Page 77 of In Harmony

“You don’t have a wrap?”

“No, I…”

My jaw worked but no more sound came out. The limo was pulling into the roundabout in front of the high school. The dance was over at ten, but I heard Justin tell Nash we had it until midnight, in case we wanted to go somewhere later.

As I climbed out of the limo, I knew this was a mistake. If Nash hadn’t pulled Angie aside for a romantic, private moment just then, I might’ve found the courage to tell her I had to go home. I wasn’t ready. I couldn’t be here.

“Let’s go inside,” Justin said. “It’ll be warmer there.” He put his hand at the small of my back, to gently steer me.

Inside the gym, a DJ was set up at one far end and a snack and drink table at the other. The rows of bleacher seats were folded back to make more space. The dance committee had strewn garlands of paper flowers with little LED lights around the perimeter, and three balloon arches stretched across in blue, green, pink and yellow.

As our group took a table, a few Plastics standing nearby turned to stare. I registered Tessa among them but then the dark, the music, the bodies…it all closed in. It was the party I’d thrown on a larger scale. A bigger stage and different actors, but my psyche was adding it all up and coming to the same conclusion.

Xavier…

Angie gave me a thumbs up. I nodded vaguely, but I no longer cared about this ridiculous ruse. I was already drowning in an icy black sea of memories.

The DJ played the throwback, “Do You Really Want to Hurt Me” by Culture Club. Angie and Nash hurried to the dance floor while Caroline and Jocelyn went to the snack table, leaving me alone at the table.

I stared around the dark, crowded gym and the crush of students dancing under sweeping lights. The Plastics and their dates stood at the edge of the dance floor. Justin stood with them, talking with some of his baseball buddies.

Plastics. I hated that name. I vowed never to use it again. With a low-grade panic attack humming in my veins and threatening to blow, the idea of hating on another girl felt like betrayal. I wasn’t alone. I knew many of the girls out there on that floor had experienced something like I had. Maybe treated like plastic: cheap and disposable. Something you used once and discarded. Or they were harassed. Made to feel less than their worth. Ugly. Fat. Tease. Slut. Plastic.

Tessa could talk about me all she wanted, but I couldn’t hate her. She’d been hurt too. Humiliated when her brother shared Isaac’s No thanks text.

Isaac. My heart thumped and a surge of heat warmed me, remembering his head in my lap, and his chin on my thigh and a smile…

“Want something to drink?” Xavier murmured in my ear.

I flinched so hard my purse hit the floor and I bit back a scream.

Justin Baker gave a jolt. “What the hell? I just wanted to know if you were thirsty.”

“No, I…I’m fine.”

I had to get out of here. I rose to my feet slowly and Justin took my hand.

“Right on,” he said. “Let’s dance.”

I let him take me to the floor. The crowd danced and laughed, their faces lit up by the sweeping lights. Angie and Nash were there, smiling and waving. Their mouths moved but I couldn’t hear what they said over the music.

Justin leaned down and put his mouth to my ear. “Having a good time?”

I managed a nod. “Great.”

“What?” he shouted.

“I said, great.” My stomach writhed and my breath came short. Sense memories lurked on all sides. Murderous and ready to pounce. Pillows in hand to snuff me out.

The DJ played “Best Friend” by Sofi Tukker and the crowd let out a collective woot. The energy in the room amped up and the dancing changed tenor. Couples moved closer. Girls rubbed their asses against the boys’ crotches. Even those dancing in groups huddled closer, as if the song granted them permission to grind.

Justin moved closer to me, his smile eager. As he invaded my space, the weight of the room settled over me. His cologne filled my nose. The heat of his body emanated through his dress shirt as he slung his arms around my waist. Instead of warming me, it made me more aware of my own chill.

I can do this I can do this I can do this.

I turned around—hoping and praying it would be better if we weren’t face to face. That I could dance and laugh and be sexy—if only on the dance floor— just like so many other kids in that gym.

Justin’s hands landed on my waist. His breath gusted over my shoulder and I felt his chest press to my back. I was hardly moving. I must’ve looked like a corpse, but he didn’t seem to notice or mind.