walk toward him.
“The butterflies are back,” I said, unable to disguise the tenderness in my voice.
“Yes.”
“The paint really was removable,” I said, shaking my head. “You scrubbed it off.”
“You didn’t believe the paint would come off?”
“I believed that you believed it.”
We both turned toward the mural.
My eyes stung a little bit. “But, if I’m honest, I didn’t really expect to see it again.”
Duncan gave me a little smile. “Surprise.”
“Thank you,” I said, my voice like a whisper.
Duncan nodded.
“Does this mean you think the world is a better place now?”
Duncan gave me a little sideways smile. “I think my world is better when you aren’t mad at me.”
“Fair enough,” I said. Though I hadn’t been mad at him in a good while.
There were twinkle lights strung across the ceiling, and quiet music on the speaker system, and drinks and food all around. Mrs. Kline had brought a lemon cake, and Coach Gordo had brought home-brewed beer. The teachers were showing up and filling the room—ready to bring a long school year to a close.
For a second, I found myself thinking about how I hadn’t been to a party since Max’s birthday, and I wondered if it might be hard for Babette to be here. And that’s when I remembered I had a message for Duncan.
“By the way,” I said, “Babette says you’re done with your tasks for her, as well. So you’re a free man. Now. Mostly. As long as you don’t … relapse.”
Duncan held very still, and I couldn’t tell if he was disappointed or just stoic. “The tasks are over?”
I shrugged, like Yep. “In fact, she instructed me to tell you that she’s very pleased with your work.”
“Huh,” he said, nodding, like it was taking a minute to sink in.
“She just has one more task for you. A grand finale.”
“I knew there’d be a catch.”
“Babette is nothing if not surprising.”
“What is it?”
And then I shrugged—because I truly didn’t know. I reached into my purse and pulled out an envelope she’d given me for Duncan. A sealed envelope. She’d even put a gold sticker on the back, like at the Oscars.
I handed it over.
“What’s it going to say?” Duncan asked, shaking his head.
“Let’s find out.”
Duncan opened the envelope and looked at the card inside for a minute. Then he blinked and looked up. “She wants you to dance with me.”
I felt a familiar tightness in my chest. “When? Now?”
“Right now,” Duncan said. “Right here.”
“I can’t do that,” I said.
“Neither can I.”
“So don’t even think about—” I started, but then I stopped. “Hold on. You can’t do that?”
He shook his head.
That wasn’t right. At Andrews, he had danced all the time. He danced in the lunch line, and at car pool, and while teaching. You almost couldn’t stop him. “But you’re a dance instructor,” I said. He had dances on YouTube.
Duncan shook his head. “Not anymore.”
A whole montage of Duncan doing endless goofy dances flashed through my head. Me refusing to dance? That was fine. That was reasonable. But Duncan refusing to dance? It was an outrage.
“Duncan,” I said, “you can’t not dance.”
“Sure I can.”
“No.” I shook my head. “You have to do this.” And as I spoke the words, something shifted in me. I became more interested in making Duncan dance than in avoiding it myself.
A world where Duncan Carpenter refused to dance just didn’t make sense to me.
Babette wanted Duncan to dance? I would find a way to make that happen.
“We’re doing this,” I said. I held my hand out
But Duncan shook his head. “I can’t,” he said.
“You can,” I said. Then I added, “Babette’s orders.”
I was still holding my hand out, but he wasn’t taking it.
He shook his head. “I really can’t.”
All the teachers were staring at me now—at us.
I let my hand fall to my side. This was getting embarrassing.
“What’s the problem?” I asked, stepping a little closer.
“I haven’t danced in a long time,” Duncan said.
“I haven’t danced ever,” I said, “except in my living room. But that’s not stopping me.” Actually, it might stop me. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do if he didn’t take charge.
Duncan shook his head, like Don’t do this.
Should I do it?
I took the card out of his hand and read it. “Final task,” it said. “Dance with Sam. Right now. Mrs. Kline has a song queued up for you.”
I looked around. Mrs. Kline was watching us, at the ready. The room was watching us, too, trying to figure out what was going on. Duncan was watching me, wondering