Grayson's Body

Formal

Chapter 23: Formal 

Formal adjective (1)for·​mal | \ ˈfȯr-məl \Definition of formal

(Entry 1 of 3)

1a: belonging to or constituting the form or essence of a thing

b: relating to or involving the outward form, structure, relationships, or arrangement of elements rather than content

2a: following or according with established form, custom, or rule

b: done in due or law

3a: characterized by respect for 

b: rigidly ceremonious 

The week went by like any other.

Spring Formal was in the air and everyone felt it.

By Friday that's all that seemed to be in existence: some stupid dance. 

It was on Saturday and they already had the whole festivities set up in the gym. Midnight in Paris was the theme. This I knew because I had seen more Eiffel Towers around than I really wanted to in my life. 

She hadn't talked to me since that Monday afternoon, although I didn't blame her.

In the halls, Chip wouldn't even spare me friendly eye contact. Like a ghost she'd brush by me, the scent of her dry shampoo following behind her, and I'd be left standing there dead in my tracks from where I had been walking for a moment, my mouth dry, my eyes burning a bit.

It hurt worse than I could ever imagine. 

The spirit signs for the spring formal covered the walls, they covered the hard brick of the cafeteria's entrance, like the year before, and the year after that. But it didn't have the same meaning to me anymore. I could feel it in my bones, deep and raw and potent, as I walked beside Grayson that week, as I listened to him talk about college and the dance and his mom and as I just tried to be.

 Something bad was going to happen, but I couldn't explain how I knew that.

I just knew Grayson.

I never opened my mouth and told him what I had found out about him. Or, at least, what I thought I had found on him. I didn't think he knew, but I just couldn't bring myself to say it. Like something clotting up my throat, I felt as though I was being held back, like some invisible thing was grabbing at my consciousness, telling me not to.

I didn't know why.

And I understood that Grayson didn't know about Chip knowing what happened to him either. That was the kind of secret you were supposed to hold with your best friend, but it wasn't like she believed me, anyway. I kept that book under my bed, pushed so deep under my older ones that you couldn't tell one from the other. The due date was taped neatly into the paper of my planner. 

That was something secure, tangible. 

Telling her had been a good thing, I decided. But the weight that I had felt lift off my shoulders didn't feel lesser so, and it wasn't completely gone. It was far from gone.

Grayson might not have known, but I could tell that he knew something was up with Chip and me. I mean, I could see the coy smile he had given me once when it was clear that she wasn't around anymore, not like she used to be. I had caught him looking at me as she passed me by on that Friday morning, her lips a straight, tight line.