Promposal (14 page)

Oh, shit. I saw what was about to happen. Obviously, he hadn't officially asked her, and she was calling him out on it. I stood to go warn Tyler, but a freshman who played second trumpet came over and asked me to show him how to do a high C.

By the time the kid left, Tyler and Madison were surrounded by
several other practicing students in the flute section, and I couldn't hear what they were saying very well over the trills.

“—not going to ask me?” Madison cried out, her voice piercing the noise. The entire band room went quiet.

“Mad, this
is
me asking.” Tyler rolled his eyes. “Seriously, you're doing this? You're going to fight with me over this? Right in the middle of the band room?”

Madison's cheeks burned. She drew in a loud breath through her nose. “Seriously,
you're
doing
this
? This bullshit is my promposal, for real? Where the hell are the flowers and the candy and the music and the romance? You effing ask me to prom
right in the middle of the band room
, just like that?”

A couple of people oohed. They shut up when Madison shot them a hot glare.

Tyler's jaw clenched, and he mirrored Madison's hostile stance, arms crossed in front of his chest. “We've been dating five years now. Do you mean to tell me it wasn't obvious we'd be going to prom together? That I really had to take a risk and ask you in such a ridiculous, overblown way?”

I shook my head and cringed. This was not going to end well.

Madison grew deathly still. Her face froze. She didn't say anything for a full minute, like she was trying to get herself under control, and all I could hear were the whispers of the guys in the percussion section. “What's obvious to me is that you're completely clueless. You've taken me for granted.”

Tyler blinked and opened his mouth to speak, but Madison held up a hand and kept going.

“No, I don't want to hear anything else you have to say right now. I'm not doing this with you.”

“Fine. We'll talk about it later,” he shot back. “In
private
.”

“No, we won't.” She undid a gold necklace around her throat and tossed it in the air toward him. He just barely caught it before it hit the ground. “I mean I'm done. We're over.” She blinked, and a tear rolled down her cheek. She swiped at it with a shaky hand. “I just can't believe you.” With that parting shot, she grabbed her purse and her flute case and ran out the band room door.

“Wait. What the hell?” Tyler just stood there, dumbly watching Madison go.

A girl in the flute section, one of Madison's friends, shot him a hate-filled glare and ran after her.

The whispers kicked in again, layering furiously upon one another.

“—can't believe she just dumped him like that,” one guy said with a harsh scoff. “Cold.”

“Well, I can't believe he didn't bother to even ask her to prom,” a girl replied in a hushed tone. “Seriously? That was the lamest promposal ever.”

Tyler didn't move from his spot until the band director, Mrs. Wilders, came out of her office and headed toward the podium. She shooed him into his section.

Hunched over, he walked quietly to our row and sat down by my side. Stared at the music stand. “I can't believe that happened.” He sounded angry and frustrated, his mouth thinned into a narrow line.

Mrs. Wilders tapped her baton on her massive music stand. “Scales, folks. Let's warm up.”

The rest of band went by fast. Once the gossip died down and we got to work on our difficult piece, we were pretty productive.
But I could feel random stares hitting our section the entire time from all over. Everyone was looking at Tyler to see what he'd do, how he'd react to being dumped.

While Mrs. Wilders focused her attention on the clarinets, I patted Tyler on the shoulder. His muscles were so knotted I could feel them through his shirt. “Hey,” I whispered. “You doing okay?”

He gave a stiff nod. “Fine.”

“For what it's worth, I'm sorry.” Underneath all that anger and frustration, I knew he was in a lot of pain. Embarrassed, too.

His jaw had a tic, and I saw him peek at the section where Madison and the other flute player were still missing. “I'll fix it.”

“I know you will. If you need help, let me know.”

For the first time since sitting down, he looked over at me. There was a hint of gratitude in his eyes, still mingled with the hurt. “Thanks. I will.”

The bell rang, and we cleared out. Tyler was one of the first out of the classroom. Probably trying to find Madison and sort it all out.

