Her Name In The Sky Part 21

"I've missed you," Hannah says, hugging him hard.

He pulls away and gives her a very packed look, his eyes begging for her to understand. She smiles and holds onto his arm for a few seconds, and he smiles back. Several feet behind him, Baker looks pointedly away.

Hannah's parents say hi to the Landry's, Hannah's mom grabbing Mrs. Landry's arm as they laugh about something Hannah can't hear. Clay joins them to tell Hannah's parents h.e.l.lo, and Hannah's mom exclaims over how handsome he is while Hannah's dad shakes his hand. "And where's your pretty date?" Hannah's dad asks. "Yeah, where's Baker?" Hannah's mom says. Hannah's stomach turns over with anxiety, but Baker comes to greet them without missing a beat, hugging Hannah's mom as if nothing is wrong. Then Mr. and Mrs. Hadley join the group, Mrs. Hadley telling Hannah's mom all about their process for getting Baker ready. Hannah's mom pulls Hannah into the circle to say hi and talk about her own preparation process, and Hannah and Baker both act like everything's normal, though they avoid each other's eyes.

And then it's time for pictures. Hannah and Wally line up with the rest of their cla.s.smates-a whole line of them, handsome and beautiful 17- and 18-year-olds, stacked boy-girl-boy-girl all the way across the yard. Their proud parents stand across from them, holding up iPhones and fancy Canon cameras and, in Hannah's mom's case, disposable Kodak's, and the parents beg them all to smile, and to stand tall, and to remember this prom night forever. And in the midst of cameras clicking away, and of parents shouting out their ideas for cliched photos, and of smelling Wally's cologne and brus.h.i.+ng up against the itchy material of his tuxedo-in the midst of it all, Hannah feels the gravity of Baker's presence and aches to go stand next to her.

Clay's mom requests a picture of Clay, Baker, Wally, and Hannah after the large group photos have ended. Hannah feels Wally look over at her, but she doesn't look back, afraid she'll betray her discomfort. In her peripheral vision, she sees Baker s.h.i.+ft and look away toward Clay's old swing set.

"Yeah, come on, you'll all treasure this one day when you're older," Hannah's mom says. "Go ahead, get together."

Then the four of them are posing together, and only Wally separates Hannah and Baker, so that each of them has an arm around his back. For a brief second, when Wally leans forward in a laugh, Baker accidentally touches Hannah's wrist, and an electrifying charge surges through Hannah. But then Baker jerks her hand away as if she had been burned, and it becomes even more difficult for Hannah to smile for the camera.

And then it's time to go. Hannah hugs her mom and dad goodbye, and her mom whispers to be good and to have fun and to enjoy looking at Wally's handsome face all night. Hannah's dad shakes Wally's hand and instructs him to drive carefully.

"I will, Mr. Eaden," Wally says, sounding as serious as Hannah's ever heard him.

Hannah hugs the Landry's and Hadley's goodbye, and Mrs. Hadley holds her at arm's length and says, "Come by and see us soon, alright? Feels like it's been forever."

"I will," Hannah fake laughs.

On the drive to dinner, Wally says, "That wasn't as awkward as I thought it might be."

Hannah says nothing. She thinks about how that was the first time Baker's touched her since the beach.

The entryway to the ballroom at the Crowne Plaza is decorated with purple and yellow curtains. A hand painted sign-Welcome to St. Mary's Prom 2012!-hangs above the double doors. Hannah and Wally step into the ballroom, which has already filled up with juniors, seniors, and the counted-upon teachers who linger along the walls, including Ms. Carpenter, who sips from a Diet c.o.ke can while she chats with Mrs. Shackleford. Purple and yellow balloons, packed together like organisms under a microscope, cling to the pillars on the wings of the room. A few people sit at scattered tables, but most of the student body has already taken to the center dance floor. Father Simon weaves his way through the slow-dancing couples, stopping here and there to request that each boy and girl leave room for the Holy Spirit.

"So what do you think?" Wally asks. "Want to dance?"

They join their cla.s.smates on the dance floor. People all around them say hi, the girls mouthing So pretty! or Love your dress! to Hannah, the guys reaching over to clasp Wally's hand in greeting. Wally loops his hands around Hannah's waist, and Hannah reaches up to lace her hands around his neck, and they start to dance.

