Dancing with Molly (3 page)

After a while, I realized that I wasn't feeling the ecstasy as much any more, and looked over and saw that it was already getting light outside. I was like, Oh my god. We've been up all night. Brandon said he was getting sort of hungry, and Pete packed a bowl and passed it around. He said it would help everybody feel better as we came down, and Kelly agreed. They've all done this before. Obviously Kelly had. She came prepared with that backpack full of goodies and activities. The weed did help a little, but when we all piled into Brandon's SUV and went to IHOP I started to feel like my arms weighed five thousand pounds apiece.

The restaurant was noisy and bright even though it was only six o'clock in the morning. I never realized so many people in the world are up and around and in need of pancakes at six a.m. The waiter was named Chris, and he looked like a college student working the graveyard shift. When he came by with coffee, he smiled at us knowingly and said, So. Big night, eh, kids? Lemme get you some water.

I never thought water tasted so good in my entire life. Chris eventually put a pitcher on the table because we were drinking
so much so quickly that he was wearing out his shoes getting refills. I ordered French toast and the first few bites were delicious, but then the muscles in my jaw really started to ache because I'd been clenching my teeth all night.

By the time we got back to Jess's house, I was so tired I could barely keep my eyes open while I drove home. Luckily, Dad and Ashley like to sleep in on Saturday and Mom always clears out early on for tennis and brunch with her friends. She was gone until midafternoon yesterday, which allowed me to drink orange juice and lay around in my flannel pajama pants in front of the TV for most of the day, which I desperately needed. Turns out “pure bliss” can be exhausting.

But God, was it ever fun. I get it now. I get why people call it ecstasy.

So weird seeing Pete in the hallway today. He smiled at me as he passed me and Jess. He was walking with Brandon and they didn't stop to say anything, but we all sort of shared this moment. I can't believe I made out with him.

Jess just got called out for talking in study hall. Mrs. Stone is exactly as her name implies. Jess was whispering to me, asking what the hell I was doing. She's never seen me write anything
I didn't have to. I'm sure me with a journal is blowing her mind.

Ashley has been floating around the school today. I've seen her twice now. Once this morning after first period, and again when Jess and I were in line to get lunch. Reid Boston stopped by her table to say hi flanked by this tall guy with longish dark hair and ice-blue eyes named Carson who looks like a Ralph Lauren model. It caused quite a stir in the ranks of the underclassmen. Jesus. You'd think it was 1954 and Elvis had stopped by to ask Annette to the sock hop. Hasn't anything changed in the last fifty years?

This morning, when I was leaving for school, Mom blew me a kiss and said, Good luck, honey!

Good luck.

Like I was going on a game show.

She and Ashley had been talking about going shopping for prom dresses while they ate their yogurt and berries at the kitchen island. I was pouring a bowl of Froot Loops and Mom was like, There's plenty of yogurt and fruit if you want it. I know on the face of things that seems like a really sweet suggestion. But it isn't. It's her trying to control what I eat for breakfast. This has been an ongoing issue since I was in eighth grade. The unspoken message is that what she and Ashley are eating for breakfast is more healthful and will keep me slim and beautiful.

I ignored her and ate my bowl of Froot Loops and a banana, as is my custom. I did decide to dry my hair this morning instead of just going to school with it wet and twisted up in a clip, so that's something Mom can be thankful for. Probably why she said, Good luck! I'm sure deep down inside she's still holding out that I'll get asked to prom too.

The thing is, I wouldn't be opposed to prom, it's just that I feel like Mom thinks it's some sort of failing in my character that I don't harbor Ashley's princess dreams. I am pretty normal looking. Ashley is way above average. That's just the long and the short of it. I'm not repulsive or anything, I'm just your average girl. I'm okay with that. I just wish my mom was. The idea of both of her daughters in pink ball gowns heading off to prom probably has her teetering on the edge of sanity right this very second.

It was so fun not to have to worry about any of this on Friday night, to have an escape from it. Sometimes I don't realize how much time I spend worried that my mom thinks I'm a weirdo. Or maybe she doesn't think I'm weird exactly, just that she wishes I were somebody else—somebody more like Ashley. Or her. It's sort of a heavy thing. When I write it down on paper it feels like a big weight. Maybe I don't give myself enough credit for how much feeling like I'm not enough for my mom just sucks.

