Happenstance: A Novella Series: Part Three Read online

  “This isn’t the last time we’ll be in fancy clothes in the back of a limo,” he whispered.

  I knew what he meant. He liked to allude to our future a lot, and although it both excited me and scared me to death, I was enjoying the quiet moment we were having. Our neighborhood wasn’t far from the high school, so we only had a few precious minutes alone before we would step out onto the sidewalk beside the auditorium in front of most of the town for the Grand March.

  I gripped his arm tighter, trying to hold on to the moment.

  Mistaking it for nerves, Weston covered my hand with his. “Relax. We’re just making a memory. All you have to do is enjoy it.”

  “I already am.”

  Too soon, the limo slowed, and the door opened.

  Lisa Kahle’s dad held the door, a welcoming smile on his face. He was one of many fathers who were acting as valets, directing the limos and parking the various convertibles and even a combine for prom goers. “Come on out,” he said, stepping aside.

  Weston crawled out from his seat and stood on the concrete of the school parking lot before offering his arm. I climbed out and hooked my arm around his, and together, we walked around the limo.

  “Oh God,” I whispered.

  Hundreds of people were lined on each side of the walkway leading to the commons area where prom was held every year. Flashes and clicking that would rival any group of paparazzi commenced before we even took a step. Parents, grandparents, siblings, and underclassmen were stacked five rows deep behind the taped-off walkway.

  With his other hand, Weston patted mine. I relaxed my death grip, realizing my fingers had been digging into his arm. We paused for pictures, and then Lisa’s dad gestured for us to continue.

  Weston led me to the next stop where dozens of people raised their phones, cameras, and video cameras. The flashes blinked like strobe lights. I was so glad Weston had done this before even though I didn’t want to think about it.

  “It’s okay, Erin. I promise,” he said. He smiled for the cameras and then leaned down to peck my cheek.

  The people taking pictures around us went into a frenzy then, and it didn’t feel like they were documenting something they thought was cute. It felt like evidence for something to talk about later.

  “This is awful. Why do people do this?” I said through my teeth as I forced a smile.

  Weston chuckled and then led me forward to the next stopping point. We walked slowly, and I let my mind fall away from worrying about so many eyes on us. Instead, I began concentrating on walking in high heels. The pictures made me uncomfortable, but falling in front of everyone would be much worse.

  It took a little more than ten minutes to reach the main building, but it felt like ten hours. Just after we turned the corner, Peter, Veronica, Sam, and Julianne came into view. Julianne touched Sam’s arm before lifting her camera to snap pictures. Her eyes glossed over, and Veronica took a few pictures of her own before squeezing Julianne to her side.

  They all waved to us before the door swept open, and Weston and I stepped inside. The lights were dim, and the music coming from the DJ’s speakers in the corner was loud and upbeat.

  One path to the tables was lined with red lights and pointed glowing faux flames, resembling a river of lava. Another pathway was blue with white twinkling lights and translucent spikes of pretend ice. The fire side half of the room had tables covered in red or black tablecloths, and the walls were draped in red fabric. The other side featured tables decorated in white or baby blue, and white satin-like material cascaded from the ceiling to the floor, shining like glaciers. In the center of the room was a huge ice sculpture in the shape of glistening curved flames whipping into the air. A red light glowed from the inside to simulate fire, and chiseled diamond-like blocks protruded from the base of the sculpture to represent ice. Bordering the central dance floor on one side were short pillars blowing red and orange tissue paper, and on the opposing side were tall white pillars reflecting blue light.

  I wasn’t sure who had been in charge of transforming the commons area into prom, and I didn’t have a basis for comparison, but it was magical and didn’t feel like the high school at all.

  Weston guided me to a table, and I sat before looking up at him.

  “Who’ll be sitting in those chairs?” I asked, nodding toward the empty seats on the other side of the table.

  Weston helped me to scoot closer to the table, and then he sat next to me, shrugging. “Whoever can mind their manners.”

  “What now?” I asked.