She tries hard to lose herself in the soft rock song, to not picture Joanie sitting at home in her bedroom, or Luke watching TV at his mom or dad's house, or Baker and Clay taking their time at dinner before they arrive at the dance. She closes her eyes against Wally's chest and concentrates on s.h.i.+fting her body from side to side, following his lead.

It's about 15 minutes later that Hannah notices Baker and Clay on the dance floor. Baker faces away from Hannah, her back muscles visible as she strains to reach her arms around Clay's neck. Clay's talking to her, his whole face lit up with happiness, his boutonniere fastened a little lopsidedly on his tuxedo jacket. Hannah's heart starts to ache more acutely than it has all night as she watches them dance.

"So you know what my mom said to me before I left tonight?" Wally asks.

"What?" Hannah says, glad for the distraction.

"She said, 'Hannah is much more beautiful than I was at 17, so you make sure you treat her well.'"

Hannah laughs. "Your mom's gorgeous."

"Try telling her that."

"I have. But that was nice of her to say."

Wally's mouth lifts in a gentle smile. "You are beautiful, though."

Hannah blushes, feeling touched that he would say that, but also sad that it doesn't matter.

Hannah and Wally dance on and off for an hour, lost in the middle of the crowd. Hannah watches Mackenzie dance with Jackson, Lisa dance with Bryce, Ellie Thomas dance with Michael Ramby. She even watches Michele dance with Cooper, though Michele scowls over his shoulder, her eyes on Clay and Baker.

Father Simon nods curtly at Hannah and Wally whenever he walks by. Ms. Carpenter smiles at them from her position on the edge of the dance floor. Clay catches their attention once or twice, but Baker never acknowledges them.

"Alright..." the deejay says, his voice hovering somewhere between manufactured enthusiasm and genuine boredom, "if I can have everyone gather 'round, it's now time for the Prom King and Queen announcement."

The sea of students turns toward the deejay platform, and several people break out into applause and whooping. "That's right," the deejay says, "...very exciting moment for everyone here."

Mr. Manceau waddles up to the deejay booth, rings of sweat darkening the underarms of his chartreuse b.u.t.ton-down s.h.i.+rt. He hands a sealed envelope to the deejay and whispers something in his ear; the deejay nods his head a couple of times while the student body waits eagerly for the big reveal.

"Okay, here we go," the deejay says, his voice affecting more enthusiasm. "When I call out the Prom King and Queen's names, please step up here to the booth, where Mrs. Shackleford and Mr. Manceau will crown you. The official King and Queen dance will follow that. Y'all ready?"

The crowd responds with a heavy cheer and an ever-increasing amount of clapping. Hannah claps her hands limply together, feeling misgivings in her stomach.

"Your 2012 St. Mary's Prom King is..." the deejay says, inflecting his voice on the last few words, "...Mr. Clay Landry."

A huge cheer goes up around the ballroom. Hannah looks to her right and sees Clay, his smile too big for his face, standing momentarily frozen as he lets the moment soak in. The guys all around him, most of whom are other football players, clap him on the back and shove him forward toward the deejay booth.

"Nice job, man," the deejay says, seeming like he's just going through the motions. "How do you feel? Nervous?"

"h.e.l.l no," Clay calls as he walks to the booth, and a great roar of laughter and applause follows his a.s.sertion. Hannah hears more whooping from some of the football players.

"Are we allowed to say that at a Catholic prom?" the deejay asks, glancing toward Mrs. Shackleford and Mr. Manceau and sounding truly amused for the first time all night. Mrs. Shackleford, standing with her arms folded, rolls her eyes but lifts her shoulders in a defeated gesture. Mr. Manceau frowns and tugs up the waistband of his pants.

"I didn't think so," the deejay continues, clearly trying to stir the pot now. "Maybe we should send this Prom King to Confession?"

"Get to the Prom Queen!" someone in the back yells out, and the surrounding students clap and echo his sentiment.

"Alright, alright. Just having some fun. Well, St. Mary's, your 2012 Prom Queen is..."

Hannah's stomach clenches.

