Page 19 of Run
ARI
Igot invited to the sophomore dance at the end of the school year. I only accepted because Harris Winkler is kind of a runt and I could totally take him if he tried anything. He’s about an inch shorter and weighs probably ten pounds less than me soaking wet. He’s also got a mouthful of braces and a pitchy voice that most of the other boys grew out of a year ago.
Lena was strangely excited when I told her about the dance, even offering to take me to a secondhand shop to look for a dress. We picked out an emerald green gown that was maybe worn for a wedding, and Miss Vida took in the sides and shortened it, and pulled it in around the bust so it fits me just right. It has spaghetti straps and a fitted bodice, flares out around my ribs, and comes to about my mid-shin.
I’m standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom with Lena behind me, wrapping a lock of my hair around the curling iron, when she asks, “You nervous?” I shake my head. Then nod. “Your first dance … It’s kind of a big deal.”
“Actually, I’m more nervous that Axel’s going to ruin it tonight. Whether he’ll be mad if I come home too late, or—”
“Don’t worry about Axel,” Lena interrupts as she parts my hair to the side and pulls some of it into a braid. “I told one of the guys he works with to take him out for drinks tonight. He’ll either be out or passed out when you get home.” I make eye contact with her in the mirror, and she winks at me.
Lena fastens my braid with a few pins, then hoses me down with hair spray. When the air clears, she claps her hand together, making me jump. “OK! Let’s check the time!”
The clock in the living room says it’s five minutes past seven. “He said he’d be here at seven to pick me up,” I say. “He said his brother would be driving … What if he’s not coming?”
“He’ll be here,” Lena assures me. “He’s probably trying to play it cool by being fashionably late.” Just then we hear the roar of an obnoxious muffler, and a muscle car pulls into the driveway right behind the broken-down Accord. No one gets out.
“Maybe I should just go out there,” I suggest, but Lena shakes her head.
We wait. After a moment, the horn beeps. “Please, just let me go out there before this becomes a thing,” I plead.
Lena sighs and waves me toward the door before we head out together. The back passenger-side door opens as we walk down the steps. “Arlene!” Harris yells from inside. “Come on, we’re going to be late!”
Lena curses next to me. “Is this kid for real?”
Yes. Yes he is for real, and I’m going to walk with him into a room full of people I hate and spend the next few hours hoveringaround the edges of the school gym crippled by anxiety and this is all just my worst nightmare. What was I thinking?
I go to take a step, but stop when I hear the slam of a screen door. “Ari!” Ethan comes jogging my way from his house. He’s wearing athletic shorts and a T-shirt, and he’s barefoot. When our eyes lock, his step falters, and he pauses for just a second before making his way to us. “You look beautiful, Red.” He gives me a lopsided smile and pulls me into a hug, then steps back and looks at me again. “Seriously, you look absolutely stunning.”
“She does, doesn’t she?” Lena stands off to the side, arms crossed over her chest.
I look down at my feet and mumble “thanks.”
A whistle comes from inside the car and all three of us jerk our heads in that direction. “Earth to Arlene, let’s go!”
“Is this douche canoe for real?” Ethan places a hand on my upper arm to keep me from walking in that direction.
“I asked the same thing!” Lena pipes up.
“You stay put until he comes out and gets you,” Ethan orders.
I bury my face in my hands, already wanting this night to be over.
Finally, Harris climbs out of the car. He’s wearing a red and black checkered suit with some sort of sequins or bedazzling on the lapels, and his too-long hair is slicked back. He looks like an absolute idiot.
Ethan coughs to hide his chuckle.
“What’s taking so long?” Harris asks, arms outstretched. “C’mon. Let’s go.”
I go to take a step, but Ethan stops me again. “Notsofast,” he says in a rush. “What time are you going to be home?” he asks my date.
Harris looks up at Ethan, who is a solid foot taller than him and twice as wide. “I dunno. But Brody says he has a date at tentonight, so before then. Unless, of course, things are going good …” He clicks his tongue and points finger guns at me.
Ethan reaches out and places his palm against Harris’ forehead, gently pushes him out of the way, then stalks around to the driver’s window and motions to roll it down.
Oh, God. Just kill me now.
“You Brody?” Ethan asks.
