We Can Work It Out Page 18

  “The dance-a-thon is this weekend, so things are a little crazy. But I promise to save you a dance. So that should give you motivation to get better soon.”

  “It does.” Ryan nodded. “Well, there’s next week. And Prom. And since we’re both on Prom court …”

  I wasn’t sure why I wasn’t simply inviting him along with us. It wouldn’t have been a big deal if Ryan had joined the group. But it would be to him. And to me as well. Everything was so up in the air — would it really be the best thing to use Prom as our second first date?

  Ryan could sense my hesitation. He reached out and I took a step back.

  “Is that because you don’t want to get sick again or because you don’t want to go to Prom with me?” His voice was strained from the cold, but probably also from my behavior.

  He was laying it all on the line, and my only response was to stand there and stare at him. I didn’t know what to say. If I said I wanted to go to Prom with him, I could end up hurting him by putting him second to the Club. If I said I didn’t want to go with him, I’d still hurt him.

  It was lose-lose.

  I continued to stand there utterly dumbfounded.

  Even Ryan Bauer had his limits.

  “This again?” Ryan turned his back and closed his locker door. “You know, Penny, I’m exhausted. I’m sick and I’m not really in the mood to play any games right now. I guess I’ll talk to you about this later.”

  “Wait.” I pulled at his sleeve. “I feel so bad about how sick you are, and things are a little crazy right now. Get better and we’ll figure it out.” I hoped delaying the inevitable would give me time to figure out what to do. Ryan had helped me immensely while I was sick and I wanted nothing but to do the same for him. “Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to make you feel better. I hear Gatorade, ice cream, and cheese fries help.”

  He looked off into the distance. I couldn’t really tell what he was thinking. Then he finally spoke. “You know what would make me feel better?”

  I shook my head.

  “There’s only one thing that I’ve ever wanted.” He finally turned to look directly in my eyes. “And that’s you.”

  I fumbled over what to say. How could I have possibly responded to such a wonderful confession? There were many things I could’ve said right then. That I wanted him, too. That I’d find a way to make things work. That I wouldn’t hurt him again.

  Instead, I stood there with my mouth open, grasping.

  Ryan wasn’t going to wait any longer. He turned his back and walked away.

  Tracy was right.

  I, Penny Lane Bloom, am a complete idiot.

  THERE WAS BEING AN IDIOT, AND then there was being me. Just like there was being busy, and then there were the days leading up to the dance-a-thon.

  It was mass chaos. Between school, homework, and all of the things we needed to do to get ready, there was little time for breathing, let alone trying to make a relationship work. Still, I did go over to Ryan’s house to bring him some cheese fries after school one day. He was allegedly sleeping, according to his mom. He wasn’t at school for the rest of the week.

  Maybe he was giving me the space that I’d originally asked for. Maybe he was tired of my constant uncertainties. Or maybe I needed to make a decision already.

  But there were already too many decisions to be made.

  Tracy and I were finalizing the playlist on our way to lunch the Friday before the dance-a-thon.

  “Will anybody our age even want to dance to the fifties and sixties music?” Tracy asked as we turned the corner to the cafeteria.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll cover that for our team,” I offered, knowing that Tracy, Diane, Morgan, and Kara would much rather dance later in the day. I was only worried that the start of the event wouldn’t be the best time for me to be out on the dance floor. “You’ll be able to get your groove on with that crazy music the kids are listening to these days.”

  “You know it,” Tracy said. “My dance moves are more for the modern era. I’ve got some moves that are going to make the older people wish they could turn back time.”

  When we reached our table, Diane’s attention was elsewhere.

  “What’s going on?” I asked her.

  She motioned her head to the other side of the room. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

  Off to the side, Missy was in a deep discussion with Todd. The second I saw them leaning in, near the spot where he had admonished her over a month ago, I felt sick. There was no way this could be good.

