His Eyes (6 page)

I walked to my bedroom and, with a sigh, I flopped onto my bed. I pulled out the letter to Charlie I’d started and smoothed out the wrinkles with my hand. I paused, tapping my pen against my mouth in consideration, before adding at the bottom of the page: “P.S. Never mind about coming tonight. Not that you would’ve gotten this in time, anyway. I just talked to Dad and I guess they’re going to relax on the dinners. Finally. I can hardly believe it. Not that I don’t love you, of course I do, but I think we all know that you’d rather drop dead than come back here. I hope you’re enjoying Cali! In your next letter, make sure you’d rather drop dead than come back here. I hope you’re enjoying Cali! In your next letter, make sure you actually tell me what you’re up to!”

“What about this one?” I held up a black dress with a hot pink sash, but Ahna frowned.

“Black at a graduation?”

“I don’t know!” I threw up my hands. “You look.”

I took Ahna’s place on my bed and she leapt toward the closet. She explained, “You need something that’s going to stand out.” She tossed her hair and pulled out a dress. “Something red.” I stood up and took the hanger. I examined the dress—a flower pattern lace over satiny fabric, with a ruched top and spaghetti straps. I remembered, “Junior year homecoming.”

“My second date with Lyle,” Ahna said nostalgically.

“My only date with,” I scrunched my face at the memory, “Scott Lancaster.”

“Didn’t he grab your butt?”

“Yes!
Every
dance, fast or slow!” I complained.

Ahna grinned. “Well, you’ll have better luck in it tonight. Put it on and I’ll go find your makeup.” I laughed as she headed to the bathroom; she knew me too well. Except for special occasions, I never wore makeup—thanks to my mom’s influence—so it usually ended up buried at the bottom of a drawer in the bathroom. Prep for a dance wasn’t complete without Ahna spending fifteen minutes grumbling while she dug through drawers in search of my one, ill usive tube of lipstick. But that’s what friends are for.

I took off my t-shirt and jeans and slid into the dress. The fabric was smooth against my skin while I eyed myself in the mirror. The dress ended at my knees with a small ruffle. I couldn’t stop myself from spinning in a circle and humming
Lady in Red
. I knew I wasn’t destined for a modeling contract, but there was something about wearing red that made me feel beautiful. Ahna was right; this was it.

While I pulled on a pair of red heels, there was a knock at my bedroom door. Ahna pushed it open with her foot. She was armed with a curling iron in one hand and an eyeliner pencil in the other. She held them in the air and proclaimed, “When I get done, Tristan won’t be able to take his ey—er, mind off of you.”

* * *

I stepped out of my car, doing a little hopscotch when one of my heels became lodged in the cobblestone. Great. I bent over, slowly working my shoe loose, and heard a low whistle. I jerked my head up to see Chris standing on the top of the steps next to Tristan. Pervy little boy. He leaned toward his brother, whispering loudly, “Trist, she looks
really
pretty!” My cheeks burned and Tristan gave his brother a smack on the back of the head. “Shut up! She can
hear
you!”

“Oh.” Chris looked down at his feet while rubbing his head.

I gave my foot one hard jerk and my shoe came free. I clicked my way up the stairs and stopped next to Tristan. “Hey. What’s all this about?”

Tristan was dressed in a white dress shirt, black tie, and pants. These were covered with a traditional black robe. Complete with his dark sunglasses, he looked like he had wandered off of a photo shoot. He held his graduation cap in one hand and brushed the other through his hair. “Mother’s throwing a post-graduation party,” he turned his head toward me, “for the school board members.” Oh. The people she’d paid off. I awkwardly scratched the back of my neck. “Okay, well, we’d better get going. Wouldn’t want to be late.”

He gave a short laugh. “No,
that
can’t lead to anything good.” While I guided Tristan to my car, Chris said in a sing-song voice, “Have fun!” I rolled my eyes and climbed into the driver’s side. “Yeah, see you there, kid!”

“This is going to be good,” Tristan said sarcastically as he swung the car door shut.

“I take it you’re not excited?” I looked over to see him pulling at his tie. “Graduation is one of those ‘Big Things’ in life you’re supposed to remember forever.”

“I thought births, weddings, and funerals pretty much covered it.” After maneuvering carefully around the caterers, I pulled safely back onto the road and hit the gas. I asked, “Are you speaking from personal experience?”

