“You won’t have to remember it for long,” I say. “It’s only three weeks away.”
“Hmmm.” He shrugs again and the teacher begins to speak at the front of the classroom.
“Dean, what is wrong with you lately?” I whisper. “What’s happening to you? To us?”
“What makes you think something’s happening?”
“Everything. You missed my birthday with like little to no explanation, you’re missing days of school at a time without telling me why, and I feel like I’m pulling teeth just to get you to tell me how you are and what you’re feeling. Something is happening with you and I just want to know what it is and why.”
He stands up and pushes his chair against the desk. “I want to know why you’re just now noticing.”
Two weeks before prom.
Despite the fact that he’s been hot and cold with me, I still show up to his house armed with balloons and a birthday card. Since he’s managed to miss another string of days at school, and my mom is “punishing” me by paying my phone bill two days past schedule to teach me some type of distorted lesson, I haven’t been able to reach him today. So, I’m having to do things the old fashioned way.
I ring his doorbell and wait. No answer.
I ring it again, knowing he’s there, but there’s still no answer.
Sighing, I start to tie the balloon strings to his mailbox, but the front door slowly opens.
“What’s going on?” His father steps out and his eyes are bloodshot. “Is something wrong, Mia?”
“No, I was just...” I look him over, wondering why he looks so sick. “I was just coming by to tell Dean Happy Birthday.”
A slight smile crosses his lips and he takes the balloons and the card from my hands. “I’ll tell him you stopped by.”
“So he is here?” I ask, wanting to see him for myself. “Can you tell him to come down so we can talk?”
He shakes his head, but keeps smiling. “I’ll let him know you stopped by.” Then he slams the door in my face.
Night of Prom.
This cannot be happening...
I’m standing downstairs in my living room, looking out the window long past the time Dean was supposed to pick me up.
I told him seven. He agreed to seven.
We agreed on seven.
Refusing to believe that my first love would do something so cruel as to stand me up on prom night, I hold off on texting him. I walk over to the mirror and look over my reflection once more.
My one shoulder red gown is shimmering beneath the light, and my dark brown hair is swept up into a high bun that perfectly frames my face. A few tendrils are loose and tucked behind my ears, and the bright make-up the mall specialist put on me hours ago looks more stunning now than it did then.
Forcing a smile, I bat my eyelashes and watch as the glitter on my eyelids glimmers.
I’m not sure how long I stand there staring at myself, but after my eyes catch the wall clock reading at seven forty-five, I text Dean.
MIA: Where are you?
No response. I start to call him, but another text comes through. Autumn.
AUTUMN: Hey! Is it packed already? And how hard was it for you two to find parking?
MIA: I’m not there yet.
AUTUMN: Oh. Well, are you on your way there? Will you let me know about the parking when you get there?
MIA: No...I’m still at home.
Seconds after I send the text, she calls me.
“Are you still getting dressed or—” She stops mid-sentence as I start to cry.
“I think he’s...” Reality’s ugliness is hitting me real hard. “I think he’s standing me up.”
“Mia, no. He would never do that to you.”
“Then why isn’t he here?” I sniffle.
“I’m sure there’s a perfectly good reason.”
“And if there isn’t?” I place my hand against my chest. “He hasn’t been the same for months, Autumn. And even this week, whenever I mentioned prom he never said too much in response.”
“That could mean anything.” She doesn’t want to believe it, and neither do I, but I already know this night won’t end well. I know I should just let it go, but I’ve never been one to back completely away.
“Can I ride with you and Jacob” I ask. “I sent Dean a text a while ago and he has yet to text me back.”
“Of course.” She assures me. “We’re on our way.”
I end the call and send Dean one more message.
MIA: Are you going to answer me? If not, I’ll have to ride to the prom with Autumn and Jacob.
No answer comes, and within twenty minutes I’m in the backseat of Jacob’s rented convertible, dabbing tears at every stoplight.