Authors: Emily Evans
I stood arm-in-arm with my fellow seniors on the sidelines, ready to give our rendition of the school song.
Trey stood with his team as he had after the last football game in the fall and track meet last month, alone amid the group. Until for the first time this year, his parents joined him on the field. They seemed a little shocked as they put their arms around him. I could only guess at the reason for their expressions: school pride, the poignancy of the last home game, or maybe just in reaction to the penalty cards.
Dad stood in the middle of his team. When the traffic had slowed from the stands onto the field, he signaled the announcer, and the music came through the loud speakers.
“Hail dear Trallwyn…”
After the song ended, and the guys headed to the showers, I walked over to Dad. He always spent time after the games speaking with parents about their son’s contributions, thanking them for their commitment.
Trey’s parents stood next in line. I quickened my pace and caught the tail end of Dad’s speech. “…best player on the team… y’all joined him. Thanks for being here.”
***
Trey entered Dad’s office. He’d changed into khaki shorts and a green pullover. He glanced at the blank wall space where the massage tables used to stand. The fluorescent bulbs highlighted the emptiness of the space.
“Star donated the tables to the swim team after Dad decided that massages weren’t such a good idea after all.”
Trey nodded and opened his mouth, but whatever he wanted to say was preempted by Dad’s arrival.
Dad’s gaze darted suspiciously between Trey and me. When he saw me on the counter and Trey on the other side of the room his posture relaxed. He dropped into his rolling chair and the wheels squeaked out their usual protest. “Pick a college yet, Tresmont?”
Trey shrugged.
Dad said, “Recruiters from Alabama and Tennessee called after the game.”
Trey leaned against the wall. “I’ve turned down some offers. I’m probably not going to play in college.”
Dad’s feet hit the floor with a thud. He shot me a displeased look. “What did you say to him?”
“I didn’t do it.” I shook my head. This was totally news to me. “He can play if he wants.”
“You said something.”
“I didn’t.”
Trey said, “My parents would like to have you and Star over again.”
Dad nodded and thrummed a finger against his desk. “I’m coaching football at ATM next fall. Do you want a spot on my team?”
Trey stilled.
“Are you going to let me date Paisley?”
I gasped.
He did not say that.
Dad clasped his hands together and eyed Trey over the top of his fingers. “Paisley’s going to school at A&M for her undergrad in business. Then out of state for graduate school in fashion design. If you’re both freshman at A&M, you could date her in September.” He rubbed a hand along his jaw. “Keep her away from those upperclassmen.”
I slid off the desk. “I gotta take off. Mom’s got some stuff for me to do.”
***
Trey caught up to me in the parking lot. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“No, I--”
“About the prom.”
I blinked, and my lips tightened.
Prom in a Field.
“Maybe we should meet there. That’s kind of your preference anyway.”
“I want to take you.”
“I made you ask me, anyway.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yeah, people have been asked out all week, stuffed animals in lockers, flowers. John sent Lauren a sing-o-gram. You barely looked up from the TV to ask me.”
“I--.”
I shrugged. “I’m dating a sports guy, I didn’t expect much.” I wrapped my arms around my waist and kicked at the asphalt. The number
seven
stood out on my shoe and I stared at it while I tried to explain what I felt. “It’s just that when you threw Zoe and the Tron on top of everything else--”
“Everyone loves the Tron.”
My lips tightened and my face heated. I fumbled for my keys. They fell to the asphalt.
Trey bent to retrieve them, but I got there first and put them in the door lock. “I get it. But, you don’t understand. Ever since my parents split, I’ve focused on raising money and working on the prom.”
“Y’all did an amazing job.”
“And the prom was going to be this amazing evening and--” I hopped into the CRV. “Your parents are together. You can’t really get it.” I threw my hands out in rejection, my gut twisting. “In fact, let’s go solo. We don’t need to be around each other any more than we have to.”
Trey dug through his pocket and pulled out a blue crystal. Holding it to the sunlight he said, “I bought this that day in the museum after I saw you admiring it.”
I shook my head at his randomness, but I instantly recognized the blue crystal. “The Do Over stone.”
“I wish I’d never gone out with Zoe. I wish I’d never heard of the stupid Tron.” He held the stone higher.
