The Hourglass Door (14 page)

“It might be nicer if said boyfriend had better taste in clothes,” Valerie quipped.

“Jason’s taste is just fine,” I protested weakly. I clutched at the skirt with numb fingers.

I could hear Valerie rolling her eyes, even from behind the door.

“Don’t mind her,” Natalie said. “I think it’s romantic.”

“Thanks, Nat,” I said, though privately I had my doubts.

“Enough chitchat.” Valerie knocked on the door. “Come out and let us see.”

I blew out my breath and squared my shoulders. There was no way out of it now. I might as well get it over with. I closed my eyes and opened the door.

I heard simultaneous “Ohs” from my friends, and even with my eyes closed I could tell they were horribly underwhelmed.

“Ta-da.” I tried to inject some enthusiasm into my voice.

When silence met my words, I dared a peek. Natalie looked like she might cry. Valerie’s face was impassive, her lips barely bowing in a frown.

“It’s not that bad, is it?” It was true I didn’t love the dress, but Jason was my boyfriend and he had tried to do something nice for me. I suddenly felt a little protective of Jason and his thoughtfulness. “It was on sale,” I said lamely.

Valerie nodded once, briskly. “Well. That’s it, then. Abby has her dress. C’mon, Natalie, let’s find something for you.”

“Wait. What? That’s it?” I grabbed Valerie’s arm as she turned away. “What about my dress?”

Valerie patted my hand. “What about it? It’s brown. It was out of season
last
season. I don’t know anyone who would willingly wear it. But it was a gift. You have to wear it, no matter how much you’d rather not.”

“We can pretend to like it if that will help,” Natalie volunteered.

I smiled crookedly. “Thanks, Nat, it might.”

She grinned back at me. “Then I love it!” She hugged me, then held me at arm’s length before pulling me into another hug. “You look so great in it!”

I couldn’t help myself. I laughed and hugged her back. Leave it to Natalie to see the silver lining in this particular storm cloud.

“Now put that back in the bag before it gets all wrinkled and ruined,” Natalie said, shooing me back inside the dressing room.

I caught up with my friends, who were browsing through another rack of dresses. I tried to keep my dress bag from bumping into anything.

“Tell me again why you’re shopping for a dress to wear to a dance that no one’s asked you to yet?” I asked Valerie.

Valerie thumbed through the hangers like a Vegas blackjack dealer. “Because if I wait until V asks me to the dance, it’ll be too late to go shopping. Do you think this dress would look nice with my black hair?” She held up a silver-white sheath dress draped in lace organza.

“It would look great,” I said, “if you
had
black hair.”

Valerie held the dress away from her, examining it with a critical eye. “Well, obviously I can’t go to two dances in a row as a blonde.”

“Obviously.”

“
Did
V ask you to the dance?” Natalie asked, idly checking the size of a yellow sequined dress.

“Not yet, but he will; he just doesn’t know it yet,” Valerie said. She paused, a sly smile on her face. “The poor boy won’t know what hit him.”

“Why V? I would have thought you’d set your sights on Zo. You know, lead singer, guitar player.” I lingered at a simple, pale blue A-line dress with capped sleeves and a sweetheart neckline. The color reminded me of Dante’s eyes when he was thinking intently about something. I awkwardly shifted my dress bag to my other arm.

“Because V’s the drummer.”

“So?”

“So the drummer is the heart of any rock band.” Valerie held up a tangled web of red-and-white straps bound together with silver links.

“You’d look like a peppermint stick rolled in razor blades,” I pointed out, and she put the dress back.

“A good drummer,” she continued as though I hadn’t spoken, “can transform some sappy ballad into a passionate anthem. Zo’s got a good voice, but without V keeping time, he’d be nothing but a guy with a guitar singing some lame song about how he can’t live without you.”

“Sometimes a love ballad can be nice,” Natalie chimed in from across the rack.

