Phoebe Berman's Gonna Lose It(63)

My heart swells as she barrels toward me in her heels, sequined dress, and crimped hair. “Teacher Phoebe!” She knocks the wind out of me with the force of her hug, enveloping us both in an invisible force field of Bath & Body Works vanilla bean body spray.

“Lucy.” I squeeze her back tightly, my hair getting stuck to her glossy lips in the process. “You look gorgeous. How did you get your hair like that?”

“I kept my hair in braids for three days,” she tells me. “I came looking for you last week.” She squints. “You weren’t there. You’re never not there.”

“Oh no, I’m sorry I missed you. I had to go home to New York. My little sister got married.” I smile, feeling only unadulterated pride. “Is everything okay?”

“I need to tell you about theater camp!” Lucy speaks with her hands, and I find myself completely enthralled by the saga of how she and her camp nemesis, Cindy Chen, fought tooth and nail for the title role of Dolly in Hello, Dolly! Right when she gets to the climax of her story, the moment of the final callback, she freezes inexplicably.

“Well, what happened!” I prod, and Lucy casts her eyes downward.

Oh no. Poor Lucy.

“Did Cindy get the part?” I ask gently. When she looks back up, she’s blushing.

“Sorry to interrupt,” a voice interjects from behind me. I was so engrossed in her story, I must have missed the sound of Finn’s footsteps approaching. He smiles at Lucy, and her cheeks turn an even deeper shade of red. The reason for her abrupt silence becomes crystal clear. “Hi, Lucy,” he says. “Cool dress.” She opens her mouth to speak, but instead ends up taking off in a sprint.

“You just made her year,” I tell him. He chuckles sheepishly.

“I was coming to see if you wanted to grab some punch with me.”

“Oh. Yes.” I nod. “I’d like that.”

I follow his lead, admiring the way he navigates the hall with an increased level of comfort. He opens the door to the teachers’ lounge and motions for me to enter first. I act on my initial impulse, which is to curtsy.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He shuts the door behind us. “I’ve always thought people should curtsy more.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “Maybe they should.”

He pours two glasses of punch, handing the first to me. “So,” he says before he takes his first sip. “Are you gonna tell me what the hell happened at last year’s dance?”

I laugh. “There was a grind train.”

“I remember those,” he adds.

I shake my head. “This wasn’t your ordinary grind train. It was made up of the entire middle school student body. It was meticulously organized and planned out for weeks leading up to the dance. The second the opening notes of ‘Rush’ by Troye Sivan started blasting through the speakers, Danny Zimmerman screamed, ‘Now!’ It was like an expertly rehearsed flash mob, the way all the kids found their place in line immediately. And the train was so long, a few kids spilled out of the gym doors and were grinding in the driveway. All of us teachers were paralyzed. We just let it happen. For the entire song. Two minutes and thirty-six seconds.”

Finn throws his head back with a cackle. “You are lying to me.”

I shake my head. “I found the sketches in the recycling bin. There were at least twenty detailed, photocopied drawings of the grind train. Labeled and color coded. I imagine the same level of precision also went into the early blueprints of the atomic bomb.” I had brought one of the sketches home to show Jonathan, and we had dissolved into a fit of hysterics, the kind where your ribs ache and it hurts to breathe. The memory sends a pang straight to my gut, putting a damper on the moment.

Finn clutches one hand to his chest as he laughs, while balancing his glass of punch in the other. “Cheers, to grind trains.” He clinks our drinks together, and Why am I thinking about Matthew raising his champagne glass into the air while I was stumbling through my speech?

“Cheers.” I smile, then sip my punch while doing my best to push away thoughts of Jonathan and Matthew.

I don’t get it.

Things are going so well with Finn. Why am I thinking of the other two right now? Sandy’s voice echoes through my head in response: You’re having issues with two people who I know mean a lot to you, and yet you spent almost the entirety of today’s session talking about Finn, someone you’ve only known for a few weeks.

“By the way,” Finn starts, saving me from having to dig any deeper. I shift all my attention back to him. “Noah seems to really like your friend Meg. He’s been smiling at his phone nonstop.”

“That’s so sweet.”

I am, of course, thrilled for Meg. But at the same time, I’m acutely aware that I gave Finn my number over a week ago, and he hasn’t made use of it. “I think she really likes him, too,” I continue. “I know she’s looking forward to seeing him at the party.”

His eyes widen, like he’s suddenly remembered something. “You’re coming to that, right? I totally forgot to text you the invite.”

I take a sip of my punch, making him wait for my answer. “Yeah, I think I can make it.” As if I don’t already have my outfit picked out down to my underwear.

“Awesome.” He looks down at his empty cup. “I guess we should get back out there. Wouldn’t want any grinding to take place on our watch.”