Deacon Locke Went to Prom Read online

  It’s just as well. Adam helped me track down this little apartment near campus. When school starts, it’ll be a quick walk to classes. And a quick drive to visit Jean.

  I sit down next to my grandmother on the couch.

  “I’m so excited for tonight,” she says. “How many people did you say are coming?”

  “Nine or ten. Just a few friends.” I told her that twenty minutes ago, but I don’t mind repeating myself. I’m just glad she’s feeling well enough to come to my party. Some days, she gets confused and it’s not quite safe for her to leave the facility.

  “It’s so good to see you.” She smiles up at me, her makeup perfectly in place. There’s a salon at the nursing home and I made sure she has plenty of credit there.

  “It’s great to see you, Jean. I’m sorry I haven’t been around for a while.”

  “Posh, you’ve been busy. We’ll see each other at Christmas. Um, won’t we?”

  “Of course we will. We’re going to have a nice little dinner here at my place.”

  She squeezes my hand. “How wonderful. Will . . . will your father and your aunt be there?”

  I hate explaining this part again. “I’m afraid they can’t make it. But they promised to visit soon.”

  Extending the Christmas invitation had been the first time I talked to my aunt since the summer. She was sorry to hear about Jean’s illness, thankful for the money, and didn’t come out to help me with Jean. As for my father, who knows? He’s dropped off the face of the earth.

  There’s a knock at the door and guests start to trickle in. Kelli, Hunt, Adam, along with some friends of friends.

  I find myself rushing to greet guests, serve drinks (mostly leftover Fresa Berry Blasters), and dart back to the couch to make sure Jean is okay. Fortunately, Elijah relieves me of some of this duty. I’m not sure Jean understands anything he says, but she’s hardly alone in that regard.

  After half an hour, people start gravitating toward the television. This is, after all, the reason they’re here. As I make sure everyone has a place to sit, there’s a final knock.

  I take a deep breath, plaster a smile on my face, and open the door.

  “Hello, Soraya. Hello, Jason.”

  Soraya, of course, looks fantastic. College agrees with her. She’s more adult, more mature. And—I never would have thought this possible—more beautiful. God, that face.

  Jason looks exactly the same. I’d like to say he’s one of those guys who peaked in high school and now has trouble finding his place in the world, but he’s just as confident and well dressed as ever.

  We all exchange greetings. I almost close the door behind them when I realize there’s someone else with them.

  “Deacon,” says Jason, “I’d like you to meet my girlfriend, Rosemary.”

  I guess you’d call Rosemary attractive, if you’re into the whole blond, slender, classic-beauty type of thing. We shake hands. While I’m glad Jason is no longer pursuing Soraya, it amuses me that he’s gone for someone based on her looks. This girl probably has a double-digit IQ.

  “I’ve been following you online,” she says. “I’m a bit of a fan.”

  “Oh, you like Celebrity Dance Off?”

  “What? No, I meant the blog you do with Adam Fernandez. I’m a physics major myself. Later, I’d like to talk to you about your views on the future of the space program.”

  As I go to put away everyone’s coat, I catch a glimpse of Soraya sitting on the couch and talking to Jean. Soraya has been wonderful. She visited Jean while I was away, and sends her letters and little gifts. Even on Jean’s off days, she asks about Soraya.

  Unfortunately, I don’t always have a lot to tell her. I spent most of June and July settling Jean’s affairs, then flew off to California to do the show. Soraya started college, and while I managed to fly back twice to see Jean, there was no time to do anything else. Soraya and I kept in touch via social media, but that kind of slacked off after a while. When I moved back to Fayetteville last month, I got busy finding an apartment and registering for college. I haven’t seen Soraya in person since early July.

  “Hey!” calls Elijah. “Everyone get in here! The show’s about to start.”

  My guests all move toward the TV. Soraya scoots over so I can sit between her and Jean. And it’s such a small couch.