“She’s right. ‘Out of My Mind’ is just Zo and a guitar, and I think it’s one of the best songs on the album.”

“Absolutely,” Valerie agreed, flicking past a trio of identical pink gowns. “But ‘Into the River’
is
their best song. Period. Hands down. And it’s all because of V’s drumming.”

“Maybe,” I said.

“What do you guys think about this dress?” Natalie held up a light yellow dress covered with small flowers.

“I think you’d look like a flower garden threw up on you,” Valerie said, taking the dress from her and shoving it back on the rack. “Come with me.” She scanned the room and then grabbed Natalie by the hand and made a beeline for the corner. Her hand hovered over the hangers, her fingers twitching like a magician’s. She struck, withdrawing a single dress. “Here,” she said. “Wear this.”

Natalie’s mouth made a round O as she looked at the dress Valerie held out for her. It was a beautiful, soft burgundy velvet dress; the color brought out the auburn highlights in her brown hair. The elegant skirt fell from a high empire waist and was covered with delicately embroidered gold-and-burgundy patterns. The hem, trimmed in dark golden ribbon, skimmed the tops of Natalie’s shoes.

“You can borrow my fire opal necklace and Abby’s earrings.”

“Oh, it’s beautiful.” Natalie checked the tag. “And it’s on sale!” She kissed Valerie on the cheek and flew into the dressing room.

I shook my head in amazement. “How do you do it?”

“It’s a gift,” Valerie grinned. “And speaking of gifts, what’s this I see around your neck? Something I’m going to want to borrow?” She hooked her finger under the gold chain around my neck and pulled out the butterfly pendant.

“Jason gave it to me when he asked me to the dance.”

Valerie sighed and let the pendant flutter through her fingers. “What were you thinking, Abby?”

“What? I like it. I think it’s pretty.” I slipped the butterfly under my collar.

“Of course it is, but by accepting it, you’re giving Jason more false hope.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Jason’s feeling threatened by your obvious and continued interest in one Italian foreign-exchange student, Mr. Dante Alexander, and this whole thing—going to the dance, picking out the dress, giving you the necklace—it’s Jason’s way of reminding you that
he’s
your boyfriend.”

“I know he’s my boyfriend. Dante’s just a
friend.
I’m not interested in dating him.”

“You’re such a liar, Abby.”

“What!”

“We go to the Dungeon and your eyes immediately go to wherever Dante is. During rehearsal, you pay the most attention to the scenes he’s in, even though he’s just standing in the background. And on no less than three separate occasions over the last month, you have chosen to take Dante’s call when his name showed up on your caller ID instead of finishing our conversation.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but closed it immediately. Was she right? Of course she was. Valerie was always right when it came to relationships.

“It’s okay,” Valerie said softly. “It’ll be good for you to be friends with and date a guy other than Jason. Just—let him down easy, okay? For all his faults”—she rattled the dress bag I held in my arms—“he really is a good guy.”

“Break up with Jason?” I swallowed down a dry throat. “I couldn’t do that. Not so close to Valentine’s Day. I mean, he’s already made plans and everything . . .” I trailed off at the look of pity in Valerie’s eyes.

“You’re breaking up with Jason?” Natalie said from behind me, an odd catch to her voice.

“What? No,” I said, whirling around to face her. “No, Valerie and I were just talking about . . . about something else,” I finished lamely.

“Oh.” Natalie looked down and absently ran her hand over the velvet fabric. She gave a sad half-smile and then shook her head. “I just thought . . .”

“That dress looks perfect on you, Nat,” Valerie said gently into the awkward silence that had fallen between us.

Natalie twirled for us. “I really love it,” she said.

“Excellent. You should buy it. Now, if I could just find the right dress for me . . .” Valerie swept Natalie away with her, shooting me a pointed look over her shoulder.

What—? And then the penny dropped.

The strange note in Natalie’s voice had been thinly disguised
hope.

