Twenty-One

A Disaster in the Making

Sure enough, Providence Prep proms were decked out.  There was a velvet red carpet stretching through the lobby, taking Andrew and I to where Ms. Smith was checking tickets.  When Andrew handed her ours, she smiled and surveyed us.

"Beautiful dress, Quinn," she said, handing back our tickets.  Andrew put them in the pocket of his tux.  "Take the stairs up to the second floor and have fun!"

We stepped out of line, letting the couple behind us take our spot.  When I walked, the sound of my heels on the floor stabbed at my temples.

The sight when we got up to the second floor was no less impressive—the room was decorated in mysterious shades of blue and green, and the lighting was dim.  When I looked around, I saw people mingling in fancy dresses and tuxes, experimenting with holding their masks up to their faces.

"This is crazy," I said as we were handed two programs and two masks.  Sure enough, a casino in the other room was advertised along with a dessert bar and the announcement of prom king and queen.  "I've never been to anything this fancy."

I stopped to look at our masks, admiring the intricate detail in each one.  Mine was aqua blue with silver designs that glittered in the lights, and Andrew's was black and gold.  When I turned to hand it to him, I saw that he was gone.

He was already at the drink station, where he filled two cups with water and handed one of them to me.  "It's a lot more elaborate than last year.  Look, they even have ice sculptures in the shape of masks."

I reached out and ran my finger along on of them, then wiped it on my skirt.  I wondered how long it would be before they melted.

"There's not a lot of people on the dance floor yet," Andrew commented, sipping on his water.  "Want to get it started?"

"Sure!"  One of my favorite songs was streaming over the speakers.  Tugging at Andrew's hand, I pulled him to the center of the dance floor and promptly began jamming out.  A few juniors and seniors were already sprinkled around us—one couple seemed to think the song was appropriate for a romantic slow dance.

One of the other couples enveloped Andrew into their circle, and he took me with him.  It was fun for a few seconds, to feel included in this upperclassmen-only group, but then I began to feel completely out of place.  I couldn't remember either of the students' names—I was actually positive I'd never seen the guy in my life—and they were dancing in some mocking interpretation of a teacher I'd never had.

Still, I bobbed my head for a few seconds in time to the beat before one of Andrew's girl friends grabbed him and they began dancing.  Biting my lip, I cut out of the group and went back for a water refill.

My feet were already killing me, so I kicked them off against the wall and kept walking.  In the few minutes I'd been on the dance floor, a cake had been set out next to the water, and I gratefully cut myself a piece.

I was standing along the side of the dance floor when a junior I barely recognized walked up to me, her eyebrows furrowed together.

"Quinn, right?" she asked.  When I nodded, she said, "I'm Danielle.  You're Andrew's date?"

I nodded again, feeling like a puppet required to nod every time this girl spoke.

"Well then why aren't you on the dance floor with him?"

I stuffed another bite of cake in my mouth.  "My feet hurt," I said, "so I took off my shoes.  Then I saw the cake."  As with everything else at the prom, the cake was extravagant—it was marble cake with elaborate designs, and I'd felt awful cutting the first slice until I tasted it and realized how delicious it was.

"Relatable."  Danielle watched me eat for another few seconds before she added, "I'm in Andrew's yearbook class.  All he could talk about last week was how I excited he was to go to prom with you."

I couldn't help but glow a little at that.

"He must be pretty devastated that he's moving and leaving you behind."

So that was what everyone thought—that Andrew was moving away but that I wasn't.  I guess since neither Vanessa nor I had told anyone, they'd all assumed that Andrew was the only one leaving.  A part of me wished it could be that way.  Sure, I'd miss Andrew, but not nearly as much as I was going to miss Cody.  I'd get over Andrew.  I wasn't too certain I could get over Cody, though.

"Quinn?"

"Yeah, sorry."  Another bite of cake; the crumbs got stuck in my throat and I coughed.  "I'm upset, too.  He's a really nice guy."

"So you're dating?" asked Danielle, reaching over to pour me a cup of water.  She handed it to me and I drank it gratefully, coughing a few more times just to get the last few crumbs out.

"No," I said once I'd recovered.  "Um, with the move and all, no."

I realized that I'd probably left Andrew longer than I should have, but when I turned back around to find him I couldn't see him with the group I'd left.  "Have you seen Andrew?" I asked Danielle, turning a slow circle around myself so I could see the entire room.

