Stephanie’s hands are twitching. Somewhere out there, somebody is certainly posting the worst, most horrendous take known to man on Twitter at this very moment and here she is without her phone, powerless to do anything about it. It’s such bullsh*t. Her dad said that if she raised her grades to a C average, she could have it back, but at the last minute he decided that wasn’t enough and demanded she start rounding out her currently lackluster list of extracurriculars. In her opinion, spitting cold hard facts and spicy hot takes online totally counts. It’s basically journalism if you think about it. He emphatically disagreed. She has to do something she can actually put on a college application, which means smoke club is off the table. To make matters worse, she made the mistake of complaining to Stacy and Brenda about her predicament and they’ve decided she just has to join cheer.
“Seriously, just try the new cheer with us and see how you like it! I mean you’re pretty, you’re popular, why aren’t you a cheerleader already?” says Brenda.
“Uh, doesn’t it also require, like, dance skills and athleticism and enthusiasm?” Steph says with a skeptical look.
“Oh, you can learn all that stuff,” Stacy says cheerfully.
“Yeah, that’s great and all, but isn’t it too late to join?” Stephanie replies, increasingly desperate for some way to end this conversation.
“Technically, yeah, but I’m captain! I’m sure I can talk coach into making an exception for you,” Brenda says “seriously, just give it a try and tell us you don’t absolutely love it!”
“Do I really need to try it to tell you I don’t absolutely love it? I’ve never tried, like, squeezing lemon juice into an open wound, either, but I’m pretty confident I don’t like that.”
They both purse their lips in confusion, pausing just long enough for her salvation to arrive - fittingly enough, in the form of Grace. Honestly, the least she can do is help Stephanie out of this jam. Her inability to butt out and let people cheat on tests in peace is the reason Stephanie’s even in this situation in the first place. As if that wasn’t bad enough, she almost made them all complicit in manslaughter with that stupid prank. If Pete dove to catch Max even a fraction of a second later, she doesn’t want to think about what would’ve happened. Then again, Max’s brush with death seems to have humbled him and he’s at least been trying to be less of an asshole, so she supposes she has to give Grace credit for making Hatchetfield High a more tolerable place to be. Besides that, whether she likes it or not, they’re running in the same circles now. Steph’s been spending more time with Pete and Pete hangs out with Ruth and Richie, who hang out with Grace, so they’re stuck together, at least at lunch. To make things even weirder, Max has been joining them and those four have been letting him.
“Hey! Grace!” Stephanie calls with uncharacteristic enthusiasm as Grace rounds the corner, her “Cancel Homec*mming! Don’t dance with temptation!” sign held high.
“Hi, Stephanie,” she says, eyeing her suspiciously “I assume you haven’t changed your mind about allowing that excuse for sin and debauchery to happen?”
“I, uh, you know what? Yes I have,” says Stephanie. Surprise flashes across Grace’s face before she hands over the pink glitter gel pen attached to her clipboard so Stephanie can sign. There’s something so strangely charming about the fact that she uses a freaking glitter gel pen of all things for this.
“Actually,” Stephanie says as she puts down her signature with a flourish “I was wondering if you needed any help with your campaign.”
It’s brilliant. She’ll see how badly her father wants her to do an extracurricular when he finds out the one she’s chosen is going around school with Grace harassing all of their peers and telling them they’re going to hell for supporting homecoming. Oh, the high school football obsessed voters of this town will just be thrilled to find out that the mayor’s daughter is anti-homecoming. That alone is going to reflect very poorly on him, but the sh*tshow he’ll have to deal with if they actually manage to get the dance canceled is going to be glorious to witness. Realistically, they won’t, but a girl can dream. What’s more, the Chasitys are fairly powerful members of the community thanks to their involvement in the church and Mark’s status as the sole real estate agent in town. Crossing them by suddenly ditching their daughter when she promised to help her is also going to make Solomon look bad and possibly burn a bridge that he can’t afford to burn. It’s a lose-lose situation for her father and, therefore, win-win for her. See, she is pretty damn smart, no matter what he says.
Grace eyes her suspiciously. “You want to help? You? Why the sudden change of heart?”
That’s a great question. Stephanie’s not sure how she’s going to explain it. Would Grace believe that she had a life-changing spiritual experience since they saw each other at lunch today?
“I, just, uh, realized I wasn’t being very open-minded to your worldview,” Stephanie replies “think of it as a gesture of goodwill. We’re friends, right? Comrades. Classmates. Nighthawks. And Nighthawks gotta stick together, so if canceling the dance is really all that important to you, then what the hell- heck! I mean heck! I’ll help you out.”
“Well, it has been pretty lonely trying to do it all by myself,” Grace admits, “alright, I guess you can join.”
Stacy and Brenda have been watching this play out, periodically turning to each other to exchange bewildered looks. They only become more confused when Stephanie asks them to sign the petition, too. Brenda shrugs and accepts the pen, writing down her name in perfectly neat cursive. She’s stoked for the homecoming game and pep rally, but she couldn’t care less about the dance right now. It’s been two weeks since Max almost died or whatever and promised to stop bossing everybody around, meaning there’s nothing stopping Kyle from asking her out. So why hasn’t he? She’s been watching grand, romantic hoco proposals at lunch every single day and slowly losing hope that he has one planned for her. Stacy immediately follows suit. Steph and Brenda signed, so she’s obviously going to. She doesn’t want to be the odd one out.
“Wow, three signatures! That’s more than I’ve gotten the entire time I’ve been doing this! Steph, you’re incredible!” The way Grace’s face lights up is almost endearing and Stephanie has to admit that it’s nice to get some praise and recognition for once.
“Oh, we’re just getting started,” Steph replies with a faint, mischievous smirk.
Before they part ways to head to their next class, Stephanie finds herself agreeing to go to Grace’s after school. Apparently, if she’s serious about this, she needs her own sign to carry around.
“It’ll be fun, Steph,” Grace insists when they meet up in the parking lot at the end of the day “think of it like arts and crafts!”
“My favorite,” Stephanie says flatly as they load Grace’s pink Schwinn into the backseat of her car.
It turns out that the Chasity household is all the way across town. Grace must be surprisingly athletic if she makes that commute on her bike twice a day. It sits in a cul de sac lined with near-identical two-story houses, complete with perfectly maintained green lawns and white picket fences. It’s exactly how Stephanie would have pictured it. At least it is until they go upstairs to Grace’s bedroom and she sees that the door’s been removed from his hinges.
“I know open floor plans are trendy right now, but this seems like overkill,” she says “why do you just, like, straight up not have a bedroom door?”
“Oh, I’m not allowed to,” Grace says as if it’s the most normal thing in the world “my parents are worried I might get up to some inappropriate activities unsupervised.”
“Inappropriate? You?” Steph says “what, are they afraid you’re gonna stay up until eight forty-five instead of eight thirty doing Bible study?”
The joke is lost on Grace.
“No, Steph, really bad stuff! Like…” she pauses and looks around as if to make sure they’re alone, then lowers her voice to a whisper “…reading lewd magazines or touching myself.”