“Well, I saw both Chris and Marly right after they were born—check. I was a groomsman at my uncle’s second wedding—check. And the funeral,” he paused and his voice lost some of its edge, “that hit pretty close home. I mean, burying your father...you don’t forget that.” I licked my dry lips and said quietly, “That must have been awful.” Tristan shifted in his seat. “I’ve had better days.”

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. Tristan had a knack for using his sarcasm to avoid talking about tough stuff. But then again, I did too, so I wasn’t about to call him on it. I silently pulled into Clarence’s parking lot an entire ten minutes early. The lot was full of expensive, polished vehicles. Luckily, I found a tiny space near the sidewalk that the Hummers and Suburbans couldn’t dream of fitting in, while my Camry did just fine.

I walked around my car, while Tristan climbed out of his side. When he took my arm, I asked coyly, “So, no more arm around the waist?”

He frowned and said shortly, “I don’t think anyone’s going to be questioning why we’re together, anymore.”

Ouch. He had point.

I followed the line of formally dressed families that were filing from the parking lot into the building. We walked inside, down a hallway, and into a large wood-floored gymnasium. There were rows upon rows of leather-cushioned seats that put to shame the rusted old folding chairs I knew would be at my graduation.

Elegant banners depicting fierce panthers hung from the ceiling. At the far end of the room was a small stage on which several older women and men, including the headmaster, sat.

Many of Tristan’s classmates were already in their seats and they turned to watch us walk down the aisle. I kept my head facing forward and hurried to the front row where two seats were waiting; I guessed his mother had arranged for this, too. After we were seated, Tristan’s hand remained wrapped firmly around my arm. I patted his hand comfortingly. His skin was like ice! I hissed, “Nervous?” His face rigid, Tristan quickly lied, “No.”

I shrugged. He didn’t have to tell me.

A moment later, he leaned toward me. “Can’t you feel them?” In fact, I could. Having a hundred people staring at you is hard to ignore. I squeezed his hand and whispered back, “It’s going to be fine.”

The lights in the room dimmed and I zoned out while the Valedictorian and the Salutatorian took turns at the podium giving their speeches on the future and the great possibilities for our generation and whatever.

They were both slow and monotone enough to lose me after thirty seconds. The applause of the crowd and the brightening of the gymnasium lights jarred me back to reality.

and the brightening of the gymnasium lights jarred me back to reality.

From behind the stage, the Clarence orchestra began to play
Pomp and Circumstance
and the name

“Michel e Anderson,” boomed through the room. Michel e, from a mere five chairs away, stood and began her ascent to the stage. She was followed shortly by, “Kelly Brighton,” “Peter Darmon,” and “Nicole Dunne.” After each name was read, the audience clapped wildly. “Joseph Eccles,” from the last chair to Tristan’s left, even garnered a whistle. I amused myself with visions of the offending whistler being dragged away by secret Clarencite police, before I realized that it was...
our
turn!

“Tristan Edmund.”

With a gulp, I rose and Tristan jerked to his feet. We made it to the top of the platform before I realized that the applause was pathetically quiet, except for the back of the room, where Charlie was standing on top of his seat, clapping his little hands off, along with Mrs. Edmund. Perhaps it was the red of my dress, but I was pissed. I spun on my heel, glaring at the crowd, and began to clap as loud as I could. Pumping my fist in the air, I yelled, “
Woohoo
!”

Tristan squeezed my arm and leaned close to my ear. “Amy, it’s all right.” He had said my
name
. My mind went blank.

Laughter rumbled through in the gym and the applause in the family section grew louder, spilling over into the student section. Some of the Clarencites gave me evil looks, crossed their arms, and refused to applaud; I bet they knew about his mother’s bribery and weren’t too happy he’d gotten to miss a semester and still graduate. I imaged that they were trying to use their minds to make me explode—but nothing happened. Apparently the Clarencites weren’t good at everything, after all.

* * *

I blushed when Mrs. Edmund let go of Tristan and quickly embraced me.

Chris grumbled, “We should’ve beat up whoever didn’t clap.”

“Christopher John, we do not talk about beating people up,” she chided gently.

I awkwardly returned Mrs. Edmund’s hug. I felt strange being complimented at
Tristan’s
graduation.

Once she released me, I gestured at Tristan with my head. She frowned at me, as if wondering if I was developing some kind of twitch. Then, finally, I saw the light bulb go on and she said, “Tristan, your father would have been so proud of you!”

