Prom and Prejudice Read online

  “I found out sort of by accident,” I admit. “The guy he helped back at Pemberley is a friend of Shondra. He asked me to help him find Michael, to thank him.”

  “So she knows him better now,” Tori says, smiling at me, “and she likes him now, I think.”

  I nod clumsily.

  Trey beams and says, “Well, that’s great! Let me call him!”

  “Georgia thinks he’s with Darien now,” Tori says before I can jump on Trey and wrestle the iPhone from him. “Is he?”

  “I don’t know.” Trey shrugs as if this has no bearing on anything whatsoever. “I haven’t talked to him in a while. He’s got track team stuff and I have baseball...” Trey frowns now, shrugs cartoonishly, palms up, and asks, “So do you want me to say something to him or not?”

  “No!” I yelp, and Tori grabs my elbow before I can run away.

  “For what it’s worth, I can’t see Michael with Darien,” Trey laughs. “But if you want me to casually say something to him...”

  “No,” I say, more quietly this time, but firmly. “No, thank you.” I sigh bravely. “We just got the timing all wrong, I guess. Or he decided that I am no better than my ditzy slutty sister, Cassie, after all, so he’s going with someone who’s more his type.”

  Trey gives me a funny look for a moment.

  “Michael doesn’t think Cassie is some stupid skank, you know. If he did, he never would have gotten Jeremy to give him those files. I mean, he hates Jeremy! He wouldn’t go to Jeremy’s house for Cassie if he really thought she was just some slut.”

  Because it was said so casually, it takes a second for this information to sink in. When it does, I demand, “What do you mean? What files?”

  Trey looks really nervous now and sighs.

  “Okay. I’m not supposed to tell you this. But Michael and I went over to Jeremy’s house the day you two had that fight because Michael knew that Jeremy likes to, uh, post his encounters online. He has a camera rigged up in his room and got some footage of him and Cassie, which Michael demanded—and got—before it ever made it online.”

  I shake my head, trying to absorb the idea of Michael and Trey pulling up to Jeremy’s house, leaping out of the car like two thugs in a bad mob movie, and threatening Jeremy until he agreed to hand over a sex tape he made with my sister—because every single part of that scenario is so wrong. I feel like I might start vomiting and never stop, but, somehow, out of the fog, two things become clear:

  (1) Michael wouldn’t threaten or persuade Jeremy on Cassie’s behalf if he thought that she and the rest of my family were hopelessly unredeemable. Which means he must have still had feelings for me then, even after I had kicked him out of my house. Which means he might even still like me at least a little?

  (2) I have made a colossal misjudgment of Michael again.

  “How did he get Jeremy to hand over the, um, sex tape?” I ask.

  Trey grins and punches a fist into his palm, making him look like a cross between a Ralph Lauren ad and the Incredible Hulk. “We were very convincing,” he says in a muy macho voice, which he ruins by giggling at the end of it. “Seriously. Michael told him that his dad knows some important people at Yale. (So does mine.) He convinced Jeremy that if the cops wouldn’t take action, we would make sure his admission to Yale was revoked.”

  “George, are you okay?” Tori asks as I sink onto the front step. She leans down to look at me.

  “I’m fine,” I stammer. “I’m just...surprised.”

  “Me, too,” Tori admits, looking at Trey with a loving smile. “I had no idea that you guys were Cassie’s knights in shining armor.”

  “It was Michael’s idea. When he told me he was going over to Jeremy’s to talk to him I told him I was coming, too. I figured Jeremy would be much less likely to pound on Michael if he had backup.”

  I gasp, “Did he pound on Michael?”

  Trey laughs. “No, believe me, there was no violence involved. It wasn’t necessary. Jeremy is a weasel, but an ambitious one. It wasn’t worth wrecking his future over one of a lot of sex tapes.”

  I sit for a few more seconds, not moving, not thinking. Tori said that I think too much, and she’s right. But I’m through with that.

