Exposure (19 page)

“
Sur
prise,” Mom said in a singsong voice. “I thought you wouldn't mind having your boys along for dinner.”

Dad was dressed handsomely in the Charlie Chaplin suit I'd borrowed at Halloween, while Ollie had on his green footie pajamas and a black clip-on bowtie.

“Who's the celebrity bombshell?” Dad said, eyeing my glamorous getup. “We'd better get some family photos, ASAP, before the little guy figures out how to get that tie off.” Mom extended her arms to relieve him of my baby brother, who gurgled happily as she kissed him on the top of his blond head. The four of us posed while Margot snapped our picture. It occurred to me that there might not be anything very typical about our little brood, but the fact that we could all still get together as a family had to mean something, didn't it?

As much as I enjoyed our family dinner at the elegant, if past-its-prime French restaurant known for its crack-like chocolate mousse, I could barely eat a thing for fear of ruining my makeup. While Dad paid the check I began to get butterflies in my stomach in anticipation of the rest of the night. The only thing that would trump the humiliation factor of showing up without a date was being seen getting dropped off by my parents' station wagon in front of the Royal Plaza Hotel. I tactfully told Dad and Mom as much as we drove to the hotel, and instructed them on executing a stealth military-style drive-by at the corner. Ollie was already fast asleep in his car seat when I slammed the car door and made a break for the hotel entrance.

In the lobby, a blushing bellhop fell all over himself to give me directions to “Ballroom C,” and although I still felt like a giraffe on roller skates in my high heels, I couldn't help but bask in my newfound revelation: I looked hot.

“Miss Kingston! Quite a change!” said Principal Schaeffer, who was positioned outside the ballroom along with some other faculty members, checking students in. “What, no camera around your neck tonight?” He shoved a ballpoint pen in my face and pointed out where I should John Hancock the “I won't drink” contract all attendees were forced to sign upon entry. He was either unaware or had turned a blind eye to the fact that most seniors were skilled in the art of smuggling booze. Even I knew sneaking the hard stuff into prom was as simple as washing out travel-sized plastic bottles of hand lotion or hair spray, then refilling them with vodka.
Voila —
instant shots to be downed in the bathroom. Adult chaperones inspecting purses were none the wiser. Didn't it strike them as odd that so many girls carried fifteen-pound tote bags with a week's worth of toiletry items instead of smaller clutches? Duh. I had no intention of getting trashed tonight, but I imagined dozens of my classmates had already hit the sauce.

Upon closer inspection of the grand ballroom, my first impression of the Prom Decorating Committee's handiwork was “amateur.” There was a crudely adorned stage and a glittering disco-ball-topped dance floor, but the only other thing that disguised the room from being the site of tedious business conferences by day were reams upon reams of crepe paper and a large white banner that read, “Party Like It's 1399!!” in a medieval Gothic typeface. That, and the photography area: an archway of silver and white balloons, under which couples posed for cheezed-out portraits in front of a cardboard “stone” wall dotted with paint by numbers coats-of-arms. A silver monstrosity of a castle with bubble-gum pink turrets was shoved in the corner as if an afterthought. Gross. One more reason to be grateful I didn't have a date. Nevertheless, I was starting to feel just a tad conspicuous standing by myself in the middle of this cavernous room. I did a quick scan for Cat and company, but didn't see them anywhere.

“Skye Kingston?” I glanced over and saw Duff Wallace hanging his tux jacket on the back of a chair at an empty table. I smiled and gave a quick wave, not expecting that he'd actually motion for me to come over. I was half-surprised he even remembered me. “I barely recognized you!” he said, as I greeted him with a tentative hug. “You look
amazing!!
”

“Welcome home! How was Scotland?”

“If I never hear another set of bagpipes again in my life it'll be too soon.”

“I can see where that might start to get a little grating over time.”

“Like a duck being tortured. And did you know hamburgers over there are literally made out of
ham?
”

“Eww, gross! You're making that up.”

“Okay, maybe,” he said. “But whatever's in them, they are full-on nasty. And that's only for starters. They eat lamb guts and something called blood sausage over there. Can you tell I've lost weight?” I didn't know whether he wanted me to answer yes or no, and besides, he looked pretty much the same, so I grinned stupidly and said nothing. “So, who are you here with?”

