Things I've learned today: it takes forever to get ready for a three hour dance, people at my school now know me by name and face, and heels were never made to ascend stairs.
I learned the last one the hard way.
About halfway up the largest outdoor staircase I've ever climbed in my life, my feet were pleading with me to stop whatever the hell I was doing to them. Examining the state of the mucky steps, I decided that what was left of the feeling in my feet was worth risking what God-awful substances that may be lurking on the slushy, icy mess. So, sans heels, I made it up the rest of the stairs in record time.
I had to wait a minute or two for the rest to follow. They refused to take off their heels; they said they were used to this.
Once everyone was together again, we entered the banquet hall, dropped off coats at the coat check station, and a plan of entry was devised along the way. "Vanessa will go first so she can corrall the boys," Heather said, an arm around Bridge's waist. "Then everyone else will go down, followed by Bridgette and I, and for the grand finale, our dance-virgin over here, Sarah that's you, will descend with grace."
I'm not sure when it became necessary to create a fairly elaborate plan just to enter the dance, but maybe it's one of those normal, female things that I've missed out on throughout my testosterone-filled years with my brothers. I suppose, though, that a little planning never hurt anyone.
One by one, our group dwindles as the double-doors are opened and closed, allowing me just a peek at the decorations inside the banquets hall basement that's designated for events like this, by two workers clad in tacky waiter uniforms who clearly don't want to be here. The decorations consist of mainly snowflakes, which are, at least as far as I've been told, the same decorations the school puts up year after year. Music blares each time the door is opened and closed; sometimes it's a love song and other times it's a fast-paced, headache-inducing anthem of our times.
When it's just Heather, Bridge, and I, I start to get nervous. My breathing amps up, the butterflies are beating each other up in my stomach, and I'm afraid I may be getting sweat stains on my dress. Bridge notices my agitated state, disentangles herself from Heather who's waiting patiently by the door, and places both of her manicured hands on my shoulders. "You need to chill," she says soothingly. "All you have to do is walk down some stairs and look hot, and you've already got one of those covered because of me-"
"Bridge," Heather warns. Bridgette looks over her shoulder at her and sticks out her tongue.
"Anyway," she continues. "You have nothing to worry about. Remember the magic, Sarah, remember the magic."
"The magic," I whisper. I meet Bridgette's eyes, "I can do this." I say it with finality, ending our conversation along with my nervousness.
"Are we ready?" Heather asks. Bridgette and I simultaneously reply, "Yes."
Bridgette and Heather take their places, arm in arm, in front of the door. They give me one last smile a piece before the double-doors are opened and they embark on their own descent.
I fidget back and forth, putting my weight on one foot and then shifting it to the other. I can feel the nervousness creeping back into my system after one minute of being alone, but I can't seem to pinpoint the route of my edginess. This shouldn't be this big of a deal. Literally, all I'm doing is walking down a flight of stairs, albeit a pretty grand staircase, but still.
Maybe this isn't about the act itself, but about the reaction, the audience in particular. Yet the other day when all eyes were on me in the cafeteria, I didn't mind the attention. So why am I so bent out of shape about the attention now?
But then it hits me; this isn't about the audience.
This is about Jay. More specifically, what he thinks of me.
I'm so nervous to go down there because I don't want Jay to see me any differently. Just because I put on a dress and heels and had my hair and make-up done doesn't change who I am. I don't want him to like this side of me more than how he usually sees me, which is in sweats and a t-shirt, or a raggedy pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. I'm afraid of raising his expectations, and me not being able to meet those raised expectations. I'm afraid he'll fall out of love with the me he's known for almost three months and fall in love with this well-dressed, beautified version of me that will only exist for tonight. I'm afraid he'll come to his senses and realize I'm not the girl he usually dates. In fact, I'm the exact opposite of the girl he usually dates.
I'm afraid that this weird, yet wonderful fantasy world I'm living in could come crashing down the moment he sees me.
