The Taming of the Drew by Jan Gurley Page A

forward with a smile and said, in a voice that carried in the darkness. “Andrew Bullard asked me to pass along a message. He’s waiting for you beside the multi-purpose room. You’re not supposed to go in without him.”
    You could have heard a pin drop. The entire line behind me leaned to the right, in order to get a better view. The doorway to the dance sprouted zillions of heads, looking like a lift-you-off-the-ground-sized bouquet of balloons trying to escape the gym.
    Tio bumped me with his shoulder, which means he hit me in the ribs. “We’ll wait for you here, Kate.” The Greenbacks stepped aside to let others go ahead, but only one person reluctantly moved forward, then stopped before paying. No one wanted to go in now. No one wanted to miss the show.

    ***

    I tried to walk toward the multi-purpose room at a normal speed even though every nerve in my body shouted for me to run run RUN away. I must have been moving faster than I realized, because I careened around a brick corner and almost slammed straight into the Dog.
    “You’ve got some nerve,” he said. His eyes glinted with rage and his hair was spiky like he’d been shoving his hands through it over and over. “These stupid power plays of yours are over, as of now. You understand?”
    “Excuse me? Aren’t you the one who left a command with a teacher for me to come looking for you? Like I’m some flunky you can order around?”
    “Late.” He barked the word at me, “You show up late. In front of everyone.”
    “God, grow up! It’s not that embarrassing to arrive at a dance alone.”
    “You think you can twist things around? I’m not as dense as you think I am. You wanted to drive home a point tonight, now didn’t you? You know I’ve got no money. Not one penny.”  
    Ah.  
    “You’ve been hiding back here because you didn’t want anyone to know you couldn’t pay to get in.” I felt a soft surge of sympathy. But then another realization dawned on me. Did he really think I was supposed to get here early and hang around in the cold with bare legs, waiting for him , just to protect his ego? “Listen, this isn’t all my fault. You could have called today to arrange to meet me somewhere.”
    “You never gave me your cell number,” he growled.
    “My home’s in the school directory. You could have come by and picked me up.”
    “I don’t have a car,” he roared. “You knew exactly what you were doing, waltzing in 45 minutes after the dance started. You can just stop right now — using that fake-innocent lying crap on me.”
    My head thrummed in anger. “Listen, Dog , I may be many things, but I am not a liar. It’s none of your business, but I had stuff to deal with.”
    He glared at me, cold and calculating. His V-necked sweater was pushed up tight on his crossed, bulging forearms. The tight cashmere fit like it was painted on and revealed every ab muscle so clearly I realized I probably could have taken a picture of him in it and sold that to Celia. He looked like he was sneering for an Abercrombie and Fitch ad. And then he ruined the effect by opening his mouth. “Well whatever you were doing, you certainly didn’t waste any time getting ready, did you? Couldn’t you at least wear something…normal?”
    For a moment, it was like I couldn't react. I teetered on a balance beam of shock, my emotions flailing. Tears filled my eyes and I swallowed them down, and the face of my skin prickled with fury. And then I knew I was too far gone, that I was going to lose it and fall to one side or the other — tears or fury. It's be either great gulping weeping sobs where I'd have to turn and put my elbow over my face, or a molten shaking rage where I spit words at him.
    But there was no way that he was going to see me cry. Not here, not where everyone at the dance would know, where I'd have to hide in the bathroom until I got myself under control and could finally clean up my face. Not when I'd have to leave my friends standing in