Stealing Parker (19 page)

“I love it.”

I pull the dress out of the box and hold it in front of my body. It’s covered in blue and white flowers.

“It’s a vintage ballerina dress. From the 1950s,” Mom says, taking the full-bodied skirt between her fingers. “I figure you can wear it to graduation. We’ll probably have to get it altered.”

Dad looks pleased. He sips his coffee. I carefully place the dress back in its box.

“This is from me,” Ryan says, pushing a gift bag across the table.

I dig through the pink tissue paper to find an envelope containing a gift certificate for a mani-pedi at Elizabeth Arden. “Thanks! It’s perfect.”

A smile flits across his face. I open Dad’s present next. It’s a new iPhone, something we can’t even begin to afford.

I’m grinning like crazy. “Dad, this is too much.”

“It’s fine—your mom and I went in on it together.” I jump out of my chair to give both of my parents a hug. Ryan lets me hug him too, and I’m happy that my family’s together again. Maybe not in the way I wish we were together, but it’s close enough.

“Cake and ice cream?” Mom asks.

“Sure,” I reply, thinking I might eat the entire piece. I’m still not used to big portions, but I’ll try. I blow out the candles, and the four of us dig into Mom’s red velvet cake with cream cheese icing.

I hear a rap on the door. I swallow a bite of cake and go to answer it. I find Drew standing there. He hasn’t knocked in years; he always lets himself right in.

“Hey,” I say, stepping onto the porch. Moths flit around the porch light.

“Happy birthday,” he says, passing me a gift wrapped in silvery paper. It makes me happy that he remembered.

“Is this from you?” I ask, hardly believing he got me a birthday present.

“Yes.” He takes a step back and hops to the grass, avoiding my face.

“Should I open it now?”

“Whatever you want.”

I stare at the gift. I glance up at him. “Thank you. I’d better get back inside.” I point over my shoulder at the house.

“Okay. Good night.” I step inside as he says, “Wait. I know the truth.”

“The truth about what?” I reply, facing him again.

He slips his hands into his pockets. “That nothing had happened between you and Corndog. He told me the truth.”

I nod slowly and bite on my lower lip, running my fingers over the silver wrapping paper.

“I just needed some time…to process everything, you know?” he says, glancing at my face.

I sit down Indian-style on the top stair of our stoop and slice open the envelope. Drew grabs a seat on the bottom step.

Before I read the card, I think about how Drew left me a couple weeks ago when I needed him most. How I’ve gotten stronger. He acted just like Laura did, and I’m not sure I want to have another friendship like hers, where the friend dictates everything. But Drew stayed with me when Mom went away. He only left me when his feelings were hurt terribly. I could’ve handled it better. Now he’s back, and that sort of counts for everything.

The card reads,
It’s not a real safari on the Serengeti, but it’s the best I’ve got
.
Drew

I take a breath. I slowly unwrap the silver paper to find a wooden kaleidoscope. I angle it toward the light and twist it, watching the red, purple, orange and blue spiral and mesh together. Animal shapes fill my field of vision. A giraffe, a hippo, and a turtle.

Maybe all friendships don’t fizzle. Maybe, like the kaleidoscope, the colors just change.

•••

In the library, I use the first part of lunch to Google Brian’s name. Nothing new comes up, even if I restrict the search timeline down to the past month. Where is he? Did he find a job? Does he think of me? Does he hate me for the part I played in him losing his job? The part I played in the rumors? I think if I had one sign that Brian’s doing okay, the guilt might dissipate a bit. But for now it’s raging in my blood.

I look at the picture of him from when he played ball for Georgia Tech. Smile at his smile. Wherever he is, I hope he’s happy.

I exit out of Google.

I go sit in the magazine room and start eating ham and Swiss on whole wheat, openly reading this awesome regency romance about gay dukes who have a thing for each other. I should loan it to Drew and Tate.

The idea brings a smile to my face. That’s when Allie slowly approaches me, tangling her fingers together.

“What are you reading?” she asks.

I flash the paperback’s front at her. I don’t care who the hell sees. I love romance novels. She raises her eyebrows at the two shirtless buff men.

“Can I join you?” she says, gesturing at the chair across from me.