I tucked away my trumpet case in the designated cubby and left the band room. Stopped by my locker to grab my lunch bag. As I did so, I saw Noah at his locker. His hair was artfully mussed and spiky, and he had on a pair of expensive jeans with a fitted navy blue shirt that showed off his muscles.

The guy was hot. I couldn't deny that. There was something about his self-confidence, his easygoing demeanor that drew people to him. No question why Ethan was so into him, at least physically. And yeah, he was nice, too. Probably helped little old ladies across the street and never cheated at Monopoly the way I did. But what else was there to him? What made my best guy
friend willing to risk a public rejection to ask Noah to prom?

Only one way to find out.

I pushed back my shoulders and drew in a fortifying breath. Closed my locker and walked toward Noah like I was heading to the cafeteria. “Oh, hey,” I told him as I neared him. “You're Noah, right?”

“Yup.” He gave me a polite smile.

“I'm Joshua. I'm a friend of Ethan's.”

The smile grew genuine. “Ethan, yeah. We have a class together.” He closed his locker, and we both headed toward the cafeteria. “So, how do you know him? Are you guys good friends?”

Words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them. “Oh, he and I are
great
friends,” I found myself saying with a smooth grin. “We've known each other since middle school.”

His smile wobbled a touch. “Ah. I see.”

My lungs squeezed with guilt, and I huffed a sigh. Crud, I couldn't do it. I could tell he was fishing, and my impulse was to play up my friendship. But I couldn't hurt Ethan like that. “You guys are in biology together, right?”

“Yeah. We are. He talked about me?” His cheeks flushed a touch.

This was for the best, I told myself. I was doing it for Ethan's happiness. “He did. All nice things too.” I hoped he couldn't see the sadness in my eyes.

“Thanks.” Noah nodded in appreciation at me. His eyes flared with hope. “Well, I'd better get going. Have a good one.” He walked off, and I headed into the cafeteria, wishing I felt better about the nice thing I just did.

The promposal was going to happen on Monday. Yeah, there was no way in hell I could stick around and watch it. Maybe I could fake a sick day or leave after lunch or something. After all, Ethan would be too busy living out his dream to notice I wasn't around.

I saw Ethan sitting at the lunch table, talking to Camilla. And suddenly I just couldn't face him. My heart was crumbling apart in my chest. I couldn't sit there and fake like everything was okay. So I spun around and fled for the library. I shot Camilla a brief text explaining, then composed a text for Ethan that I would see him later—boy, it was so much easier to fake happiness when someone couldn't see my face.

A moment later, just as I settled into the back corner and sneak-opened my sandwich, my phone buzzed. A reply from Ethan.
Make sure you find time to eat!

I shoved a piece of sandwich in my mouth and chewed. No worries about that, buddy.
BTW saw Noah in halls,
I replied.
Talked you up.
There. That should get me out of having to be present for the promposal on Monday.

It was a few minutes before I got a response. And when I did, all it said was
thx
.

You okay?
I wrote back. A definite oddity for him to be so curt.

Fine. See ya later.

Okay, then. I ate my sandwich, though it didn't taste great. I'd lost my appetite. Part of me was curious about why Ethan was so lackluster in his response about me talking to Noah. Did I do something wrong? Did he not want me to interfere at all?

That didn't seem like him.

Maybe he was just in a bad mood. It was rare, but it did happen.

The rest of my day went fast. I finished classes, walked home,
then busted out my homework so I could focus on making dinner and relaxing.

I grabbed two thick tuna steaks out of the fridge and popped them in the skillet to sauté. As they finished cooking, I chopped veggies and steamed them. Cut two thick hunks of bread and made plates. “Dad, dinner's done.”

He trudged out of the office, still wearing his pajama pants. His hair was a total mess. Even so, he was still an attractive man. I wondered if he'd ever start dating again. Wasn't quite sure how to broach that subject, though—we both avoided talking about dating in an unspoken agreement. “That smells amazing. I think you outdid yourself.”

We took our plates to the table, and Dad grabbed a beer and cracked it open.

“How's the book?” I asked.

