God is in the Pancakes (28 page)

“Mom, they're amazing.”

“And only worn once. Not exactly my everyday fare,” she laughs. “Okay, stand back so I can get a good look at you.”

I take a few steps backward and stretch my arms out like a model presenting a prize. “What do you think?”

“I think you have one very lucky date.” She smiles.

“Thanks,” I say, feeling a big, goofy grin come across my face.

Mom looks at her watch. “Hey, have you eaten dinner yet?”

“Well, I was thinking maybe I should skip it so the dress doesn't bulge out or anything.”

“Come on,” she says with a shake of her head. “You need to eat something before you go. You know, I saw the griddle in the dish rack. What do you say to me fixing us a quick pancake dinner?”

I run my hands down my hips and consider this for a moment. “I probably shouldn't.”

“How about this,” she persists, “I'll make a stack and you just have one?”

“Eat only one pancake! Is that even possible?”

“It'll be a challenge,” Mom says with a nod, taking my hand and leading me downstairs. “But, you know what? I have faith in you.”

When the doorbell rings I actually feel my heart beating in my chest. I stand up from the kitchen table and look at Mom.

“Do you want me to get the door?” she asks, smiling.

“No, I got it, thanks.” I smile back at her and keep my eyes on my feet as I walk to the front door. “Who is it?” I say, trying to catch my breath as I look through the peephole and see Eric standing there, holding a bouquet of flowers.

“Pizza delivery.”

I laugh as I swing open the door and Eric stands there smiling back at me.

“Wow,” he says. “You look . . . wow.”

“Thanks,” I reply, blush starting to rise in my cheeks, which probably matches the redness of my dress. As soon as I'd slipped it on earlier, and the silk fabric rubbed against my bare skin, I got all goose-bumpy, which is pretty much how I'm feeling right now.

“Ooh, let me get a picture!” Mom says as she walks out of the kitchen.

“
Mom
!” I howl on reflex.

“Come on,” Eric says, nudging me with his shoulder, “I bet it'll only hurt a little.”

When I look at him, and we give each other our conspiratorial sideways smiles, she snaps the picture.

The tables in the cafeteria have all been folded and neatly stacked in the back corner behind the DJ stand. The lights are down and even though the space is still very perceptibly the place where crimes against humanity are served for lunch every day, even the grouch in me must admit that the decorating committee has done a really nice job. Against the back wall they've hung a black mural that's been painted to resemble the night sky. Small white stars glitter when the light from the suspended, rotating mirror ball shines against them. I'd forgotten the theme was supposed to be “dancing under the stars,” but they've somehow managed to pull it off, lending the cafeteria a surprisingly dreamy feel.

I immediately see Lolly and Jake on the dance floor, her arms around his neck and his holding tightly around her waist. They're swaying to the music, a song that's not really slow enough to slow dance to, but neither of them seems to care. Looking at them you'd never know that there'd been any recent relationship problems, you'd never realize that Jake had originally wanted to be here with someone else. Of course, I wish Lolly had been strong enough to realize she didn't need Jake and that she would have been better off without him. But there's a giant smile on her face, and it's obvious how happy she is now.

I can't help but feel he's going to hurt her again. I'm sure of it even as I watch her put her head on his shoulder and he tilts his head so it's sort of nestled into hers. If it were up to me I'd banish him to another school, or better yet another state. But I know it's not up to me, and I know that this is one of those things that despite the best arguments I present to my sister, she's not going to pay me any attention. This is one of those serenity things that I'm just going to have to accept. It's strange—I used to think that as I got older people would just necessarily take what I had to say more seriously. Or my opinions would be listened to. But mostly people just do what they want—follow some sort of interior voice, whatever that happens to be for them, and I guess part of the process of growing up (if that's what it is) is learning to accept that people often want different things.

When the song changes to something more up-tempo, I take off my coat and turn to Eric. “Do you want to dance?”

“Uh, I'm not sure I'm ready to dance quite yet,” he replies. “I think I need to warm up a bit first. You know, do some stretching.”

“Totally. I wouldn't want you to pull a hamstring.”

“I promise we won't flower against the wall all night,” he says. “But trust me, you don't want me anywhere near you during a fast song. Not only would you risk physical injury, but I could potentially scar you psychologically, as well.”

“Well, look who it is,” Jake says as he and Lolly walk off the dance floor. Lolly and I hadn't seen each other before the dance because one of Jake's friends was having a pre-party, so she was out before I'd even gotten home that afternoon.

“Hi, Jake. Hi, Lolly,” I reply.