One thing is for sure: I didn't feel like I wasn't enough when I was rolling. I mean, I'm not going to become an E freak or anything, but it certainly lifted all of these feelings right out of me and made me feel like everything was going to be perfect always.

After school we had a marching band meeting to discuss continuing practices over the summer so we can be ready for the Thanksgiving Day Parade next fall. When I was at my locker dumping off my books before the meeting, I saw Jess putting prom tickets into her purse. Like it was no big deal. Just two prom tickets. Shoving them into her purse. I stood there staring at her until she looked up at me and said, What? And I was like, Um, did you just put two prom tickets into your purse? And I'll be damned if she didn't BLUSH. Yes. Jess. Blushing. I was like, Are you BLUSHING? And she shushed me. I said, Where is my best friend and what have you done with her?

I mean, Jess has sort of filled her role in our class as the big girl with the nice smile. She's that girl that all the moms at school are always clucking their tongues about and saying shit like, Oh, she's got such a great smile. If she'd lose some weight she'd be so pretty!

One time last year, Jess heard one of them say something like
this in the bleachers at a basketball game and just flipped out on her. She tapped the woman on the shoulder and said, OOPS. Yep, I heard that, you skinny bitch. Guess what? I may be fat, but you're an UGLY ASSHOLE with A BIG NOSE and I can DIET. Or just CRUSH YOU. Careful where you sit.

Then she stalked off, and a group of freshman girls who had seen this whole thing stood up and started clapping. It was intense. So, Jess is pretty much her own person and couldn't give a shit what you think of her—or at least she'd say that she doesn't to anybody who will listen. So, watching Jess get tongue-tied and blush about prom tickets was not something I had ever imagined in my wildest dreams. She's just not that kind of girl; at least she wasn't until now. I guess that's one of the reasons she's my best friend: She is constantly surprising.

Jess walked me to my meeting in the music wing and spilled the beans: Her and Kelly hunkered down in a liplock in the hot tub on Friday night? Turns out not just an effect of the ecstasy. I mean, it was, but it's also . . . real. They are really into each other. Jess is always teasing about how hot some of the girls at school are, but she's also always talking about how hot some of the guys are, so I never really thought she'd be into dating a girl . . . but looking back, I don't know why not. I mean, obviously she can date whomever the hell she wants. I
guess my brain has just been trained to think of girls with boys as “normal.” Whatever that means. It's strange knowing that my brain has these default settings. I was surprised by my own surprise, I guess.

She told me that she felt bad when she bought tickets today because she had just assumed that she and I would either hang out the night of prom or go together, but then she and Kelly started their flirtation. (Yes, she calls it a “flirtation.” Classic Jess.) Then she started insisting that I get a ticket too and come with them.

I was like, Absolutely not. For one thing I'm not entirely sold on prom as a concept, but there's no way in hell I'm going as my friend's third wheel along with her date—who also happens to be a gorgeous, tiny, Asian fashion victim who will undoubtedly wear something far hipper than anything I could ever put together.

Thanks, but no thanks.

The marching band meeting was pretty fun, actually. Lots of info about upcoming fund-raisers and packets of information on the dates of the trip next year along with sheets to have our parents sign and volunteer forms for the moms and dads who will help with organizing pledge-drive events. Pete was there with his dopey grin, sitting with the other percussionists.
He waved at me when he saw me come in, and I thought about that hand sliding up and down my back while I tried to catch my breath sitting in the grass on Friday night.

Dinner was a recap from Ashley about every single freaking word Reid said to her in the past two days. I wish Mom wouldn't giggle like she's Ashley's best friend from sixth grade when she tells these stories. It just eggs Ashley on. I don't get why Ashley wants to be best friends with Mom anyway. I mean, shouldn't there be some sort of separation? If I had a boyfriend, or a hot date to prom, I'd keep all that shit to myself.

One of the most embarrassing things that has ever happened to me in my life happened at school today, but somehow Jess made it better. I've always admired her not taking shit from anybody, but that went to an entirely new level today.