  Instead of fretting over possible conspiracy theories, I decided to walk over there. Maybe she needed backup. The fact that I was worried about Missy and going there to potentially rescue her was almost too alien to comprehend.

  Todd was leaning against the wall, his hand on Missy’s shoulder. He was talking softly and didn’t notice that I was approaching.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked Missy.

  She nodded slowly, like she wasn’t sure if it was true.

  “Relax,” Todd said with an angry curl of his lip. “I’m talking to Missy. You don’t own her.”

  “I know that,” I responded a bit too defensively. “But last time I checked, you were being a Class A jerkwad, and for some reason I doubt that has changed.”

  “Baby.” Todd began rubbing Missy’s arm. “You know I said I’m sorry and I really mean it. So let’s stop this nonsense and come join me. I miss you. We all miss you. You belong with us. You belong with me.” He then wrapped his massive arms around Missy’s tiny frame.

  I’d never seen Todd’s “magic” up close. I assumed he possessed some voodoo skills to get as many girlfriends as he’d had. He was saying all the right things. But saying was completely different from doing. He was writing checks he couldn’t cash.

  Missy bit her lip. She was falling for his lines, for his lies.

  I tried to bring her back to reality. “Missy,” I said, “it’s up to you, but you know we’d love for you to join us.”

  She kept looking between the two tables, confusion lining her face. She finally looked at me. “I’m so sorry,” she said in a small voice as she took Todd’s hand and walked with him to her promised land.

  I became angrier with every step I took back to our table. But what was weird was, it wasn’t Missy I was mad at. I was furious at Todd for getting back together with her only to eventually dump her again.

  Wait a second. Am I actually feeling bad for Missy?

  We’d been planning on surprising her after the dance-a-thon and making her a full-fledged member. Her heart was in the right place and she’d worked her butt off for the dance-a-thon.

  “What was that?” Tracy asked as Missy was greeted back at the popular table like a kidnap victim who was finally free of her captors.

  I turned toward Michelle. “Please tell me that you can get the baskets she arranged for the dance-a-thon.”

  Michelle nodded solemnly. “I’ll call them after school. I can’t believe she …”

  “I know.”

  I couldn’t help but feel a little betrayed that Missy had gone back with Todd. Although I understood all too well how tempting it could be to be given a second chance.

  But just because you’re given one doesn’t mean you should take it.

  At nine sharp on Saturday morning, we were at the high school getting ready. Everybody had a task to do. The hallways and gymnasium were a flurry of activity.

  Stations were being set up, Tyson’s band was doing a sound check, I was running around with my head cut off — so everything was going according to plan. There was even a line outside the front doors.

  After I did my last run-through with everybody, a familiar figure approached me with a large basket in her hands.

  “There was one more that needed to be picked up,” Missy said to me in an apologetic tone.

  “Oh, thanks.” I pointed toward the table overflowing with our raffle and silent auction items.

  She set down
the basket brimming with spa products. “Well, I guess I should …” She let the words hang in the air as if I was going to insist that she stay.

  “Yes,” I agreed. “But thank you for the basket.”

  Missy hesitated before turning around. “I know you probably regret giving me a chance, and I get it.” Her voice began to quiver. “Did you forget what it was like to be a freshman? You probably didn’t even care about where you stood in the popularity chain; it was beneath you. Yeah, well, it matters to me. So call me shallow, call me whatever you want. I feel better when I’m with someone. I need that. Maybe that makes me weak. But it makes me happy.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. But I didn’t have to say anything. She left the gym before I could.

  Diane came over. “What was that?”

  “It wouldn’t be a proper day in my life without some meltdowns,” I joked, even though that was scarily becoming my reality.

  “Don’t let it get to you.” Diane rubbed my back.

  I gave her a look that made it clear I wasn’t ever going to let Missy Winston get to me.

  Diane checked her watch. “I guess we’re ready, right?” A flicker of doubt flashed over her face briefly before she took a deep breath. “No, we’re ready.”

