2
Days ’til prom: Still 103
ONCE MY BODY REGISTERS WE’RE GOING TO GENE’S HOUSE, every electric current in my human system speeds up: My heart takes over the drums, my thoughts are all past and future and what it was like when he kissed my shoulder during gym class when I was wearing a tank top and what it will be like when we see each other tonight.
“Hey, you,” Gene says, opening his front door and grinning. His hair is actually combed and he’s wearing a pink bow tie, which he adjusts with a totally adorable look on his face. Our eyes connect, triggering the smile response, the heart response, the thought response, and every other human response.
“You’re wearing a suit!” I say, and the light from the house makes him glow like the best boyfriend I’ve ever had. (Read: He’s the only boyfriend I’ve ever had.)
“Not a full suit,” he says, pointing to the blue jeans he always changes into after school. “Just a fairly decent shirt and this great polka-dot thing I found in my mom’s closet.” He steps closer to me, and his head shades me from the blinding porch light. There are thousands of winter moths flying around it, just trying to catch a hot break. He crosses his arms. “Damn, it’s cold.”
“I’ll warm you up.” I wrap my arms around his neck, sandwiching myself between him and the half-open door. It’s taking all my energy not to be like, OMGWHATSMYSURPRISE?!
“So is this some sort of preview for prom?” I ask casually, sniffing at his bow tie. I get a little too into it, and a snort escapes my nostrils. The whole thing ends up being a bit more animalistic than I intended.
He laughs and links his fingers in mine. “Prom is like three months away. Everyone needs to chill.” Uh-oh. I don’t like the sound of that. I don’t like the sound of that one bit. “Doug has a whole chart of people he could ask and where he wants to order his suit from,” Gene continues, blowing into his hands, “and I just think we all gotta relax about it. It’s not supposed to be stressful. It’s supposed to be sawweeeet.”
“For sure,” I say, though I’m much less sure than for implies. “So about that surprise.” I peer into his house. His moms are joking around in the kitchen, touching each other in a way that’s cute for parents, like my parents used to when they’d make breakfast for dinner. I look away. “Your house always smells like lasagna or some cousin of linguini and red sauce, so I’m guessing the surprise doesn’t have to do with the moms’ cooking.”
“Okay, about the surprise,” Gene says. He ducks into the house and comes back with a big envelope. He drum rolls against the rich red door, and the golden numbers rattle in their screws. “I got in.”
He beams and holds the envelope so close to my face that my nose comes up against its manila wall. It’s a better college than State. And a lot farther away.
“W-wow,” I stammer. “That’s so huge, congrats!”
It’s a fight to keep the smile on my face from turning into a grimace of panic. I really have to get those college applications in. “I’m so happy for you,” I add. My cheeks hurt from smiling. I wish I could take the envelope out of my face, but what if it’s too heavy for my hands to hold? Do you ever get the feeling you can’t handle the weight of something, no matter how much it actually weighs?
“Close the door, you’re letting all the heat out,” Gene’s mom Ma calls, appearing in the hall with a stack of cloth napkins and silverware. “There you are, Cham! I’m so glad you could celebrate with us tonight.”
I smile even bigger. “Wouldn’t miss it!”
“Come on in!”
Inside, the house is warm, and all the noises are safe noises of people doing stuff you take for granted: stirring a pot on the stove, carrying silverware from the drawer to the table, following the hockey game that’s playing on the TV in the living room.
“Hi, Cham,” Gene’s other mom says as she adds pasta to the boiling water on the stove. “Isn’t it incredible news?”
“Yeah,” I say, taking in the long wooden table with its twelve empty chairs and two unlit candles. It’s so hot in here I think I’m going to be cooked alive. Or maybe steamed, if my sweat doesn’t evaporate fast enough.
“Well, the rest of the family will be here any minute. Why don’t you guys take care of drinks?” she says.
Gene steers my shoulders to the cabinet. “On it.”
As he and I carry glasses to the table, I take in the decorations strung around the room for this momentous occasion: streamers from the ceiling with Gene’s new college colors, a pinny on the door, and a large cake on the side table waiting for everyone to face-stuff its Congratulations!
“So the surprise is celebrating you getting into college? With your family?” I whisper when we’re alone in the room. I’m trying not to sound like an incredulous asshole, but c’mon. I think my assholery is justified.
Gene wraps his arm around my waist. “I promise that’s not all. We get to chill after, and I can have a party Friday night as long as everyone turns in their keys. And”—he pauses dramatically—“Mom and Ma said you can sleep over. Like in my room.”
I blink at him, waiting for him to continue. When he doesn’t, I say, “Oh, great!” and plant a kiss on his cheek. The doorbell rings, giving me a chance to regain composure.
“Be right back,” he says, jogging to the door with his long legs and big feet that you’d never expect to be good at running, but humans do experience miracles regardless of their anatomies. I guess a slumber party with a boy is an okay surprise? I duck away toward the stairs.
“Hey, Josh,” I say as I pass his younger brother, who’s in the middle of a video game at the foot of the stairs. He doesn’t say anything because he only likes to say something when he’s interrupting Gene and me in the middle of our playtime. Don’t let them fool you: Kids suck just like the rest of us.
“Let me get this straight,” Abigail says when I’ve gotten her on the phone. “He didn’t ask you to prom?”
“Nope.”
“And the best night of your life was actually just the night Gene got into college and subjected you to dinner with his whole family?”
“Yep.”
“That you’re now hiding from under his bed while he eats gluten-free tofu-pigs-in a-blanket?”
“Correct.”
I can almost see her rolling her eyes. “You’re a weirdo, Cham, and he’s an asshat for telling you he has a surprise for you that’s actually about him. Can you and I just date? I’ll teach you how to code and never offer you the best night of your life unless I figure out a way to get Elvis back from the dead.”
“I do love me some Elvis.” I pick through a few crusty shirts under Gene’s bed, really hoping it’s Elmer’s glue on his sleeve and not… something else. “I guess the surprise is that we get to have a sleepover after his party Friday night?”
“Yeah, I got the text a few minutes ago. I can’t believe he invited the whole senior class. It’s gonna be wild.” I hear her unzip her backpack, which she always has stocked for various occasions, from the end of the world to impromptu parties. “We need a freaking break from homework and AP classes and college decisions and blah blah blah. I just want to shake my ass someplace where people can watch me.”