Authors: Miranda Kenneally
It’s Saturday evening and I could be out at a perverted taco restaurant, but I’m hiding behind Shelby’s birthday tent. Just call me Super Loser.
When I got home from Keeneland earlier today, a large white tent was set up in the clearing between the racetrack and the manor house. Decorators and servers were busy arranging dishes and flowers and lights.
One section of the tent is decked out like a nightclub, complete with a large neon sign that blinks SHELBY over and over like the window of a liquor store. The tablecloths are black and blue. Middle schoolers are dancing and sliding across the dance floor in their socked feet. A DJ is teaching them to dance.
I salivate when I see the chocolate fountain.
The other half of the tent—the side for adults—is elegant, with silk gold tablecloths, succulent flower arrangements, and a champagne fountain.
Good God, how many food fountains do these people have? Is there a ranch dressing fountain? Where’s the Diet Coke fountain?
If I went to college, would I be the kind of person who gets an invite to a Goodwin party?
Jack is standing on the adult side of the tent, holding a cocktail glass filled with amber-colored liquor. His blond hair is slicked back with gel and it’s like he was born to wear that tux. He’s talking to an older man, giving him his full attention. I’ve seen him in the newspaper. I think it’s the Tennessee governor.
When Jack finishes speaking with the governor, he looks across the tent. I follow his line of sight to Abby Winchester, who’s sitting at a table and staring at Jack. Obviously.
He sets the cocktail glass on a server’s tray, rubs his palms together, and heads for Abby. The Fairest of the Fair.
The band begins playing a slow song. Jack leads her out onto the dance floor and pulls her up against his chest. They move fluidly, and unlike me, she clearly knows how to do fancy dances like the waltz. He laughs at whatever she’s saying, probably making her feel like she’s the only girl at the party. Like how I feel when I’m around him.
My heart pounds so hard it hurts. He said nothing was going on with Abby, but he’s dancing so close to her they could share skin. Is a business deal worth that much to him?
I trudge back to the Hillcrest common room and sit down at the computer we all share. I start messaging with Vanessa Green, chatting about Keeneland today, telling her how I’m getting an apprentice jockey’s license.
At the same time, I scroll through my Facebook wall. Looks like a few juniors I met this week are going to the Back to School dance tonight in the gym.
Savannah Barrow:
are you going to this dance?
Vanessa Green:
NOOOO. seniors don’t go to the back to school dance. we only go to homecoming, winter wonderland, and prom. homecoming is in October. it’s a big deal. Guys ask girls in fancy ways—like last year this super hot senior asked kelsey by hiring an airplane to fly a banner over the school that said,
Kelsey, will you go to Homecoming with me?
Savannah Barrow:
did she say yes?
Vanessa Green:
obvs. who wouldn’t?
Savannah Barrow:
I wish I could go to the Back to School dance.
Vanessa Green:
LOL. No you don’t.
Savannah Barrow:
But I do. Come with me!
Vanessa Green:
NO. Are you crazy?
Savannah Barrow:
I can get Rory to come…
Vanessa Green:
……………I’m in.
Even though Rory’s working on a new screenplay, it only takes me about five seconds to convince him to come with us. Two weeks ago, I never could’ve imagined I’d hang out with a girl like Vanessa Green. I never even considered a girl like her might like my friend.
My life is changing so fast, I wouldn’t be surprised to wake up tomorrow to find the sun rising in the west.
• • •
“I’m too old for this shit,” Colton says, as we all take off our boots and shoes. It’s against the rules to wear them on the gym floor.
When Vanessa told Colton she was coming to the dance with me and Rory, he insisted on coming because his father the Franklin mayor is having a reelection event at their house and Colton hates glad-handing.
Rory mutters to me, “This better be worth it. I was making good progress on my new screenplay,
Tattoos
of
the
Clinically
Depressed
.”
“I hate dances,” Colton says, lifting his nose in the air like he just smelled a pile of manure.
Vanessa rolls her eyes at Colton. “Go take a nap over there, then,” she replies, pointing at the bleachers.
His eyes light up. “Great idea.” He hustles over to the bleachers, sits down, leans his head back, crosses his feet and arms, and places his ball cap over his eyes.