Tristan shifted his weight and replied sarcastically, “Yeah, I’m just this really brave guy who can’t walk on his own or tell what he’s about to drink.”

So I guess he hadn’t quite forgotten about that rehearsal thing. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and sighed. Mrs. Edmund and Chris were standing in awkward silence. Suddenly Marly, who was obviously not too clear on what was happening, cried, “I love you, Tristan,” and threw her arms around his legs. I looked up in time to catch Tristan’s surprised smile. He patted her head and said, “Thanks, Marly.”

“Well, we should probably get going,” piped Mrs. Edmund. “The party’s not going to host itself and these two have to get to bed.”

“Aww,
Mom
,” Chris groaned.

“Are you going to the dance?” she asked.

Tristan didn’t exactly sound like he was in a partying mood. I began, “Well —”

“Yes, we’re going,” he interjected.

What
?! “What?” His arm subtly squished my hand against his side. I choked, “Oh, yeah.” Mrs. Edmund smiled, saying, “All right. Amy, can you give Tristan a ride home?” I nodded and the family headed toward the exit. Chris hung back and, once his mother was out of earshot, said, “You’re just gonna kiss, huh?”

earshot, said, “You’re just gonna kiss, huh?”

“We are not! Get out of here!” Tristan swatted at the air and narrowly missed Chris’s nose. The little boy grinned wickedly and scampered off into the crowd.

I looked up at him in disbelief. “You
want
to go to a dance?”

“’cause my mother’s party sounds like so much fun,” he scoffed.

Right, that probably wouldn’t have been such a good thing. I turned and, with my hand firmly clasped around his arm, wove through the remaining clusters of families. Some of the parents looked up and nodded approvingly at me while I passed. I tried to smile back at them while my cheeks grew hotter.

Spotting a group of students leaving the gymnasium, I began to trail them at a distance.

I followed them down two locker-lined hallways and into a cafeteria. In truth, I could hardly tell that it was a cafeteria. Large bouquets of ball oons in the school’s colors, navy and maroon, crowned the entrance.

The cherry-wood floors glittered under streams of tiny white lights that hung from the ceiling. The room was dim, with just a hint of fog to set the scene. To my left were cloth-draped tables and to my right was the dance floor, where most of the senior girls and some of the boys crowded together while Fall out Boy blared.

I thought I heard a noise, so I turned to Tristan and shouted over the sound, “What?”

“
Can we go sit down
?” he screamed back.

“Sure!”

I led him over to one of the tables. Tristan sat down stiffly next to me. He spoke quietly, as if to himself, and I had to strain to hear. “This must be the cafeteria....” I winced, hardly able to imagine what it would be like to not know where I was. My voice betraying my thoughts, I said shakily, “Yeah, that’s right.”

Tristan’s head jerked sharply. “I knew that, I was just saying....” He sighed and stood. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

A tall, redheaded boy with a smiling brunette on his arm appeared behind Tristan. He clapped Tristan on the back. “Hey, buddy, congrats! Sorry we haven’t hung out in a while.” A fake smile spread thickly over Tristan’s face. “Thanks, Nick.” The girl shook her head. “Trist, it’s really too bad.”

Nick elbowed her, while hissing, “
Melissa
.”

“I
meant
about not hanging out with him!” she hissed back.

With a quick shake of his head, Tristan took a step forward. “Actually, I was just heading to the restroom—”

“Sure, man, it’s right over there.” Nick pointed uselessly and gave Tristan a push in the general direction of the bathroom, which was in the corner of the cafeteria. He yelled at his back, “Maybe I’ll give ya a call when I have another party! Maybe at the lake!” He looked down at me. “You goin’ to the lake?” I frowned. “What lake?”

“Wind Song. It’s up in Wisconsin,” he explained. “If you’re with Trist, I’m sure you’ll come up to the Edmunds’ cabin.”

“
Nick,
she’s his
assistant
.”

“Oh.” He shrugged. “Well, whatever. See ya.”

“Bye.” I rolled my eyes as the couple headed back toward the dance floor.

Looking around the room, I realized, to put it bluntly, that Clarence was short on attractive guys. No wonder so many girls had wanted to date Tristan. First of all, there were only about twenty-five guys in the entire class and, second of all —well, there really wasn’t a second of all, but they were probably rich, if that helped. In fact, one of the few handsome guys was walking toward me. I laughed to myself. He probably wasn’t walking toward
me
; he was probably walking toward the imported Italian soda at the table behind me.