Ella's Twisted Senior Year (18 page)

Although I’d hoped to get out of this by keeping it a big secret, Mom corners me the second we get home from school with a hand on her hip and a “Ethan Wyatt Poe!”

Apparently Mr. Reynolds called her and explained the whole situation.

“First of all,” Mom says, putting a hand on my shoulder. “That shirt was hilarious. It’s a shame they’re making you remove it.”

I glance over at Ella and she grins. “Ethan drew it but it was my idea.”

Mom shakes her head like she’s disappointed but she smiles anyway. “It was funny. But you two know you can’t do that. However, Mr. Reynolds did tell me about Kennedy’s online posts and that’s just awful of her. She really is a piece of work. Of course, who can blame her for being upset that the greatest guy in high school dumped her.”

I can feel my cheeks redden. “Mom, ew.”

Ella smiles. “Well, she’s right about that.”

Mom’s lips flatten and she points between the two of us. “You two need to be careful. That girl is pissed and she could get you in even more trouble.”

“Yes ma’am,” I say, letting my shoulders sag. “This is a hell we’ve been living with for a few weeks now.”

Mom sighs and then throws her hands up in the air. “Ugh, this is so stupid! I feel like I should ground you or something, right? But at the same time, I don’t really blame you for what you did. It was kind of hilarious.”

Mom walks back into the kitchen and I almost think the conversation is over but then she says. “My kids have never been in trouble before so I don’t know what to do.” She waves a hand at us and ducks into the refrigerator, taking out supplies needed to cook dinner. “Just tell everyone you’re grounded, okay? Now get out of here.”

Ella’s mom calls her from work and she ducks into the other room to answer it. I give her some privacy, and head into my room to begin Operation Something Better than Prom.

I plunk down into my computer chair and try to Google for ideas. Although I know I want to surprise Ella with a fun and ultra romantic date where she can wear her dress, I’ve got exactly zero ideas on how to do it. Luckily, I have four days to think of something.

*

My alarm blares at five in the morning on Saturday. I knew it would be painstakingly awful to get up this early, but now that it’s actually happening, it’s even worse. My eyes hurt, my body hurts, and all I want to do is sleep. I’d stayed up way too late last night putting the finishing touches on my surprise for Ella.

I throw off the covers as I hear Ella’s alarm go off down the hall. We have to be at the corner of Main and Walnut Street by five-thirty for our community service. The only good thing about waking up this early is knowing that Kennedy has to do it too. Ha.

The body shop called last night and said that my truck would be ready by noon today, so although we take my Mom’s car to our community service, I am thrilled that later today I’ll be back behind the wheel of my own truck.

Ella rubs her eyes and looks over at me, her head lolling against the headrest of Mom’s Accord. “Do we have time for coffee?” she mumbles.

“And donuts,” I say with a smile.

Mrs. Kim isn’t behind the counter when we get to the square donut place, but a kid that looks like her son helps us instead. It’s probably for the best because Mrs. Kim would ask too many questions about why we’re here so early and I really don’t want to ruin her impression of me by telling her I’m a delinquent with community service.

We eat quickly and when we arrive at the starting point, there’s already a dozen or so people standing around, all wearing bright yellow safety vests and looking like they’ve committed far worse crimes than making a funny T-shirt.

Kennedy is here, too, wearing a black tracksuit and her hair in a ponytail. She avoids us like the plague and we do the same to her. Ella and I are given a yellow vest by the woman in charge. Her name is Pam and she looks exactly like a Pam—like someone who’s seen some shit and someone you know you don’t want to cross.

Ella and I work in silence, moving along the side of the main highway, picking up trash. It’s all surprisingly exactly like the stuff you see on TV. A couple of police officers supervising while we all walk around, stabbing trash and shoving it into a thick plastic trash bag. I guess this is supposed to give us time to reflect on what we’ve done wrong, but the only guilt I feel is the guilt over dating Kennedy in the first place. What was I thinking?

I can remember when Kennedy first sunk her claws into me. I’d been single and bored and it felt like a fine thing to do at the time. I should have put more thought into it. Vetted her with my friends to make sure she wasn’t crazy. I’m sure she would have failed that test and I’d have been able to turn her away, avoiding all of this drama in the first place.

And if I had never been dating Kennedy, the tornado still would have happened. I’d still be in athletics class and Ella would still be in art class and we’d probably still have met each other in the hallway. Everything could have been exactly the same, only it could have missed a ton of drama and nonsense along the way.

At noon, we get fifteen minutes to eat our sack lunches at a rest stop along the side of the road.

Ella and I choose a small picnic table and sit next to each other. “Ugh this is awful,” Ella says, bumping into me with her shoulder. “I would kiss you right now but I’m pretty sure my whole face is covered in the germs of this trash.”

I lift an eyebrow. “Have you been rubbing it on your face? You know you’re just supposed to put it in the bag, right?”

She punches me in the arm. “You know what I mean. It feels like the garbage and grossness is in the air, floating all around in this godawful Texas heat.” She heaves a sigh and squirts some antibacterial gel on her hands before opening her bag of chips. “Ugh.”