“I came stag.”

“No kidding.” He looked genuinely surprised. I wasn't sure whether he really was interested in chatting with me or just being polite, but since I hadn't seen anyone else to glom onto, I decided to keep up the small talk for as long as he seemed willing.

“So … what's it like being back here now that you've seen the world?”

“To be honest, I have mixed emotions about all this.” He motioned with his hand at the room in general, and I recognized a hint of glumness in his voice. “I never intended on missing my entire senior year here, and now that I'm back, well, everything seems different. Let's just say I'm not thrilled about the regime change … if you get my drift.”

No sooner had the words escaped his mouth than Craig and Beth walked by, looking like they ought to be entering the Academy Awards surrounded by a team of bodyguards, publicists, paparazzi, and screaming fans. Beth was wearing a floor-length strapless black gown with a corseted bustier to maximize her cleavage. A side slit running the length of her skirt exposed nearly all of her left thigh. Her smoky eye-makeup and the black rose affixed to her blonde updo made her look like a tragically beautiful blood-sucking vampire. I didn't hear the catty remark she had just lobbed at Duff because I was too busy staring, trance-like, at Craig, who in turn couldn't take his eyes off me. In his black tuxedo suit, he looked taller and more dashing than I'd ever seen him. Bond-like, you might even say. By the time I snapped back to reality, Duff was issuing his former teammate a warning.

“Careful, bro,” he said. “Don't reject the black widow or she might accuse you of date rape and get you shipped to Siberia. Hell, you're lucky to escape with your life. Just ask Duncan.
Oh wait
. He's not around to ask,
is he
?” Beth's eyes narrowed to mere slits.

“Our lawyers agreed that your reason for leaving town wouldn't be a topic of conversation,” she said, seething.

“Oh that's right. You get to lie all you want and I don't get to say anything.”

Beth scowled, but I noticed she didn't exactly argue his point. Craig was visibly unnerved. He jerked Beth away by the elbow and walked her to the corner of the room where they proceeded to have what looked like a heated discussion.

“Sorry about that, Skye,” Duff said. “Those two are just long overdue for a karmic ass-kicking. Or maybe a not-so-karmic one.”

“It's all Beth's doing,” I said, grateful to have someone who seemed to perhaps know almost as much as I did about Beth's wicked ways.

“Oh, roger that,” he said. “The ironic part is, only it's not so funny from my perspective: I wasn't even at the party where she claims I roofied her drink. She almost ruined my life with her lies. It was her word against mine. She's clearly mental, but MacKenzie? That dude's only looking out for number one.”

“No, Craig's just collateral damage,” I argued. “Beth's got this irrational hold over him, but he's not who you think he is — ”

“Indecision
is
a decision,” Duff said, with loads more wisdom than I would have expected from a jock. I couldn't help but venture deeper into this conversation.

“What's that you mentioned about Duncan?”

“Oh, nothing, really. He texted me a couple of days before he died saying she made a pathetic play for him. Totally unrelated to his death, of course, but still. It just proves what a skank she is.”

Little did he know. Before I could reply, Kristy swooped in like a glittery lunatic to decree that Duff
must
join her on the dance floor. Just when I realized I was alone again, Kaya, Tess, and Cat descended upon me, laughing uproariously at something, as usual. Cat was wearing a drapey, off-the-shoulder minidress that matched the platinum streak in her hair. She looked punk-edgy without crossing the line into slutty. Tess wore an adorable teal fringed flapper dress with a white feather fascinator in her hair, hot pink fishnet stockings, and T-strap silver pumps. Kaya had an emerald green Grecian-style gown with braided fabric straps; a gorgeous white lily corsage was her only accessory.

“Girl, you look fierce! And oh my god — look Tess, she's not wearing her All-Stars for once,” Kaya said, pointing at my shoes.

“I thought about it, but I figured I'd save 'em for a dressier occasion.”

“Whatever. Come on, we saved you a place at our table.”

