned me to switch the phone to my other ear. Knowing Lauren’s response would be lengthy, I obeyed.

Lauren said, “Well, I guess I could go with him. It’ll be like we planned.”

“Not quite. Dad’s still dating Star and I don’t know if he and Mom will be back together before prom.” I choked on the word
prom
and reached for the Coke.

“Honey,” Mom’s voice came from my doorway. “Hang up with Lauren now. We should talk.”

My stomach twisted. “I have to call you back.” I rolled to a seated position as Lauren disconnected.

Mom moved in and sat beside me. “You do know that your Dad and I love you very much. But, we’re not getting back together.”

I looked away and clasped my arms around my knees, feeling the need to be sick. “I know.”

Chapter Thirteen

When the Dragons and River Oaks High threw down for a position in the playoffs, the game started out rough and escalated to a prison-rodeo-level violence. Standing with Aster on the sidelines, I watched Blaine lead his team against the Dragons. In an intentional punk move, Blaine threw the soccer ball into the back of Ian’s skull.

Boom.

Ian hit the grass then sprang up, looking around.

Ouch.
I shook my head. Good throw, though. Blaine hit a really pale, narrow target while throwing against the breeze.

Aster dug more bottles of Gatorade from the cooler and lined them up on the table. “Blaine’s not that artsy.”

Nodding, I said, “I don’t think so either. Not bad at soccer, though.”

“Is he staring at you?”

I scanned the pitch.
Yep.
Weirdo.

“He must be trying to piss off your Dad. Like that’s going to end well.”

The first half of the game resulted in kicking, pushing, tripping, striking, and more yellow cards than I’ve ever seen. The second half got worse.

Blaine maneuvered the ball down field while staring at me. Trey left his position and shouldered into Blaine’s body, catching him off guard, and intercepted. Dribbling up field, Trey passed to Ian, who kicked out of bounds through a touch line.

Blaine, who was designated to return the ball to play, raised it to his chest, turned his head to look at me and threw it all the while staring at my chest. Then he sprinted onto the field. The ball passed from his teammate back to him.

Trey left position again, shoved Blaine, and sent the ball to John.

Blaine pushed back, and the move resulted in a tackle.

A whistle blew. The referee’s lips were going to be sore after this game. The referee held up a yellow card and pointed at Trey.

Trey deserved the penalty. He’d deserved the warning several moves earlier.

Blaine bounced up on his feet, hopping like a rabbit. He accepted the ball and took a penalty kick. His point tied the score.

 On the bench watching, Trey rubbed a towel over his sweat-dampened hair. He accepted the water bottle from me. “Thanks.”

I didn’t let him catch my eye. I still didn’t know what to say. The breeze blew a strand of my hair across my face. I tucked it back into my ponytail.

Dad crossed his arms over his chest and glared. “You left your position to go after that kid.”

Trey leaned back, his elbows against the back of the bench. His head tilted up. “Yes sir, Coach. That’s Blaine, the dick who tore Paisley’s dress on their date.”

Ooh. I moved behind the Gatorade bottles.

Dad stiffened and turned his gaze toward the field. “You should have led with your elbow.” He demonstrated a move. “Low, where the refs can’t see.”

Toward the bottom of the second half, Trey followed his coach’s advice and led with his elbow. Blaine went down. He got back up, but he didn’t hop like a rabbit this time, or stare at me. The referee’s arms lifted, one holding a red card and the other pointing at Trey. It tortured the Trallwyn fans to watch Trey ride the bench while the Dragons played one man down.

An opposing player stuck his leg out and tripped Ian. He went down flat on the field.

Trey shifted on the bench, sprang up, and screamed with the rest of us. Shouts from the stadium escalated as the day heated up and the breeze died. Penalty kicks scored more points than normal goals.

Today wasn’t the Dragon’s proudest win, but it was the win that put us in the state playoffs. The game announcer came over the loud speakers. “This concludes our season’s last home game. Parents, join your senior boys on the field as we sing the school’s fight song one last time.”

Underclassman players lined up on the sidelines, fans descended the stadium steps to stand side by side at the rail. This school knew its traditions. Parents of seniors went through the chain link gate to join their sons. Some were hesitant, even though this ritual had played out all year with every school club, after the final football game, swim meet, school play, and chess club match.