There's something about the way he says her name, the way his hands grip hers with a fierceness that demands attention, the way his lips crash against hers and his breath lingers long after it's over. She
knows without him saying it, she just doesn't want to admit to it. She doesn't want to acknowledge that he's cast her aside for the check tucked away in his Target wallet. This is a break-up kiss, without the messiness of words. Without the tears and excuses and promises that they'll remain friends. They won't remain friends, she doesn't expect him to ever speak to her again. Maybe her mom made him promise not to, maybe he's ashamed, but she knows this to be true.
"I LOVE YOU, TONY." He doesn't say it back, he says he knows, and offers her a crooked smile, still gripping her hands, still keeping her cornered in the depths of elaborate family garden. He's uncomfortable here, she knows. He's not wealthy, he's not welcome, he doesn't have a
name that goes with hers. She doesn't blame him for taking the money, his family needs it more than hers does; his family
deserves it more than hers does. She can't help the bitter thoughts that run through her head, the anger she felt toward her entire family. India got to date who she wanted despite what a jerk Henry was; Damon got to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted; her dad got to do
whoever he wanted and somehow that didn't shame her mother. Yet her daughter dating someone she loved...
She's still in denial when he doesn't show up the next night to take her to prom. Surely she was reading into things. Maybe he hadn't taken the money, maybe her mom hadn't even given it to him, maybe she saw reason and cared about her daughters happiness more than her reputation. Wouldn't that be a miracle? For nearly an hour, her mother lets her work herself up to believing he would show up, that he wouldn't dare stand her up tonight. This was
important. It was
prom. Didn't she deserve to go to prom with the man she loved?
It wasn't until the doorbell rang that her heart sank. Her mother looked too happy, too thrilled with herself. And Pixie hated every moment of it. The second the door opened and she saw the face a boy she
hated, she nearly broken down in tears. Why couldn't she leave well enough alone? She was fifteen, she wasn't going to marry the boy she went to prom with. Who cared if she was seen with someone her
mother's friends disapproved of. It wasn't their life! It wasn't fair, she nearly screamed, as she strode, ever so slowly, to her new date.
"HE'S A DAVENPORT, HONEY." As if she cared. But the look she gave her mother was anything but the anger she felt. She learned a long time ago that throwing a fit only hurt
her, that it only embarrassed
her. Pixie was above humiliating herself in front of some boy that wasn't her boyfriend --
ex-boyfriend. She would silently stew, perhaps vent to a friend, but she wouldn't act out. She would go to prom and smile, kiss the new boy waiting for her to take his arm, laugh and dance and behave as if this was what she truly wanted. Why pine for a boy that didn't want her? At least her date would turn heads.
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PROM 2007; AGE FIFTEEN