  Everybody was in place. The music started with Elvis Presley’s “Hound Dog” blasting. A few of the volunteers were already dancing, including Mom and Dad.

  Tracy was at the front doors, getting ready to open them. Her face was serious and she intoned, “I hereby declare the dance-a-thon officially started. Get ready for twelve hours of insanity.” She reached for the door handle. “As Sir Kevin Bacon once said in the classic motion picture Footloose … LET’S DANCE!”

  THE GYMNASIUM WAS PACKED WITH YOUNG and old, female and male, Parkview residents and people from neighboring towns, those who knew about The Lonely Hearts Club and those who were only now finding out about our fabulousness.

  We all danced in shifts. Three hours in, as the sixties gave way to the disco sounds of the seventies, one of my shifts ended, and I turned the dancing over to Tracy. Bruce grabbed her hand and started twirling her around. She shimmied up closer to him, a mischievous grin on her face.

  As much as Tracy protested Bruce’s constant attention, she didn’t seem to mind it as they took over the dance floor. And by the excited expression on Bruce’s face, he seemed to be enjoying himself as well. I wondered if, when he’d taken that heartbroken, long plane ride to the States back in January, he’d imagined himself being able to be as happy as he was right now.

  I plunked down next to Kara to help her at the information desk. She was busy calculating some figures out on her phone. “I think this is going to be big. With pledges and the raffle tickets, we’re close to thirty.”

  “I’m sorry — do you mean that we’ll be close to thirty thousand dollars?”

  “Yep, insane, huh?”

  Insane was an understatement.

  And we still had nine hours to go.

  I scanned the dance floor for Ryan. I’d spotted him earlier, dancing with his stepsister, grateful he felt well enough to come today. I’d been planning on asking him to dance with me for a bit, but then I’d had to help solve a raffle ticket problem.

  Timing never seemed to be on our side.

  “I’m going to get a soda. Want anything?” I offered to Kara before I exited to the concession stands outside the gym doors.

  There was no sign of Ryan or Katie. Since I was in for a long night, I opted for the biggest cup of Cherry Coke I could buy. And a double chocolate chip cookie. I figured when tired and in doubt, best to go for caffeine and sugar.

  As I turned to head back into the gym, I caught Principal Braddock’s eye from across the hallway. He motioned for me to join him and I instantly felt sick. Everything had been going so well, but I should’ve known he would find something to pick apart.

  “Hi,” I greeted him as warmly as I could. “Thanks for coming.”

  He looked around the hallway, surveying the lines of people getting food and signing up for the silent auction. “It looks like everything’s going well.”

  “Yes.” I agreed and left out my desire to add until you showed up.

  “As I’ve said, I’m still not on board with this little club of yours. I still feel that you’re a bit too exclusive for my tastes.”

  I couldn’t help myself. “Oh, so I can join the football team next year?”

  He wisely ignored my comment. “However, I can’t deny what you’ve done today. I think that you should present your scholarship at our awards night.”

  “Really?” I stood there with my mouth open. Awards night was when the school presented scholarships and academic awards. It was an official McKinley High School event. And Braddock wanted The Lonely Hearts Club to be part of it. “That would be amazing. Thank you.”

  He gave me a quick nod. “You’ve pulled off something truly impressive.”

  “Well, it really was a team effort. The Club is more than one person, and none of this would’ve happened without each and every member.”

  He chuckled. “Yes, that’s your club’s motto or something, isn’t it? It’s basically the same thing Miss Monroe said to me when she took her name off Prom court.”

  “WHAT?” I practically shouted in his ear.

  “You didn’t know?” Braddock’s lips curled up into a smirk. “She came into my office and said that she didn’t feel it was fair to be singled out among her fellow classmates. She won’t be on the ballot for Prom queen.”

  It wasn’t something I could fathom. I thought I knew Diane, and she’d basically been a Prom-queen-in-training since grade school. She was a shoo-in to win. Why would she withdraw — and not share that information with any of us?

