In Harmony

“No princess dresses,” I said. “I want simple. I don’t want Justin to think I’m trying too hard either.”

“Maybe you should give the guy a chance.”

I held up a red floor-length with a low neckline and put it back immediately. “Give him a chance at what, pray tell?”

“Oh, pray tell,” she said. “Someone’s all Shakespearean up in here.”

“Methinks thou art a nutjob.”

“That’s going on my next shirt,” she said. “But for real. Justin is super cute. He’s nice. Or seems to be.”

“I’m not interested in anyone,” I said. “Even if I were, it wouldn’t be Justin. Yes, he’s nice and his Laertes doesn’t suck, but there’s no…”

“Spark?” Angie asked.

I nodded. “I just want to go to the dance and have a good time and that’s it. I don’t want it to mean anything.”

“Fair enough.” Angie held out a simple black dress. “Oh my God, I love this. It’s like something an ice skater would wear.”

The jersey bodice was cut like a T-shirt only tighter-fitting and lower in the neck. From the fitted waist, a taffeta skirt flared out to just above her knees when she held the hanger under her chin.

“It’s kind of plain now,” she said, meeting my skeptical look. “But when I accessorize, like you know how I do, it’ll be perfect.”

“You’ll look beautiful.” I held up a navy blue halter dress. It also flared out in a full skirt above the knee. The bodice was intricate beadwork and sequins. “And this does not suck.”

“Are you kidding?” Angie said. “This is going to be gorgeous on you. Come. Let us try.”

We tried on our selections, posing in the mirror with silly faces and laughing. Dresses chosen, we each tried on hideously frou-frou gowns with bows and lace for the hell of it, and took selfies to text to Jocelyn and Caroline. And the whole time, I felt that feeling I’d been searching for. A little hint of excitement that comes from shopping with your girlfriend for a dance. But not enough. No spark. My thoughts kept wandering to Isaac. I wondered if he’d been telling the truth when he said missing a dance wouldn’t bother him.

I wondered if he cared that I was going with Justin.

It doesn’t matter, I thought. I couldn’t have gone with him, even if he asked me. Dad would ruin everything.

Besides, I wasn’t sure I could handle the dance at all. The thought of a guy’s body pressed to mine, whether it was Justin or Isaac… A guy getting in my space. The potential to be alone in a darkened room and out of control…

I went cold all over and quickly pulled my street clothes back on.

“You okay?” Angie said. “You look pale.”

“I’m fine. I just need to eat something.”

We sat at the food court with our dress bags on our laps, eating pretzel bites from Wetzels and drinking lemonade. We took more selfies. We people-watched. We laughed. I remembered what it was to have female company again. The trust and safety. I’d cut it out of my life, X’d it out, but now, with Angie, I had it back and it felt good. I had a real friend.

“You sure you’re okay?” Angie asked. “You’re looking at me like you’re in love with me. Which is cool, I get that a lot.”

“Yes, Angie. You found me out. I love you.”

We laughed and made jokes, but it was the truth.

Wednesday night, the good vibes of my shopping trip with Angie stuck with me, straight into rehearsal, I stepped into a theater that was only half-full with the cast. Justin and some of the others with smaller roles weren’t called that night. I felt lighter somehow…until I saw Isaac.

The right side of his face was swollen and bruised. A white butterfly bandage covered a gash on his cheekbone. Covered most of it—the edges peeked out, dark red with congealed blood.

My heart ached. Until that moment, the abuse he suffered from his father had been only rumors to me. That and one single comment Isaac made during our outing on Saturday. It was vague and abstract and happened somewhere else. Now it was a raw, wincing wound and vivid, purple and blue bruising under his eye.

It’s real.

This happens to him.