like, Apron. Or I could drop you off at school?”
I looked down. If I showed up at school like this, in the Lilly Pulitzer dress Mrs. Perry gave me for Christmas, Rennie and Jenny Pratt would know I had been lying when I told them I was having my teeth pulled.
Mike was watching me. “Well actually, we were wondering,” he said with his hands on his hips. “If Apron might be able to stay. We could use the help. It’s a big wedding, the Farmington wedding. And her dad’s expecting her to be here anyway. Right, Apron?”
I tried not to smile, but one side of my mouth snuck up there anyway.
“Apron? Did your father ask you to wait here?” Reverend Hunter leaned onto his desk and waited for my answer. I nodded. So he started buttoning his coat. “Fine then.”
“Great,” Mike smiled. “That’s great.”
Reverend Hunter started to leave but when he got up to me, he stopped.
“I’m praying for your grandmother, Apron,” he said, before stepping through the doorway.
Mike smiled at me and was about to shut the door behind us, when we both noticed Chad, struggling with another vase halfway down the aisle. Mike groaned and dropped the key in my hand, “Hold this, would you?” he asked. “He’s like a toddler.” He ran up behind Reverend Hunter, who nodded at Chad while Mike grabbed the vase out of his hands.
I looked down at the brass keychain; a small Jesus on a cross. I couldn’t get away from this guy.
10
Nemo saltat sobrius nisi forte insanit.
Nobody dances sober unless he’s insane.
“ Apron ,” Chad scowled. “How’d you get a name like that?”
“My mom,” I told him.
“What’s your brother’s name, Oven?”
Mike nodded his head toward me. “This is the girl I told you about. The one who saw the show last week. Apron, this is Chad. My friend. He’s the choreographer.”
Chad curtsied. We were all at the top of the aisle now.
“Looks like we’ve got ourselves another set of hands, Chaddie.” Mike cheered like we were at the Meaningless Bowl instead of in the saddest church on earth.
Chad crinkled his sweaty forehead together. Then he flipped his hand down like he was showing me his engagement ring. “Whatever floats your boat,” he said, heading down to the altar. Except every few steps, he held his arms out like he was waltzing with someone, spinning them around in graceful swirls.
“Follow me, Apron,” Mike said. So I did. All the way outside.
At the statue of Mary, Mike stopped. “You’re saving me, Apron. Chad isn’t feeling too well and we have to rig up this whole place up by three o’clock. And I have to rest the cords for tonight.” He smiled his blueberry eyes at me, tapped on his throat and turned back down the path again.
I picked the Big Gulp up off the statue and carried it down to the trash can. Mike opened the back of the van and inside were bunches of flowers wrapped in newspapers. Dozens and dozens of them, smelling like happiness. “Wow.”
“You can say that again. It’s a big wedding. You ready?”
I stuck both arms out and Mike dropped a dripping bunch into them.
“Fleabanes.”
“Hey, how did you know that?” he asked with his head inside the van.
“I just do,” I said.
After three deliveries of Casablancas, white peonies, and bluebells to Chad at the altar, I stopped to watch him start arranging bouquets. A few times he changed his mind and started over again. And every time I brought him another bunch, the church smelled a little lighter. Then one time, the flowers Mike placed in my arms turned out to be a boom box instead.
“Just remind him to keep it down,” Mike warned. “Tell him to remember what happened the last time.” I nodded, but didn’t say anything at all when Chad plugged the box in and Madonna came out.
At first Chad kept the music low, but every time I walked back in with another load, it seemed to get louder. I kept sneaking looks at him tiptoeing in between piles of flowers, then spinning fast and shaking
I looked down. If I showed up at school like this, in the Lilly Pulitzer dress Mrs. Perry gave me for Christmas, Rennie and Jenny Pratt would know I had been lying when I told them I was having my teeth pulled.
Mike was watching me. “Well actually, we were wondering,” he said with his hands on his hips. “If Apron might be able to stay. We could use the help. It’s a big wedding, the Farmington wedding. And her dad’s expecting her to be here anyway. Right, Apron?”
I tried not to smile, but one side of my mouth snuck up there anyway.
“Apron? Did your father ask you to wait here?” Reverend Hunter leaned onto his desk and waited for my answer. I nodded. So he started buttoning his coat. “Fine then.”
“Great,” Mike smiled. “That’s great.”
Reverend Hunter started to leave but when he got up to me, he stopped.
“I’m praying for your grandmother, Apron,” he said, before stepping through the doorway.
Mike smiled at me and was about to shut the door behind us, when we both noticed Chad, struggling with another vase halfway down the aisle. Mike groaned and dropped the key in my hand, “Hold this, would you?” he asked. “He’s like a toddler.” He ran up behind Reverend Hunter, who nodded at Chad while Mike grabbed the vase out of his hands.
I looked down at the brass keychain; a small Jesus on a cross. I couldn’t get away from this guy.
10
Nemo saltat sobrius nisi forte insanit.
Nobody dances sober unless he’s insane.
“ Apron ,” Chad scowled. “How’d you get a name like that?”
“My mom,” I told him.
“What’s your brother’s name, Oven?”
Mike nodded his head toward me. “This is the girl I told you about. The one who saw the show last week. Apron, this is Chad. My friend. He’s the choreographer.”
Chad curtsied. We were all at the top of the aisle now.
“Looks like we’ve got ourselves another set of hands, Chaddie.” Mike cheered like we were at the Meaningless Bowl instead of in the saddest church on earth.
Chad crinkled his sweaty forehead together. Then he flipped his hand down like he was showing me his engagement ring. “Whatever floats your boat,” he said, heading down to the altar. Except every few steps, he held his arms out like he was waltzing with someone, spinning them around in graceful swirls.
“Follow me, Apron,” Mike said. So I did. All the way outside.
At the statue of Mary, Mike stopped. “You’re saving me, Apron. Chad isn’t feeling too well and we have to rig up this whole place up by three o’clock. And I have to rest the cords for tonight.” He smiled his blueberry eyes at me, tapped on his throat and turned back down the path again.
I picked the Big Gulp up off the statue and carried it down to the trash can. Mike opened the back of the van and inside were bunches of flowers wrapped in newspapers. Dozens and dozens of them, smelling like happiness. “Wow.”
“You can say that again. It’s a big wedding. You ready?”
I stuck both arms out and Mike dropped a dripping bunch into them.
“Fleabanes.”
“Hey, how did you know that?” he asked with his head inside the van.
“I just do,” I said.
After three deliveries of Casablancas, white peonies, and bluebells to Chad at the altar, I stopped to watch him start arranging bouquets. A few times he changed his mind and started over again. And every time I brought him another bunch, the church smelled a little lighter. Then one time, the flowers Mike placed in my arms turned out to be a boom box instead.
“Just remind him to keep it down,” Mike warned. “Tell him to remember what happened the last time.” I nodded, but didn’t say anything at all when Chad plugged the box in and Madonna came out.
At first Chad kept the music low, but every time I walked back in with another load, it seemed to get louder. I kept sneaking looks at him tiptoeing in between piles of flowers, then spinning fast and shaking
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