Our Beating Hearts

13

I feel like you're mad at me, Niall texts me after school. About the Calum thing. I'm sorry Irwin, I was honestly joking, but I'll stop for real. I'm sorry.

I stare at the screen.

I sink into the couch, feeling suddenly exhausted.

Ashton: It's fine. Just promise me you'll stop being a dick, okay?

I promise! he responds immediately, smiley face and all. So, we're cool?

Ashton: We're cool.

Except I'm the opposite of cool. All weekend, I'm uneasy. Because Niall actually apologized, but Calum didn't. Not that he would. I just don't get him. I don't get what he's doing. And it's not even his what happens in Sydney's comment. That could mean anything. It could mean frat boys and keg stands and hetero trash for days.

But the look on Calum's face when I said I was going to prom with Niall. How surprised he seemed that I hadn't told him. But why would I tell him? He has a girlfriend. So what if they're fighting? He. Has. A. Girlfriend. Therefore, none of this matters and prom can go fuck itself.

Of course, my mom is totally high on prom hype. She takes two hours of leave time on Wednesday to pick me up right after school. "Hop in. We're going suit shopping."

I look at her. "Do we have to?"

"Yes, sir. Because you're going to prom and you'll look per-fect." She gives it a solid two syllables. "I'm so excited right now." It's like we're from two different planets. Every once in a while, it hits me: if I knew my mom in high school, I don't think we'd have been friends. It's not like she was an asshole in high school. She was kind of like Sierra. In every play, at every party, perfect grades. She always had a boyfriend-usually a sports player with really defined abs. But sometimes she dated nerdy guys, or musicians, like my dad, who apparently used to smoke a lot of pot and drank a lot. I guess it didn't lower his sperm count.

"You're beautiful." She pulls into the mall parking deck and finds a spot near the elevator. My mom has charmed luck with parking spaces. It's essentially her superpower. "And you have a date!"

"Yeah, with Niall."

"Niall's so adorable, though." She pauses to grin at me. "Okay, so here we are. Where's formal wear?"

Department stores are like diners. No focus. Too many options. I feel overwhelmed just being here. Mom pauses by an escalator, examining the store map.

"Aha. Upstairs." I follow her onto the escalator. "So, what's typical these days? When I was in high school, everyone wore blue or green, but I hear that's not a thing anymore."

"It's not?" I swallow.

"Or maybe I'm thinking of homecoming. I don't know. Oh, here we go."

Racks and racks of suits. I don't think I've ever seen so many in the same place in my life. They're all electric bright and sleeveless and loaded with sparkles. I don't own anything like this. I have nothing close to prom appropriate. I've skipped every single dance since we grew out of birthday parties. Which was clearly the right decision, because these suits are trash, and prom is stupid anyway.

Except it doesn't feel stupid.

It makes me cringe to admit this, but I want the whole prom thing. The suit, the limo, all of it. It actually hurts, imagining prom happening without me. I, alone in my pajamas, spending the whole night trolling Instagram and Snapchat.

Watching everything unfold virtually. Seeing once and for all how little I'm missed.

Mom starts pushing through hangers, pinching fabric between her fingertips, and peeking at size tags.