Page 90 of Broken Secrets
“Emma can start school in January instead of February. She’ll be here in three weeks.”
His eyebrows rise. “That’s…soon.”
“Very soon. I’m excited, but also kind of overwhelmed by how fast everything is moving.”
“How are you feeling about it?”
I consider the question, testing my emotional response to the news. “Ready, I think. Like, we’ve been building up to this for months, and now it’s actually happening. It feels right.”
“Even with the timeline being accelerated?”
“Especially with the timeline being accelerated. Why wait when we’re all ready for the next step?”
Derek nods, slipping his jacket around my shoulders as the December air raises goosebumps on my bare arms. “Want to go back inside? Maya’s probably wondering where we disappeared to.”
“In a minute.” I turn to face him, studying his face in the parking lot lighting. “Derek, can I ask you something?”
“Always.”
“Are you worried about how much my life is going to change with Emma here? About how that might affect us?”
He’s quiet for a moment, considering the question with the kind of thoughtfulness I’ve come to appreciate about him.
“I think change is inevitable whether Emma moves here or not. We’re both going to college in the fall, you’re building relationships with your biological family, I’m figuring out what I want to study and where I want to live.” He pauses. “What matters to me is that we’re both growing in directions that make us happy, and we’re communicating about how those changes affect us as a couple.”
“Very mature answer.”
“I have my moments.”
“I love that about you. That you’re not threatened by the other important relationships in my life, that you want me to be happy even if it makes things more complicated.”
“The people we love should make our lives richer, not simpler. Complicated can be good.”
I kiss him then, standing in the parking lot in my formal dress with his jacket around my shoulders, and it tastes like possibility and promises and the kind of future that includes multiple types of love coexisting beautifully.
“Ready to go back to our first formal?” Derek asks when we separate.
“Ready.”
We walk back into the transformed gymnasium hand in hand, rejoining our friends and the celebration that marks not just the halfway point of our senior year, but the beginning of what feels like the most important chapter of our lives so far.
Maya spots us immediately, her queen’s tiara slightly askew but her smile radiant. “There you are! We’re about to do the final group dance. Everyone has to participate; it’s tradition.”
“What kind of group dance?” I ask suspiciously.
“The kind where everyone holds hands and moves in a circle while the DJ plays something appropriately cheesy and memorable.”
“That sounds terrible.”
“It sounds perfect,” Derek corrects, already reaching for my hand. “When else are we going to get to do a cheesy group dance with our entire senior class?”
As the DJ announces the final dance and everyone gathers in a large circle around the gymnasium, I look around at my classmates—Maya beaming in her queen’s crown, Sophie and Jessica laughing at something Tyler said, Derek squeezing my hand as we join the circle. These are the people I’ve grown up with, the ones who’ve been part of my daily life for years andwho will scatter to different colleges and different futures in just a few months.
The music starts, something appropriately sentimental about friendship and memories, and we all move together in a slow circle, singing along badly and laughing at our own ridiculousness. It’s exactly the kind of moment that seems silly while it’s happening but will feel precious in retrospect.
As we circle and sing and laugh together, I think about Emma, who will be here in three weeks to experience the second half of senior year with me. I think about Derek, who will be two hours away at UC San Diego but committed to making our relationship work. I think about Jeremy, who went from being a mystery to being someone I talk to several times a week. I think about Mom and Robert, who have expanded their definition of family to include people they never expected to love.
And I think about myself, no longer the girl who was missing half her identity, but someone who has built a life rich enough to include biological family and chosen family, old friends and new relationships, past questions and future possibilities.
The song ends, the circle breaks apart, and formal is officially over. But as we gather our things and prepare to head to the after-party, I know that tonight has been about more than just dancing and fancy dresses. It’s been about celebrating how far we’ve all come and acknowledging the best parts are still ahead of us.