  The servers, all sophomores handpicked by upperclassmen, were busy bringing waters to the dozens of tables. I moved aside when our server set a glass of ice water next to my table setting. She smiled nervously. Her baby blue T-shirt displayed the prom theme and emblem and set off her frizzy copper hair.

  Weston leaned over to speak into my ear, “Once everyone gets seated, they’ll serve us dinner, then we dance, and then we leave.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Pretty much.”

  I relaxed. “Okay, I can handle that.”

  He raised my hand to his mouth and kissed my knuckles. Then, he kept my hand in his as he lowered them to his lap.

  Within half an hour, the room was full of chatter and upperclassmen. The two chairs in front of us were filled by Brian Fredrick and Janelle Hunt. She was somehow successful in glaring at me and seeming bored at the same time, but Brian was animated and chatty. He and Weston talked about football and coaches. Janelle looked around the room, hopeful to find more preferable seating. I was hoping she would find it.

  “Are you still working at the DQ?” Brian asked, his round cheeks moving his equally round eyes when he spoke.

  “Yes,” I said, trying not to shrink back from Janelle’s stare.

  She was unhappy that he had addressed me.

  A loud cackle came from someone passing by, and then I saw Brady Beck.

  He knocked on our table with his knuckles and nodded to Brian. “Oh, man. Bad luck.”

  Brian made a face as he watched Brady walking away. “That’s just rude, dude.” He shook his head and then let Brady’s words roll off. “I was wondering what it’s like to work with Frankie. She seems crazy!” he said, chuckling.

  “She’s pretty fun,” I said.

  Janelle sighed and rolled her eyes. She scanned the room again and then touched Brian’s arm. “There are two chairs over there!” she said, eager.

  Brian stumbled over his next words, desperately trying to cover for his date.

  “No one is forcing you to sit here,” Weston said. “If you’re going to be a bitch, I’d rather you leave.” His fingers squeezed mine, his cheeks flushing red against his tan skin.

  I squeezed his hand back, silently begging him not to make a scene.

  Janelle didn’t answer. Instead, she turned her attention to the decorations and then waved to her friends across the room.

  Brian offered an apologetic expression, and he began to open his mouth to change the subject, but then our server set plates of food in front of Janelle and me. Janelle seemed pleased with the distraction, but she didn’t thank the awkward, gangly red-haired girl who had served us.

  Moments later, two more plates were delivered.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  The girl smiled brightly, thrilled to be acknowledged. “You’re welcome.”

  “I’m glad she has that mess pulled back into a ponytail,” Janelle grumbled. “I don’t want her hair in my food. It looks like red pubes.”

  Brian grimaced. “She’s trying really hard, Janelle. Give her a break.”

  As we picked over our greasy chicken breasts and bland green beans, Weston cringed. “Wow, this is…”

  “At least the rolls are good,” Brian said, chewing.

  I couldn’t help but smile. I liked Brian.

  Janelle dropped her fork against the plate. “Disgusting every year. I wish they would just let us eat at a restaurant and then come here for the dance.”
r />   After dessert, the DJ introduced himself and welcomed us to prom. He announced the main chaperones and sponsors, and then he put on an upbeat song to initiate a line dance. I was one of a handful of girls who didn’t rush to the dance floor. Whoever didn’t know the moves were giggling while trying to learn it.

  Weston watched with a smile on his face. He seemed content with sitting next to me, his arm resting on the back of my chair.

  Brian leaned in closer and spoke loudly so that we could hear him over the music, “Are you excited for Duke?”

  Weston shook his head. “I’m not going to Duke.”

  “What?” Brian asked, confused.

  “I’m going to the Art Institute of Dallas,” Weston said with pride.

  “Since when?”

  “Since I applied and was accepted.”

  “Is your dad mad?” Brian asked.

  Weston shook his head. “He was surprised.”

  “I’ll bet,” Brian said, raising his eyebrows. A few beads of sweat had begun to form at his hairline, and he tugged at his collar. “I gotta take this off. I’m burning up.” He removed his tux jacket and swung it around the back of his chair.