Natalie—and Jason? My
best friend
— and my
boyfriend?

I waited for a surge of some kind of hot emotion—jealousy, perhaps, or anger—but instead all I felt was a strange mixture of sadness and joy. And relief.

Chapter

9

I
thought about Natalie’s almost-confession all week. I didn’t mention it to her or to Jason, but I watched how they were together, amazed that I hadn’t seen it before. The looks. The quick touches. The bright laughter. Through it all, I knew Natalie didn’t want to ruin my relationship with Jason and I was touched that she had taken such pains to keep her feelings secret.

I also thought about my feelings all week. I would randomly check my emotional pulse to see if jealousy had reared its ugly green head, or if anger had lashed out with its red-hot tongue, but the only constant emotion I felt was relief.

I was still looking forward to going to the dance with Jason. Despite my shifting feelings, Jason was my friend and I didn’t want to disappoint him after he had worked so hard to prepare a special night for us.

But Valerie had been right—as usual—and I could tell Jason was feeling anxious about my friendship with Dante because he kept wanting to do things I liked and deferring to my every whim. He even suggested we go to the Dungeon’s first-ever Poetry Slam on the Friday before the dance because he knew I’d been interested in it. We made plans to go together, but at the last minute, he came down with a nasty head cold, so Valerie and I went instead.

The Dungeon was as busy as on a concert night, people milling in front of the door, crowding around the bar, squeezing into the booths. Valerie and I were lucky to find an empty table near the bar and immediately claimed it for our own.

“Can you believe this crowd?” I asked, draping my coat over the back of my chair. “All this? For a Poetry Slam?”

“I’m not surprised,” Valerie said. “Rumor has it Zo is unveiling some original work tonight. New lyrics for Zero Hour’s next album.”

“Really?”

“I hope they’re here. I need to be
accessible
for when V asks me to the dance.” She pursed her lips. “I don’t see him, though.”

I scanned the crowd with her. “He’s over there.” I pointed toward Leo’s glass cabinet of curios.

Zo, Tony, and V huddled around the case, arguing about something. Zo leaned forward intently, shooting a glance over his shoulder at Leo and Dante, who were busy behind the bar. Tony and V followed his gaze. Tony shook his head at something Zo said and folded his arms across his chest. V tapped the glass cabinet, his eyebrows drawn together in a frown.

I wondered what they were talking about and wished the noise in the Dungeon wasn’t quite so loud.

“So you’re still hoping V will ask you out?”

“Hope, nothing. I’ll make sure he does or die trying.” Valerie attempted to catch V’s eye, but he turned his back to us, his attention fixed on the strange brass object in the cabinet.

“I’ll come to your funeral,” I assured Valerie.

“I hate you so much it hurts.”

“I love you too.”

The lights dimmed, cutting our conversation short. Leo stepped up to the microphone. I hadn’t seen Leo around the Dungeon for a while; Dante said he’d been on vacation. The time off must have agreed with him because Leo looked younger than I remembered, the lines around his mouth and eyes softer and less noticeable.

“Thank you all for coming out tonight. A few ground rules and then we’ll open the stage. First, anyone can come up to the microphone. Remember to introduce yourself and your poem. Second, you can share an original piece of work or one from a published poet. And last, but most important, no heckling, booing, or snide comments. We’re all adults here, let’s act like it.” Leo looked out over the crowd. “Now. Who’s first?”

We all tried to look at each other while not looking at anyone.

“No one?” Leo grinned. “Then I’ll start. My name is Leo and I’ll be reciting an original poem.” He cleared his throat. “Roses are red, violets are blue, everyone’s a poet, let’s hear one from you.”

We all laughed with him and, the ice broken, a few people nervously made their way to the stage. Leo graciously yielded the microphone, returning to the bar, a spring in his step.

As the crowd grew braver and more and more people stepped up to the microphone, Valerie leaned over, nudging me with her shoulder. “You ready?” she asked.