  I’m so distracted, I almost don’t notice the familiar theme music to Celebrity Dance Off. The show has aired every week for the past month and a half, but this is the episode where contestants start doing their huge production numbers and risk being eliminated. I wasn’t excited about watching this one, but Elijah and Clara had insisted on seeing it with me. And since everyone was out of school for break, I decided to make a party of it.

  Funny, a year ago the thought of inviting even a couple of people over would have caused me to play sick. Now, I’m sorry the apartment isn’t bigger.

  Everyone is silent while the host of Dance Off announces the contestants.

  “And from Fayetteville, Arkansas, teen internet star Deacon Locke!”

  My guests cheer. Jean claps. Soraya shifts in her seat. I feel her hand brush mine, though that might have been an accident.

  We watch the clips of each contestant practicing with their professional dance partner. Elijah whistles when he sees me with Tatiana, the Russian dancer I’m paired with.

  “She’s lovely, Deacon,” says Soraya.

  I’m a little embarrassed when they show that clip of the two of us having kind of a tickle fight. It had been a difficult rehearsal, and the director decided Tatiana needed to “spontaneously” go after my ribs. They shot five takes of her running her fingers all over me, as I pretended to not enjoy it.

  Next come the contestant interviews. I wince when I see how wooden and nervous I look. The host plays that original clip of Jean and me at prom, and I explain, for the thousandth time, why we ended up going together. The producers had originally wanted to fly Jean in for an interview as well, and I was forced to explain why that couldn’t happen. They simply told the audience she was “ill” and left it at that.

  I do mention Soraya, my great dance teacher back home. But I don’t say how, for a few glorious weeks, she was so much more than that.

  Finally, the actual dance competition. True, we’d all danced in the previous episodes, but that was just to build up interest in the various teams. This is where the real contest starts.

  Tatiana had decided we should dance the Charleston. She looked great dressed as a flapper. I didn’t care for my vintage 1920s suit, but the wardrobe people insisted it was fine.

  “Looking sharp, Deacon,” says Kelli. I’m glad the hubbub over that stupid video of us died down quickly, and that Hunt took her at her word that it wasn’t what it looked like. They’re still dating. And I’ve officially become the platonic male friend she calls to bitch about her boyfriend. I’m comfortable with that role.

  My apartment is silent as everyone watches our routine. It’s not bad, a hell of a lot better than I could have done without Soraya’s lessons. Or, for that matter, a month of intense training from Tatiana and a crew of professional choreographers. But they don’t show that part on TV.

  The fact is, though, Tatiana is the one with the talent. I’m just kind of following along. And when it’s time for a team to be eliminated (the result of the judges’ decision, along with a complicated system of the studio audience’s votes), we’re the first to go. My friends boo.

  “Stupid democracy,” says Elijah.

  I shrug. “Hey, it was fun.”

  And it was. Though I was initially worried about leaving Jean for three months, she did great. Every time I called her she insisted she was fine and I should go out and have a good time. We pseudo-celebs and our partners all became quick friends. Los Angeles isn’t that great of a city, but we all enjoyed ourselves in the down time, sightseeing and eating out. I got really drunk for the first time with a couple of other dancers. And I remember the night I left, when Tatiana kissed me and told me
to come visit her someday. . . .

  “Deacon?” asks one of Clara’s friends. “Are you going to do any more TV shows?”

  I laugh. “I think that was my last chance. Well, I did get an offer to be on Celebrity Cage Fight, but I said no thank you.”

  Everyone laughs. Soraya squeezes my hand for real.

  “Deacon!” says Jean. “Don’t be so modest. Tell them what you’re doing this summer.”

  I was hoping she wouldn’t remember that tonight. It’s not a done deal, and I doubt anyone here is interested.

  “It’s nothing. My friend Adam is visiting the Guiana Space Centre next June. He invited me to come along.”

  Everyone murmurs appreciatively.

  “Wow!” says Elijah. “Goin’ to Africa.”

  Clara whispers something in his ear.

  “South America, I mean.”

