The Anti-Prom - By Abby McDonald Page 0,37
is hasn’t been for the last year.” Jolene is trying to sound glib, but I hear something shake in her voice, just a faint quaver, but it says everything her glare and angry body language won’t.
Dante must have heard it, too, because his grin slips.
“You thought we could just slide on by that little fact?” Jolene adds, “No Hey Jolene, how have you been? or, What’s going on with you? or even, Happy Birthday, by the way.” Those last words, she practically spits at him, furious.
Bliss turns her head back and forth. “We should have brought popcorn.”
“Shhh!” I murmur as they face off, neither moving out of the other’s way. All night, Jolene has struck me as utterly invincible, but now, I can finally see someone real underneath all the swagger. Someone like me.
“I thought that’s what you wanted.” When it comes, Dante’s reply is quiet. “You said you never wanted to see me again.”
Jolene shakes her head. “You took me by surprise. I needed to process it all!”
“Process?” Dante repeats, his voice rising with disbelief. “You threw me out of a moving vehicle!”
“It was going five miles an hour,” Jolene counters. “And what did you expect? Just changing everything on me. I didn’t see it coming, I didn’t know you felt that way.”
“You knew,” Dante answers flatly. “And you made it real clear that you didn’t feel the same.”
“So what?” Jolene gives an angry shrug. “You head off to college and don’t speak to me again? I figured our friendship was more than you just wanting to screw me, but hey, guess I was wrong about that.”
I see him wince, but before he can reply, Jolene holds her hands up. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. It’s done.” She exhales, giving a sharp little shrug. “And now I’ve got things to take care of, so you just do . . . whatever the hell you want. I don’t care.”
She turns on her heel and stalks toward the building. Dante looks over at us.
“She hasn’t changed a bit.” He gives a wry smile, but there’s something wistful in his voice. “Anyway, I’d better . . .” He nods toward the building and then goes to follow Jolene, his pace casual but full of purpose.
“Wow.” Bliss waits until they’re both inside before turning to me gleefully. “Drama! What do you think went down?”
“I don’t know. . . .” Now that they’re gone, it feels wrong to be picking over their relationship in the dark of the parking lot, like we’re nothing but vultures swooping for gossip. “It’s not really any of our business.”
Bliss sighs, clearly disappointed. “You saw that look in her eyes though, right? He’s dead to her.”
I’m not convinced, but I don’t want to get drawn into an argument about the nuances of Jolene’s private life, not when we’re surrounded by a crowd of pierced, tattooed kids. I nod instead, heading back to the car to wait.
“What’s taking her so long?” Bliss asks impatiently not even three minutes later. She’s laid claim to the front seat in Jolene’s absence, propping her bare feet on the dashboard and wriggling her French-manicured toes. “I bet they’re making out in there. Or worse.”
“I don’t know what she’s doing, and I really don’t want to,” I reply, trying not to feel anxious. “Plausible deniability, remember?”
Bliss looks at me. “Relax; she’s a big girl. She can take care of herself. And if she doesn’t, I’m sure Dante will.” She gives a salacious grin. “He’s hot, you have to admit.”
I give another vague shrug. “Sure. Hot. If you like that kind of thing.”
“Tall, brooding, handsome — who wouldn’t?”
To be entirely honest, I don’t. Dante seems nice enough, but there’s an edge about him, as if he could do anything; some girls would say that’s exciting, but I’ve never been one to pine over bad boys. No, that honor has always gone to guys so far out of my league, they can barely even see me. Like Tristan. Or . . . Scott.
I catch myself midthought, blushing in the dark. At the party, I was too busy feeling awkward and self-conscious to even focus on him, but now that things have slowed, I can’t help but remember how sweet he was, trying to defend me against the raging sorority girls. And how I just bailed, without even saying good-bye. Not that he even cares, I remind myself. He was probably just relieved that his charity project for the night made such a swift exit.
“I’m hungry.” Bliss