One of the doormen coughs, bringing me to my senses and making me realize how much time I've let slip by. It's now or never, and for the moment, I'm okay with it being now. So, I poise myself in front of the double-doors, and, taking their cue, the two doormen swing open the doors. I take that tentative first step, hesitating with each inch.
But once I see Jay standing with that beautiful smirk on his face at the end of the stairs, my tentativeness melts away, leaving me with pure confidence. I lightly grip a bit of fabric on my dress to hold it up so I can walk, and so I don't look ridiculously with my hands all willy-nilly, and start the trek downward. It's slow-going as I am not the best at navigating in heels, and the stairs are definitely complicating that further.
On the last step, Jay holds out his hand. Accepting, I feel the clammyness of his hands. Why is he nervous? He's not the one who was just having a minor freak-out upstairs.
Finally on the ground, I give him a good once-over. He wore everything I had set out for him, and my oh my does he look dashing. He smells good, too. Well, I mean he always smells good, never bad, but he must've put on some cologne because he has that vague smell of maybe a Hollister or an Abercrombie. I run my free hand over the lapel of his snug-fitting suit jacket, sighing because I would rather be touching what's underneath.
Jay snatches back my attention by placing a finger under my chin, lifting my head ever slightly in his direction. I can see his eyes becoming the blue that I seem to cause every time I'm in his presence, which is thrilling. Then, our eyes lock, and Jay smiles, "You look beautiful, Sarah."
I want to say, "I know. Everyone's told me that today," but I know he would not be as amused as I would be, so instead I smile back at him and say, "You don't look so bad yourself."
He rolls his eyes and drops the finger, rather touching his fingers to my waist. "Can you just not have a sarcastic retort for once and just take my heartfelt compliment?"
He begins to lead me toward the edge of the dancefloor. A relatively slow ballad comes on, and Jay and I begin dancing like we did the other night in my room. If it weren't for the fancy clothes and two hundred of our closest classmates, it would be exactly like it was in my room. When we're arm in arm, I lean in to whisper, "Maybe."
I feel him smirk against my ear when he responds, "God, you're annoying."
"Not as annoying as you." I make sure to press my lips to his ear. If he's going to call me annoying, I might as well live up to it. And just to take it a step farther, I unwrap a hand from around his neck and snake it inside of his jacket, cruelly toying with the buttons on his dress-shirt.
Jay groans against my ear, but he extracts his revenge just as well. Starting at my ear and winding down my neck, he plants kisses along the trail. For added measure, I pop one button, and partially slide a few fingers against his hot skin. He shivers underneath my touch.
"Jesus Christ, you two, get a fucking room," Tony appears practically out of nowhere. Jay and I pull back hastily from each other. I extract my fingers and button him back up, and he wipes the left over spit off my neck. We both cringe a little when we realize how we were behaving in front of all of these people.
"We do have a room," Jay grabs my hand, pulling me in front of him, "It's just not here."
Tony closes his eyes and mutters, "Dude, that's my sister."
Jay opens his mouth to respond with god knows what, and I step in and stop this fight before it escalates and further. "Alright, you two," I eye the two of them, "I'm not spending my night off from two ten-year-olds just to deal with the two of you who are acting like ten-year-olds."
Miranda, looking wonderful in a form-fitting, black dress, materializes at Tony's side. She quickly realizes the tense situation she walked upon, and starts to massage Tony's shoulders. "Tony, why are you causing trouble?"
Tony's past girlfriends would've never been over massaging shoulders and trying to diffuse the situation; they would've been in the middle of the dancefloor or over by the punchbowl. Miranda's probably a lot better than Tony deserves, but I probably shouldn't say that out loud for everyone's sake.
"Jay started it," Tony mumbles, "He was groping my sister."
"And I was groping him right back," I admit. "Tony, you need to take a chill pill."
Tony rolls his eyes and sighs, "Yeah. Okay." He glares pointedly at Jay, "Lay off her until you get home, where I can't see you."