  I excused myself from Braddock and went in search of the Prom court deserter. And of course since I wasn’t looking for Ryan, he appeared seemingly out of thin air.

  “Hey!” I gave his arm a squeeze. “You made it! How are you feeling?”

  “Good,” he said, a little out of breath from dancing. “Congrats! Everything’s going great.”

  “Thanks!” I kept looking around for Diane. “Listen, I want that dance I promised you, but I need to find Diane first. Have you seen her?”

  He pointed to the far corner of the room. “Last time I saw her, she was guarding the requests table.”

  Before I left him, I felt I needed to do some damage control. “I really want to dance with you — it’s a little crazy right now. But we’ve got … more than eight hours left.”

  If I couldn’t make time within eight hours to have one dance with Ryan, he would have every right to never want me back.

  Diane was taking down requests for the DJs (aka Tyson and Morgan) to do special shout-outs to groups, all for a dollar. It was amazing how many people wanted to either hear their names over a loudspeaker or embarrass someone in public. There was a lot of the latter.

  She was counting a stack of ones when I approached her. “You dropped out of Prom court?”

  She didn’t even miss a beat as she continued to count the money. “I was going to tell you after today.”

  “But why?”

  “It seemed pretty obvious.”

  “That you’d drop out?” I asked. Because it wasn’t obvious to me.

  “No.” She looked around to make sure nobody could hear her. “It seemed obvious that I would win. That’s what Diane Monroe does. She gets a sparkly crown. She smiles and does what she’s supposed to. I’m not interested in being the version of what everybody expects me to be. I want to be me.”

  “But you are you,” I reasoned with her. “You quit the cheerleading squad, you kicked ass in basketball. You don’t need to be anybody but you because the real Diane Monroe is pretty freakin’ special.”

  She tucked a strand of her short hair behind her ear. “I’m still figuring out who that person is. I always had a plan: be the girlfriend, be the cheerleader, be the straight-A student, but then I f
lipped everything over. Believe me when I say I’m so happy I did it. But I’m not done growing. All I want is to figure out what I want to do. Meanwhile, you know what would make me very happy?”

  “What?”

  “You winning Prom queen.”

  I laughed. “Oh, please — that would bring the social hierarchy of this school to its knees. It’s never going to happen.”

  “You never know,” Diane teased. “How much fun do you think I’m going to have watching Pam and Audrey scratch each other’s eyes out since they’ll now assume they’re the front-runners?”

  I didn’t know what to find harder to believe: someone besides Diane being Prom queen or Diane getting joy out of disrupting the delicate balance of her former cheerleading besties.

  Who knew Diane Monroe would be such a troublemaker?

  Not me, but I wholeheartedly approved.

  Tyson’s band took the stage at eight o’clock. There were only four hours left to go.

  Morgan happily took to the dance floor for this shift. The rest of our group sat on the bleachers, eating pizza. The band would be playing for an hour, switching between covers and originals — all upbeat to keep the momentum up.

  Mom approached us, wiping the sweat off her forehead. She’d been out there dancing practically the entire time. “I’m going for a coffee run — can I get you girls anything?”

  Usually, Mom would tsk if she saw me drinking coffee, always harping that it was going to stunt my growth, even though I was already four inches taller than her. But it was clear these were desperate times.

  And desperate times called for caffeine.

  I started writing down our sugary coffee orders when Tyson’s band launched into a cover of “I Saw Her Standing There.”

  Morgan came dancing over, motioning us to join her. Mom looked suspiciously at her.

  That woman never forgets anything.

  We obliged Morgan and danced along to the song. It was nice to have these moments when we could fully enjoy ourselves and not worry about the next hour or what we had to do.

  The audience applauded enthusiastically after the number ended. Morgan glowed as she cheered for Tyson. He, in turn, blew her a kiss.