I squint at him, blinking slowly. “You did that just to talk to me?”
“You thought I actually lost every pencil you gave me?” he scoffs, nudging me aside to open his locker. He reaches into its depths and pulls out a bundle of my mechanical pencils. They’re tied together with a rubber band. I stare at them, breathless, as he places the bundle in my hand. “I kept them. Of course I kept them,” he tells me.
How is this even possible? How has he kept every single pencil all this time? “But—but what about homecoming?”
“I think we both already know the answer to that.”
A feeling of familiarity blooms. Does he mean what I think he means? Did we have this conversation before?
He watches me intently, waiting for me to respond. Right then, Andie rushes down the hallway. “J. T.! They’re announcing the royal court!”
THIRTY-NINE
Ms. Chouloub looks like an announcer at the Oscars, proudly clutching the envelope with the results, officially tabulated by Mr. Hamilton, head of the math department.
She clears her throat into the mic, which gets everyone’s attention. It’s all-out anarchy as everyone crowds around the stage like groupies at a rock concert. Those at the front even bang their fists in a drumroll as Ms. Chouloub struggles to rip the envelope open with her acrylic nails.
From my perch on the sidelines, I search the swelling crowd for my predicted winners—Kassie and Ollie—but fail to spot them. Everything is a blur. To be fair, my mind is on overload. I still haven’t finished processing my conversation with Renner.
Ms. Chouloub finally opens the envelope, and her face breaks into a wide grin as she reads the results. “And your prom king is . . . J. T. Renner!” she bellows into the microphone. The gym explodes with rowdy applause as Renner parts the crowd with his megawatt smile, sauntering to the stage like a rockstar accepting a Grammy.
I’ll admit, I’m a little bit surprised. I mean, Renner was always a top pick. But I assumed it would be Ollie, given he’s MHS’s football star and Kassie’s boyfriend.
Renner didn’t expect it either, by the looks of things. There’s a bit of shock in his expression as he accepts his new title and cheap plastic crown. It makes his acceptance even more charming somehow. The crowd doesn’t quiet, even when he says a rueful thank-you. The guy really doesn’t have a single enemy. And it’s easy to see why. He’s walking sunlight.
The crowd finally hushes when Ms. Chouloub clears her throat to announce the next winner. “Your prom queen is . . . Kassie Byers!”
My heart explodes for Kassie as the confetti bomb and balloons fall from the ceiling. She’s dreamed of being prom queen since we were kids. Meanwhile, my goal was just to have a date. Andie looks a little miffed, but Kassie doesn’t notice as she elbows her way to the stage. She looks radiant with the sparkling silver crown atop her head, like it was made for her.
It’s tradition for the royal court to do a slow dance, which works most of the time, when the couple is actually an item. Renner and Kassie aren’t obligated to dance, but they’re both good sports about it, laughing, doing dramatic twirls and spins for the crowd. Ollie doesn’t appear annoyed that he lost in the slightest. He whistles from the sidelines, trying to embarrass them.
I think about all those years ago, when Kassie came over after dinner, vibrating with excitement over the first time she met Renner.
“We made out for like . . . two hours,” she bragged, handing me a globby container of chip dip.
“Two hours?” I asked, in awe, dipping my chip. Making out with someone for that long seemed physically impossible.
She shrugged, fluffing her hair. “Okay, probably not two hours. It might have even been two minutes. Who knows? He’s the best kisser. And the best part? He’s going to MHS.”
She seemed so excited that evening, clutching my pillow to her chest, starry eyes glimmering as she rattled off every detail. That’s why it struck me the next day when she said the kiss was meaningless—no feelings attached.
My mind drifts back to Renner’s words in the hallway. I think we both already know the answer to that.
My fingers tingle with a creeping sense. I think back—well, forward—to being thirty. To the night at Walnut Creek, when Renner told me that he turned Kassie down, despite Kassie telling me otherwise for all these years. I think about the look of confusion on Adult Renner’s face when I accused him of ditching homecoming for another girl. About how there never was another girl. And I finally realize—Kassie lied.