"And where exactly are you going tonight?" I cross my arms over my chest and ask. Tony hasn't gone out and done much of anything since his meltdown, and while I'm glad he's finally acting like a normal human being again, I can't help but be skeptical that he's just going to go back to his old ways.
"Miranda and I are going out for a late dinner and then we'll probably wind up back at her house," he looks at Miranda with glee in his eyes. Jeez, he's just like Jay, only caring about food and sex. Miranda playfully rolls her eyes, "We'll see about that, Anthony."
Never in my entire life have I heard any of Tony's lady friends use his first name, presumably because he didn't tell them his first name. His full name has only ever been used by our parents when he was in trouble or the first day of school when teachers who don't know his nickname call out his full name. For Miranda to use his full name, they must be a lot closer and serious than I first thought.
I feel Jay toying with the zipper on the back of my dress. Over my shoulder, I peer at him, warning him to knock it off, but his greedy little fingers are still yanking on it. Tony's oblivious, thankfully, because Jay's definitely pushing his luck.
Miranda, on the other hand, is not as oblivous as my brother. With Tony's arm around her slim waist, Miranda mimics a zipping motion while looking directly at Jay. He finally zips up the dress once and for all just as Mr. Kaufman steps on stage.
The music fades out and the chatter ceases as he adjusts the microphone. When he faces the crowd, he looks all but thrilled to be here. I assume he would rather be out correcting someone's grammar or at a poetry slam, silently judging everyone and their work while drinking one of those expensive, imported beers. I will give him some credit because he was nice enough to apologize after calling me out in front of the entire class for constructing my grocery list.
"Alright, alright," he mutters into the microphone. "Settle down, settle down. Okay, now that I have your attention, a classmate of yours has a very special and meaningful project he would like to present to all of you. Jay Keely, come on up here."
I turn myself completely around to face Jay Keely, apparently the man of the hour. Apparently the man with a very special project he has not once mentioned to me. When our eyes meet, mine are filled with question and his are filled with delight. I open my mouth to ask what the hell is going on, but behind me, Tony speaks before I get the chance. "Now?" he sounds exaperated and angry. "You're doing this now?"
I whip around to face Tony, "You know what's going on?"
"Um...Um..." Tony grapples for words, but he can't grasp onto anything resembling a coherent thought. I watch his grip on Miranda tighten as Jay brushes past me on his way to the stage. I'm quick enough to grab his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.
"Jay, what's happening?" I ask with a twinge of worry.
Jay eliminates any worry in my system when grabs the hand currently clutching his wrist and gives it a reassuring squeeze. When he lets go, all he says is, "Sit tight, alright?"
I nod at the back of his head while he snakes his way through the crowd who is as confused as I am.
Up on stage, Jay adjusts the mic just little bit higher to accomodate his height. He looks out over the crowd and finds me toward the back, winking as he catches my eye. I give him a timid wave when I hear Miranda ask Tony, "Do you know what this is all about?"
"Mm Hmm," he mumbles.
"Could you be a little more specific?" Miranda snarkily questions.
"It's about-" Tony begins but he's abruptly cut off by Jay.
"Hey," his voice booms throughout the ballroom, "I'm Jay Keely, but you probably already knew that thanks to Mr. Kaufman. For those who don't know me, I'm a senior this year, and I'm the new kid around here. I played football-"
The crowd erupts into cheers and fistpumps at the mention of football. Everyone's still on cloud nine after the state championship win last month, which they deservedly should be. Football has and always will be a big deal around here no matter if the team is good or not, but if you ask anyone in this room or around town, they would unanimously agree that it's a lot more fun to root for a winning team instead of a losing one.
"Anyways, now that my introduction is out of the way, I'd love to introduce my project to all of you," he smiles and continues, "Since I am new around here, I had a little trouble getting started on a project Mr. Kaufman assigned in September. The project he assigned was for each of us in his AP English class to do a community spotlight in which we choose a person, or a business, and highlight their achievements and showcase what they do for this community. And living here for all of a month and a half kind of put me at a disadvantage, but Mr. Kaufman suggested someone who might be a good candidate for me.