This explains a lot about Grace. Despite herself, Stephanie can’t help but feel sorry for her. Along with that comes a slight, unexpected sense of kinship. She knows a thing or two about overly controlling parents. Sure, Solomon graciously allows her to have a bedroom door and leaves her alone most of the time, just wanting her to shut up and stay out of his way, but whenever he does acknowledge her, it’s to tell her to do something (like the stupid extracurricular thing) or stop doing something or do something differently. No matter what she does, it’s never enough and it’s never right. There’s no escape from his scrutiny and it seems Grace has no escape from her parents’, either. She does seem to have a good enough relationship with them. She speaks very highly of them, genuinely seems to enjoy spending time with them and from what she’s told the rest of the group, it sounds like they’re generally pretty nice to her. It’s good to know that they actually care about Grace, at least, but this is a pretty f*cked up way of protecting her if that’s what they’re trying to do. Living with this lack of privacy would be hard on anyone.
Other than the one glaring missing feature, Grace’s bedroom is a cute, cozy space. Just as Stephanie would have expected, the lighting in here is soft and warm and it’s immaculately clean and organized. A twin-sized bed with a white wire frame and a pastel pink and blue quilt is tucked into the corner. Right next to it is a small, vintage looking desk, painted white to match. Against the opposite wall sits a largely empty bookshelf, sparsely lined with a handful of church-approved reading material. Stephanie’s eyes are drawn to the figure of Jesus on the crucifix hanging on the door. She saw a few of these at Jason’s place when she went there for a party one time, but none of them were wearing tiny, light blue sweaters like this one.
“What’s with his outfit? Is that some kind of obscure biblical reference I don’t get?” she asks. She’s not too familiar with scripture, so there’s a non-zero chance that’s the case.
“Oh, no,” Grace replies “I just knitted that for him ‘cause I think he needs to cover up. I get that he died for our sins, but he doesn’t need to have his nips out to do it.”
Stephanie stifles a laugh. “You really are a nerdy prude,” she says with a lot more affection than she intended. Grace sets up a poster board and an impressive collection of bright, colorful markers on the floor. The two settle down next to it and Grace begins decorating the border with an array of cute little flowers. It’s not what Stephanie would have drawn, but she thinks it’s pretty and it’s better than she would have done, anyway. Drawing isn’t really her thing. Grace tells her to think up a slogan and to make things more interesting, she challenges herself to come up with something outrageous and see if she can get Grace to approve it.
“Oh, I’ve got it,” Stephanie says, snapping her fingers “you’re gonna love this one.” She takes the dark purple marker, just because it’s the closest one to her. If it matches the lilies that Grace drew on each corner, slightly bigger than the rest of the flowers, that’s pure coincidence. She writes out the phrase: “Homecoming? More like Hellgoing.”
“I like that,” says Grace, nodding in approval as a pleasantly surprised grin spreads across her face “it’s bold, it’s catchy and it gets right to the point. You’re pretty smart, Steph.” Stephanie can count the amount of times she’s been told that on one hand. Even if it’s over an intentionally dumb slogan for a cause she doesn’t even actually care about, it’s really nice to hear. Her eyes water just a little bit. Must be allergies.
Stephanie doesn’t get much sleep that night. With no Twitter fights to distract her, she simply stares at the ceiling until two in the morning thinking about the surprising amount of fun she had hanging out with Grace and the glance she got into her home life today. If the Chasitys are so strict that they won’t even let her shut her bedroom door, her existence is probably totally devoid of typical teenage mischief. Has she ever gone for an aimless, late night drive with friends that ends in a midnight convenience store run and surprisingly deep conversations as everyone loiters in the parking lot and sips on slushies? Stephanie assumes not and she cannot stand for that. Nobody should be deprived of that experience. It’ll take some convincing, but maybe Grace would go with her sometime. If they can’t get a group of people together, she wouldn’t mind if it’s just the two of them.
God, who is she? The lack of screen time must really be messing with her head if she’s lying awake thinking about Grace and planning to spend time with her willingly. If anything, she always thought that getting off that cesspool of an app and no longer seeing infuriatingly stupid tweet after infuriatingly stupid tweet and wasting hours of time and mental energy arguing with them should have helped her think more clearly, but apparently not. She needs her phone back, pronto. She just has to survive until she can get her father to crack and hand it over.
When she reluctantly drags herself out of bed after hitting snooze for the tenth time, Stephanie knows right away that she’s going to fall asleep in class without the help of caffeine. On the way to school, she stops off at that singing coffee shop and gets her usual, a black americano with seven shots. She’s not sure they’re even legally allowed to serve that much caffeine in one drink, but they always indulge her. Being the mayor’s daughter does have its perks. On a whim, she decides to get an herbal peach tea for Grace. She double checks that it’s caffeine free and watches the barista vigilantly to make sure she doesn’t spit in it as it’s rumored they sometimes do here. It’s not like she wants to, but they agreed to touch base before class and it would be rude not to bring her anything. Solomon may be a sh*tty dad, but he raised her to have manners, damnit.
Grace awaits her on the front steps of the school, picket sign in hand. Stephanie truly doesn’t understand how anybody could look so alert and energetic at this hour, sleep deprived or not. Without a word, Stephanie hands Grace the tea and she accepts it almost cautiously, tentatively taking a sip once Stephanie reassures her that it doesn’t contain what she always insists is a gateway drug. Stephanie actually googled it once to try and prove her wrong and learned that caffeine is, in fact, technically a drug, even if she still doesn’t believe drinking it at the tender age of eighteen is a slippery slope to smoking “the devil’s lettuce” like Grace insists it is. No wonder she gets headaches when she doesn’t drink her seven shot americano. Huh, Grace might almost have a point.
“Oh, that’s really good,” she says brightly “I usually just drink plain hot water, but this is way better. I think it might be my new favorite. Thanks, Steph!”
Stephanie decides not to wonder why she’s so pleased that Grace liked it or why her heart flutters a little at the thought that it’s Grace’s new favorite. Maybe it’ll become her go-to order and she’ll think of Stephanie every time she drinks it.
“Alright, we’ve got like ten minutes before classes start, let’s get this show on the road,” Steph says. She sets her sights on a couple nerds climbing up the steps, animatedly discussing some TV show about a time traveling doctor.
“Hey,” she says “Rita! TJ!”
“It’s, uh, it’s Reese and PJ,” the one with the pigtails and the glasses says nervously. They both look a little terrified of her, which makes sense. She does run with the jocks and cheerleaders who were probably picking on them until recently.
“Right,” she says, trying to emulate her father’s constituent charming smile “say, you don’t want your tax dollars funding a school-sanctioned f*ckfest, do you?”
“Steph! Language,” Grace scolds her.
“Uh,” Reese replies, clearly distressed and confused.
“We’re high schoolers,” says PJ, equally uncertain “I mean, I have, like, a part-time job at the bookstore, so I guess I’m technically a taxpayer? Look, is this some new type of bullying? Because it’s making me really uncomfortable, I’d honestly rather you just gave me a swirly and got it over with.”
“PJ!” Reese says “speak for yourself! I don’t want a swirly. I’ll take the weird experimental bullying.”
