Chapter Forty-Eight

When I catch sight of the entrance to Elmwood High, my breath hitches in my throat. It’s beautiful.

The faded brick entrance is lined with carved pumpkins that glow, spelling out FALL FEST. White, orange, and yellow mums overflow from cream- colored pots to guide the way into the school.

Just outside the doors, propped on an easel, is a display of sepiatoned photos showing off happy students from prior Fall Fest dances.

I step closer to the pictures. “Is that . . . ?”

L ily’s eyes must be drawn to the same photo, because she finishes my thought. “Abuela and Abuelo.”

I grab her hand and pull her toward me so we can take a closer look. Sure enough, nestled in the center of this tribute to the history of the homecoming dance is a striking monochrome photograph of our beloved gra ndparents— on th is very night, all those years ago. Dimples in both of Abuela’s cheeks surround her coy smile, while Abuelo’s dark eyes are bright with hope, just like I remember.

“There they are,” I whisper.

“They look happy,” Lily says quietly.

I squeeze her hand. “I think it’s because they were. They really, really were.”

Then I swallow the lump in my throat, willing myself not to cry because I spent so goddamn long working on this makeup and I am not about to ruin it before we even get into the photo booth.

I turn to my friends. “Did you guys do this?”

Marisol gives me a small nod. “We know what this night means to you two, and to your abuela, so we wanted to do something special.”

“We love you guys,” Sophie says. “None of this would’ve been possible without you.”

I rush to my friends— my thoughtful, kindhearted, incredible, ride - or- die, st uck-with-me -till-the- end- of-time friends— and throw my arms around them. “I love you guys so much.”

“Fiercely and loyally,” Marisol replies, squeezing me tight. “Get your ass in here, Lily!”

Lily laughs but dutifully comes over and pats the three of us on our backs in her best effort to participate in the hug, which we happily accept.

“Well, that was wholesome as hell,” Ari says with a laugh. When we turn, we see that she, Ruby, Noah, and Zay are all holding up their phones.

“Got it all on video,” Noah proudly announces. “Now you can all gush over this forever.”

“Nice! I went a little artistic with portrait mode,” Zay muses. Ruby holds up her phone. “Live photos over here.”

Ari grins. “And I got some regular ones. Damn. We’re good.” She turns to us. “How’d you all get so lucky with us?”

Marisol rolls her eyes but grabs Ari’s phone so she can start browsing through the photos. “Oh, gosh. We look so happy.” She turns the screen so that Sophie, Lily, and I can peer at it. We do.

“This is going to make me cry and ruin my makeup,” I whine. “Can we go inside now so I can ooh and aah over the rest of this amazing work you’ve all done?!”

“And take our photos,” Sophie adds. “I can already feel my hair starting to go flat!”

Noah wraps his arm around her waist. “You look gorgeous, Soph.”

She grins at the compliment.

“I think I see our friend Margot,” Lily says, pointing a thumb behind her. “Mind if Ruby and I head in?”

“Go! Have fun,” I urge, giving her a little wave. She and Ruby hurry to catch up with their friend, with Sophie and Noah and Marisol and Ari in tow. That leaves just me and Zay outside. We step to the side, letting our classmates into the school, and he reaches for my hand. I take it, interlocking my fingers through his.

“You excited?” he asks.

I nod. “Beyond. And also . . . a little nervous.” He tilts his head, his locs falling to one side of his face. “I’ve just hyped this night up in my head for so long. I really, really want everything to go well, you know? Plus, it’s weird that I had absolutely no hand in the final planning for tonight.”

Isaiah’s brows furrow. “Wanting everything to go well I get but saying you have no hand in tonight? Are you kidding me?” He motions toward the entrance. “You may not have physically put everything together, but the instructions you left were meticulous. Sophie and Marisol ensured they were executed to a T. Even Sophie was barking orders, reminding folks that this was an important night for you.”

“Seriously?” I laugh. “I can’t picture Sophie bossing anyone around.”

He breathes a laugh, too. “It was pretty scary, honestly. But she and Sol kept us all in order. For you. And, not to brag, but I think I made a pretty great substitute president. I mean, not as great as you, of course, but not half bad.”

I smile at him. “I think you did wonderfully.”

Isaiah nods toward the entrance. “Only one way to find out for sure.”

We push past the beaded curtains hanging in the cafeteria doorway to see our hypothetical Fall Fest dance realized.

A long, wavy rainbow made of brown, yellow, and orange electrical tape (Chloe’s idea!) welcomes us inside like a red carpet. The long, picn ic- style cafeteria tables have been cleared out of the room to make room for a dance floor with colored lights and a shimmering disco ball gleaming at the center. Vibrant paper daisy cutouts decorate the walls.

The photo booth from Everly’s mom is off in a corner, complete with retro props, like a bright honey- colored landline phone, feather boas, and a light-up peace sign. There’s a selfie wall made of vinyl records and a glowing neon display that says GROOVY.

Tall, round cocktail tables line either side of the room, each topped with a cof fee- colored tablecloth and a bouquet of sunflowers. The TV in the corner of the room that usually tells the time or offers that day’s lunch menu is replaced with a looping video of Lava Lamps. The DJ toward the back is even wearing a powder-blue tuxedo.

“Oh my gosh,” I murmur.

“That mean we did all right?” Isaiah asks. I turn to him. “More than all right. This is stunning. Better than I even imagined.”

“Great job, you two,” a familiar voice says from behind us. When Isaiah and I turn, we see Ms. Bennett in a floral jumpsuit with bell sleeves and a necktie. “What a team.”

“Thank you, Ms. Bennett,” I say.

“Yes, thank you,” Isaiah echoes.

“I had a feeling you might be good together. Glad you were able to work things out.” She winks at us. “Now, I think I see a student getting a little handsy over in the corner, so I need to go handle that. Have fun. You deserve it.”

I shake my head as she sails past us, a woman on a mission. “She should add sneaky little matchmaker to her resume.”

Isaiah laughs. “For real. We owe her.”

“That we do,” I say, nodding. “Now . . . are you down for a few more pictures? Or should we dance?”

Just then, the song switches over to something by KennyHoopla, and we have our answer when Isaiah’s face lights up. “I love this song!”

“Then let’s dance.”