Months ago, I would’ve killed for her to ask that. But now? Eh. I care more about the two dukes than her. I do want friends. But I want friends who didn’t abandon me when I needed them most.

“I’d rather read alone,” I tell her. “Rain check?”

She chews on her lip. “Definitely. Yeah. See you.” She trudges off, peeking over her shoulder at me, and I go back to my sandwich and book and drown myself in nineteenth-century London.

Best lunch date I’ve ever had.

•••

Dad wakes me up on Sunday morning by pounding on my door.

“Come in,” I blurt, burying my face in the pillow.

“It’s church time.”

I shake my head. “I’m not going.”

“Okay, suit yourself.” He kisses my forehead, then pauses. “I sent Veena an email asking if she’ll come back to church.”

I smile into the pillow, where Dad can’t see. “I think that’s a great idea. Wish I’d thought of it.”

“Smart aleck,” Dad says with a chuckle.

“Did she write back?”

“No.”

I peek up and tell him I love him.

“I love you too,” he replies, then disappears out the door.

I snuggle deeper under my covers. Dad respected my decision not to go. I can’t believe it. I still have no idea why Dad continues to go to church. None. But he has a reason, and I should be okay with that, whatever it is. I hope Veena shows today—Dad’s email is kind of a big deal. I bet it took a lot of courage to write to her like that. It kinda reminds me of the times Tate would call, to see why I wasn’t at church. It’s funny—I doubt his parents would care that much if he quit attending services and Sunday school. He must go for his own reasons. Maybe he likes hanging out on the playground and eating stale doughnuts. Maybe he likes organ music. Maybe he likes stained glass windows.

Maybe he likes praying silently.

Or hanging out with me.

“Wait!” I yell, hopping out of bed and yelling down the hall. “Dad, give me two minutes! I’m coming with you!”

Spending time with Tate, who became a real friend when I wasn’t even watching, is a good reason to go. And I need to tell him about the pre-prom dinner reservations I made at Parthenon.

Plus, it’ll make Dad happy, and that makes me smile.

•••

The gym is decorated with fake Corinthian columns and lots of ivy and gold leaves and whatnot. Sam Henry’s wearing a toga that sparkles à la Edward Cullen. His girlfriend, Jordan, is carrying a spear, and a bronzed shield is slung over her shoulder. Her blond hair is pulled up into a high ponytail. I can’t believe she dressed up as a gladiator!

Bunches of dead Romans are probably rolling over in their graves.

“Man, our prom sucked compared to this,” Tate says.

“You just wanted to wear a toga,” I reply.

Tate grins. “Damn straight.”

I smile down at him. “Punch?”

He takes my hand, and we make our way to the refreshments table, not caring a lick about the people staring at us. He’s four inches shorter than me, and he’s wearing gold Converses to match his gold wreath and bracelets. Tate went all out.

He uses a ladle to pour me some frothy red punch, and then we go sit down at a table together. “Thanks for bringing me,” he says, leaning close to my face. I notice him glancing around the gym.

“Are you looking for Drew?” I whisper.

He nods, sucking on his lip. “There’s Will,” Tate says, elbowing me.

He comes into the gym, wearing a ring of ivy on his head, straightening his crisp white toga. His arms are muscular and tan. He nearly trips over the long folds of cloth. I bring my fingers to my lips to cover my giggles.

“He didn’t bring a date?” Tate asks. He puts a hand on my forearm.

“No idea.” I sip my punch, hoping he didn’t bring Kate Kelly. An ache fills my chest. From across the gym, his eyes meet mine. I remember Mom’s words:
All
that
matters
is
what
you
want. What you need.
But I’m not sure that I deserve him. I hurt him bad.

Bottoms up. I gulp down my punch. “Will you excuse me?”

“Will you excuse me?” he asks, focusing on Drew, who’s dancing with Amy.

“Yeah.” I lift my skirts and edge around couples slow-dancing, keeping my breath steady as I head toward Will. I stop a few feet away and play nervously with my hair.

“Hey,” I say.

He nods once and stares at the band. “Hey.”

“Did you see Sam Henry? His toga is sparkly.”

“Really?” Will gets up on tiptoes and scans the crowd. A look of revulsion crosses his face. “He never ceases to surprise me.”

I rock on my feet. “It’s amazing Jordan puts up with his silliness.”

