“Hannah?” I say. “Thank you.” For pushing me to do this. For being my friend. For so much. But if I say much more than a brief thanks, I think my guts will spill out of my mouth.
“Let’s welcome our king and queen to the dance floor,” says Miranda, “as they share their first dance as Clover City High royalty.”
I hadn’t even thought about the fact that I’d have to dance with someone, but there’s no time to hesitate. We exit off the stage, and the DJ asks, “Any requests?”
Hannah shrugs, so I cycle through my mental playlist and say, “‘Dancing Queen’!”
The DJ gives us a thumbs-up. “Good choice, my queen.”
The music starts, and I immediately take Hannah’s hand, spinning her across the floor. We have no idea what we’re doing, but we skip around each other, dancing close and then far, spinning each other around and under, screaming the lyrics at the top of our lungs. “Dancing queen, young and sweet! Only seventeen!” My open tuxedo jacket flashes colors of the rainbow as I spin.
After the chorus, I pull Hannah to me and we hold each other as we dance.
“Are you ready for your big moment with Clem?” I ask her.
“We can dance for the whole song. I don’t want you to have to give up your spotlight.”
I shake my head. “No way. This is too perfect. You have to tell her now.”
We stop right in front of Clementine, who’s beaming with pride, her hands clenched together. I take her hand and join it with Hannah’s. “Go. Dance,” I say to my sister.
Clementine’s blue eyes sparkle, and she kisses my cheek before taking the floor with Hannah, neither of them really leading and neither of them really following.
I stand near Alex and Kyle, watching them dance, the two of their foreheads pressed together, and I hope this moment is as perfect as Hannah dreamed it would be.
The DJ lets this song play out and then leads us right into another Abba classic, “The Winner Takes It All.”
Someone taps my shoulder.
I turn as everyone around me works their way back onto the dance floor, until everyone around me is slow dancing.
“Tucker,” I say breathlessly. “What are you doing here?”
His hair is messy and pushed to the side, like he’d been running his hands through it, and he’s dressed like a cowboy going to church in a dark-charcoal three-piece suit with a bolo tie and well-loved but freshly shined camel-brown cowboy boots. “It’s prom,” he says, like even he’s a little bit lost in the magic of it all. “I couldn’t miss seeing you get crowned.”
“You left,” I say, frantically searching his face for any kind of answer. “You left with Melissa.”
He slowly shakes his head, lines forming between his furrowed dark brows. “She asked me to take her home. I had to tell her. I couldn’t let her think we were here . . . together, and that I wasn’t thinking about someone else the whole time.”
“You were thinking about someone else?” I ask, hope brimming inside of me.
He nods. “Constantly. Waylon, I was an idiot. I felt like I owed something to Melissa after we’d promised to go to prom. I was wrong for thinking it wouldn’t be a big deal to you. I was wrong for not just telling you that I like you. A lot. I just—you’re going places. And I might be stuck here, taking care of my dad.”
“I have no idea where I’m going! I’m eighteen years old and I have an awful sense of direction!” I shout over the swelling music. “And the thought of falling even harder for you and us having to go in different directions scares the shit out of me! But I like you too much. And yes! This is important to me. This stupid crown matters to me. And so does drag. And so do you.” I can feel my throat closing up, trying to trap the words in my chest. But I have to admit it. I have to say it out loud. I care. I care if I win. Or if I lose. Or if I even get to participate at all. And I care for Tucker. I care for him so much. And maybe I’ll leave Clover City. Maybe I won’t. But it turns out that dreams and hopes and wishes can come true anywhere. Even here.
I take a step closer to him, and he nods as my lips crush against his, my