  I stand up, somewhat blindly, and announce, “I have to find Michael. I have to thank him.”

  “Well,” Trey drawls uncertainly, “he made me promise not to tell you about this.”

  “It’s too late for that,” I say. “Besides, if he hadn’t stepped in, if that video had come out, I don’t know what would have happened to Cass...” I look at Trey with wild eyes. “Can I borrow your car?”

  “Um, yeah, sure, I guess.” He looks at Tori uncertainly.

  “What are you doing?” Tori asks me as I take the keys from Trey.

  “I have to find Michael,” I tell her.

  She smiles, does a little hoppy dance for a second, then pulls me into a hug before I practically fall down the steps in my hurry.

  “Go, George! Go!” she cheers.

  “Is she okay to drive?” Trey asks her as I throw open the door of the vintage Mercedes, but I miss the answer as I take off for Summer Street.

  I have no plan whatsoever when I park in front of Michael’s picture perfect historical house. I pause on the front step to catch my breath. When I ring the bell Michael’s mom answers. She looks so formidable in a brightly colored, vaguely African-print shawl over a black shirt, long black skirt, and black leggings, so elegant and exotic, that I almost back off the step.

  “Hi, Georgiana, is it?” she asks politely.

  “Yes, is Michael around?”

  “He’s out running now, but he should be back soon.” She indicates the woods behind the house, where Michael runs on the trails that wind around their property. “Would you like to wait here, to come inside?”

  “No, thank you. I’m going to find him,” I tell her, and I don’t know how she reacts to this because I am off for the woods like the Flash.

  I find the path past the lagoon of a swimming pool, and just start running, even though I usually make it a point to never run unless there is a velociraptor or something chasing me, which, thankfully, hasn’t happened yet. I still have no idea if I’m on the right path or what I will say if and when I see him but I am propelled by a force greater than my own insecurities for once.

  After a few minutes of stumbling over tree roots and small shrubs, my lungs are burning inside my chest and I think I might throw up, so I slow down and follow the path that winds along a creek. The sound of the water running over rocks fills my ears. Then I stop and double over.

  Suddenly, Harry, Michael’s dog, is there, sniffing me and wagging his tail and then licking my face when I crouch down to him.

  “Harry! Harry—where are ya?” Michael’s voice is calling in the distance, and Harry barks a happy response while I fight to catch my breath. My lungs feel as if I have accidentally ingested metal shavings.

  Soon Michael is standing there, all long thin athletic legs and eyes filled with wild astonishment.

  “Georgia? What are you doing—”

  “I had—I had to talk to you,” I pant.

  He grins lopsidedly. “Were you running?” he laughs.

  “I had...to...catch you...To...thank...you.”

  “Thank me? Here, slow down.” He guides me over to a fallen log and I sit and catch my breath. He sits next to me, very close, eying me with concern, but saying nothing. Best to deal with a crazy person carefully. Harry stands before us, wagging and panting just like me. I can only hope I am drooling less.

  Finally, Michael asks, “Thank me for what?”

  I turn and look at him; I’m sure my eyes are full of everything I feel and for once I don’t care.

  “For what you did for Cassie,” I say, much less breathlessly now. “For getting Jeremy to give you the video.”

  “Oh.” He sniffs, as if he has just smelled a pile of something Harry left on the trail. “That.”

  “Yes, that.” I reach out
for his arm but I hesitate and my hand drops like a pebble in a lake. “You saved her, you know. I don’t know what we would have done—”

  He waves away my gratitude with an impatient hand.

  “Look, it was no big deal. Jeremy’s been allowed to treat girls like blowup dolls for too long. It had to end...That’s all.”

  “It was a big deal!” I object. “It was a big deal for Cassie, even if she doesn’t know about it. And for me.”

  I don’t know what else to say so I look at him, helplessly, and the birds chattering overhead sound like they are laughing at me. Michael is looking at me, too, unsure, so we just sit on the bumpy log under the newly sprouted leaves on the trees and look at each other. Everything around us is green and fresh and new, and birds are singing overhead, and Harry is throwing a stick up in the air with his mouth and catching it. Everything feels so alive, suddenly, like my world has gone from black and white to Technicolor in a moment.