He lifts a shoulder. “She loves him.”

Sam has his arms wrapped around her from behind. He’s whispering in her ear and she looks so pissed, but it’s a game they play all the time. Whatever he said makes her whip around and threaten him with her spear, then they’re kissing softly and dancing. The way they’re so natural together makes me envious.

I say, “Love makes you stupid sometimes, I guess.”

“Sure does.” Will’s tone is harsh.

I give him a tiny smile. “I just wanted to say hi. Have a great prom, and I’ll see you at graduation, ’kay?”

He raises his eyebrows. “Okay. Bye.”

Pain rocks my chest. I leave him there and look for Tate. I find him talking with Drew. They’re sitting at a table together, alone except for the flickering candles surrounding them. I fold my arms and smile, hoping they’ll figure out if they like each other enough to risk being together. To risk facing all their friends and family and the church and the world. If he and Tate fall for each other, I’ll be happy for Drew, and that’s enough for me.

I pull my cell out of my purse and send Tate a quick text.
Have fun. I’ll be outside.
Then I send Mom a text.
Join me at prom?

She came to town this morning, to help me get ready. We spent the afternoon at a spa in Nashville. It was the most fun I’ve had in a long time. We both got French manis and pedis, and Mom said she thought I look beautiful. I think I do too.

Outside the gym, I sit on the steps and admire an oak tree, its leaves rustling in the warm wind. I prop my chin on my knees. Watch the fireflies. Listen to the crickets. I never imagined I’d come to senior prom to sit alone outside on hard concrete steps. I think about the whole world and wonder if anyone is out there for me. I shut my eyes and pray.

God, I don’t want anything from you. I’m only saying thanks for giving me my mom back. Even though now I know she was never gone. And neither were you. I’m not happy that you had to test my faith this way, but you showed me what I needed most: Mom. Thanks for that.

A couple minutes later, she drives up and parks by the curb, then hops out of the car, sporting slim jeans and a white tank top. Her brown hair hangs long around her shoulders. She looks happy and beautiful. She sits down beside me and hooks her arm in mine.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to see you.” I clutch her arm and check out the stars.

She rests her head against mine. “Where’s Tate?”

“Talking to Drew. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“And there’s no one else you want to hang out with in there?”

“Not really. Well, maybe Will, but I need to move on…It sucks that everything probably would’ve worked out with him, you know, if I’d acted normal after you left.”

“I wish I’d gotten to know him before this happened,” Mom murmurs.

My stomach grumbles.

“Ice cream?” she asks with a smile.

“We should buy a banana split to share.”

Mom stands and puts out a hand. I get to my feet and wipe the dirt off my dress, then lift my head to find Will standing here watching me.

I rush to ask, “How long have you been standing there?”

He cracks his knuckles. “A while.”

I smooth my dress, and Mom slips an arm around my waist, but doesn’t move to introduce herself or speak.

But Will, ever the gentleman, extends a hand to her. “Ma’am, you might not remember me. I’m Will Whitfield.”

Mom shakes his hand, not smiling. “I’m Christy.”

“We’re getting ice cream,” I tell him. “I’ll see you arou—”

“Wait!” he blurts. “I wanted to see if you’ll dance with me…?”

“I couldn’t do that to your date. It’s not right.”

“I didn’t bring a date.”

Mom pats my back and goes to lean against her car. Leaving me alone. With him.

“You brought a date, huh?” he asks, jerking his head toward the gym.

“I brought him more for Drew’s sake than mine.”

Will moves a step closer. His blue eyes focus on mine. “You’re a good friend.”

“Or at least, I tried to be a good friend.” I choke the words out.

“I know you did,” he says softly.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t a better friend to you. I was messed up. The whole situation was messed up.”

“Yeah…” He steps so close I can smell the Downy Mrs. Whitfield must’ve used when she washed his toga.

“But you gotta know,” I say, “I started falling for you that night you walked me home from that party.”

“Really? Why didn’t you tell me?”

I whisper, “Because that night Drew told me he liked you.”

Will drops his head.

I say, “I couldn’t do that to him. Not after what he’d just told me. He’s my best friend.” I’m shaking my head and covering my mouth now. Wishing Mom would come take me by the arm and force feed me ice cream.