What Dr. Chester didn’t know was that the after-party had been planned months ago, and the organizers hadn’t been naïve enough to think they could get away with holding it at somebody’s house with their parents just upstairs. It was going to be held at an old, abandoned factory just out of town. The father of one of the seniors was an architect who’d been working on converting the space into apartments. He’d encountered some objections from local environment groups, and the project was temporarily on hold while waiting for permits to be approved. The factory was spacious, dark and, most of all, secluded. Nobody would think to look for the after-party there. No matter how loud the music, there would be nobody to complain because there were no residential streets nearby. Somebody knew a professional DJ who had offered his services free for the night. The kids could hardly wait for the prom to finish so the “real party” could start, but I knew I’d never contemplate going, even if Xavier had been there with me. I’d been to one party in my human life, and that was enough.
Dinner followed the speeches, and when we’d finished eating, we lined up on a raised platform to have our photos taken for the school magazine. Most couples adopted a standard pose, arm around the other’s waist, the girls smiling demurely, the boys standing rigid, terrified of making a wrong move and ruining the photo — a crime for which they knew they’d never be forgiven.
I should have known that Jake would do something different. When it was our turn, he dropped to one knee, plucked a rose from the table arrangement and clenched it between his teeth.
“Smile, princess,” he whispered in my ear.
The photographer, who had been clicking mechanically, brightened when she saw him, grateful for the variation. As we stepped down from the dais, I saw other girls glaring pointedly at their partners. Their eyes said, “Why can’t you be more like that romantic Jake Thorn?” I felt sorry for the boy who did try to mimic Jake’s gesture and ended up pricking his lip on the rose’s thorns. He was led away to the restroom by his lobster-faced date.
After the photos, a dessert of wobbling crème caramel arrived. This was followed by an interlude of dancing, and finally we were called back to our seats for the announcement of the awards. We watched as the prom committee, including Molly and Taylah, climbed onto the dais, carrying envelopes and trophies.
“It is our pleasure,” began a girl named Bella, “to announce this year’s award winners for the Bryce Hamilton Prom. We have put a lot of thought and effort into these decisions and before we start we want you to know that you’re all winners inside!”
I heard Jake suppress a snort of laughter.
“We’ve added more categories to the list this year in recognition of the effort you’ve all made tonight,” the girl went on. “Let’s start with the award for Best Hair.”
It seemed to me that the world had gone mad. I returned Jake’s look of dismay as we sat through awards for Best Hair, Best Gown, Most Transformed, Best Tie, Best Shoes, Best Makeup, Most Glamorous, and Most Natural Beauty. Finally, the minor awards were over, and it was time for the announcement that everybody had been waiting for: the winners of Prom King and Queen. Excited whispers flew around the room. This was the award most hotly contested. Every girl in the audience was holding her breath and the boys were pretending not to look interested. I wasn’t sure what all the fuss was about. It wasn’t exactly something to include on their résumés.
“And this year’s winners are…,” began the speaker. She paused for dramatic effect and the audience groaned in frustration. “Bethany Church and Jake Thorn!”
The room burst into wild applause, and for a split second I scanned the crowd for the winners until I realized it was my name that had been called. I maintained my stony expression as I walked up onto the dais with Jake, although his disgust seemed to have morphed into amusement. Everything felt wrong as Molly placed the crown on my head and presented me with my sash. Jake, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying the attention. We had to lead the crowd in a waltz, so I gave Jake my hand and he slipped his arm around my waist. Even though I’d practiced waltzing with Xavier, I didn’t feel so confident now that he wasn’t with me. Luckily angels have the advantage of catching on to things relatively easily. I followed Jake’s lead, and soon the rhythm of the dance was bolstered in my mind. My limbs moved like water, and I was surprised to find that Jake was just as graceful.
Ivy and Gabriel passed by us, their bodies moving in sync, flowing like silk. Their feet hardly touched the floor, and they looked as if they were floating. Even with their somber expressions, they were so entrancing to watch that people stopped and stared, giving them a wide berth on the dance floor. My siblings soon got tired of being the entertainment for the evening and headed back to their table.
As the music changed tempo, Jake whirled me to the edge of the dance floor. He leaned forward so that his lips brushed against my ear.
“You’re dazzling.”
“So are you.” I laughed, trying to keep the mood light. “All the girls think so.”
“Do you think so?”
“Well… I think you’re very charming.”
“Charming,” he mused. “I suppose that’ll do for now. You know, I’ve never met a girl with a face like yours. Your skin is the color of moonlight; your eyes are fathomless.”
“Now you’re just overdoing it,” I teased. I could sense him about to launch into one of his tirades and wanted to prevent it at all costs.
“You’re not good at accepting compliments, are you?” he said.
I blushed. “Not really. I never know what to say.”
“How about a simple thank-you?”
“Thanks, Jake.”
“That wasn’t so hard. Now, I could use some fresh air. What about you?”
“It’s a bit hard to get out,” I said, nodding in the direction of the teachers standing guard at the exits.
“I’ve sussed out an escape route. Come on, I’ll show you.”
Jake’s escape route was via a back door that had somehow been overlooked. It was past the restrooms and through a storeroom at the rear of the building. He helped me over the buckets and mops stacked against the walls, and suddenly I found myself alone with him on the balcony that wound around the whole exterior of the pavilion. It was a clear night, the sky was scattered with stars, and the breeze was cool on my skin. Through the windows we could see couples still dancing, the girls a little wilted now and appreciatively allowing their weight to be supported by their partners. At some distance from the others stood Gabriel and Ivy, shimmering as if they’d been sprinkled with stardust.
“So many stars,” Jake murmured, so softly he might have been speaking to himself, “but none as beautiful as you.”
He was so close that I could feel his breath on my cheek. I lowered my eyes, wishing he would stop offering me compliments. I tried deflecting the focus onto him.
“I wish I was as sure of myself as you are. Nothing seems to faze you.”
“Why would it?” he replied. “Life’s a game — and I happen to know how to play.”
“Even you must make mistakes sometimes.”
“That’s exactly the sort of attitude that stops people from winning,” he said.
“Everyone loses at some point; but we can learn from loss.”
“Who told you that?” Jake shook his head, his emerald eyes boring into mine. “I don’t like to lose and I always get what I want.”
“So right now do you have everything you want?”
“Not quite,” he replied. “One thing is missing.”
“And what’s that?” I asked warily. Something told me I was treading on dangerous ground.