“Ohhh,” Chelsea said, as if she understood everything perfectly now.
“But I wasn’t talking about Logan anyway. I was talking about Josh Benson. He’s back from college, and I’ve run into him a couple of times. I’m thinking about asking him to the prom.”
My friends looked at me silently. Finally Aubrie said, “As a revenge type of thing because Logan asked Cassidy?”
“No," I insisted, "not for revenge. This has nothing to do with Logan. Just forget Logan. I like Josh. I just don’t know how to casually ask him to the prom.”
“Don’t do it casually,” Chelsea said. “Come up with some cute idea he won’t be able to turn down—like a singing telegram or something.”
Rachel rested her elbows on the table and leaned toward me. “My sister asked a guy out by putting cinnamon rolls in a toy dump truck, and then she attached a note that said, ‘I’d like to haul your buns to the Sadie Hawkins.’ ”
Aubrie nodded. “My cousin asked her date to Sadie Hawkins by stapling a pair of Superman underwear to a poster and then writing on it, I’LL BE BRIEF, COME WITH ME TO
THE DANCE.”
Chelsea hit her hand against the table as though she’d thought of the perfect idea.
“A baby chicken in a basket with a note that says, ‘This chick would love to go to the prom with you.’ ”
“Good ideas,” I said, “but somehow I can’t see myself giving Josh underwear, live poultry, or anything that references his rear end.”
“You’ll think of something,” Chelsea said. “There are hundreds of cute ways you can ask him.”
The first bell rang, and we got up to go to our classes. As Rachel tucked her books under her arm she said, “Do an invitation with candy. Guys love to eat.”
I thought about it as I walked to class, and with each step my spirits rose. Chelsea was right. There were hundreds of cute ways to ask Josh to the prom, and guys didn’t turn down cute invitations, did they? Besides, if I gave him a Candygram, I wouldn’t have to face him while I asked him out. Definitely a plus.
Throughout the day I thought of various ideas I’d heard about over the years. I finally decided to buy bags of Mounds, Big Hunks, bubble gum, and Starbursts. I would spread them on his bedroom floor and tape some to a note that read, “It would be Mounds of fun to go to the prom with a Big Hunk like you. I’m Bursting to know your answer. Don’t blow it, and give me a call.” Then I’d leave my name and phone number.
The hard part would be arranging a time when I could go to his house to set up the invitation. I didn’t want to call his mother and ask permission to come into the house to leave the invitation, but what choice did I have? I absolutely wasn’t going to ask Elise to let me in.
Besides, maybe his mother would become my ally in the affair. I could almost see her telling him, “You’re not going to turn down Samantha, are you? She’s such a nice girl and went to all of that work . . .”
I called her when I got home from school, explained the situation, and asked when Josh would be gone so I could come over.
“He’ll be at the store until seven tonight,” she said. “The rest of us will be in and out all evening. Elise will be at drama practice . . .”
She said more, but my mind stopped on the Elise at drama practice part. It was perfect timing. Elise wouldn’t be around to harass me while I spread candy on the floor.
Mrs. Bensen ended her statement with, “so someone should be here to let you in, but if not, I’ll leave the door unlocked. Josh’s room is the first door on the left, at the top of the stairs.”
“Um . . . your dog?”
“I’ll make sure he’s in the backyard so he doesn’t bother you.” She sounded distracted while she said all this, as though her mind had already shifted to the upcoming plans for the evening, so I worried she might forget about this little detail. Then instead of a cute prom invitation, Josh would find my mangled corpse on his floor.
But that night as I walked up to the Bensons’ front door, gripping my bags of candy in case I needed to use them as a weapon, I heard Goliath barking in the backyard. Josh’s mom had remembered.
No one answered the bell, so I self-consciously opened the door and made my way to Josh’s bedroom. It was strange standing alone in his room, looking at the memorabilia on his dresser and seeing the hamper with his clothes. It all seemed so intimate. So personal. I put my stuff down on his bed and resisted the urge to open his drawers to see what he kept in there.
Tape. I needed to tape the note somewhere. The dresser mirror? The closet door? If I opened his closet, I could run my fingers across the shirts he’d be wearing all next week.
I ripped off a piece of tape and stuck it on the back of my note. I needed to do this a nd leave fast. I’d only spent a few minutes in Josh’s room, and already I was thinking like a stalker. Besides, what would I do if someone came home and found me inside of Josh’s closet caressing his Tshirts?
I pressed the note on the floor and taped candy onto it. Then I popped a Starburst into my mouth while I decided how to arrange the rest of the candy on the floor.
A heart? Too mushy. Scattered haphazardly? Too boring. An arrow would work. I got down on my hands and knees and formed the candy into the tip of an arrow pointing at the note, then I scooted backward, creating a tail. It was a long tail because I’d bought so much candy, and by the time I’d finished, it stretched out of Josh’s room into the hallway.
Oh, well. It sort of looked like it was supposed to do that—as though I’d been planning to give him a clue about what was coming even before he reached his bedroom.
I picked up my things and, feeling a bit like I was Goldilocks, hurried out before any bears could catch me.
For the rest of the evening, while I tried to do my homework, I listened for my phone to ring.
7:15 Certainly he was home by now. Why hadn’t he called?
7:30 Maybe he hadn’t gone upstairs to his room yet. Maybe he was one of those guys who liked to come home, eat, and unwind in front of the TV.
7:45 Okay. Maybe he was still in front of the TV, but wasn’t anybody else home yet? Hadn’t anyone noticed my candy arrow and called down, “Hey Josh, you might want to come upstairs and check this out.”
8:00 Maybe Elise had come home and done something diabolical to my invitation.
I wouldn’t put it past her.
8:15 Maybe he wasn’t calling because he just didn’t want to go to the prom with me.
8:30 He was probably now rehearsing his speech about how he’d decided to become a monk and had thus given up dating.
8:45 Josh hated me and wasn’t even going to give me the benefit of a poorly thought out and obviously transparent excuse. I would never hear from him again.
At 9:00 the doorbell rang, and Mom called out, “Samantha, there’s someone here to see you.”
I padded down the stairs and found Josh waiting by the front door. His hair was tousled, as though he’d been running his fingers through it (or trying to rip it out?), and he wore a beleaguered expression. (He was having a hard time coming up with even a transparent excuse?)
“Hi, Samantha,” he said slowly.
“Hi, Josh.” I gripped the edge of the banister. If it couldn’t be painless, I hoped it would at least be quick.
“Sorry it’s taken me so long to get back to you. I had to take my dog to the vet.”
Of course, why hadn’t I thought of that before? Usually, when a guy doesn’t call you at 7:00 P.M., it’s because he’s taking his dog to the vet. Those are the vet’s busiest hours.
And then a horrible thought slammed into me. In my mind I could suddenly see my candy arrow on Josh’s floor and Goliath loping toward it. All of that candy—and put so con-veniently at dog level. “Um, why did you have to take your dog to the vet?”
“Well, he sort of ate your invitation.”