She blinked as she watched my hands move back and forth against the invisible guitar. “Are you going crazy?”
“That’s not a nice word.”
She slapped the palm of her hand to her forehead and walked away. “Oh my gosh, my sister’s a pregnant nutcase!”
* * *
When school came back on December 1st, the snow was falling overhead, and I was bundled up in my winter wear. Mom had had to get me a new coat because my normal winter coat didn’t fit as well. Simon walked over to me and gave me a halfway grin. “I heard about your dad. Are you okay?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I shook my head again, staring at the ground. When the blue Chucks stood next to me and kicked around the snow on the ground, I joined in with my shoes.
“Hi, Art.”
I released the breath I’d been holding for a week. “Hi.”
“What size are we at now?”
“An eggplant.”
He smiled. “Morning, Mr. Eggplant.”
We climbed onto the bus and set in the seats across from one another. He took out his CD player and handed me one of the ear buds. He placed the other in his ear. I took a few deep breaths.
And when he hit play, we both played our invisible guitars.
* * *
“I have a proposal for you, and I’m hoping you’ll say yes,” Levi said when his music class showed up to our art room. He sat his violin case down. “I think we should be glitterati.”
“We’re not wealthy or famous,” I argued. “Plus, we don’t have any fashionable events to attend.”
“Ah! But that is wrong! Because while I was walking down the hallway, I heard people whispering and gossiping about how I could possibly be the father of your baby.”
“Is that the current rumor?”
“It is indeed the current rumor, and seeing as how most famous people are always talked about in those tabloids you read, then I think that kind of makes us famous by definition.”
“And what’s that definition?”
“Having a widely spread reputation.”
I smiled. “We do have that, don’t we? But we don’t have a fashionable event to attend, so I guess we’re out of luck. Do you want to work on a few samples of our final project? You can play as I paint and—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. You can’t just change the subject because we do have a fashionable event to attend.”
“And that is?”
He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He unfolded it and held it my way. “Aria Watson, will you go to winter formal with me this Saturday night?”
I chuckled. “Seriously?”
He nodded.
“No way. My mom would never let me go. Plus, there’s that whole six months pregnant thing I have going on.”
“You don’t worry about that. You just have a dress ready and your dancing shoes on. I’ll deal with your mom.”
* * *
Levi asked Mom on Tuesday if he could take me to the dance. She said no.
He asked on Wednesday. She said no.
Thursday before my therapy appointment—no.
Friday—no.
When Saturday night arrived, I figured Levi had given up on the idea of me going to winter formal with him. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t try on every dress in my closet, but most of them didn’t fit anymore anyway.
Maybe that was for the best.
I watched Mike and his date Jamie get ready with James and Nadine before they all headed off to the dance that I wasn’t allowed to attend.
It wasn’t fair.
Thirty minutes after the dance started, there was knocking on the front door.
Peeking around the corner, I saw Mom opening the door. Levi was standing there giving her that charming smile that made everyone in the whole wide world fall in love with him.
“Hello, Mrs. Watson. First and foremost, these are for you,” Levi said, handing flowers to Mom. My heart started beating faster and faster.
“Thank you, Levi, but I think the answer is still the same. We think it’s best that Aria doesn’t attend the winter formal tonight.”
She said ‘we’ like Dad was a part of the decision when really, he didn’t even know there was a dance.
“I know, but if I may?” He gestured toward the foyer, and Mom let him step inside.
She shouldn’t have done that. Once Levi entered someone’s house—or heart—there was no way to ever get rid of him.
He was wearing a black tuxedo with a polka dot green and white bowtie. He cleared his throat and stood tall, giving Mom that dangerous smile. “I want to take her to the dance. I understand why she wouldn’t want to go. I get why you wouldn’t want her to go. Her life is going to change within the next few months. Nothing is going to be the same, everything is going to be different, and you fear that all of the changes are going to be too much for her. Plus, the idea of me in her life is just another stressful thing added to the equation. Trust me, I’ve been trying to leave her alone for the past few months, but she’s ruthless at getting my attention. I get that you worry about what others will say about her ever-growing stomach and how she’ll be judged and criticized by other kids. Any good parent would worry about such things and any loving parent would want to keep their kid from that.
“But I want you to know that I’ll protect her. I’ll make her forget that there is anyone else in the room. I’ll make her feel comfortable and beautiful because her beauty is comforting to me. I’ll dance slow and not too often so she’s not on her feet all evening. I’ll make her laugh at really corny math jokes and give her really watered down punch.”