"Miss Baker Hadley!"

A deafening roar goes up around the room. Wally cheers very loudly next to Hannah, pounding his hands together, and Hannah, standing there and feeling like she's watching this moment from above the dance floor, experiences a strange bittersweet feeling, like she wants to fall on the floor crying but run to Baker and hug her at the same time. Baker walks to the front of the crowd, her smile somehow both nervous and confident, mouthing thanks to the cla.s.smates who cheer her on. She walks to join Clay at the deejay booth, and Hannah's stomach surges upward to meet her heart with a feeling of love and pride.

But the feeling extinguishes as soon as Clay leans forward to hug Baker and the student body responds with even more amplified applause. Mrs. Shackleford and Mr. Manceau walk forward, shaking hands with both Baker and Clay, and then Mr. Manceau hands the crowns to Mrs. Shackleford, who places them carefully on top of Clay and Baker's heads.

"Let's hear it for your King and Queen!" the deejay shouts into his microphone, and the student body whoops and hollers and smacks their hands together, and someone on the far side of the room shouts "Get it, Landry!", and both Clay and Baker laugh, their whole faces s.h.i.+ning like it's the happiest day of their life.

Then music starts to play, and the deejay signals to Clay that he should lead Baker to the dance floor. The students all around them part down the middle, and Clay steps forward with his hand clutching Baker's. He takes her right hand in his left and places his other hand around her waist; she wraps an arm around his neck and allows him to lead her in a slow dance. Hannah stands rooted to the spot, easily able to see them from her vantage point on the front ring of the crowd. She watches her cla.s.smates' reactions-how the girls look hungrily but fondly on the scene; how the guys nudge each other and mutter under their breath, probably joking about how they're glad it's not them who has to dance in front of everyone; how Michele Duquesne, standing on the far side of the crowd, clenches her jaw. Abby Frasier, one of Hannah's friends since freshman year, who stands just behind Hannah and watches the dance as if transfixed by magic, turns to Julia Grey and whispers, "Baker's so lucky. Can you imagine how amazing she must feel right now?"

Hannah wants so badly to leave, to run outside and gulp down fresh air. Her throat is tight with a choking sensation; her stomach aches so badly that she wants to throw up. But several girls are looking at her, gauging the reaction of the Prom Queen's best friend, even if they haven't seen Hannah and Baker interact much lately; so Hannah fixes her face into a happy expression, forcing herself to look absolutely delighted and proud, to look as if she cannot imagine anything better for her best friend, to take in the sight before her as if it's heartening her rather than killing her.

Finally the dance ends, and Baker pulls gently away from Clay. Clay runs a hand through his hair and grins down at her, his entire countenance suggesting that he's the luckiest guy on the earth.

"Okay, thank you to Clay and Baker," the deejay resumes. "I've got a few more songs for you, St. Mary's, and then it'll be time to wrap up this night. So enjoy these next few gems and dance with your date as long as you can."

He plays Eric Clapton's "Wonderful Tonight." Wally checks Hannah's expression, raising his eyebrows playfully to ask Shall we?, so Hannah wraps her arms around his neck again and allows him to sway her where they stand.

They're halfway through the song when she sees it. Baker and Clay, still dancing in the middle of the dance floor, are kissing. Baker's chin is tilted up to meet Clay's mouth, and Clay's hands are low on her back, and they're truly, freely, eagerly making out.

"Don't feel well," Hannah says, jerking away from Wally. She turns on the spot and hurries off the dance floor, toward the double doors that lead to the hotel lobby. She rushes down a hallway until she finds an exit, and almost as soon as she's out the door, she retches all over a patch of plants near the parking lot.

She falls against the building, her body weak and broken. She gasps for breath, begging it into her lungs, wanting so badly to clean these anguished feelings from her body. Cars rush past on the interstate across from the hotel, and Hannah wishes she was in one of them, heading somewhere far away.

Eventually, once she's able to catch her breath, she walks shakily to the sidewalk and sits down upon it, even though she knows her dress will snag on the concrete. She wraps her arms around her knees and demands that her mind think of something else, anything else, other than the images that keep floating to its surface: Baker grabbing Clay's arm at the picture party-Baker dancing with Clay in the middle of the dance floor-Baker kissing Clay, kissing him with those same lips that have kissed Hannah- Please make it stop. Please take it away. Why can't you just take it away. What am I doing wrong. Why did you give me these feelings. Please help me. Please.