"So, I asked around and found a sibling that agreed to let me do my project on who Mr. Kaufman suggested, but the sibling made me promise to keep the project on the down-low because if the candidate knew, they would never let me showcase all of the things they've done because they wouldn't feel like they deserved the spotlight I was giving them. After a couple weeks of getting to know the candidate, I asked a classmate to evaluate my progress and give me some constructive criticism. The classmate in question helped me fine tune a few parts of the project, and I can't thank them enough for that."
I watch him scan the crowd, but I can't see who he's smiling at, which makes me anxious. Anxious because I have no idea how I missed this, obvously, huge thing in Jay's life. Anxious because I wasn't there to help him with this, yet someone else was.
"I actually finished the project about a month ago, but when I turned in the finished product to Mr. Kaufman, he thought this should be shown to everyone because he thought it showed real strength and courage. He wanted everyone to see what taking responsibility looked like. And I agreed with him. Now, I have a slideshow that was created to go along with the paper I had to write with the project, but nobody in this rooms needs a five-page paper to understand what this person has done in their short life; their achievements are pretty obvious."
A white, projector screen slowly rolls down from the ceiling, and an overhead projector projects a PowerPoint presentation onto the screen. The first slide, the title of the entire project I assume, says, "The Humdrum Life of a Hero by Jay Keely."
Then the slide changes, and a picture of me is up there.
It's a picture taken at the soccer fields. I'm wrapped up in a blanket, sitting on the bleachers by myself. I remember that day like it was yesterday. It was the day Jay came to the soccer fields and he claimed he stumbled upon them by accident during a morning walk, but I watched him leave in his Escalade later that morning.
The screen changes and a picture of me sitting in a booth, my back to the camera, is shown.
That was the day Jay and I ran into each other at Chuck-E-Cheese. He was with Annalise; I was with the boys. Connor freaked out over the guy in the Chuck-E costume, and I had to comfort him.
The next pictures happen in quicker succession it seems. There's one of me in pajamas making breakfast one Sunday morning. Another shows me walking arm-in-arm with Tony and my father down the fifty-yard line during Tony's senior night. One shows me folding laundry. One shows me serving a pan full of lasagna on a Tuesday. One of me walking the boys around the neighborhood on Halloween.
The last picture is of me serving one of two birthday cakes on the twins' birthday last month. I'm smiling, and the candles on the cake illuminate that smile. I look beautiful, probably more beautiful than I do right now.
"Sarah O'Henry is the strongest, most resilient person I have ever met," Jay says once the screen goes black. "She took over raising her twin, ten-year-old brothers last year as a sophomore in high school. When I was a sophomore in high school, I went through seven fish in less than three months, and Sarah has kept her three brothers alive for almost fifteen months."
The crowd laughs at that, and why wouldn't they? He's Jay, sweet, thoughtful, funny Jay.
I, on the other hand, don't laugh. I'm too mortified to even nervously grind my teeth together, let alone laugh.
"Sure, I could've done this project about a number of people, like my United States Senator father, or as Vanessa Holbrook spotlighted the county librarian and her efforts over the last thirty years to get kids to read more, but I chose Sarah because even though her impact isn't as widespread as a county librarian or a senator, her impact is deeper and more meaningful than everyone else's. Her impact directly affects her brothers and the people like me who have witnessed her in action. Sarah O'Henry inadvertently made me grow up and take more responsibility as a human being. She showed me what it was like to be accountable, what it was like to nurture and love someone unconditionally, and most importantly, what it's like to be a hero, albeit an unconventional one, but a hero all the same."
According to social convention, and just by observing the people around me, I realize I should be crying right now, but I'm wide-eyed with shock and mortification. Maybe a few days ago, maybe even a few minutes ago, I would've enjoyed the attention currently being directed my way, but right now, all I can do is freeze up in my spot on the dance floor, silently drowning among my peers.
And when Jay extends the invitation for me to come up on stage, my senses finally kick in.
And I run.