“Oh, perish the thought! It’s not bullying. We’re out here trying to save souls,” Stephanie says dramatically “as a wise woman once said, homecoming is just an excuse to dry hump in the gym. We can’t allow that excuse for depravity and debauchery to take place. Not at our school. Sign this petition to keep the hallways free of sin and the gym floor free of spunk.” She’s actually having a blast hamming it up like this. Maybe she should look into drama club. She turns to Grace, who’s positively beaming and giving her two thumbs up.
“Uh, if we sign your petition, will you leave us alone?” PJ asks, shrinking back from Stephanie and hiding behind Reese.
“Deal,” Steph says, already handing her the glitter gel pen. She and Reese hastily sign and book it to get away from her.
It gets better from there. She catches Brad Callahan in the hallway and harasses him to sign, too. When he refuses on the grounds that Sarah Peterson agreed to go with him and they’re “totally going to get to third base”, she gets to channel her inner Grace and tell him he’s going to burn in hell. It’s indescribably cathartic. If there is an afterlife similar to what’s posited in the Bible, she honestly does believe he will, but for entirely different reasons.
By the end of the week, half the school is thoroughly annoyed by her and Grace’s proselytizing and the other half have, by some miracle, actually agreed to sign that damn petition. Every day, she comes up with another excuse (reason. They’re valid reasons) to hang out with Grace after school. They have to make new flyers to hand out. They have to make pamphlets to educate people on the safety hazard of bodily fluids on the gym floor. Now that they’re getting serious traction, they have to discuss how to bring the petition to the principal and then, potentially, the school board.
It was only a matter of time before Solomon caught wind of all this and confronted her. She gets home from drafting their proposal for principal Blim to find him waiting up for her in the living room with a scowl on his face. It gives her slight deja vu for the day her precious smartphone was taken from her.
“Well, if it isn’t my October surprise.”
“Oh, hi, Dad. To what do I owe the pleasure?” she says mockingly.
“Don’t get cute with me,” he says “care to explain why I’m getting phone calls from your school about you trying to cancel the homecoming dance and yelling at your classmates about ‘spunk’?” He practically spits the last word and his face contorts into a disgusted grimace at having to utter something so crass and vulgar.
“You were the one who told me to round out my extracurriculars,” she replies with a smug grin “I’m helping Grace Chasity with her campaign. Haven’t you heard? Homecoming is just a disgusting excuse to dry hump in the gym.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Stephanie, I meant a real extracurricular. Volleyball! German club! Yearbook! Anything but whatever the hell this is!”
“What’s the big deal?” she says “you were so worried what people would think of my nocturnal activities when that rumor started going around and now it’s not an issue anymore. Everyone knows I’m strictly anti-sex.”
“Well, you’re going to knock it off this instant if you don’t want me to smash your phone with a hammer for real.”
“Okay. Done,” she says, pausing for effect before grinning evilly and adding, “oh, you know what. I just thought of something. The Chasitys are a pretty big deal in the community, huh? They’re not going to be too happy with me if I ditch their daughter and leave her out to dry when I promised I’d help her, are they?”
Solomon throws his hands up and lets out an exasperated groan.
“You’re killing me, Stephanie!” he says “you’re killing me with what you’re doing!”
“If only, Dad. If only,” she says quietly, still smirking as he retreats to his study.
Grace slides out from under her warm, cozy quilt and makes her bed, smoothing out the bedding until it’s wrinkle free and neatly arranging her throw pillows just the way she likes them. She yawns, stretches and blinks, still a little groggy from sleeping in an extra half hour. Steph’s giving her a ride today, so she had the luxury of hitting snooze a few times and falling in and out of a light, comfortable slumber. She usually doesn’t mind getting up early and biking to school. She enjoys the quiet of the morning, the fresh air and the way it clears her usually racing mind, but it’s pouring rain today and she’d much rather be inside a warm, dry car. Steph’s company doesn’t hurt, either. She knows their relationship is strictly business, but she’s been having fun with Steph and she’s starting to think of her as an actual friend. She wonders if Steph feels the same way. She’s never had many friends before, so it’s hard to tell. She replays their interactions in her mind and tries to figure it out as she gets dressed and brushes her teeth. She’s never been one for skincare beyond slathering herself in SPF 50 whenever the sun is out, but Steph gave her a really fancy looking cleanser and moisturizer to try when she complained about her dry skin, so she washes her face and applies it. When she goes downstairs, both of her parents have already left for work. That’s a little jarring. She is sad that she’s missing out on breakfast with them, but the extra sleep just sounded too nice to pass up. It’s probably for the best. If they were here, they might ask what’s on her mind and she’s not sure she wants to tell them. She carefully cuts up two blueberry bagels from the family owned bakery downtown and puts them in the toaster. They pop up and Grace allows them to cool for a moment before gingerly grabbing them, slathering them in cream cheese and packing one into a Tupperware for Steph. To Grace’s horror, Stephanie (along with most of her new friends) regularly sleeps in and misses breakfast, so Grace has been trying to bring her something reasonably nutritious every morning. Steph has done so much for her recently. The least she can do is make sure she gets the most important meal of the day.
She glances out the window and sees Stephanie pulling up in front of her house. She heads out, carefully locks the door behind her and climbs into the passenger seat. Stephanie has the heater blasting and soft jazz plays quietly over the car stereo. Grace feels relaxed in a way that’s incredibly rare for her. There’s always tension somewhere in her body. Her mind always races with thoughts of the million things she has to do for school, for church, for Bible study, for her campaign. She always worries about her thoughts themselves, constantly on alert for any impure or blasphemous ones, terrified of what will happen if anybody finds out she has them. Not right now, though, and she has a feeling the warm, toasty air and calming music are only part of the reason. Lately, Grace always feels this at ease when she’s around Steph. It’s a strange, unfamiliar feeling, but a nice one. Is this what having close friends is like?
“I like the music,” Grace comments.
“Yeah, I thought it’d fit the cozy rainy day vibes,” says Steph as she backs out of the driveway and starts down the street.
“It is cozy,” Grace agrees.
“So, two hundred signatures, huh?” Steph says “did you ever think you’d get that far?”
“No,” says Grace “not in my wildest dreams. I never could have done it on my own. I’m nowhere near as convincing as you. If you can believe it, a lot of people say I come on a little strong.”
“What? No way!” Stephanie says with a teasing, lighthearted smile. “Maybe you do, but that’s not always a bad thing,” she adds after a moment. She says it quietly, fondly and with a level of sincerity that’s extremely rare for her.
Grace’s face flushes. The heat must be turned up just a little bit too high. They arrive at school and Stephanie parks, then reaches into the backseat to grab her bag. It’s right behind Grace, so she sort of has to lean towards her to get to it. Grace wonders what it would be like if she leaned in, too, and kissed her. Her lips would probably be soft. They look soft. Her hair would be soft, too, as Grace ran her fingers through it. Her hands would be warm on Grace’s back when she reached up under her blouse. She might taste bitter from all that coffee she downs. Grace has never had a sip of coffee in her life and the thought of that being her first taste is exciting. As Stephanie brings the bag up, they lock eyes for a minute and just look at each other. A tension hangs in the air, but it’s not an unpleasant one. Almost unconsciously, Grace gives into the thoughts and leans in so slightly that it’s barely perceptible. Steph does the same, not breaking eye contact.
Oh, heck. Oh, no.
