Delicate by Stephanie Campbell Page A

“Are you ready?” he asks as we pull into the parking lot.
    “Totally ready.”
     

- Nine -
     
    People are spilling out onto the streets of the theatre , waiting to get inside. I’m glad I have a little extra height, thanks to my heels , and am able to find Quinn and Tessa easily.
    “Nervous?” Trevor asks as we make our way through the crowd.
    “Nope. Not at all,” I lie. I look up to see if he buys my faux confidence, but he’s already surveying the room , looking for his friends.
    The inside of the theatre is phenomenal. I guess I’d half - expected to see crepe paper and balloons, but , instead, the formal room overwhelms me. It looks like it was decorated for a real ball or a black tie wedding, not some high school kids’ dance.
    There’s a grand marble stairway, trays of elegant finger foods, and most of my classmates are unrecognizable in their formal wear .
    Trevor leads me to the dance floor, and my nerves return. I’m not that great of a dancer. I’m better at precise, choreographed movements, like in gymnastics , rather than things that require actual rhythm. Luckily, there are a few slow songs that I can manage.
    When the loud, thumping bas s returns, I start to pull away.
    “I’m just going to…” I don’t even have to finish. Trevor nods with a grin. He’s such a good sport. “I’m going to see if I can find Quinn and Tess.”
    “That’s fine,” he says. The cheesy smile hasn’t left his face all night. I can’t even imagine what it will look like in the morning.
    “What?” I ask.
    “Nothing. I’m just happy. Go. Find your friends. I’ll be here when you’re done,” he says. Two of his lacrosse team mates have perfect timing and I leave him to catch up with them.
    I survey the room looking for Quinn or Tess, but the crowd is too thick for me to see anything, even taking into account the high heels making me almost the height of a normal human being. I don’t know if it’s claustrophobia from the sea of people, or the fact that I haven’t really eaten today, but I start to feel shaky and weak. I make my way to the food tables and grab a piece of chocolate - covered honeydew. I glance across the table for something salty to pair with the sweet melon. The tasty looking crostinis remind me of something that Quinn made a while back and I reach for one, just as someone else reaches for the same.
    “Sorry,” I say. I jerk my hand back.
    “It’s all yours,” the polite voice says. He places the hors d’oeurve on my plate. Grant. Looking nothing short of dashing. His messy hair is slightly more tame than usual, but not by much. He isn’t wearing a tux like every other guy here . I nstead, he’s dressed in a simple gray suit and thick black tie.
    “Oh,” I say. I’m suddenly flustered.
    “Sydney,” he greets me with a nod.
    “Thanks,” I say, picking up the tiny piece of bread he just sacrificed.
    “Don’t mention it. You look nice.”
    I glance around the room, trying to place Trevor in the crowd, hoping to myself that he has his back to me somewhere.
    “Thanks. Who are you here with?” I ask.
    “Shayna Gillan,” he says. Of course. Shayna Gillan, the quintessential high school girl that has it all. She’s obnoxiously beautiful, wealthy, on every committee imaginable. And, naturally , a cheerleader. I’m actually surprised she’s here with Grant, only because she typically dates older guys exclusively. I guess if you were to make an exception to your rule, though, Grant would be worth it. I mentally scold myself for thinking about him like that.
    “Huh,” I mutter.
    “She asked, and I didn’t want to be rude,” he says, shrugging his shoulders.
    “Of course not. Well, have a good time,” I say, turning slowly away from him.
    “Sydney,” he calls after me.
    I spin around, wondering what on earth there is possibly left to say between us.
    “If I had my choice, I’d be here with someone else tonight.”
    I feel my cheeks fill with color , and I just