  I remember that I’m not supposed to be thinking and put my hand on Michael’s shoulder. I lean over and I kiss him, lightly at first, and then I find the kiss deepening, and his lips feel warm and soft and strong, and I hear him make a kind of “ungh” noise. And soon he is kissing me back.

  Until I remember.

  I pull away.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper and stand up quickly.

  Michael looks up at me, dazed.

  “Sorry?” he repeats, obviously confused.

  “I shouldn’t have done that,” I flail. “Really, I...I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have...I’m not the kind of girl who kisses other girls’ boyfriends...I’m...really sorry.”

  The tears are ready to spring out of my eyes like silver bullets and I am still just rational enough to know I don’t want him to see that, so I stumble my way back toward his house. By then the tears are falling onto the ground that seems to rush beneath me. Michael calls after me but I don’t listen.

  If I had my mom’s car and not Trey’s, I would just kept driving, out of Longbourne, out of Western Massachusetts, just onward, forever, anywhere, even though you can’t outrun—or outdrive—yourself. But I come home and give Trey his keys as I walk past him and Tori on the porch and go up to my room.

  They both have the good sense not to ask me any questions. Any idiot could see I had made a fool of myself. Again.

  4 America’s Next Top Moron

  At least I have the weekend to recover from my stupid bust of a move, but it’s not like I forget about it. Plus I’m afraid that, unless he receives some sort of accidental lobotomy before Monday morning, Michael won’t forget it either. So when my friend Allison IMs me on Sunday morning to catch me up on all the news back in Boulder, where I lived until we moved two years ago, I spill it all.

  SkiBunnyAlli: Hey, Georgia, r u there?

  GeeBee: ‘Sup, Al?

  SkiBunnyAlli: prom last night. i went w/justin springer & a bunch of us went out b4 to that noodle place u love. it was fun. u should have been there. did u go to longbourne prom?

  GeeBee: Not a chance. i’m glad u had fun. say hey to everyone 4 me.

  SkiBunnyAlli: and how is michael of the lovely long neck? ;)

  GeeBee: I just kissed him.

  SkiBunnyAlli: WTF???!!!

  SkiBunnyAlli: was it good?

  SkiBunnyAlli: G, u still there?

  GeeBee: still here. it was very good. but he has a girlfriend.

  SkiBunnyAlli: no way. so u started the kissing? not him?

  GeeBee: yes. i admit it.

  SkiBunnyAlli: bad girl :)

  GeeBee: i know it! i really like him now. i didn’t understand some things before.

  SkiBunnyAlli: so go kiss him again! jump his bones, girl.

  GeeBee: i’m not that kind of girl.

  SkiBunnyAlli: *sigh*

  GeeBee: tell me about it.

  Allie has to go somewhere with her mom then so we signed off, which was okay. Life in Boulder seems eons past now and I need to figure out how I can avoid Michael in homeroom, and English class, bio, and the world in general from now on. I can just imagine that he is thinking that I am obviously much more like Cassie than he had thought I was and he must be thoroughly disgusted with me. I don’t even talk to Tori about it, even though I know she is dying to find out what I did at Michael’s house. But I can’t face telling her—even her. I’m too ashamed.

  Sunday evening, I sit on the back porch calculating that I can probably skip homeroom with an excuse that I had an early dentist appointment, and then just blow off English and bio entirely because we don’t have anything due. As I try to strategize the rest of the week—and the semester—I watch a bunch of squirrels chase each other around this bush, chattering their little grey heads off. They appear to be no more sensible than I am but it looks like they are a lot happier.

  Tori bursts onto the porch then, waving Trey’s phone at me.

  “You have to read Trey’s texts from Michael,” she yells as Trey appears behind her, grinning from ear to ear like a manic Ken doll.