“Going great.” He swigged the beer, then cut into the tuna. “This is perfect,” he said around a mouthful. “Wow. If that music thing doesn't work out, you should go into cooking.”

I chuckled. “Glad to see I have a fan.”

“When you leave for New York, I'm gonna be living on peanut butter sandwiches,” he teased.

“I don't doubt that at all. Guess I'll have to send you some care packages from school.”

“So.” Dad put his fork down and eyed me in earnest. “Son.”

Aw, shit. I fought back a groan. Dad didn't bust out the “son” thing unless he was about to do some heavy talking. Which usually resulted in the two of us having an awkward conversation we both wanted out of after about three seconds.

“That time of the year again, is it?” I said in a droll tone.

He frowned. “It's serious, Joshua. We need to talk.”

“About what?” Surely I hadn't done anything. I'd even turned in all my homework and had pulled up my grade in physics. No groundable offenses I could remember.

Dad cleared his throat, and his cheeks flushed. “I . . .” He tugged at the neckline of his T-shirt like it was strangling him. “So, I was wondering when you were going to tell Ethan you love him.”

Holy crap. My dad couldn't have shocked me more than if he'd hit me upside the head with a brick. “You
know
about that?”

He barked a laugh. “Are you serious? I've known about your feelings for him for a long time. I've watched you help him with prom plans recently, and it makes me sad for you. Because I know you're pretending you don't care, to save his feelings.” He ate some broccoli.

I pushed my food around on my plate. Where could I even start with this? “He likes someone else. I can't change that. And he's asking the guy on Monday. It's too late for me to have a chance.”

He pursed his lips. “Kinda surprised you're not even trying.”

I rubbed my brow. “I'm stuck, you know? He asked me for help.”

“And did you help him?”

“Well . . . yeah.” Ethan had finally decided on what he was going to do for his promposal. Not as quiet as I'd recommended, but still very personal, with music involved. Noah was sure to flip over it.

“So you did your part and you were a good friend. But friends don't keep secrets like this from each other. Don't you think he'll be hurt to know you've been hiding this from him for so long?”

I knew he was right. But that didn't change the fact that it
would impact our relationship for good. I forced myself to finish my tuna steak. “But what if I tell him and he rejects me?”

Dad put his fork down and gave me a sad smile. “It's a risk, I know. But sometimes you have to take that gamble and try. I'm not going to push you into it, son. I just want you to be happy.”

My throat closed up, so I just nodded my response. I knew Dad was right. But did I have the courage to tell Ethan, despite the odds being stacked against me?

Right now, I just didn't know.

M
rs. Brandwright walked down the first aisle and handed back graded reports. As she made her way from person to person, my heart wouldn't stop racing. I'd worked so hard on my project.

When she reached our aisle, she paused in front of Benjamin first, then me. Her face was unreadable. My hand trembled a touch as I took the report from her.

A-minus.

Holy crap. Given what a hard-ass she was when it came to grading assignments, anything over a B-plus was rare.

I read her handwritten note at the top.
Wonderful job, Camilla. I'm so proud of the effort you and Benjamin put into this project. Great analysis, intriguing discussion topics, and good challenges, though I wonder if you couldn't have pushed yourself just a bit more out of your comfort zone. Other than that, well done. Kudos to you.

I ripped off a piece of paper and wrote,
How was your grade?
Then I tapped Benjamin's left elbow.

He took the note and after a moment passed it back.
A-minus.
I'll take it. Did you read anything good last weekend?

I grinned. He and I had been passing notes regularly every day for the last couple of weeks. I'd thought it would slow down or stop after our projects were turned in, but on the contrary, it had kept up.

No books,
I wrote.
But I busted out my dad's record player and listened to some Pink Floyd. Do you like any of their music?

Mrs. Brandwright moved to the front of the class and spent several minutes talking about our projects, which gave me a chance to keep talking to Benjamin. His note back to me said,
Their album
The Dark Side of the Moon
is a classic. My mom got me hooked on them. If you like their stuff, try listening to some old Genesis.