"Han? You okay?"

It's Wally, come to check on her. He lingers in the hotel doorway, his expression concerned but confused at the same time.

"Yeah," she says, steadying her breath, smiling as nonchalantly as she can. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just got overheated."

"You want me to sit with you for a little while?"

"You don't have to."

"I want to."

They sit next to each other on the sidewalk, Wally's s.h.i.+ny black shoes splayed out before him, Hannah's dress scratching on the concrete. They listen to the cars racing past in front of them.

"You sure you're alright?" Wally asks after a minute.

"I am. You want to go catch the last dance?"

He shakes his head. "Sitting out here is fine with me."

They follow a long line of cars to Clay's house for the afterparty, and Hannah, feeling relaxed from Wally's soothing company and from the ever-growing distance between them and the hotel ballroom, starts to feel marginally better. Dr. and Mrs. Landry greet the procession of teenagers at the front door. "Boys' things in the guest room, girls' things upstairs," Mrs. Landry recites, hugging Wally and Hannah and a few others, while Dr. Landry stands behind her with a gla.s.s of wine. "There's water and c.o.ke in the coolers!"

The house feels as crowded as prom did, but everything is brighter and closer. Hannah weaves her way through the hallway, saying hi to some of her friends, Wally following behind her and echoing the h.e.l.los, occasionally placing a hand on the small of her back.

"Let's go outside," Wally says. "There are too many people in here."

The backyard is blissfully quiet-a welcome change from the loud music of prom and the booming ba.s.s in Clay's family room. Wally takes off his shoes and dress socks and rolls up his pants. "Come on," he says, extending a hand to Hannah, "let's take a ride on the swings."

She kicks off her high heels and hitches up her dress, then takes his extended hand. His palms are sweaty but warm, and she allows him to lead her across the dewy gra.s.s toward the swing set. He waits for her to sit down on the left swing; she tucks her dress under her and wraps her arms around the chains. He smiles and sits down upon the other swing, and then, wordlessly, they both kick off the dirt and start to swing up and down, surging higher and higher, lengthening their arcs each time, balanced by the two wooden triangular structures on either side of them.

"I'm trying to get in sync with you," Wally laughs, "but I can't."

"That's about the hardest thing in the world."

"Wait for it," Wally says, holding up his hand, daring her with his eyes. She watches as his body hiccups on the swing, so that he slows the arc of his swing to more closely match hers, and a few seconds later, after another hiccup, their swings move in sync so that they are perfectly paralleling each other, even down to the lift of their bare feet. And Hannah remembers, with a jolt, what she and Joanie and the neighborhood kids used to call this phenomenon when they were younger.

Look! We're married!

The memory startles her, so that her whole body falls out of rhythm and she loses her momentum. The synchrony between she and Wally breaks very suddenly. "s.h.i.+t!" Wally yells, his voice br.i.m.m.i.n.g with laughter. "Catch up!"

She pumps her legs and arms hard, trying to recover from her mess up. She mimics Wally's hiccup maneuver, but she doesn't pull it off right: the gap between their swings grows more p.r.o.nounced. "Han!" Wally calls, still laughing, and she yells, "I'm trying!", her voice pouring forth more desperately than she realized it would. She pumps her legs harder and harder and grows more and more frustrated, until Wally eventually does his hiccup maneuver again and restores their synchrony.

"Yo!" a voice shouts from the house. They whip their heads up to see a tall figure illuminated by the lights outside the door. It's Clay, his tuxedo gone and replaced by his normal clothes. "Stop flirting and get in here!" he shouts at them. "You're missing the party!"

"We're coming, you d.i.c.k!" Wally yells back.

Clay swats his arm over the air as if to say Yeah, yeah, and then he turns back into the house and shuts the door behind him. Wally and Hannah slow their swinging until they reach a gradual stop, both of them kicking up dirt in the process. "I'm gonna ruin my pedicure," Hannah says, scrunching up her face, "but I don't really give a s.h.i.+t."