Grace hastily pulls away and steps out of the car.
“We should get going if we want to collect some more signatures before class,” she says.
She doesn’t know where the heck those thoughts came from, but they’re going into the furthest recesses of her mind, where they belong. As much as she wants to spend more time with Steph, she can’t be around her right now, so she tells her they should really divide and conquer to cover as much ground as possible and ensure they get to everyone who hasn’t signed yet. She isn’t sure, but she could swear Steph’s face falls a little, which only makes her feel more guilty. She doesn’t want to make Steph sad. That’s the last thing she wants, but she needs to stamp this out before it becomes even more of a problem.
Grace doesn’t have nearly as much control over herself or her thoughts as she’d like to believe. Despite her efforts to think of literally anything else, her mind keeps wandering back to that moment in the car as she traverses the hallway during lunch. She’s supposed to be collecting signatures right now, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to focus on it, so she took to wandering around aimlessly instead. She probably wouldn’t have been very effective, anyway. Steph is the charismatic, persuasive one. She’d give anything for some kind of distraction right now.
Ask and you shall receive, she thinks to herself as she sees Max rounding the corner.
“Hey, Grace,” he says cheerfully. From the way he looks at her, it’s obvious that he’s still absolutely enraptured by her. “What are you doin’?”
“Hi, Max,” she says absently, too wrapped up in her current crisis to scold him for leering at her like that. She wouldn’t even consider it leering anymore, really. Something about it is different from the way he looked at her before the Waylon place incident. She’s not sure how to describe it. More respectful, maybe. More genuinely fond. “Getting the dance canceled, same as usual.”
“Where are you headed? Maybe I could, uh, carry your books for you? If you want. No pressure. Or we could just walk together,” he says and his bright, hopeful smile just about kills her. He has no idea she’s been thinking about someone else entirely.
“Max, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times, we’re way too young for that!” She’s made her stance on book carrying abundantly clear. “Besides, if you don’t change your ways, you’re already hellbound. You don’t need to make things worse for yourself by associating with a sinner like me.”
Max furrows his brow, his face contorting into the same expression he wears when he’s trying to decipher his remedial algebra homework. “What are you talking about? You’re, like, the biggest prude in school.”
She doesn’t want to break down here, but she feels tears threatening to spill over and she’s not sure how much longer she can hold them back. “That’s really sweet of you to say, Max, but you don’t understand. I think I like someone. Like, like-like them.”
“Is it me?” he asks, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks. There’s that stupid hopeful grin again.
“Oh, Max. No,” she says. He was kind of expecting that. As they’ve gotten closer, she’s shown less and less of that type of interest in him. That doesn’t make it sting any less, but there’s no time to dwell on his disappointment now. Who the hell is this guy, anyway? He’s going to kick his ass. Wait, no. No, he’s not. Grace is her own person and she can go out with anybody she wants. It’s not this mystery dude’s fault if she’s into him and not Max.
“That’s the thing,” she continues, “that someone’s a girl, too!”
The tears flow freely now and she begins to sob quietly. Max’s eyes go wide. He freezes up like a deer in headlights. He has no idea how to handle this. He knows how to make people cry. In fact, he’s really good at it. Until recently, he did it on a near daily basis, usually on purpose. Getting them to stop crying, on the other hand, is uncharted territory.
“Aw, Grace, c’mon, don’t cry,” he starts. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t do much. “I’ll sign your petition! I’ll make everybody sign your petition! How’s that sound? No homecoming! No spunk on the gym floor!” When she doesn’t even respond to that, he knows it’s serious. “Lots of people like girls. I like girls! Who doesn’t? They’re great.”
She sniffles. “Yeah, b-but you’re a boy. You’re supposed to!”
He pauses. “Well, I don’t bring it up a lot, but I like guys, too. See, you’re not alone. We’re, like, uh, what’s the phrase? Like two peas in a pod,” he says, trying to sound gentle and reassuring, which is also uncharted territory for him. She pauses and looks at him for a second.
“Oh, gosh,” she says and starts bawling even harder. He winces and realizes he’s in way over his head. It’s time to message Ruth and Richie for backup.
Grace is crying, plz help
He receives a string of incredibly graphic threats and knife emojis from both of them in response and adds, I swear I didn’t do it!! At least not on purpose!!
Yeah well there’s a difference between intent and impact bitch. Smh have you already forgotten the anti bullying assembly??? Richie replies but yeah meet us in the AV classroom, it’s empty rn
He leads Grace there and Ruth and Richie await them. She sniffles and takes a seat across from them. Conveniently, the classroom is set up to fit four people at each table, so Max slides into the seat next to her. Ruth hands her a small water bottle and Richie gives her a pack of tissues. He always carries some around to dab the sweat from his forehead, but they don’t do much. They usually end up disintegrating from becoming so soaked.
“You wanna tell us what’s wrong, Grace?” Richie asks.
She tugs at the sleeve of Max’s letterman, looking at him with red, puffy eyes. His chest tightens. It’s hard to see her like this, so sad and scared and drained. His face forms a puzzled expression as he tries to figure out what she’s trying to communicate until he finally realizes.
“Oh,” he says “you want me to tell ‘em?” She nods, still dabbing at her eyes with the tissues. “She’s sad ‘cause she likes a girl. But there’s nothing wrong with that, right? Who doesn’t like girls?”
“Uh, me,” says Richie.
“Oh, right, sorry, Richie,” Max corrects himself with an apologetic grin.
“Preach!” says Ruth, raising her hand to high five Max. He enthusiastically returns it. “If girls loving girls is wrong, then I don’t want to be right! See, Grace, you’re not alone. You’re just like me. Two peas in a pod!”
Grace buries her face in her hands and starts bawling again.
He looks at Ruth and Richie with slight indignation.
“See,” he says “it’s not so easy, is it?” His point made, he turns to watch Grace helplessly. Grace, who was the mastermind behind the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for him, even if he did later find out that it was an admittedly well deserved revenge prank. Grace, who didn’t have to be his friend and probably shouldn’t even be giving him the time of day after the way he treated her, but still does anyway. Grace, who’s usually so opinionated and snarky and passionate, always fired up about something and never shy about it, regardless of what other people think.
He’s been learning to accept that he can’t control every little thing. That trying to have power over everything and everybody was deeply unhealthy and all it really accomplished apart from a fleeting power trip was making everybody miserable and secretly resentful of him. It’s hard letting go, but it’s also been liberating. The powerlessness he feels right now is crushing, though. There’s nothing freeing about it. He can’t stand sitting here watching his friend break down because she thinks that some fundamental part of herself is wrong. He wants to fight the people who made her feel this way, but he suspects that particular list is too extensive for him to work his way through. What good would it do now, anyway? Maybe it’s finally time to take the advice of the exhausted, overworked second grade teacher who was definitely not paid enough to put up with all of his sh*t and use his words instead of hitting. Better late than never, as they say.
“Grace,” he says gently, not even sure where he’s going with this, but unable to stand the silence anymore “we’re, uh, we’re here for you, alright? It’s gonna be okay.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about! No it’s not,” she cries in a strained, hoarse voice “even if it’s true that there’s nothing wrong with liking girls, my parents probably don’t think so! What’s gonna happen to me if they find out? They’ll make me go live at abstinence camp with the Jerries for the rest of my life!”
