The Revenge Artist - Philip Siegel Page 0,29
the same height as her shot glass. “At first, I thought Nashville? Me? But maybe I should take it. I think I need to get out of this area. I need a fresh start.”
I think about missing Diane, until I realize that Nashville is close to Chicago. I think. It’s in the Midwest. And I know all about needing a fresh start. Her life is gaining real momentum, and she should keep riding it.
“To Nashville.” We toast Oreos.
***
They are blue and glittery, shiny and glimmering on my bedspread. I wish I was talking about pills or something exciting like that. Nope. They’re Snowflake Dance tickets.
“Get ready,” Fred says. He bounces his eyebrows twice, and his lips curl into a gleeful grin.
“Can’t we just watch a movie?” I ask.
“Negatory.”
I know I should be excited about going to a dance with my boyfriend. This is classic coupledom 101. The Dance. Dances are never genuine fun. There’s always an agenda you bring to them, always a chain of events that you are constantly in pursuit of that never go as planned. I remember my last time at the Snowflake Dance. It inspired me to be The Break-Up Artist.
“What if it’s a letdown?” I ask. “There may be a crappy deejay or bad food.”
“It’ll be fun.”
“I’m sure that’s what Carrie thought before her prom. Right before they dumped pig’s blood on her.”
“That is a statistically insignificant, not to mention completely fictional, example. You’re gonna have to do better than that.”
Fred sprawls out diagonally on my bed, his lanky limbs extending from my pillow to the far corner. He pulls me in for a kiss, but nothing too scandalous since my mom’s watching TV across the hall.
“Can’t we do something else that night? We can go into New York and see The Nutcracker. I’ve always wanted to see that!”
“Noted. But request denied.” He makes an X with his arms.
“I’m just saying it’s not going to be as fun as you’re expecting. These things never are,” I say.
“We’ll make it great.”
“There’s a lot better things we can do with fifty bucks,” I say. Fred’s never this stubborn. It’s interesting what people will fight for.
“Why is it so important to you that we go to a dance? Did your mom give birth to you at one?”
“Because I’ve never gone to a school dance before.”
“You’re not missing out.”
“You say that, but I did.” Fred gets serious, and it catches me off guard. “I’ve never been to a dance.”
“Never?” The dances at Ashland aren’t mandatory, but social pressure makes it feel like it. I consider Fred lucky for being able to pass that up.
“We were never in that crowd. My friends and I all thought dances were lame because no girl would give us the time of day. Truth is, I never had the nerve to ask anyone. I know it makes me sound corny, but I feel like I’ve been missing out. Even though I know you think dances are as fun as dental exams, at least you’ve had the opportunity to go.” Fred’s eyes go wide, and in these moments, I can see all of him. Cool Fred and fun Fred and scared Fred all bundled together like a bunch of asparagus. “It’s my senior year. My life has changed for the better, and I want to take my girlfriend to the Snowflake Dance.”
He shrugs his shoulders, trying to underplay what he just did: spoke from the heart, unleashed this torrent of soul-baring honesty. I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him, one of those kisses where you inhale each other’s breath.
“And we will celebrate,” I say.
“I love you.” He holds up his hand before I have a chance to react. “No pressure on your end. But I do love you.”
I’m too lucky to have a guy like Fred.
“How do you know?” I ask.
“That I love you?”
I nod.
“I just…do.”
“Thank you for being patient. I do care about you, and I’m on my way.”
“I get it, sort of,” he says. He brushes his hand through his hair. “You used to be so anti-love. Old habits die hard.”
I never thought of that. Leave it to Fred to know parts of me I’d forgotten about. I hold up the blue, glittery ticket and twirl it around in my fingers.
“Don’t worry,” Fred says. “This time will be much better.”
***
I’m driving home from school when my phone rings. Because I’m a good driver, and because cops love to hide out by the school to catch kids on their phones, I