A shadow falls over us and we both look up to see the queen bitch herself, paper lunch bag in her hand.

“Can I sit here?”

The unusualness of Kennedy’s question renders both Ella and I mute. A few seconds pass and Kennedy’s shoulders sag. “Please?”

I make some kind of noncommittal gesture and she sits down across from us. She runs a hand down her face and rubs her neck and then says, “Look. I’m sorry.”

More seconds pass. I don’t really know what to say here. It’s all too awkward for words and apparently Ella feels the same way.

Kennedy sighs. “I know I don’t deserve to have you accept my apology or anything, but I really am sorry. My parents made me see this therapist last week and I guess you could say my eyes were opened to how awful I was to you guys.” She stares at her lunch bag and gnaws on her bottom lip. “I really am sorry. Ethan, I just wanted a perfect high school experience and I guess the pressures of being popular got too much for me. I couldn’t stand the idea of not being the best in the school. When you left me I just . . . I fell apart.” She swallows and draws in a deep breath and for the first time ever, she looks truly sincere. “I totally lost it and it’s not really your fault. My therapist says I put too much of my heart into being popular and I snapped.” She twirls her hand in the air. “Apparently it happens to teenage girls a lot. I don’t know.”

Ella puts down her sandwich. “Thanks for this,” she tells Kennedy.

Kennedy looks over at her and I flinch, expecting her claws to come out. But she just makes this sad smile. “You’re welcome. I really am sorry. I mean, I know we’ll never be friends or anything but can we just call a truce?”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” I say.

Kennedy’s back straightens and she nods. “Thanks.” She grabs her bag and turns to go but Ella stops her.

“You can stay,” Ella says, gesturing to our table. She leans forward and talks quietly. “You might end up dead if you sit with some of these other weirdos.”

We all glance to the right where a guy who is more tattoos and evil grimaces than actual human being sits. Kennedy sighs in relief. “Thanks. Though after smelling all of this garbage I don’t really have much of an appetite.”

After lunch, we grab our sticks and bags and get back to picking up crap that assholes toss on the side of the road. But the whole mood of the day is lighter now, like a massive war has finally ended. I’m sure Ella and I will talk about this a lot more when we get back home, but for now, the three of us stick together, the innocent people in a group of real criminals, and we pick up trash until all eight hours of our punishment has been served.

Once I’ve showered away the stink of highway garbage, I’m starting to feel really excited for tonight. Ethan won’t tell me a single thing about what he has planned.

All I know is that I’m supposed to get all dressed up in the gorgeous pink gown he bought for me and be ready to go at six. Dakota bounces around my bedroom helping me get ready. She’s got an even bigger smile than I do, yet the punk won’t bother telling me any of the secret details that I know she knows.

She helps me style my hair while I apply my makeup. Since it’s not real prom, I know I don’t have to worry about looking as stunning as possible compared to everyone else, so I just do my makeup regularly and then I add some sparkle eyeshadow and fake eyelashes for good measure.

“Which lipstick should I use?” I ask Dakota as I hold up two options. They’re the only two lipsticks I own now since they were in my purse on the day of the tornado.

She holds out the curling iron and gazes at the two choices. “Um, the nude one. It’ll look good with this pale dress.”

I apply the nude-ish pink lipstick and then smile into the mirror. The rec room doesn’t have any mirrors or vanities so I’m getting ready in Dakota’s extra girly room.

Dakota is a pretty great hair stylist for only being thirteen years old. She gives me big, wavy curls and spritzes my hair with some kind of spray that promises “the perfect beach hair” look.

I hear Mom call my name and I check the time. It’s five fifty-five. Dakota leans back and her lips squish to the side of her mouth while she examines me. “You look amazing.”

“You sure?” I ask, smiling. “It kind of took you a while to decide what to say.”

“I was trying to decide if I should send you with a hair tie in your clutch just in case—eh, you know what, go ahead and take one,” she says, grabbing a hair tie off her vanity and handing it to me.

“Just in case what?” I ask, narrowing my eyes. “Why would I need to pull my hair back? Where are we going?”

She pretends to zip her lips closed. “Can’t tell you. Now go,” she says, waving her hands toward her bedroom door. “Go show the world how hot you look.”

I roll my eyes and take a deep breath. Now that I’m about to walk downstairs and see Ethan, I’m a little more than nervous. I’m hyper-nervous. Shit.

Dakota’s hand touches my back. “Deep breaths,” she says as she opens the door. She winks. “It’s just my stupid brother.”

The brother she thinks is stupid is standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking like some kind of god in a black tux that’s fitted to his body perfectly. He has a pale pink triangle sticking out of his chest pocket and his tie also matches my dress. I can’t believe he went through so much trouble for this night and we’re not even going to real prom.

My eyes never leave Ethan’s as I walk carefully down the carpeted stairs. Mom and Mrs. Poe immediately shower me with compliments but that’s just what moms do. What I really care about is Ethan’s reaction. It’s perfect—his eyes crinkling at the corners when I reach out to take his hand. “That is a good dress,” he whispers into my ear.

