“I know, but I so want to,” I said. “I have that dress.”
“You could wear that dress with Angelo,” she said.
“I want to go with Jackson. I was always supposed to go with Jackson, he asked me a long time ago.”
“Not exactly,” she reminded me.
“But still.”
“It’s your funeral,” she said. “Maybe you should come to dinner with me and Matt, to keep it all under control.”
Matt added two more onto his reservation, and we all had dinner at the top of the Space Needle, which is this restaurant inside an old World’s Fair building that turns around and around so you get a 360-degree view by the time you finish your dinner. They didn’t have any vegetarian food, so I ate three side dishes: creamed spinach, mashed potatoes and a salad. Then we drove to the pier in two separate cars, and got on the miniyacht just as it was pulling out.
Here’s what I remember from the dance: Cricket looked beautiful, in a pink dress with her sleek blond hair piled on top of her head. Nora looked sexy, showing off her great boobs in a low-cut black thing. She took pictures of us all with her Instamatic.
Jackson touched my hand when we were dancing and told me I was pretty. There was hardly anywhere to sit down. When the band played a slow song, Jackson asked me to dance, and put his cheek against mine as we did. Then he suggested we go upstairs and get some air.
I didn’t have a coat. It was freezing on deck. He put his arm around me to keep me warm. It was the first time we were alone all evening. We were standing in the moonlight, looking over the railing at the lake, watching the light play across the dark water, like I’d imagined. Jackson was talking about some anime movie he’d seen.
I wasn’t listening.
I was looking at his mouth and feeling his warm hand against my chilly shoulder.
It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to do what I did: I put my hand on his neck and kissed him.
He kissed me back.
I thought: This is right. I forgive everything. He wants me again. We’ll be together.
Then he pushed me away. “Ruby,” Jackson said in a strange, loud, public voice. “What are you doing? That’s not how it is, now. We’re here as friends. You know I’m with Kim.”
I looked across the deck. Standing there, looking at us—Heidi Sussman and Finn Murphy. Jackson pushed past them and ran down a set of steps.
As soon as I was alone on the deck of the boat, I had a panic attack. Heidi and Finn had disappeared, and there was no one out there except Meghan and some seniors, down at the other end, plus one couple who had their tongues down each other’s throats. I felt so dizzy I had to hold on to the railing to stand up, my heart was hammering, my breath was coming in tiny gasps; I felt like there was no oxygen, and I broke out in a sweat, even though it was freezing. Eventually I staggered over to a bench.
Noel came out and sat next to me. He’s the boy from Painting Elective who sent me that carnation with the goofy rhyme on Valentine’s Day. “How do I love thee? As high as pigs can fly.” He was wearing a tuxedo, which no other boys were doing (they wore suits), and he lit a cigarette with an old-fashioned silver lighter.
This Noel is one of those not-quite-friends-with-every-body people who never seems like he’s being serious. He’s very ironic about Tate and everything it stands for (preppy white lacrosse players driving BMWs), but he’s got a lot of confidence and no one gives him any crap. His shaggy blond hair sticks out in a ridiculous way that I think probably requires hair gel. His left eyebrow is pierced. That night, his combat boots were sticking out under his tux, big steel toes glinting in the moonlight.
If Noel has girlfriends, he has them out of school. He came to the dance alone, which almost no one could get away with, but Noel is such a man of ironic distance that he pulled it off and no one thought he was a leper.
“Hey, Ruby,” he said, sinking down next to me on the bench near the ship’s railing. “I hear there’s a party at your house, and now your boyfriend’s in a twist over something and you don’t even have a ride to your own fête. Can that be true, or is it a load of Tate gossip?”
I couldn’t believe I’d let Jackson tell people that party was still on. He’d probably invited half the junior and sophomore classes. “How do you know I don’t have a ride?” I asked. (Would Jackson really leave without me?)
“Are you kidding?” Noel scrunched up his nose and took a drag off his cigarette. “It’s all over the boat.”
“Ag. Well, then I’m sure no one’s coming to my house.”
“You better believe they are. Five people asked me if I was going. Ariel Oliveri. Katarina Dolgen. It’s going to be a scene.”
“Oh, no.”
“If I’m invited, I’ll give you a ride home.”
“Of course you’re invited. I—I haven’t had the best week. Jackson told everybody about it. It was his idea.”
Noel smiled. “That’s okay. I know. I keep up on my Ruby Oliver news.”
I was so grateful, I felt like Noel was a knight in shining armor. He gave me his jacket to wear and hustled me into his car. We drove back to my house and my parents had set out coolers full of soft drinks down on the end of the dock where the boats are—plus a bunch of folding chairs and some candles in paper bags, which looked so pretty. People were already standing around when I arrived: Matt and Nora (who said she was tired and had her mom pick her up right after I got there)2; Ariel and Shiv; Katarina and Kyle; a bunch of junior friends of Jackson’s; Shep “Cabbie” Cabot and a senior girl with big boobs; some sophomores I knew from lacrosse. Finn and Heidi came a little while later. Cricket3 and Pete never showed.
It was a beautiful night, I was the hostess of a party full of popular people wearing gorgeous clothes; there was a boy in a tux by my side. It should have been great.
Instead, I was shattered.
Someone handed me a beer. I don’t remember who. I’d never really had more than a couple of sips before that, or maybe a little wine at one of my mom’s opening night parties—but I drank the whole can. And I’d like to blame what happened next on that—only I can’t, because as Doctor Z says, I am in charge of myself.
Here’s a list of semi-beer-induced bad things that happened at the dock party, and I admit that three of them are my own stupid fault:
One: I held hands with Noel. I grabbed it on purpose when Finn and Heidi arrived. I felt like I wanted protection. He kept holding it for a while, and I liked it. But I felt weird about it the next day. I hadn’t meant to be flirtatious.4
Two: It soon became clear that the story Heidi was spreading around about what she saw on the boat did not involve Jackson kissing me back—which he did for at least twenty seconds, I swear. Heidi’s story5 involved Jackson being a faithful saint who was only doing a favor taking a poor, rejected four-eyed ex to a dance when she had no other date, but then she (me) made this huge unwanted pass at him and he had to push her (me) away, in order to remain true to the no-butt bitch he was currently dating (Kim), which of course he would, because even though he couldn’t really care about her (Kim), he was still such an excellent guy.6
Three: Angelo Martinez showed up! I never in a zillion years thought he would, even though I invited him. But there I was, talking to Noel and feeling dizzy from the beer and also annoyed that all these people were more than happy to drink my parents’ pop and stand on our dock while slavering over my multiple rejections and humiliations. I was trying to explain to Noel how I didn’t ever want to talk about Jackson again and did he think Jackson still liked me? when I glanced over at Katarina and who was she talking to but Angelo! He was wearing chinos and a sweatshirt—and he was holding a corsage.