She tucked her cherry-red hair behind one ear.  "I think I just saw him go to the bathroom, but I'm not sure.  It can be hard to lose someone in this crowd."  Then she added, "You're welcome to chat with me while you wait though!  Your dress is gorgeous."

"Thanks," I said warily, wondering why this girl was being so nice to me.  Still, it was nicer to talk to her than stand all by myself looking like a lost puppy.  When I studied it, I saw that her dress was beautiful, too—it was a simple white empire dress with tiny gold accents, and it fit her trim figure perfectly.  "Yours is pretty, too."

She beamed.  "Thank you!  I tried on like fifty dresses before I settled on this one."

Nodding distractedly, I craned my neck to try and locate Andrew.  Sure enough, I found him slipping out of the bathroom.  "There's Andrew!" I exclaimed, grateful to have an excuse to get out of this small talk.  "I'd better go let him know where I am.  It was nice talking to you."

"You, too!" she chirped.  I could have sworn she caught Andrew's eye and exchanged a secret smile as I hurried back to him.

I made a valiant attempt at socializing for the next hour or so.  I let myself reboot with some cake every once in a while but made myself stay on the dance floor the majority of the time, laughing and joking with Andrew's friends.  It was exhausting, and I felt more like I was here to act as Andrew's accessory than to dance.  Upperclassmen kept coming up to me and introducing themselves to me, as if we hadn't been going to the same school for the last two years. On one hand it was kind of fun—as Andrew's date, I had the key to all of these student's attention, the ones who would have ignored me on any other day.  But it was also tiring, and I found myself continuously trying to respond the way they'd expect Andrew's date to respond.

Finally, I was too tired to smile much more, so I put my mask in front of my face and went off in search of something to drink.  This time I decided to sample the lemonade, and I had just held the cup up to my lips when the deejay abruptly switched the beat and a slow dance song filtered over the speakers.  My heart dropped as I listened to the first few notes.  It was the song Cody and I had danced to at my sweet sixteen.

I didn't realize I was holding my paper cup with a death grip until liquid starting dripping out of the top.  Completely frazzled, I dumped it in a nearby trash can and turned my back on the dance floor.

"Quinn, there you are!"

Andrew came up behind me, wrapping an arm loosely around my waist.  "Come on, let's dance."

It was the wrong arm and the wrong song.  I was biting my lip so hard it was bleeding, more red than the flowers on the skirt of my dress.  Everything was wrong.

"I'm sorry," I choked out.  I didn't realize I was crying until a tear dripped down my cheek.  It was so sudden, and it probably caught Andrew off guard just as much as me.  "I have to go to the bathroom.  I'll be right back."

I wriggled out of his grasp, trying to ignore the confused looks of the upperclassmen as I made my way to the bathroom.  It was empty—everyone was probably on the dance floor with their dates, having the time of their lives.

I grabbed a few paper towels and blew my nose, leaning against the wall for support.  It was a little easier to stop crying now that I was alone and could barely hear the music.  For a second I thought that maybe I was overreacting, but then I thought of the words to the song again and a few more tears fell.

My vision was blurred as I moved to the mirror, setting my elbows on the counter so I could put my face in my hands.  I knew all of Vanessa and Julia's hard work from earlier in the afternoon was disappearing in a wet, sloppy mess, but I didn't feel like trying to stop it.  Every time my sobs were silent enough that I could hear the faint notes of the song, I started a brand new round of crying.

Eventually, the soft, lilting notes of the song were replaced by an intense bass that pulsated in tempo with my headache.  I imagined the couples breaking up and moving into formation for the line dance, giant grins pasted on their faces.  Old Quinn would have really wanted to join them.  Old Quinn would have been thrilled to have been Andrew's accessory at the prom, would have loved to been shown off to all of the upperclassmen.

But I realized as I stood in my too-fancy prom dress in the middle of this dirty bathroom that I was no longer Old Quinn.  Old Quinn did not want the same things that New Quinn wanted.  And New Quinn decidedly did not want to be here.  

The bathroom door swung open and two seniors walked inside, their faces morphing into concern when they saw me.  I flashed them as convincing a smile as I could and they returned it pityingly as they slipped into stalls.  While they chatted, I pumped some more paper towels out and dampened them in the sink.

Once I patted the tears off my cheeks and blotted my makeup as best I could, I sampled a smile in the mirror.  It looked fake, but I figured nobody here knew me anyway, and the only person who would possibly notice would be Andrew.  At the thought of him, I felt more awful than ever.  I'd definitely ruined his night.