The hours flew by as we danced up a sweaty, celebratory storm. My makeup had no doubt slid off my face, but I didn't care. In a few more weeks, my high school career would be behind me, and as I looked around this swirling room full of eighteen-year-olds attempting to look like sophisticated adults, I realized that all of these people would soon be
real
adults, mere footnotes on my life, never to be seen again. Even though I barely interacted with a quarter of the people in my graduating class, it felt bittersweet, as if I had some kinship of shared mutual experiences with every single person in the room.

A slow song interrupted a string of great music, prompting a changing of the guard on the dance floor. Singletons headed back to their tables, while starry-eyed couples walked to the center of the floor. As I weaved past a few tables, I encountered Lenny and Megan walking hand-in-hand toward me. Megan must have wisely talked him out of a coral-colored cummerbund to match her dress, but she hadn't managed to avoid the tacky LED-lit corsage that shone like a beacon on her wrist. Her face beamed even brighter.

“You guys look great,” I said, giving them both hugs.

“See!” Lenny turned to Megan, with a startling intimacy in their body language. “I
told
you Skye was cool with it.” Megan gave me a hesitant grin.

“I felt so awful about leaving you high and dry. I know how much you were looking forward to being Lenny's date.”

“Don't give it a second thought,” I said, rolling my eyes, inwardly, but still genuinely happy that this odd couple had found romance. “Who knew all your bickering had flirtatious undertones? I was more than happy to bow out, so no worries. Although I will say your date is looking good in that monkey suit.”

Lenny grinned from ear to ear, just as Jillian bopped her way in our direction holding four plastic cups of sloshing red punch in her hands.

“A toast!” she said, pawning a drink off on each of us. “To the journalists of East Anchorage High! Wherever life takes us, may we continue to make headlines.”

“Good ones, that is,” Megan said.

“Cheers!” we said in unison. I desperately had to pee, so I excused myself and headed for the hallway in the direction of the lobby restroom. When I got there, I found Jenna waving her hands manically.

“What's the matter?”

“Oh, nothing, babe,” she said with a smile. “Just air drying. A tree died for those paper towels, you know.”

“Oh, yeah. Uh huh.” I nodded. “Great dress!”

“Sus
tain
able!” she said in a sing songy voice, twirling to show off a gown that looked at once both haute couture and Amish. “They're announcing King and Queen soon,” she continued. “Do you think Beth's recent campaign to kiss the ass of every senior in school actually bought her any votes?”

“You never know. I've learned not to question the absolute power of cheerleaders. But I think she forgot to kiss mine, at least. Sorry, Jenna, my bladder is bursting.”

“All right, go to it, girl. And here's for the one you didn't get from Beth!” She blew me a parting air kiss.

When I exited the ladies' room, I noticed Craig sitting alone in one of the brocade high-backed armchairs in the lobby. He'd ditched his tuxedo jacket and had undone his bowtie, which hung limply from his collar.

“Lose your way?” I casually remarked.

“That about sums it up.” I stopped walking and returned to face him.

“Hey, they're coming to get you soon.” He looked confused. Alarmed. “The grand coronation? The man who would be king? The first dance with your lovely queen and your adoring court and all that. They're announcing it any minute now.”

“Yeah,” he said with all the exuberance of someone waiting for his oil to be changed at Jiffy Lube. “You look stunning.” He glanced at me with more purpose now. I sighed and sat down in the wingback chair next to his. Among this furniture, we looked like we should be ordering crumpets and tea from someone named Jeeves, not living it up at our high school prom.

“Everyone keeps saying that tonight,” I said. “‘You look great, I didn't recognize you'
…
blah, blah, blah.”

“Well, it's true.”

“So what? The three-hundred-and-sixty-four other days of the year I'm totally ugly? It's just a little makeup — it's not like some sorcerer magically reconfigured the molecular structure of my cells or something. It's a little insulting actually. Yesterday at school I was average, unremarkable, and today I'm a knockout? Whatever.”

“Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?”

“Block any compliment that comes your way. I get the feeling it's easier for you, safer for you, to position yourself as the homely wallflower.” My brain couldn't even begin to formulate a response to his statement, so I just stared at him, dumbfounded. “You've created this fortress around yourself,” he continued, “this castle wall with a moat and a portcullis and a thick, ironclad door that says, ‘Keep out.'” Damn, he just referenced a portcullis? Impressive. But he was wrong. Dead wrong.