“When did you get here?” she asks, looking me up and down. “And did Mom buy you that dress?”

“We got here about a minute ago,” Eric replies for us. “Matter of fact, I've barely had time to show her off and make the other guys here jealous of my great-looking date.”

“He's right.” Lolly smiles. “You look beautiful. You too, Eric. You clean up pretty good.”

“Thanks. Right back atcha.” Eric smiles.

The song changes again and Jake squeezes Lolly's hand. “Lol, come on, I love this song,” he says.

“Okay.” She shrugs her shoulders and turns to the dance floor. Jake walks ahead, but Lolly turns back to Eric and me. “So I'll just let you two stand here awkwardly together now, each of you admiring how hot the other looks, both of you too scared to act on it.” And with that, she flits off to find Jake and shimmies seamlessly into the crowd.

Although Eric and I had been perfectly comfortable and jokey with each other a minute ago, now, as Lolly predicted, we're silent.

“Don't laugh at me for saying this, okay?” Eric says. “But I'm really glad we came tonight.”

“Because it's a good idea to see and be seen by your teammates?” I ask. Eric shakes his head and smiles. I smile back, knowing that there's no place more I'd rather be than standing next to him right now. “I'm glad we came too.”

“It just feels right being here with you,” he says. “Do you want to sit down?” Eric asks, and when I nod, he takes my hand and leads me over to the chairs farthest from the speakers. His palm is a little moist, but it doesn't matter, because right now it just feels good against my skin; feels like there's warmth and life pulsing through it.

When we get over to the chairs, we sit down, but Eric doesn't let my hand go, and I think just how all right it would be if we sat here the rest of the night, hand in hand.

“Is this weird?” he finally says, looking at me.

“A little,” I say, “but weird good.”

“Fantastic,” he replies with a smile, “just the mood I was hoping to set.”

“You know what I mean,” I say, giving him a little tap on the chest. I let my hand rest there for a moment and he puts his other hand on top of it, holding it against him.

A couple of songs play as we sit there not talking, just being together. And I realize how lucky I am. I also realize how quickly things can change, both for the good and, well, otherwise. It's scary to think about things like that, especially now as I'm feeling happier than I have in as long as I can remember. But I now also know that it's as important to keep this in mind, particularly during the days when things seem darkest. Because living through each moment brings you closer to new light. It might not make things better right then, but having faith that it will helps.

“Come on,” Eric says when that old Cure song “Just Like Heaven” starts playing. He stands and starts walking to the dance floor as others stream off.

I put my arms around his neck, and he rests his around my hips, smiling at me as he does this.

“Weird but good.” He nods.

“Come here,” I reply, smiling widely before I reach up and kiss him.

This, actually, doesn't feel weird at all. It just feels good. I think that's what Isabelle would tell me it's supposed to feel like, and that makes me smile.

“What?” Eric asks, feeling my lips curl up. “Am I doing something wrong?”

“Un-uh.” Out of the corner of my eye I see Natalie, who is now standing alone watching us. “Hey, did you want to dance with her?” I say, tilting my head in Natalie's direction.

“No,” he replies. “No, Grace, I told you, and I will continue to tell you I want to be here with you.”

“Good,” I say.

“Good.” He nods again.

And it is.

A
FEW EARLY READERS DESERVE HEARTFELT THANKS: Kate Morgenroth and Alison Pace were extraordinary note-givers and generous with their time. They not only gave sharp advice, they gave me hope the book would float. Renée Kaplan, among other things, helped me realize that my first title was a loser, and that I really needed to find something catchier. To her I not only owe thanks, but a lifetime supply of pancakes.

Whether it was luck or divine intervention that brought me to Talia Rosenblatt Cohen, my brilliant agent, that's still TBD. But I was incredibly fortunate to work with her and when she left the biz, the angels wept (and I did a little too). Tamar Rydzinski stepped into Talia's big shoes, and she also deserves thanks.

My talented editor, Kate Harrison, invested blood, sweat, and years in this book. Kate agonized over every single word of this bad boy with me. Her dedication was astonishing and she brought the book to a different level. A big bow to her.

Thank you, Amy Epstein Feldman, my super-cool sister, who makes every day more fun. Thanks to Len, Maddie, Benjy, and Eli Feldman for all the love. To Jay Dyckman because he's my favorite heartthrob and always makes me laugh. And my parents, Marcia and Paul Epstein, get my deepest gratitude for, well, for everything. They've been role models and sounding boards, and their love and support continue to “warm the cockles of my heart.”