Pasting on a brave expression and holding my mask over my face to hide any remaining tears, I made my way back to the dance floor.  Everyone else had their masks on, too, likely as a result of something the deejay had said.  The atmosphere in the room has definitely intensified, and everyone was jumping up and down and singing at the top of their lungs as the line dance switched to the rap hit Andrew and I had practiced in the car.

Every step I took made me feel worse, like I should go back and hide in the bathroom.  This wasn't right.  I knew now more clearly than ever that I shouldn't be here.  Who was I kidding, coming to this prom in the first place?  I belonged back at home with Cody.  We could figure out the move.  This definitely wasn't the right solution.  I was done pretending to be Old Quinn when she'd left me long ago.  I would've thought that by now I would have learned my lesson, but apparently not.  Instead, here I was making the same stupid mistakes over and over again.

With this new resolve, I weaved my way through groups of teenagers having fun until I could see Andrew's black and gold mask.  As I expected, he was standing all alone, likely wondering where I'd gone and why I'd abandoned him.  Quickening my step, I hurried over to him, my bare feet slapping on the floor.  I nearly wiped out on a slick spot where someone must have spilled their drink, but recovered by pressing my palm into the wall.

"Andrew," I said, coming to a stop in front of him and dropping my mask.  I hoped he couldn't see how tear-stained my face was in the dim lighting.  "I'm so sorry I just left you like that, especially before the slow dance song.  It's crappy of me to say this but I'm sorry.  I just couldn't do it.  It was the song Cody and I danced to at my sweet sixteen and I couldn't replay that in my head."

I expected him to forgive me, but he only tilted his head in the direction of the corner of the room—clearly he wanted to continue this conversation somewhere more quiet.  I could only imagine the disappointed, angry look underneath his mask, and it hurt so much that I'd been the one to do this to him.  He didn't deserve this.  All he'd done was be nice to me.  I remembered the sun necklace he'd given me as a present, and the smile on his face when he'd handed it to me.  He had the best intentions, and he genuinely liked me.  I was the one ruining that right now.

Was this really what I wanted?  I knew I had only a few seconds to make up my mind.  If I said what I was planning on saying to Andrew, I would probably lose him forever.

My hands shook as we made our way over to the corner, where I promptly whirled around and resumed my monologue.  My mind was made up, and nothing could stop me now.

"I should have told you to this a lot earlier," I said, forcing the quiver out of my voice.  "I'm sorry.  I shouldn't be here right now.  Not with you."

Again, I expected him to say something to me.   Nothing.

"Andrew," I pleaded, "please take off your mask.  Let me see that you're at least not angry."

He acted like he couldn't hear me at all, like all he could do was stare and listen to me finally lay out the total, ugly truth.  He didn't lower his mask.  In fact, he didn't move an inch, completely frozen like a shocked statue.  I was getting more and more frustrated by the second by his infuriating silence, and finally I couldn't deal with it anymore.  Any carefully filtered speech I'd haphazardly planned in my head slipped away, replaced by pure rambling.

"You were right at dinner," I spat, crossing my arms.  "I don't want to be with you.  Not when I'm moving away in a few weeks.  And I don't care what happens when we get to North Carolina.  The more time I spend around you the more confused I get.  Maybe I don't want to take that with me.

"I think it's a great coincidence that we're both moving so far away at the same time, to the same place, but that doesn't mean we have to date.  And I'm tired of telling myself that's what it means.  This whole night, all I could think of was that I didn't want to be here with you.  I—" I choked on my last few words, trying to fight back tears.  "I want to be here with Cody."

More silence.  I was breathing heavily now, waiting tensely for Andrew's reaction.  Any second now, I expected him to either storm away or yell himself hoarse at me.  He'd bring up everything I'd ever done to string him along, everything I'd ever said to him to make him believe I liked him.  And then I'd have to launch into another explanation about how I'd been confused, and maybe I had liked him but I definitely didn't now, and maybe if Cody didn't exist we could work out, but he did exist and I was sorry but it wasn't meant to be.

Nothing.  And then, so slowly that I almost couldn't tell he was moving at all, Andrew lowered his mask.  Except it wasn't Andrew's hand that was gripping the handle, and it wasn't Andrew's wide brown eyes that appeared over the top of the mask.  In fact, it wasn't Andrew at all.

My heart swooped at the same time that my stomach plummeted.

"Cody?"