  Weston did the same and then looked at me. “You wanna dance?”

  I shook my head.

  The current song ended, and a ballad came over the speakers. Chairs squeaked across the tile floor as the boys stood to join their dates on the dance floor.

  “C’mon,” Weston said, shamelessly begging me with his beautiful eyes.

  “O-okay,” I said, taking his hand.

  Weston found an open spot and then spun me around before pulling me close. He pulled my hands up and behind his neck, and I clasped my fingers together. He settled his hands on the small of my back and took the first side step.

  “I don’t dance,” I said.

  Weston didn’t hear me at first, so I leaned up on the balls of my feet and repeated the words next to his ear.

  He touched his cheek to mine and then kissed my forehead. “I don’t either, but I’ll dance with you.”

  I rested my temple against his chest as I let him sway me back and forth to the music. We were stiff and not at all graceful, but I didn’t care who was watching or what they might be thinking.

  All that mattered was that I was with Weston Gates. I had imagined it many times before, including the previous year when I had been making dip cones and Blizzards instead of attending prom. Now that I was with exactly whom I had always dreamed of, my only goal was to be present and live in these few minutes of time, for as long as they lasted, and enjoy every second of it.

  By the gentle way Weston was pulling me against him, I thought that maybe he was thinking the same.

  “I’ve spent a lot of time trying not to hope for this night with you,” Weston said into my ear. “But the harder I tried, the more I thought about it. I wasn’t sure how I could make it happen, but by some miracle, you’re here, in my arms. I don’t want to think about graduation or this summer or even two hours from now. Right now is the best it’s ever been for me. In this moment, you’re my entire universe, shining in all the right places.”

  He slid his fingers over the jewels at the small of my back and smiled.

  I hugged him tighter to me, trying to make the world stop, to make time pause, as I wished that we could somehow remain there forever.

  When I glanced at a small group of boys clustered a few feet away, I knew they had no plans of letting that happen.

  “JESUS, GET A ROOM, GATES,” Brady said, standing on the outskirts of the dance floor with his group of friends.

  Weston simply raised his fist, lifted his middle finger, and then returned his hand back to me. He didn’t even look at Brady.

  Never one to be ignored, Brady took the few steps to where we were dancing and craned his neck at Weston. “I remember when you were on this dance floor last year, feeling up Alder every time you got a chance.”

  Weston stopped dancing and stared straight over my head, probably at nothing.

  “Weston,” I warned, “don’t let him ruin it. That’s all he’s trying to do.”

  He took a deep breath and then sidestepped, dancing again.

  Brady looked behind him and nodded to his group of friends. Micah and Brendan were standing there with Tyson and Andrew. Tyson was the only one who didn’t look particularly amused with the scene Brady was trying to make.

  Brady turned back to us. “You gonna tap Erin’s ass tonight the way you did Alder last year? In the back of your truck?”

  I froze.

  Brady began to laugh. “He already has, hasn’t he? What, Erin? Did you think it was something he did just with you?”

  “Where’s your date, Brady?” Weston seethed.

  By this point, everyone around us was watching, still dancing but coming closer to see and hear better.

  “Unlike you, I have standards. And the only two girls worth bringing passed away a little while ago. You remember them, don’t you? Your friends since childhood? Your girlfriend? The girl you said you were going to marry?”

  My expression betrayed me, and Brady’s eyes brightened with satisfaction.

  “Did he give you the we’re-going-to-get-married-someday speech, too? Figures. He throws that around about as easily as I love you.”

  Just as the song ended, Weston turned to face Brady.

  Brian walked over, keeping one of his broad shoulders between the two enemies. “C’mon, guys. It’s prom. Let’s keep it civil.”

  Weston took a step and leaned in, just inches from Brady’s face. “If you try to ruin this night for her, you have my word that your parents will have to buy that tux once I’m through with you.”