It was a perfect-storm situation in the hallway right before lunch. Ashley came by my locker to get the car keys because she needed to get the display board for her science fair project out of the trunk. Reid was with her and apparently he always travels with his wingman Carson, so the three of them stopped at my locker as Jess was trying to convince me to come to prom with her and Kelly again.

I was in the middle of refusing to crash her date. I had just finished saying, I don't want to go if I don't have a date and you do, when I saw Ashley pop into view, and heard Reid say, Dang. She's got a date and you don't? That's harsh.

I whirled around and saw Reid standing there with Carson. Carson frowned and said, Jesus Reid, rolling his eyes.

My cheeks were on fire, and I wanted to throttle Ashley for bringing these guys around, and strangle Jess for continuing to talk about prom. No wonder that Carrie chick burned the building down in the Stephen King novel. I finally understand that story on a personal level.

Reid wouldn't shut up though. He was like, What? I'm just saying if the tanker truck here has a date you'd think a compact model like her could get one.

Carson punched his friend in the shoulder and looked like he wanted to hit him a lot harder—possibly in the face. He growled, Shut the hell up, would you? Just lay off.

Of course, then Jess got into the mix. She elbowed me back behind her protectively and started yelling at Carson, of all people. SHE ISN'T A HELPLESS PRINCESS. SHE DOESN'T NEED TO BE RESCUED BY YOU.

At that point Reid snickered and Jess turned on him and yelled at him about being a sexist douchebag and how she was
going to put her foot so far up his ass that he'd never be able to throw a touchdown pass again.

I handed Ashley the keys and she tried to smile at me and I just said, Nice. Good choice here. And she and Reid walked off toward the parking lot. Jess slammed her locker and stalked off in the opposite direction, leaving me staring after her, and Carson staring after Reid. Then we both sighed at the same time and looked at each other.

It was weird. At first we were both like, What just happened? And then our eyes sort of locked, and we just stayed there and this understanding passed between us. I felt grateful that he'd stepped in to tell Reid to shut up and it made me wonder if he has to do that a lot. If he does, I wonder why he hangs out with Reid. I mean, Reid is the golden boy of the athletics department, but still . . .

As all of these thoughts were going through my head he said, Sorry about all . . . that.

I said something exceedingly clever and winsome like, Whatever—or something equally lame, but he didn't turn and run away. He said, No really. I'm sorry. Reid can be a total dick sometimes.

I closed my locker and said, Yeah, well, he and my sister will get along famously. I said it to myself, but when I turned around
he was still standing there. He laughed and held out his hand, like for a handshake, which was oddly chivalrous. He said, I'm Carson. I said, I know. Then I shook his hand, and he smiled at me.

I can't believe I'm about to write this down, but the only thing better than Carson's eyes is his smile. I know from listening to Ashley's endless twenty-four-hour broadcast of All Things Reid that Carson's prom date is this girl who goes to his church. Still, I couldn't help but think it was too bad that Ashley wasn't going to prom with Carson instead of Reid. Two jocks—a good one and a bad one—and wouldn't you know, Ashley gets stuck with the bad one.

So after the whole debacle yesterday in the hallway, I was at home doing homework, and Jess called me on video chat. When I clicked to answer and the camera popped on I saw it was her and Kelly sitting on her bed in her room. They both finally wore me down, begging me to come to prom with them. Kelly is really funny and she kept making these droll comments about me being in a polyamorous relationship with the two of them.

I was laughing so hard that finally I was like, screw it, and said that I'd come with them just to shut them up. Jess was like,
GOOD! BECAUSE I ALREADY GOT YOU A TICKET! and started waiving three prom tickets in front of the camera.

After I hung up with them, I started thinking about Carson again. Yesterday, after we talked briefly in the hallway, the first place my brain went was that Ashley was going to prom with the wrong jock. The more I think about it, the more screwed up that seems. Forget Ashley. Why wasn't my first thought that I wish Carson had asked ME to prom? Jeez. Do I really feel so unworthy of a date to prom that I can't enjoy it when a hot boy who's over six feet tall comes to my defense in the hallway and smiles his ice-blue smile of amazingness at me?