“When we first met,” Vanessa says, “I asked Colton what his hobbies were, and he replied, ‘Sleeping and TV.’”
We laugh together as I take in the scene. “We are definitely the oldest people here.”
“We’re gonna be wearing Depends undergarments before you know it.”
I laugh with her. Rory looks over at us, and when he sees her smiling, he smiles too.
“We could do what my brother and his friends used to do,” Vanessa says.
“What’s that?”
“See how fast we can get kicked out of the dance.”
“Seems pretty easy. All you’d have to do is whip out a flask or something.”
“Yeah,” she says. “But that’s boring.” She crooks her finger, beckoning Rory. He raises an eyebrow.
“Let’s dance,”
she mouths.
She and Rory meet in the center of the gym and start dancing like I’ve never seen dancing before. Popping and locking, doing the robot, grinding against each other. Kids crowd around them, laughing hysterically.
“These young minds are gonna be scarred for life.”
I whip around to find Jack standing there in a white T-shirt and faded jeans, barefoot. His hair is still slicked back with gel. I swallow, wishing I could touch his biceps and run my hands across his shirt. He looks yummier than a ranch dressing fountain.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, folding my arms across my stomach. “What about your sister’s party?”
“Colton texted and said you guys were coming to the dance and I’d rather do anything than watch a bunch of middle school kids try to act sexy.” He looks around the gym. “But I sure as hell don’t know why you’re here.”
I roll my eyes. “Because I like dancing.”
“Oh yeah? I’m a great dancer.”
“And humble too.”
He gives me a look.
“I know you’re a good dancer,” I say with a strong voice. “I saw you with Abby Winchester tonight.”
“You were spying on me?”
“Yeah.”
“You stalking me?” he asks with a laugh.
“You lied. You said nothing was going on with her.”
“Nothing
is
going on with her.” Jack finds my eyes. “My dad wants to buy Paradise Park from Abby’s father.”
“I know.”
He goes on, “My father thinks that if I piss Abby off, her dad will call off the deal.”
“That’s kind of sick. And what kind of businessman would base a decision on his daughter’s feelings?”
Jack shrugs. “I know…but my dad wants this deal so bad. Winchester is so big on honor and family and stuff.”
“Honor can’t mean all that much to him considering Marcus’s behavior.”
“Savannah…”
“How can I trust that you aren’t treating me great to my face so I’ll take care of your horse? What if you hate me behind my back?”
“I could never hate you.” He raises his hand to my cheek, but he drops it before making contact with my skin. “The stuff with Abby is embarrassing, you know?”
“Your dad expects too much of you.” I poke him in the chest. “When is this deal gonna be over, anyway? How long do you have to keep the Winchesters happy?”
Jack drags a hand through his long hair. “Dad says Winchester’ll be making his decision in the next couple of weeks. We should know soon if he accepts Dad’s offer. It can’t come soon enough, you know?” He looks over at Rory and Vanessa. “So what’s going on there?”
“I think they’re gonna hook up tonight.”
“Ohhh reallllly.” He cups his mouth and yells, “Way to go, Whitfield!”
Rory flips Jack off.
“Dance with me,” Jack says, striding to center court before I can give him an answer.
Kids quickly move out of his way as Jack stalks toward the middle of the gym. He parts people like the goddamned Red Sea. Girls stare at him like they’d kidnap baby zoo animals in exchange for a dance.
Jack beckons me. I shake my head, smiling slightly. When that doesn’t work, he waves his hand around like he’s using a lasso. He pretends to capture me and tugs the imaginary rope, pretending to pull me out onto the floor.
“Really?” I say.
“Really,” he mouths back, beaming.
I join Jack, Vanessa, and Rory, and we all start doing the worst dances anyone’s ever seen. A lot of the junior guys glance my way, checking out my skinny jeans and the sparkly tank top I borrowed from Vanessa.
I can’t stop laughing when Jack does “the robber.” It’s a dance where he mimes stealing things off shelves and shoving them in a make-believe bag.
“Let’s get our picture made!” Vanessa says, pointing at the über cheesy setup next to the girls’ locker room. Couples pay $10 to have their pictures taken together,
because
everybody
wants
to
forever
remember
the Back-to-School dance in the high school gym. I groan as Vanessa grabs my arm and gestures for Rory and Jack to follow. Colton is still snoring away over on the bleachers.