  “Oh, no. No way. I cannot deal with that.”

  “George, it’s all good,” she insists, thrusting the iPhone in its New England Patriots cover at me.

  Trey to Michael Sunday, May 12, 7:11 P.M.

  GB borrowed my car to go c u. What she say?

  Michael to Trey Sunday, May 12, 7:11 P.M.

  She jumped me in the woods! :)

  “Oh, God,” I groan, sinking onto the steps and trying to at least be grateful that Michael had used the happy face emoticon. Use of the tongue-sticking-out-in-disgust emoticon might have killed me.

  “Keep going,” Tori commands and Trey keeps grinning. He puts his hand on Tori’s shoulder and she snuggles into his chest as if she were moving in there for life.

  Trey to Michael Sunday, May 12, 7:12 P.M

  LOL jumped in a good way?

  Michael to Trey Sunday, May 12, 7:12 P.M

  the best way

  Trey to Michael Sunday, May 12, 7:13 P.M

  she wants u man

  Michael to Trey Sunday, May 12, 7:13 P.M

  she hates me

  Trey to Michael Sunday, May 12, 7:13 P.M

  dude, she kissed u !!

  Trey to Michael Sunday May 12, 7:15 P.M.

  u still there?

  Michael to Trey Sunday May 12, 7:15 P.M.

  yes

  Trey to Michael Sunday May 12, 7:17 P.M.

  u 2 geniuses @ love deserve each other. LOL

  Michael to Trey Sunday May 12, 7:18 P.M.

  so now what?

  Trey to Michael Sunday May 12, 7:18 P.M.

  it’s up 2 u dude.

  “He thinks I hate him,” I say. “How is this ‘all good’?”

  “Because he’s wanted you to bust a move for a long time,” Trey laughs. “And you did! He’s a little slow, but I think he’s actually getting the message that you don’t hate him.”

  He takes his phone from me and looks at Tori like a puppy who has performed “sit” right but doesn’t get a treat.

  “We thought you’d be happy,” Tori says.

  “I don’t think this changes anything, that’s all.”

  She frowns at me for a second, starts to say something, then sighs. She takes Trey’s hand and says to me pointedly, “It’s up to you, dude.” She and Trey walk away hand in hand, clearly weary of my neurotic stupidity.

  I don’t blame them.

  ***

  As she catches me on the way out of the school building on Monday, Shondra demands, “Where were you at lunch? And English?”

  “Oh, I just had a headache and didn’t want to deal...”

  She readjusts her kente cloth messenger bag on her shoulder and says, “Michael wasn’t in class either.”

  “Really?” I sound way too intrigued by this, because I heard he had missed homeroom, too. But I had seen him down the hallway third period, so I know he was in school today. He must really want to avoid me, too. Great.

  “Yeah, really,” Shondra laughs at my intense
interest in this tidbit of information. “You can have my notes, if you want.”

  “Thanks.”

  She rubs the toe of her sandal in the concrete for a moment as the hordes of students surge by us on the front steps on their way to sports practice or to their cars.

  “Los and I are going to prom Saturday,” she says. “Did I tell you?”

  “No! That’s great! Tori’s going, and Cassie, with some basketball player who apparently can handle her notoriety.”

  “I don’t want to go to his prom—too stuffy—so he’s coming to ours. You should go with Michael, and then the four of us could go together,” she declares, looking me right in the eye to dare me to try to avoid this suggestion.

  “He’s going with Darien,” I say quietly as a large guy in a Red Sox t-shirt pushes past me and bonks me with his tuba case.

  “Darien Drake?” Shondra repeats. “She’s a senior, right? Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  She looks at me funny for a moment but just shrugs. “I gotta go meet the bus,” she says. “I’ll see ya tomorrow. You’ll be there, right?”

  I nod because I really don’t have a choice unless I drop out of school altogether, which may not be the worst idea I’ve ever had. Especially when you consider the sheer volume of monumentally bad ideas I’ve had lately.