Even the imaginary thought of losing these past months was unbearable. His wish slammed everything into perspective. Without the last months, I wouldn’t have fallen for Trey, gotten to know Aster, or accepted the painful truth that my parents wouldn’t be getting back together. I wouldn’t risk missing any of those things, not even for a joke.
I dropped my keys and got out of the car, grabbing for the crystal. “Don’t.”
Trey said, “I want a do over.”
Chapter Fourteen
I stood in the underground tunnel at the Museum of Fine Arts Houston looking at my future and my past. Feeling such an intense sense of déjà vu I almost felt dizzy.
Trey said, “I want to start over. Start here.”
When Trey drove me here from the parking lot to the museum, I didn’t know what to think, but I knew I had to go with him. Talk to him.
He said, “I want you. Only you. I want that Do Over.”
“No.” I hated the pained expression that came over his face, and spoke quickly, “I’m sorry too. I want to be with you too. I don’t want a do over, because I wouldn’t change a thing. Nothing about you. Nothing about us.”
He grabbed me to his chest and dropped his forehead to my shoulder. I felt warm again for the first time in hours.
Trey’s breath shuddered out. “I thought I’d have to resort to blackmail to get you back. Threaten to tell everyone your middle name or something.”
I choked out a laugh. “No.”
“I at least want a do over for my prom invite.” He handed me the blue crystal. “Will you please go to prom with me? As my date? As my girlfriend?”
“Yes.”
***
Under the enormous, donated, white tent, my volunteers went to work transforming prom field. We caught a break with the weather and only ran a few fans to keep the breeze moving. I tilted an industrial-sized square one toward the kids from shop class. They unloaded a huge dragon sculpture. The thing towered seven feet. They’d even carved wicked flames from its mouth. The science club set dry ice around the base so the dragon wouldn’t melt before the big reveal and the drama club concealed it with a red curtain. I ticked
ice sculpture
off my list.
An eager volunteer bounced over to me, ready to do my bidding.
I pointed. “Strobe lights at the entrance.”
The Future Farmers of America attached a long ribbon to the doors on the dove cages in preparation of a timed release. I narrowed my eyes on Ian. I hadn’t realized he was a member of FFA. He was pouring sawdust into the bottom of the dove cages. Sawdust was for the dance floor. Well, it was going to be when the shop class finished interlocking the wooden planks. I pointed to Lauren.
Lauren nodded. “On it.” She reached Ian. “You want us to catch bird flu? Give me that sawdust.”
I hurried over to check on the flowers. They looked beautiful. I gave Amy and the Garden Club a smile and a thumbs up.
I jumped out of the way as kids from home economics class wheeled in trays of food and put them in the donated heating plates. They plugged the platters into the extension cords. Steam rose into the air.
Zoe snagged the end of one of the free cords and connected it to a strand of twinkle lights. She wound them around her body and hung them as she unspooled.
Lauren and Carla joined me and bumped my shoulder in a BFF gesture. Carla said, “We’re right on target.”
“Yep,” Lauren said. “Cleaning would’ve put us over budget, but forcing the freshmen to scrub fixed that.” She bumped Carla’s fist with her own. “Scrub, sucker fish, scrub.”
Members of the band got the speakers hooked up and piped in music. Another strand of twinkle lights clicked on.
Magic.
Prom Field sparkled.
The sparkling lit John’s entry and the monstrosity that came in behind him.
I joined John, clutching my clipboard like a weapon.
“West end. West end.” John yelled at his crew. He jerked his arm toward all the equipment. “Come on, Pez. You gotta smile a little at this. It’s going to be so cool.”
My lip twitched and I blinked against the flash when the beast’s screen lit up.
Hello Jumbotron.
Colored blurs sharpened into a picture of the dance floor. I doubted our dancing skills were up to that large a display.
The image of a hard-working Ian cooing to a dove appeared on screen followed by other hardworking volunteers.
Crap. Jumbotron was kind of cool.
***
“How’s it going?” Aster yelled up the stairs. “Your mom’s going to be here any second.”
“Almost ready,” I said, hooking my earrings on and leaving my room.