  “Yes, because a couple hundred bucks will be such a hardship,” Brady scoffed.

  Weston took my hand and led me back to the table. I stood next to Weston while he took a gulp of his ice water.

  Brian followed. “Don’t worry about it, man.”

  Weston set down his cup. “He’s just trying to detract from the fact that he showed up here alone.”

  I turned and felt liquid explode against my skin, from my mouth to my waist. Brady was holding an empty cup. The red punch that had been inside was now dripping from my chin and dress. His eyes bulged wide as I held my hands out to my sides.

  Weston charged toward Brady, but I pushed my hand out, holding it against his chest. “Weston, it was an accident!”

  Brady’s expression morphed from shock to smug satisfaction. “It wasn’t shit soup, but I’m sure Alder would have been just as happy.”

  He pulled another cup from behind his back and began to pour it over my head, but Weston tackled him to the floor.

  “No! Weston, stop!” I said, red liquid dripping from my hairline.

  Chaperones rushed from every dark corner of the room, and what had once been just Weston and Brady scuffling became a large ball of body parts jerking, grabbing, and reaching.

  Coach Morris finally made it to the middle and pulled everyone apart. He held both young men by their collars. “What the hell’s gotten into you, Weston?” he said, barely acknowledging Brady.

  “Look at her!” Weston said, his eyes wild.

  He pointed to me, and Coach Morris blinked when he saw that I was covered in punch.

  “Did you do that, Beck?” Coach Morris asked, jerking Brady by the collar.

  Brady’s mouth was bleeding, and both of his eyes were already beginning to swell.

  “It was an accident! She turned right into me!” he whined.

  “Is that how it got in her hair?” Coach asked, his cheeks flushing with anger.

  Weston was turned loose while Coach yanked Brady to the entrance. Light from the streetlamps outside briefly lit up the indoor area when the door opened before it closed again.

  Coach Morris came back empty-handed and pointed at Weston. “Sorry, Gates. You, too. But I want you to wait until he’s cleared the parking lot.”

  Weston’s expression turned severe. �
�I promised her I wouldn’t let Brady get away with anything like that. Look at her!”

  “Weston,” I said, touching his arm.

  “Look at her!” he screamed again.

  Coach’s eyes turned sad. He pulled a stack of napkins off the closest table and handed them to me. “I’m really sorry, Erin. You still look lovely.”

  “Maybe she smells better,” Janelle mumbled.

  Weston opened his mouth to defend me, but Coach Morris held up his hand.

  He pointed to Janelle. “You. Out.”

  “What?” she shrieked.

  “Get your things and go. Anyone else want their night ruined?”

  The crowd dispersed, and Janelle picked up her clutch, her eyes glossing over.

  She waited for Brian. “Let’s go!” Her voice broke as she stamped her foot.

  Brian shook his head. “Too bad you weren’t nicer to Erin. Weston might have given you a ride.”

  “Brian!” she whined.

  Brian patted Weston on the shoulder. “I would have done the same. Sorry y’all have to leave.”

  Weston nodded, and then Brian walked to the other side of the room.

  Janelle spun around and stomped to the exit, holding her cell phone to her ear.

  “I’m…” Weston began, but he couldn’t finish. He was too upset.

  Coach Morris motioned to us. “Okay, Gates. He should be gone by now. I’m going to walk you out. I’m sorry, Erin.”

  I shook my head, my skin feeling stickier by the second. Embarrassment hadn’t come, and I wondered if it would. I was more worried about Weston than me. He’d been looking forward to prom for so long, and now, we had to leave.

  We held hands as we walked to the limo, and although the driver seemed shocked to see the mess Brady had made of my dress, he didn’t comment.

  Weston tightly held my hand without saying a word until we walked through my front door.

  “Don’t tell them,” I said before running up the stairs.

  I could hear Julianne’s and Sam’s muffled voices mixing with Weston’s before I shut the door to my room and stripped off my dress. I nicely laid it on the bed and then kicked off my heels before rushing to the shower.