“Well, we’re eighteen, right?” says Ruth “they can’t make you.”
“And if they try, you’ll just come stay with me instead,” says Richie “uncle Paul would be more than cool with it. He loves you. He says you’re a good influence because you don’t let me blow off my homework to watch anime and you make me go to bed before three in the morning.”
“Well, you need your eight hours,” she says with a soft and sincere, but exhausted smile “thanks, guys. That does make me feel a little better.” She goes over to Richie and tentatively pulls him into a hug, not caring about the stench or how damp he is. Ruth, of course, eagerly joins in, not about to miss the opportunity for human contact. Max stays put and looks at them with hesitation, not sure if they want him to join.
“What are you doing, Max?” says Grace “get in here.” Well, that answers his question. He still holds back, watching Ruth and Richie for their reactions.
“It’s only fair,” says Richie with a smirk “you did make her cry.” He scowls, but comes over and wraps his arms around them tight.
With Grace sufficiently cheered up, there’s still one question on everyone’s minds.
“So, who’s the lucky lady?” says Ruth “wait, it’s not me, is it?”
“What? No,” she says. Everyone’s relieved to see her signature snark finally making a comeback.
“It’s okay, Ruth. I got shot down, too,” says Max “two peas in a pod!” They high five again.
“It’s Steph,” she finally admits.
“Makes sense,” says Richie “she is waifu material.” Ruth nods in agreement.
“Waifu material?” Max asks, furrowing his brow in confusion once again. Richie places a hand on each of his shoulders and looks at him with an intense, solemn expression.
“I have much to teach you,” he says “come over after football practice, we’re watching all the classics. We’ll start you off with Ouran, I feel like it’s pretty approachable for a beginner.”
Ruth clings to one of his arms. “What? No fair, I still haven’t gotten to show him Star Wars. Come over to mine, Max, we’re watching the prequels.”
“The prequels, Ruth? Seriously? As if subjecting him to the trilogy isn’t bad enough.”
“Well, what do you know, you won’t even sit through one episode of Clone Wars with me!”
As they continue to bicker, a warmth blooms in his chest. They actually want to spend time with him to the point of arguing over who gets to. They want to be around him when they don’t have to. They like him. They’re not just sticking around out of fear. They trust him enough to invite him into their homes. To ask him to share in the nerdy interests he used to make fun of them for. He smiles softly and pulls them into another hug.
“We can do both,” he says.
“Ugh, fine,” Richie huffs, but a reluctant smile tugs at the corner of his lips.
“Hey, Grace, you want to join us?” Max asks “oh, we should invite Steph and Pete, too!”
“I appreciate the invite, but I have my Bible study group tonight.” That much is true. She is supposed to meet up with Mary, Gabe and Noah later to study scripture. She’s not sure she can face them after her realization today, but if she skips, her parents are sure to hear about it. Besides that, the alternative of joining them for their movie night and facing Peter is only slightly less daunting. It’s obvious that he like-likes Steph, too. She’s worried it’s going to make things awkward between them. What if Steph likes her and not Peter and he ends up getting hurt? What if Steph likes Peter and not Grace and she has to watch them hold hands and make eyes at each other as she stuffs down her heartbreak and pretends she never wanted any of those things?
That night, Grace does the unthinkable and skips Bible study. She texts their group chat and tells them she’s not feeling well. She reasons that it’s not a lie, the unwellness is just mental rather than physical. The anxiety and uncertainty are gnawing at her so hard that she would be distracted for the entire session and that’s so unusual for her that it would draw more attention than skipping. She might have to explain herself if someone mentions it to her parents at church, but she’ll cross that bridge when she comes to it. She obviously can’t go home just yet, so she decides to walk to Oakley park. It’s a bit of a trek, but Grace could use a walk to clear her head and the rain has luckily let up since this morning, the downpour having turned into a light mist.
So, maybe like-liking Steph isn’t the worst thing in the world. Maybe there’s a possibility that Steph returns her feelings. Looking back on their moment in the car, Grace kind of gets that impression, but that might just be wishful thinking. Heck, maybe her parents will be okay with it. They’ve never said anything against girls liking girls, now that she thinks about it. They could very well be fine with Grace letting Steph carry her books, so long as they don’t do anything more scandalous than that (they are still only eighteen, after all). They haven’t really said anything about hom*osexuality, period. Neither has anyone at her church, except for Gabe. He thinks it’s a sin and he said as much when it came up in conversation during youth group one day. None of the other kids outright agreed with him, but none of them really tried to argue with him, either. At the time, Grace didn’t understand why her entire body suddenly felt tense or why youth group never quite felt like the same fun, safe space that it used to be. After that, she just kind of assumed that everyone at her church must feel similarly, but maybe that’s not true. Gabe is just one person. Maybe she can go out with Steph and be open about it and her friends from church won’t shun her and all the adults at church will still think she’s a good kid and her parents will still love her. Even if her worst fears do come to pass, she knows her friends will help her through it. She won’t be completely alone. That thought comforts her, even if it doesn’t completely erase the unease she feels.
Grace arrives at the park and heads straight to the lake, walking out to the end of the dock and staring at the water as it moves and ripples in a slightly choppy pattern. The slow, easy motion is mesmerizing to watch, calming her in a way that little else does. One way or another, she’s going to be okay. She’d already begun to believe that earlier, but now she truly feels it. She’s all but decided that she’s going to tell Steph how she feels. In her heart, it’s what feels right. That just leaves the incredibly daunting question of how to even approach that. She’s spent her whole life trying to avoid these types of entanglements, thinking they’d inevitably lead to certain activities that she always believed she shouldn’t even be thinking about until she’s safely married. Now she actually wants one and she has no idea what to do. How does one ask a girl out? For the first time in her life, she has friends she could ask for advice, but none of them are going to be any good for this particular topic. Ruth has never gone out with anybody. Richie hasn’t, either, although in his case, it’s by choice. Max has also never had a serious relationship and if the way he used to flirt with Grace is any indication, he’s not very good at it. She thinks Peter might actually have some sound, reasonable advice for her despite his lack of experience in this department, but she can’t go to him for obvious reasons.
She wonders if it would be too forward to ask Stephanie to the dance. True, that would go against the campaign to cancel it that they’ve put so much work into, but if she’s being really honest with herself, she hasn’t been that invested in stopping her peers from dry humping in the gym for a while. Lately, the only thing that really excites her about collecting signatures is getting to spend time with Steph. She kept going for that reason and because it was comfortable. It was what everyone expected of her, including herself. It’s what she does. She keeps people in line in the hopes of steering them down the right path. She gets other kids in trouble for breaking the rules, because those rules are there for a reason, even if they don’t make much sense, placed by people who know better and somebody needs to enforce them. She pours every ounce of her passion and energy into fighting against anything that encourages sin and debauchery, whether it’s a pot farm or a school dance. She’s not even sure who she is if she lets all of that go, but as much as that thought terrifies her, she thinks it might be time to find out.