The front doorbell rang. Outside, a deliveryman carried an enormous bouquet of curled roses, neon balloons, and a stuffed bear in a Dynamo’s costume. My heart pounded, and I couldn’t help the smile. I took the small envelope. The outside read,
Paisley Oilers Johnson
. The inside:
Please go to prom with me
.
***
Trey’s parents, my parents, and Aster stood in the front yard snapping photos. This was not the family moment I’d planned, but it was special to me nonetheless.
“Love the dark teal.” Trey’s mom nodded and eyed my gown with a designer’s eye. “Strapless, fitted top, pale gold embroidery on the bodice--beautiful.”
“Thanks.” I had to stop myself from barraging her with questions every time I saw her. Not that she seemed to mind, she said she loved talking about her work and that Trey never let her go on and on about it like I did.
Flash.
Another camera snapped a photo. I wanted a ton because Trey looked amazing in a tux: broad shoulders, narrow waist, tall—gorgeous.
“I hope Trey can bring you to New York one weekend and see my showroom,” Trey’s mom said.
“Absolutely.”
“We’ll see,” Dad said at the same time that Mom said, “Probably not, and Aster said, “No.”
Mom blinked at Aster’s adamant response and stepped closer to her with an approving look.
With good timing, the driver opened the back door and I moved down the front walk to the limo. I waved at our families and let Trey help me in. Their cameras flashed.
I blinked and held a hand in front of my eyes. The silky roses on my corsage touched my cheek and I lowered my hand. Iridescent ribbons and gemstones surrounded exquisite roses. “It’s so pretty. Thank you. Did your mom pick it?”
Trey flushed and shook his head. He shifted on the leather seat. “I told them sparkly when I ordered it.”
I put a hand on his knee and reached up to kiss his cheek. “I love it.” I rubbed at the pale pink lipstick smudge left against his skin until the mark disappeared. When my fingers dropped, Trey put a hand behind my neck and gave me a real kiss.
I didn’t open my eyes again until the flash of a strobe light came through the windows. We’d arrived at Prom Field.
Trey said, “Wow.”
I squeezed his arm. That was exactly the right response.
We got out. The long walk across the satin runner was difficult in high heels, but I had Trey’s arm and I was anxious for him to see the work we’d done. With each new sight, Trey’s smile widened, distracting me with the beautiful curve of his lips
AV club brought me back when they snapped our picture--Paparazzi style. At the end of the gauntlet, two giggling freshman led us to a mirror to tweak our appearance, before we posed on the picture podium for a formal shot. From there, we moved under the main tent.
Candlelight reflected off the mirrors. The shine spun off the crystal and shimmered. Everything sparkled. The flowers smelled fragrant. The night weather was clear and seventy degrees. I relaxed and grinned. Perfect. Prom was amazing. I tightened my grip on Trey’s hand and he entwined his fingers with mine.
A ton of kids greeted us. Not only my friends and the Sparkle volunteers, but all the seniors from the other clubs who’d volunteered to help over these last few weeks. It was more kids than I’d met my whole four years of high school.
“We’re serving food?” Trey said. He sounded happy.
I squeezed his wrist. “What do you think?”
Trey looked around. “It’s amazing,” he whispered in my ear. “You’re amazing.”
***
“Dude, this party’s sick,” John said in praise. He bumped the round table in his enthusiasm as he slid into the chair next to Lauren. The white tablecloth slipped and the centerpiece candle tilted. Melted wax dripped down the side. The wick touched a red ribbon and the edge caught fire. Trey swatted the tiny flame with his napkin and his French cuff rose.
Nice reflexes. Nice cufflinks
.
Ms. Herrington moved behind the lectern. She glanced over at the Jumbotron, at her enlarged image and winced. After two clicks on the laptop, the image on the Jumbotron changed from larger-than-life teacher to animated whimsical floating crowns. “It’s time to announce your king and queen.”
I gave Lauren and Carla each a thumbs up and crossed my fingers.
Come on, Lauren. Come on, Carla.
“For the first time ever, the winner is a write-in. Paisley Oilers Johnson, please take the stage.” People clapped and shouted out words of enthusiasm.
I sat stunned.
What? Me? OMG. They used my middle name.
Lauren hugged me then pushed me toward the stage. “Oilers?” Her voice sounded amused.