the shot. He scores!" Connor threw his hands over his head, victorious, and made the sound of a
crowd cheering wildly.
"Nice one," I said.
"Thanks, Red," he said, coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist.
It felt so good to stand there with Connor holding me. It was like the whole horrible fight with
my family hadn't even happened. Tie nuzzled the back of my neck.
"I missed you, Red," he said.
And right then and there, I made a decision. Even if
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my dad grounded me, I was going to the prom. If I had to run away and live out the rest of my
days on the streets, so be it. Connor was taking some other girl over my dead body.
I turned around and we kissed. "I missed you, too," I said, when we finally came up for air. Had I really been grossed out by his kiss Friday night? Clearly my brain had experienced exposure to
some toxic chemical or something.
I went in for another kiss.
"Mmm, nice," he said, pulling away. "So you gonna come to the gym?"
Watching Connor, Dave, and Matt lift weights didn't exactly sound like the most exciting way to
spend a period, but Connor was the only bright spot in my otherwise dismal life. If he wanted me
to watch him work out, I'd watch him work out.
"Let me just finish this one thing," I said. My landscape was going about a million times faster than my self-portrait ever had, but I was still behind since I'd started on it so late. I'd sworn to
Ms. Daniels that I'd have it finished by the end of the week, and one section was proving almost
impossible to get right. "Give me twenty minutes."
"You know it," he said, backing away. God, he was handsome; I could still feel his lips on mine.
"Be there or be square."
Sam was leaving the studio as I was walking in, and since
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I was in my usual post-Connor-kiss haze, I barreled right into him.
"You know, art is not normally a contact sport," he said.
"I'm really sorry," I said. Clearly Connor needed his own warning labeclass="underline" do not attempt to resume normal activity within five minutes of kissing this person.
"No, it was all me," said Sam. "I'm running late."
I bent down and picked up the pen he'd dropped on the floor when we collided. "For a very
important date?"
"Thanks," he said, taking the pen and slipping it into his back pocket. "For a very unpleasant date, actually. I've got to get my tux."
I remembered how much fun Madison and Jessica and I'd had shopping for our dresses. "That'll
be great," I said, smiling both at the memory and my recent decision to go to the prom no matter
the consequences. "You'll probably really like it."
"Actually, I probably really won't," he said. Then he laughed, but it sounded forced. "Sorry, don't let me rain on your prom parade." He patted me on the shoulder and started down the corridor.
"See ya."
"See ya," I called after him.
The studio was totally empty. I set up my easel and started working, focusing on the tiny corner
of the canvas that had been giving me trouble. The green I'd mixed looked good, and I smeared it
a little with a sponge. Then I dipped my brush into some blue and swirled a small line in the
green.
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Yeah. I blotted the edges until the blue was a fuzzy shadow on the grass. Perfect. Dip, swirl, blot.
Dip, swirl, blot.
When I looked up at the clock, half an hour had passed. Damn. I totally hadn't meant to keep
Connor waiting. I put my painting away and pushed the easel back against the wall as fast as I
could, then brought my brush over to the sink to wash it. Of course the paint took forever to
come out; no matter how hard I scrubbed at the bristles, the water refused to run clear. Just as I
started to get really stressed out about how long everything was taking, I noticed that the rich
blue running down the drain was almost the exact same color as my prom dress. Like Connor
was going to remember I'd once been ten minutes late to meet him at the gym when he saw me in
that dress. The dress. I pictured my dress, pictured myself wearing it as I floated across the dance
floor toward a tux-clad Connor. How awesome was it going to be to feel his arms around me as
we slow danced the night away? Connor and Lucy at the prom. I closed my eyes to better see the
image.
A second later my eyes flew open. My heart was pounding and I couldn't catch my breath. I'd
just done what Madison told me to do at Roses are Red--pictured myself at prom, having the
most romantic time of my life, slow dancing with my perfect prince.
The only problem was, in my picture, I wasn't dancing with Connor.
I was dancing with Sam.
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Chapter Twenty-seven
The CD Jessica had burned for me may have successfully drowned out the sounds of dinner
being served, but it couldn't do anything about the delicious smells wafting downstairs.
Chinese take-out.
I couldn't believe it. We never got Chinese food. Mention Chinese food in front of my
stepmother and she'd go on for hours about sodium content, fatty oils, MSG. When my dad and I
lived in San Francisco, we probably ate Chinese twice a week. Since moving to New York ten
months ago, we'd had it three times. Each time, Mara had been out for the evening.
I felt like a guerilla warrior hiding in the jungle. They could do what they wanted, but no way
were they going to smoke me out. The baby carrots I'd stashed in my room over the weekend
were all gone. I turned up the
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volume on my iPod. Who needs food when you have Janis Joplin? I sang a few lines out loud.
"Summertime, and the living is easy. Fish are jumping, and the cotton is high."
I definitely smelled orange chicken, my all-time favorite dish. In San Francisco, there was a
place that made it perfectly--crunchy skin outside, tender chicken inside, lots of caramelized
orange peel. Two of the three restaurants we'd tried on Long Island made it kind of chewy and
bland, but the third really knew what they were doing. My mouth filled with saliva, and I
swallowed. The song ended, and the prom song came on.
Prom. Connor. Sam. I snapped off the music and rolled over, burying my face in my pillow.
Why isn't there an off button for your brain?
I felt dizzy, whether from hunger or my thoughts I wasn't sure. Either way, I couldn't just stay
where I was. I decided that since Mara, Emma, and Amy were definitely eating in the dining
room, I'd go upstairs, serve myself some food, eat it alone in the kitchen, and then watch the
basketball game in the den. The only thing worse than eating and watching a game by yourself is
starving and not watching a game by yourself. I headed up.
When I pushed open the door, I was greeted by the single most shocking sight of my life. Not
only were Emma, Amy, and Mara eating around the kitchen table (something Mara says only
servants should do), but my dad was sitting there with them.
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"I thought we might be able to lure you up here," he said, nodding at the table piled high with
takeout containers.
I looked from one of them to the other, trying to figure out what, exactly, was going on. Emma