If she’s getting out of her comfort zone anyway, she should get really out of her comfort zone and ask Steph to the dance with a grand romantic homecoming proposal like she’s been watching all the other kids do for the past few years, usually with a disapproving scowl on her face and a detention slip at the ready to hand to them if they decide to disturb the peace by making out in the hallway. Nobody would peg cool, unbothered Stephanie Lauter as the type to enjoy such a sappy gesture, but Grace thinks she just might. When was the last time somebody went out of their way to make her feel special? Almost everybody at school likes her, but how many of them really know her? Grace has made up her mind. She’s going to ask her in a way that’s unique to any of these other proposals she’s seen, tailor made for Steph. She just has to figure out what exactly she’s going to do. Oh, and she should probably tell her parents she doesn’t want to cancel homecoming anymore and actually wants to go. Honestly, that might be even more intimidating than telling them who she wants to go with.
Ruth ends up hosting the movie night. Her mother is away for the week helping an old friend of hers workshop their new musical at the Seattle Rep and she has their small, walk-up apartment just a stone’s throw away from the Nantucket bridge to herself. The living room is tiny and filled to the brim with plants (most of which are either fake or dying) and a mismatched, eclectic assortment of furniture, the centerpiece of which is a bright yellow sofa. Ruth, Stephanie and Peter all currently sit on it, shoulder to shoulder because it’s barely large enough to hold them all. Max and Richie are sprawled out on the floor, still fairly comfortable thanks to the extensive collection of throw pillows. Every inch of wall space is either a Broadway playbill or a family photo of Ruth and her mother (some of the older ones include her father, too). Each frame is a different size, color and pattern. Somehow, it doesn’t feel cramped at all, just cozy and homey.
They’re about halfway into A New Hope. Ruth beat Richie in a very intense game of rock, paper, scissors, meaning they’re watching the trilogy tonight and doing their anime marathon next time. Richie, of course, pointedly ignores what’s happening on the screen and scrolls through his phone, but occasionally he’ll look up and make a comment that suggests he’s more invested than he lets on. That’s a win in Ruth’s book. Max seems absolutely taken with it, his eyes glued to the screen. If she can’t sell Richie on the franchise, maybe she can at least get Max into it and they can geek out together.
Steph and Pete aren’t paying much attention. Stephanie stares down at her phone, which her father finally caved in and handed over earlier today, but doesn’t seem very invested in whatever she’s reading. She doesn’t even scroll or type anything. Occasionally, she glances over at Pete with an expression in her eyes that Ruth can’t quite place and he’ll occasionally return it, looking like he wants to say something, but then not saying it. They’re not sexy, longing looks and Ruth would know - she’s a connoisseur of those. There’s a tension and it’s not of the sexual variety. It’s not hot at all. It’s stressful. Ruth thinks she knows what this is about. It probably has to do with the flirty energy she once sensed between Pete and Steph that seems to have all but evaporated, at least on her side, and whatever’s going on between Steph and Grace now. Thinking about it too hard makes a pit form in her stomach. What if Steph and Pete have a falling out over this? What if Pete and Grace do, too, and their weird little friend group falls apart as quickly as they came together? She doesn’t want to have to pick sides. She doesn’t want to lose any of her new friends or her old ones. Even if nobody fights over this, what if it makes things so awkward that they’re never the same and they all eventually drift apart?
Steph’s phone vibrates and whatever message she received makes her deflate just a little bit.
“What’s up?” Pete asks “are people sending you angry DMs over that dog again?”
“No,” Steph replies “people have kind of forgotten about that. Probably for the best. The whole issue is just way more nuanced than anyone on Twitter is willing to admit. Like, yeah, it’s bad that he chased Peanuts the squirrel, I’m not defending that, everybody loves Peanuts! But it was still, like, objectively hilarious when he bit my dad and I don’t think it’s wrong to appreciate that.”
Max tears his eyes away from the screen to look up at Stephanie with concern. “What is it then, Steph? Is your dad being a dick again? Do we need to go find that dog and let him loose in your house?”
“Nah,” she says “he’s not big on texting. If he’s gonna be a dick, he prefers a good old fashioned face to face conversation.”
“Besides,” Richie adds “I think they sent that dog to an animal rescue in Clivesdale.”
“What?” Pete says, absolutely horrified “that’s way too f*ckin’ far, even for what he did! Just put him down or something! Jeez!”
“Okay, how about this?” Ruth says “we go to the Hatchetfield kennel, we get, like, ten dogs with a biting history, we put them all in Steph’s dad’s study…”
“f*ck yeah, Ruth, that’s a way better idea,” says Max “ten dogs is like…” he scrunches up his face, deep in thought and counts on his fingers “…ten times as many bites. That’ll show him!”
“Ruth, Max, no!” Peter says sternly “you guys do realize you’d still be responsible for the dogs after they bit him, right? I don’t think either of you can even be trusted with one pet, let alone ten!”
Stephanie smiles, touched by her friends’ protectiveness. She’s not sure how serious they are about this dog plan (with Ruth and Max, she never knows. Those two are wildcards), but it’s sweet that they’re so defensive of her. She wonders what Grace would have to say if she was here. That girl can scheme. She’d probably come up with something even more unhinged than unleashing ten hostile dogs into her father’s study and convince them all to go along with it, despite her last plan almost ending with Max dead and the rest of them in jail for manslaughter. She’s been saying that Steph’s the persuasive one and the driving force behind them getting so many signatures, but she should give herself some credit, too. Ruth and Max both immediately go into sulking mode at Peter’s objection.
“Don’t listen to him, Ruth,” Max says with a pout “we’d be great pet parents to our ten bitey dogs!”
“We’d name them all after Star Wars characters,” Ruth adds.
Richie scoffs. “Oh, c’mon, Ruth, are you serious? Not all ten! Surely at least some of them can be named after a franchise that’s actually cool!” he says.
“Well, they’re our dogs,” says Max “we can name ‘em whatever we want.”
“Yeah, Richie!” Ruth says pointedly, sticking her tongue out at him “they’re our dogs!”
“Nobody’s getting any dogs!” Peter says again. He turns to Steph and Ruth is pleased to see that some of that weird tension between them is gone. “So, if it’s not about that dog, what is it, Steph?”
She looks at him hesitantly, almost guiltily and tells him, “That was Grace. She doesn’t, uh, she doesn’t want to cancel homecoming anymore.”
“And that’s bad because…?” Peter asks, confused. Ruth, Richie and Max exchange knowing looks.
“I don’t know,” says Stephanie “we worked really hard on that campaign! I was starting to kind of have fun with it and I thought she was, too. I made that stupid sign. We spent, like, every lunch and passing period harassing everyone into signing the petition. We were so close to getting it in front of the principal and even the school board and, like, I don’t care, but Grace would’ve been so stoked about it! At least, I thought so. I just don’t get why she wants to throw it all away.”
“Well, I guess it is a bummer that all your effort is going to waste,” Peter says “but you can still hang out with her without yelling at everyone who walks by that twenty people per year slip on wayward spunk puddles, resulting in serious injury or death. Did you guys ever fact check that, by the way?”
“Nope, completely made it up,” says Stephanie, smiling almost proudly as she thinks back on the way Grace complimented her for coming up with it. “Look, I know I can hang out with her outside of all that stuff, but what if she doesn’t want to? What if she doesn’t want to in the same way I do? Sometimes I feel like she does, but I’m not sure. I mean, this is Grace Chasity we’re talking about. She thinks eighteen is too young to be carrying someone’s books!”
