The Dream - Whitney Dineen Page 0,42
that Buck and I started out having is quickly becoming a chore. Hoping the brisk night air will help clear my head, I hurry out the front door to the veranda.
I can’t decide whether to go back in or bolt. Being that Buck is my ride and only way out of here, short of walking, I eventually decide I’ll have to go back to the ballroom, just not yet.
I try to pump myself up by saying things like, These people are no better than you, Ashley. You aren’t the girl you once were, and finally, Life is not an eighties romcom.
I throw in the last one to remind myself that just because Molly Ringwald always got the guy, doesn’t mean that I’m going to be so lucky. I feel a wave of anger wash over me that my mom put so much stock in happy Hollywood endings. Given the reality of her situation, she should have never allowed herself to believe such foolish pipe dreams.
Chapter Twenty-Three
May 22, 2008
Dear Molly,
Chad Adkinson is a slimy, stinking, no-good, turd of a bully. Even though he hasn’t spoken to me since prom, he goes out of his way to make disgusting sounds and hand gestures whenever I walk by. But only when Davis isn’t around.
Chad and some of his henchmen even followed me and Buck out to the parking lot after school. I heard him say, “Looks like old Freeport’s about to tear off a piece. I think FelAshleyO’s gonna need herself a real man later tonight to make up for her disappointment.”
Buck was so mad I thought he was going to turn around and punch Chad right in the mouth. I couldn’t let him do that because he would have been the one going to the emergency room, since there were only two of us and four of them. I grabbed him by the arm and begged him to just take me home.
It’s a beautiful night and I should be having the time of my life, but I’m not. It’s a real strain trying to act all calm and cool while sitting at a table with Davis and Jessica. I’d begun to think I could finally leave some of my high school insecurities behind and get on with the business of figuring out who I am now, but apparently that’s not going to happen tonight.
I lean against the veranda railing and stare out into the darkness. I keep breathing deeply, but I wind up inhaling so much I nearly start to hyperventilate. I have to force myself to exhale for as many counts as I take in. After several minutes, a sense of calm finally begins to spread through me.
I can do this. I continue my internal lecture. You survived adolescence. You have a good job. You have an impressive savings. You’re here with your good friend. Quit being such a wuss, Ashley. You got this, girl.
I’m starting to feel like Rocky Balboa. Sure, I’m a bit bruised and battered, but so what? If Rocky could take on everyone from Apollo Creed to Clubber Lang, surely I can handle Jessica Holt and her family.
I’m about to turn around and walk inside when I notice a new group stroll up the front walk. It can’t be. It’s Chad Adkinson and his entourage. He’s with the same man he was with at the bar the other night. They’re joined by two women I sort of recognize but can’t really say from where. It could be from high school or the Piggly Wiggly. Whichever it is, they obviously didn’t make a lasting impression.
Son of corn, I’m sunk now. If I had the valet ticket for Buck’s car, I’d drive off and leave him here. Heck, if I had my phone, I’d call an uber and leave him here. I’m half-tempted to start walking, but I wouldn’t make it to the end of the road given my current footwear.
I watch as the newcomers walk through the entrance of the club with bright smiles on their faces. After getting their table assignments, they head in the direction of the ballroom. I follow at a safe distance.
I scan the crowd for Buck and see that he’s crowned himself king of the Spring Fling. Women are lined up to partner with him. He’s currently dancing with Davis’s mom, and they’re executing the most pristinely cringey macarena to which I’ve ever borne witness. Even though this dance became popular when I was in grade school, it’s somehow managed to withstand the