The photo background is about the weirdest setup I’ve ever seen. It has a strobe light, a disco ball, and a giant, inflatable drum set.
“Wow. Fancy
and
seizure-inducing,” I say.
We do this ridiculous pose where Vanessa and I pretend we’re a couple. She puts her hands on my waist and I stand with my back against her. The guys stand to either side of us, gaping, with eyes wide as supper plates.
Jack gives Rory a fist bump. “This is my dream come true.”
As we’re having the picture taken, Vanessa pinches my butt. I squeal and rip away, crashing spread-eagle into the inflatable drum set.
“Badoom-chh,” Rory says, as Vanessa and Jack die laughing.
The photographer rolls his eyes and checks his watch.
Jack helps me to my feet and leads us back out onto the dance floor. Vanessa starts grinding against me, well, trying to, but it’s kind of impossible because we’re doubled over laughing. Which of course gives Jack the opening he needs to do some really inappropriate dance moves. He pretends to do a strip tease, unbuttoning the top three buttons of his shirt.
Dr. Salter, the principal, comes up and taps Jack on the shoulder.
Jack says, “Oh shit!”
Jack, Rory, and Vanessa take off running, so I dart after them, unable to keep the smile off my face. We’re all laughing hysterically. We grab our shoes and boots, sprint out of the gym, and we’re jogging toward the parking lot when Vanessa says, “I forgot Colton! He probably slept through all of that.”
She skips back inside, her blond hair swinging back and forth.
Jack is wiping his eyes, he’s laughing so hard. “Did you see the look on the principal’s face?”
“Now he’s going to associate me with you!” I say, laughing. “He’ll think I’m some sort of stripper or something thanks to your dance moves.”
“You’re not a stripper.” Jack loops his thumbs through his belt loops, giving me a wicked smile. “Me, however…”
“How many times have I told you you’re not a stripper?” Colton says, walking up with an arm around Vanessa. He yawns.
“In my heart, I’m an exotic dancer,” Jack replies.
“What. A. Dumbass,” Vanessa says.
“We should go down to Miller’s Hollow,” Rory says, taking Vanessa’s hand. I want to jump up and down I’m so happy for him. “I’ll go pick up some food,” Rory adds.
Colton yawns again and checks the time on his phone. “I’m going to bed.”
“Ride with me,” Jack says to me, jingling his keys.
“I should probably ride with Ror—”
“Ride with Jack,” Vanessa whispers to me. “Please?”
Rory looks so enamored with her, he’d probably go skydiving naked if she asked him to.
“Okay,” I say to Jack, and we’re off.
He opens the passenger-side door and helps me step up into his Ford truck. The excitement of being in his truck makes me tap my feet. It’s huge, with all-leather beige interior. It’s nothing like Rory’s beat-up hand-me-down truck, with injured seats patched with duct tape. But Jack’s truck has some character of its own. Like, loose change is everywhere—in the cup holders, in the ashtray, on the floorboards. How can he just throw money around like this? A horse figurine hangs from the rearview mirror. His key chain holds a picture of his three hounds.
The truck smells like him, like cologne, and the seats are warm and cozy. We ride down the dark highways into the country, and he keeps the radio off and rolls down the windows, so we drive with only the sounds of trees rustling and cows mooing to entertain us.
Miller’s Hollow is a wooded area way out past the baseball fields. It overlooks a dark pond. The cool night air is fresh and a little bit fishy, and the smell of pine makes me feel like Christmas.
When Rory and Vanessa arrive after getting snacks, he pulls out a paper bag full of beef jerky, chips, candy, and Cokes. Rory turns his truck radio up loud, blasting music, and we start dancing again. We all come from such different places, but we’ve all ended up at Miller’s Hollow tonight. And it never would have happened if I hadn’t taken a risk, if I’d stuck to the status quo, deciding to like people only based on where they come from, not who they are.
Vanessa dances in a circle, pouring Skittles into her mouth. “Let’s play Truth or Dare.”
“Okay,” Jack says, chowing down on beef jerky. “Truth or Dare, Rory?”
“Truth.”
“Have you ever held hands with a girl?”
“Yes,” Rory replies. “Truth or Dare, Jack?”