Her eyes widen slightly in surprise as it hits her what she just revealed.
“Oh,” says Peter, looking a little taken aback himself as he processes this information “you like Grace like that?”
“Yeah,” Stephanie says awkwardly.
Ruth makes the split second decision to give them some privacy, grabbing Max and Richie by their collars and practically dragging them out of the front door.
“Oh, look at the time,” she says “we should really get going!”
“What? Ruth, this is your house,” Stephanie calls after her.
“I’m calling Hatchetfield Kennel and telling them to look out for you guys, so don’t f*ckin’ try anything!” Peter yells. The only response he receives is the sound of the door closing and suddenly, he and Stephanie are alone. The movie playing in the background only makes the atmosphere even weirder, so Stephanie searches for the remote and hits the mute button. The awkward silence is only slightly better.
“Yeah,” Stephanie says again “sorry. I know we were kind of vibing for a while. I just…I don’t know. Grace and I have been spending so much time together for the campaign and I’ve gotten to know her a lot better. Kinda caught feelings at some point.”
“I get it,” he says with a slight, teasing grin “you’ve got a type and it doesn’t get much nerdier than her. Even I can’t compete with that.”
“Aw, don’t sell yourself short, bow tie kid,” she teases back. After a few seconds of much more comfortable silence, she adds, “You’re really okay with it?”
“I mean, of course I’m a little bummed it didn’t work out between us. I never felt cooler than when Stephanie Lauter, the coolest girl in school, actually wanted to talk to me,” he replies “at least, until Steph, valiant defender of problematic dogs everywhere, consumer of a concerning amount of coffee, seriously, seven shots of espresso in one drink is excessive, you’re going to give yourself heart problems, who’s way more passionate than she lets on and way smarter than anyone gives her credit for, actually wanted to be my friend. I just want to keep hanging out with you. I don’t really care in what capacity.”
“Yeah,” Steph says with a soft smile “I’d really like that, too, Pete.”
Ruth is still nowhere to be found and they quickly realize they don’t know where the spare key is and can’t lock up. Not wanting to leave their friend’s place unlocked and unattended, they resign themselves to spending the night here. Pete begins to doze off and slowly slumps over, his head coming to rest on her shoulder. She soon falls asleep, too, and that’s how Ruth finds them when she returns home at three in the morning. She takes the throw blanket currently draped over the back of the couch and gently covers them up before heading to her bedroom to get whatever rest she can before her alarm starts blaring in a few hours. Sensing that things are okay between them and she doesn’t have to worry about her friend group falling apart, she sleeps peacefully and has pleasant, happy dreams.
When Grace’s alarm goes off at six o’clock sharp, just like it does every morning, she’s already been lying awake for a solid hour. She has a big day ahead of her. She’s going to have that talk with her parents at breakfast and if that doesn’t go horrifically wrong, she’s going to ask Steph to the dance today. She stayed up far too late for her tastes, painstakingly using up all of the white out in the house to erase the words “cancel” and “don’t” on her picket sign that Steph thought was so funny, leaving the words, “Homecoming! Dance with temptation!” She then erased those exclamation points and replaced them with question marks. It looked a little weird with all of the empty space, so she drew an assortment of flowers in various shades of pink and purple to match the ones on the border of Steph’s sign. She looks at her handiwork laid out on her desk, admiring her artistry and deciding that it was worth the hours of sleep lost.
Once she’s dressed and ready for the day, she heads downstairs, where her mom and dad already await her at the table with warm, welcoming smiles. A steaming mug of hot water and a freshly made plate of eggs and toast are already set out for her.
“Morning mommy, dad,” she greets them as she slides into her seat, praying that the nervousness that seems to consume her whole body doesn’t slip through her sunny demeanor.
“Morning, Gracie,” says Karen “how’d you sleep?”
Grace sighs. If she’s going to be honest with them, she might as well start now. “Not really,” she admits.
“Bad dreams?” Mark asks “I knew we shouldn’t have let you watch those PG movies the other night.”
“No, dad, that’s not it,” she replies “I’ve just been rethinking some things. That’s all. I’m not, um, I’m not too sure if I want to cancel homecoming anymore.” Her eyes flit between them as she braces herself for the disappointed reaction she was sure that would elicit. Instead, her parents glance at each other and then look towards her with soft, concerned eyes.
“Why’s that, sweetie?” Karen says “just last week, you were so jazzed about all the signatures you got! What happened? Oh, gosh, the kids at school aren’t being mean about it, are they? Do we need to talk to the principal? Because we will.” Her tone is almost threatening, but it’s not directed at Grace.
“Slow down, mother,” says Mark “let’s hear what Gracie has to say first.”
“No, mom,” Grace replies “that’s not it. I just…” Oh, gosh. This is it. Grace takes a deep breath and continues, “I don’t wanna cancel the dance because…because…I wanna go! There’s somebody I want to go with!”
Her parents both look a little taken aback, but they’re a lot calmer than she pictured them being.
“Well,” Mark starts, “we were just about her age when we went to our first school dance together, weren’t we, mother?”
Karen smiles lovingly at him. “Oh, I suppose we were. You were such a gentleman, making sure you got me home at eight thirty on the dot and not a second later. That’s when my father really came around and started liking you.”
“He wouldn’t have if he’d looked out the window and seen what we were doing,” Mark replies with a mischievous grin “we’d just said goodnight and I was about to leave. Imagine my surprise when this one grabbed my arm and planted a kiss on my cheek. Why, I just about turned as red as a tomato!”
“Mark!” Karen lightly chastises him.
“Dad, gross!” says Grace.
“The point is, Gracie, you can go to the dance,” says Karen “we were all for your crusade to get it canceled, but that was only because you wanted to! You were so fired up about it and you put in so much hard work, of course we were going to cheer you on.”
“Now, who’s this boy you want to take you to the dance?” Mark says with a slightly more stern demeanor “we should probably speak to his parents.”
Oh, gosh. This is the moment of truth.
“Stephanie,” she squeaks out “Lauter. You know, the mayor’s daughter. I hope that’s okay.” She squeezes her eyes shut, terrified to see their reactions. Please say it’s okay. Please say it’s okay. I need my mommy and daddy. I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t love me anymore. I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t give me my kiss before I leave for school every day.
“Well, as long as she keeps her hands above the waist and has you home before nine o’clock,” says Mark. Grace slowly opens her eyes. The pounding in her heart slows down and she gasps for air, tears stinging at her eyes. She hadn’t even realized she was holding her breath.
“Nine o’clock? Mark, are you sure?” Karen replies.
“Oh, heck, it’s her senior year, let her get a little crazy. Heaven knows we did,” Mark replies. He returns his attention to the newspaper. “You know, I think I can actually do without calling her parents. Never cared for that Solomon Lauter.”
Grace didn’t fully realize how heavily this had been weighing upon her, but now that that weight’s been lifted, she feels impossibly light, almost to the point that it’s dizzying. She takes a sip of her water. It’s now lukewarm, but she doesn’t mind. She faced her worst fears and they didn’t come to pass. Her parents still love her just as much as they always have. They’re even willing to give her a bit more freedom than she ever thought they would. If Steph says yes, she’ll be going to her very first dance. Everything is okay.