“Okay, to the fireplace,” Mom says, shooing us into the living room. “We need pictures for the dads that aren’t home from work yet.”

Ethan and I groan in unison but we relent and let the moms do their thing. After about five million photos, including some with Dakota making goofy faces, we’re allowed to leave.

Mom kisses me on the ear to avoid my makeup. “Have a wonderful time, honey.”

“Do you know where we’re going?” I ask her.

She nods and then does the same lip-zipping motion, as if they’d all agreed to keep me in the dark.

Ethan puts his hand on the handle of the front door. “You ready to do prom my way and not the stupid school’s way?”

I lift an eyebrow. “I think so.”

He grins and opens the door, revealing a black limousine parked out front. The driver stands near the back doors, arms clasped in front of him, all fancy and proper.

I look up at Ethan. “Oh my god, you shouldn’t have done this.”

He shrugs. “It’s a prom tradition!”

The driver opens the door and the second surprise of the evening makes my jaw drop. April and Toby are inside the limo, dressed to kill in their own prom attire.

“What are you two doing?” I ask, sliding into the opposite seat. “Are we dropping you off at the school?”

April shakes her head. She’s wearing her gorgeous dark blue dress and her hair is piled on top of her head with a sparkling rhinestone headband.

“Nope, we’re going with you guys,” she says. I look at Toby and he nods. “You can’t possibly miss prom because of us,” I say. The car drives away and soft music begins playing. Toby throws an arm around April’s shoulders. “It was our idea,” he says, glancing at April. She nods.

“Yep. If they’re gonna kick out our best friends, then we’re not going either. We’re going to have our own prom and it’ll be awesome.”

Ethan’s hand grabs mine. “You surprised?”

“Very,” I say with a laugh. “So where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” April says with a smirk.

“Dinner first,” Ethan says. “That’s the first prom tradition. Dinner, then the party.”

The driver takes us to Campioni’s, an upscale Italian restaurant in the next down over. There’s a table for four reserved for us and two sets of roses on the table. The pink one is mine and the purple roses are April’s. The boys really went all out tonight.

Dinner is amazing and after I’ve eaten their homemade pasta fettuccini, I’m not sure I can ever eat regular pasta again. Even their sweet tea is to die for. We have a blast together, just the four of us.

When we leave the restaurant, a dozen butterflies start flapping around in my stomach. “Where are we going?” I whisper to Ethan as we climb back in the limo.

“You’ll see,” he whispers back. The scent of his cologne sends a shiver down my spine and I lean in to kiss him, unable to keep away.

Toby and April are snuggled up on the other side of the limo so I don’t really feel guilty about it.

After a short drive, I can see Lake Conroe out of the window. We pull into a marina and the driver parks. We climb out of the limo and a gush of warm summer air blows my dress and hair all over the place.

“I am so excited,” April says with a little squeal.

“Yeah this is gonna be way better than real prom,” Toby says.

“So what are we doing here?” I ask. “Please tell me we’re not going swimming in our formal wear.”

“As long as the boat doesn’t sink, we’re fine,” Ethan says.

“Boat?” My eyes widen.

“Come see for yourself,” he says, tugging me along a narrow concrete walkway along the water. Dozens of boats are docked in the marina and I look at each one, wondering which is ours.

And then it becomes impossible to not notice. A yacht, a freaking yacht, waits up ahead, with a little bridge connecting it to the dock. A massive banner lines the side of the boat and it says: PROM NIGHT 2016

I gawk at Ethan. April and Toby grin and Ethan takes my hand. “What do you think?”

“You rented a yacht?”

He lifts a shoulder. “Technically Poe’s T-shirts rented it. We have the next three hours to party in luxury on Lake Conroe.”

“Ohmygod,” I say all in one breath. We rush onto the yacht and are greeted by a friendly staff. There’s drinks and finger foods and even a cupcake tier and fondue set up inside the main room of the yacht. There’s a DJ playing and a dance floor and glass doors that open to the main deck where we watch the boat pull out of the dock and travel out into the middle of the lake.

Ethan wraps his arms around me while I hold onto the railing at the front of the gorgeous Yacht. The wind whips my hair around and the setting sun casts a beautiful glow of orange and pink and purple onto the deep blue water all around us. Music plays and our friends laugh while they dance and feed each other cake balls.

My neck tingles where Ethan’s lips kiss. “What do you think?” he whispers. I slide my hands on top of his and turn around to face him. He wraps his arms around my waist and I hold onto his neck while I gaze into his eyes.

“Best prom ever,” I say, leaning up to kiss him. He tastes like sweet tea and cinnamon and when I pull away, a little of my lipstick is on his lips. I giggle and wipe it off with my fingers.

“Thank you for this,” I say, leaning into him. A slow song begins to play and Ethan and I sway to the music.

I don’t know how many songs pass with us caught up in the music, in each other, and in the beauty of lake that glistens all around us.

At some point, April calls my name. I lift my head from Ethan’s chest and see her aiming a camera at us. “Smile!” she says.

And so I do. She clicks the button and a flash bursts through the air, forever capturing this perfect moment of our senior year.

***