"I'm gonna hit Clay," Wally says, "but I don't give a s.h.i.+t, either."

Hannah can't fully see his face-not in the darkness, with only the lights on the back porch casting a dim blanket over the backyard-but she suspects his cheeks are red. "It's okay," Hannah says, affecting nonchalance. "You know Clay just likes to make people feel awkward."

"Should we head in?" Wally asks, extending his hand again.

They walk back over the damp gra.s.s. Wally doesn't let go of her hand. Just before they step onto the patio tile, he stops walking and pivots towards her.

He wants to kiss her. She knows it in an instant, even before she sees the look in his eyes.

Wally doesn't say anything; he just looks at her, his eyes making contact with hers before flitting down to stare at her mouth. There is a hunger in his expression, and though Hannah has always caught glimpses of it, tonight she sees the full manifestation.

She stands unsteadily on the gra.s.s, unable to look away from his mouth, unable to make a decision. She wrestles with her instincts, remembering Baker and the beach, but also remembering Baker kissing Clay on the dance floor tonight.

Why should she fight this? Why fight it when Wally is standing in front of her, wanting to be with her? Wally, who is kind, and loving, and who believes in good things even though he doesn't always receive them? Wally, who sees her, who wants to understand her, who makes her feel like she might be better than she is?

"Hannah-" he says breathlessly, and when he says her name, she thinks, Maybe this can be enough.

So she arches her neck up to kiss him. His lips are warm and tinged with the minty flavor of the Altoids she saw him eating in the car. She kisses him hard, like she means to, and he kisses back hungrily, and though her gut has no reaction, and though she feels no burst of magic, she at least feels safe, and like she is standing, for the first time in months, on solid ground.

They kiss for several minutes, until the kiss turns heated and Wally pulls back from her. "Wow," he pants, his eyes wide behind his gla.s.ses. "Did I mention I'm glad you're my prom date?"

He stoops to pick up his socks and shoes. He picks up Hannah's heels, too. "Come on," he says, nudging her with his arm, "let's go in before Clay comes out and acts like an a.s.s again."

It's past midnight now, and everyone at the party has changed out of their formal attire. Wally looks down at his tux, then over at Hannah in her dress, and says, "Guess we ought to follow suit?" He grins. "No pun intended."

Hannah smiles. "That was awful."

He shrugs, still grinning, and hands her her overnight bag. "I'll see you in a minute."

She takes the bag and winds her way through the forest of people in the house, her eyes on the staircase that leads upstairs to the second floor. She scoots around Ted and Kristen, who hug her as she goes by, and then, just before she reaches the stairs, she sees Baker.

Baker sits on the floor, her legs splayed out over the beige carpet, her hair taken down out of its elegant updo so that it now cascades down her back. Clay sits next to her, muttering something into her ear, his arm positioned behind her back. They sit in a larger circle of people, all of whom are paired off boy-girl, and Hannah notes the flask they seem to be pa.s.sing around the group when they think no one is looking. At that moment, right when Hannah moves into their line of sight, Baker meets her eyes.

Her expression is hard to read. She doesn't move a single muscle in her face; she simply stares directly at Hannah, her eyes deep and loaded with a meaning Hannah can't understand. She seems almost hurt, and Hannah wonders for a lightning-quick second if Baker saw her kissing Wally in the yard.

But then Baker breaks eye contact and the moment is gone. Hannah keeps moving, walking toward the stairs, plastering a fake smile on her face when the other people in Baker's circle call h.e.l.lo to her. "Where you been?" they ask, some of them clearly tipsy already, and Hannah answers, "Outside," without pausing to explain. She waves at them all and promises to return, and then she makes herself climb the stairs to the second room. She carries the image of Baker's eyes the whole way.

Hannah spends most of the night huddled with Wally in a section of the family room, munching on Chex Mix and listening to David, one of their friends from their AP cla.s.ses, tell stories. All around them, boys and girls flirt with each other, kiss each other, sneak outside or into bathrooms to hook up with each other, taking advantage of the fact that Clay's parents have surrendered to sleep.

Around two in the morning, with the party around them still in full swing, Wally asks Hannah if she wants to go for a walk.