She gets her usual hug from her father and kiss on the cheek from her mother before she heads out to make it to school bright and early, but not before darting upstairs to grab her sign.
As soon as she enters the building, she’s met with a small crowd of students gathered to watch as Brenda holds up a posterboard that dwarfs Grace’s with the word “Hoco?” written out in immaculately neat, bright yellow bubble letters. Across the hallway, Kyle looks at her with sparkling eyes, his face slightly flushed, his hands held up to his mouth in surprise.
“What do you say, babe?” Brenda says “I got tired of waiting around for you to ask me and then I was all like, ‘wait, why does it have to be the guy who asks, anyway?’”
“Yay! Progress,” Stacy adds cheerfully, standing right next to Brenda with a bouquet of sunflowers in hand. Kyle breaks out into the widest, most brilliant smile and he looks like he might cry.
“Brenda,” he says softly “this is beautiful. This is, like, the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for me. Of course I’ll go with you. It’s all I’ve wanted, ever since sophom*ore year.”
Brenda hands the sign over to Stacy and Kyle runs over to pull her into a crushing hug. Once they’ve let go, she plucks the sunflowers from Stacy’s grasp and holds them up to Kyle. “These are for you, too,” she says “I was thinking about it and boys, like, never get flowers, which is so messed up!”
“Aw, Brenda, they’re beautiful. Just like you,” Kyle says. Naturally, they pass the flowers back to Stacy and proceed to aggressively make out right there in the middle of the hallway. Stacy stands there fiddling with the sign, seemingly unsure what to do with herself, although the her nonchalant expression and sunny smile suggest that this doesn’t really bother her. Grace can’t even find it within herself to scold them or threaten them with a detention like she usually would. What can she say? She’s happy for them and she only hopes her own homecoming proposal goes so well.
She’s going to do it at lunch. She figures that will give her plenty of time to work up the nerve and run through exactly what she’s going to say over and over again until it’s absolutely perfect and she can’t possibly stumble on her words or mess it up. At least that’s what she thinks until Stephanie walks through the door, her flannel slightly rumpled and her hair tied up into a ponytail with a bright orange scrunchie that Grace is pretty confident belongs to Ruth. On each side of her face, a lock of her deep brown, wavy hair hangs down. Grace sort of wants to play with it. Even with the pronounced dark circles under her eyes, she looks stunningly beautiful. If anything, they make her even more alluring. Grace doesn’t think she can wait until lunch for an answer.
“Steph,” she calls, running over to her “Steph! I’m glad you’re here. I, um, I had something I wanted to ask you.” Her heart hammers in her chest again as she slowly raises the sign to show Stephanie. A sleepy, but soft and genuine smile spreads across Steph’s face, a glint of amusem*nt in her eyes.
“Aw, damn, yours is way better,” she says, holding up her own sign for Grace to see. She’s crossed out the word “hell” in bright red marker and written the word “we’re” above it, so that it now reads “Homecoming? More like we’re going.” Grace giggles, partially out of the sheer joy and relief that Steph feels the same, partially because Steph’s sign is so funny and charming and so her, partially because she loves that they had the same idea.
“Great minds think alike,” Grace says a little breathlessly.
“Guess they do,” Steph says “so, guess we should start heading to class, huh? If I’m your homecoming date, does that mean I get to carry your books?”
Right then, Grace decides to do something bold. She said she was going to get out of her comfort zone and dangit, she’s keeping her word. She goes over to Stacy, who’s still holding Brenda’s stuff, and hands over her sign.
“Hold this,” she says. Stacy shrugs and accepts it, her cheerful demeanor unchanging, as Grace returns to Steph. Her hands now free, she places one on each of Steph’s cheeks and pulls her face in really close, pausing for just a second to work up the nerve before she kisses her. It’s strictly closed-mouthed (Grace is not ready for tongue), but it’s fierce and passionate and it’s a big, big deal to her and oh, heck, it’s her first kiss, too! Steph’s lips are every bit as soft as Grace imagined. She feels Stephanie’s hands come up to rest on her back. Her upper back, to be precise. She appreciates Steph treading carefully and respecting her boundaries, but she honestly wouldn’t mind if they were a little lower. That’s okay, though. They'll get there eventually. Grace still isn’t sure quite how far she wants to go, but she has time to figure it out. Just like the abstinence club says in all the pamphlets they hand out, there’s no need to rush things.
They finally pull away, not taking their eyes off of one another and the handful of students still lingering in the hallway start clapping and cheering, which startles Grace. She kind of forgot that they were there.
“Actually, Steph,” says Grace “I don’t think I can let you carry my books, ‘cause then you wouldn’t be able to hold my hand.” She extends her arm towards Stephanie, who grabs it and laces their fingers together tightly. They start heading towards the AP Calc classroom, passing by Stacy so that Grace can retrieve her sign and thank her for holding onto it.
“You know,” says Steph as they walk down the hallway “I’m glad we’re not canceling the dance anymore, because I get to go with you and everything, but I kinda miss it. You know, plotting, scheming, crusading together, being general public menaces. That was fun. And I guess I can finally say it now, it’s kinda hot when you’re all fired up like that.”
“Steph!” Grace admonishes her, but she does so with a smile and a blush creeping onto her face. She takes on a more thoughtful expression and adds, “Well, maybe we could come up with something else to do? You know, after the dance.”
Stephanie turns to her, her lips turned up into a faint smirk and a mischievous glint in her eyes. “What did you have in mind?”
“Well, we’re great at collecting signatures, right?” Grace says “If we collected enough on a recall petition, there’d be a recall election. You know, where people vote on whether an elected official stays in office or gets booted out. Like a mayor.”
“Damn, that’s good,” says Stephanie “maybe we save that one for after graduation, though. Preferably when we’re moved out and have our own place.”
“Our own place?” Grace replies “as in, together?”
Now it’s Stephanie’s turn to blush. “Places,” she says “I meant places, as in we each have our own place. Unless you wanted to live together. Could be fun. It’s a ways out, anyway. We’ve got plenty of time to think about it.”
“You know what?” Grace says “that does sound fun. Every night would be like a sleepover! Oh, maybe we could get a dog.”
“How about ten?” Stephanie replies dryly. Grace gives her a puzzled look in return. “Long story,” Steph says “tell you later.”
Grace’s hands are practically twitching with anticipation. There’s so much about the future that she cannot know, but for the first time in her life, she isn’t scared of that, she’s excited to see what happens. Stephanie has that effect on her, it seems. Maybe they will do that recall petition and it’ll be ten times as fun and gratifying as their campaign against the dance ever was, maybe it’ll never amount to more than a passing conversation. Maybe they will end up living together right after graduation, maybe one or both of them won’t quite feel ready or they’ll end up going to college on opposite ends of the country and show each other love through texts, late night video chats, care packages in the mail and surprise visits. Maybe they’ll even get married someday and fondly look back on these days, just like her parents do. They’ll cross those bridges when they come to them, Grace thinks, hopefully hand in hand like they are now.