  I’m glad the brawl at Adam’s place last semester didn’t piss him off too much. Actually, he’s been a big help planning my coursework and degree program. The U of A is a solid science school. And now that I’ve given up on dancing professionally, I can go back to watching those little white dots in the sky. Astronomy, my first love.

  Soraya laughs at something Jean says, and I take a sidelong glance at my ex-girlfriend.

  Astronomy, my second love.

  My guests hang around for a couple of hours, but soon people begin to trickle out. Elijah, Clara, and I solidify our new year’s plans. Jason and I shake hands and smile insincerely at each other.

  Finally, it’s just Soraya and me, with Jean dozing lightly on the couch. We stand awkwardly in the kitchen, not sure how to pick up a conversation from five months ago.

  “Jean looks well,” says Soraya, busily stacking dirty dishes in the sink.

  “Thanks. She has good days. They treat her nice, and I see her as much as possible, now that I’m back.”

  “She’s lucky to have you in her life.”

  I duck my head. “So how are you liking college?”

  She smiles. “It’s wonderful. Not so scary, once you get your feet wet. I guess I’ll see you there next semester.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.”

  Silence falls as we pick up the party debris.

  There’s so much I want to tell her. How I thought of her all the time in L.A. How I’ve had a few dates, but nothing serious. How my feelings for her haven’t changed, but I’m too afraid to mention it, because I don’t want to drive her away. How I wonder if maybe I’m being obsessive. And that maybe she’s moved on.

  “I probably should go, Deacon.”

  “Um . . . okay.” Stupid unseasonably warm weather. What I wouldn’t give for an ice storm about now.

  “Deacon?”

  “Yes?”

  She looks at me, an unreadable expression on her face. “I guess I’ll see you in January. Give me a call. We’ll get together.”

  “Yeah. Let’s do that.”

  She reaches, uncertainly, for her coat.

  And suddenly, music fills my small apartment.

  We both look toward the living room. Unnoticed by either of us, Jean has gotten up and turned on the stereo. It’s a slow-dance song. One I remember from our lessons at the Y, all those months ago.

  Jean looks at me intently, then nods at Soraya. I turn.

  “Soraya? Would you . . . would you like to dance?”

  She smiles. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  She puts her arms around my neck. I place my hands on her hips. And we slowly move back and forth across my kitchenette.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  THIS BOOK WOULD NEVER HAVE HAPPENED WITHOUT help from a lot of people. First and foremost, my editor, Claudia Gabel, who always pushes me to do my very best. You’ve made my dreams come true ten times over. I’d also like to thank my beta readers, Kate Basi, Ida Fogle, Antony John, Connie Schertel, Kelsey Simon, Heidi Stallman, and Amy Whitley. Thanks for catching all my boneheaded mistakes. Finally, a huge debt of gratitude goes to my wife, Sandra, and my daughter, Sophie. Thank you for putting up with my distraction, self-doubt, and hours at my desk. You never stopped believing in me.

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  The author with his wonderful grandmothers, Katie (left) and Belle (right)

  BRIAN KATCHER is the author of the Stonewall Book Award–winning novel Almost Perfect, along with The Improbable Theory of Ana and Zak, Playing with Matches, and Everyone Dies in the End. He lives in central Missouri with his wife and daughter. When he’s not writing he works as a school librarian and contributes to the Forever Young Adult book blog. He once drove 150 miles to attend junior prom at his date’s school, and it was worth it.

  WWW.BRIANKATCHER.COM

  Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.

  BOOKS BY BRIAN KATCHER

  The Improbable Theory of Ana and Zak

  Everyone Dies in the End

  Almost Perfect

  Playing with Matches

  Deacon Locke Went to Prom

  CREDITS

  COVER DESIGN BY HEATHER DAUGHERTY

  HAND LETTERING BY ANNICA LYDENBERG

  COPYRIGHT

  Katherine Tegen Books is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.

  DEACON LOCKE WENT TO PROM. Copyright © 2017 by Brian Katcher HarperCollins Publishers. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

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  * * *

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2016957990

  EPub Edition © April 2017 ISBN 9780062422545

  ISBN 978-0-06-242252-1

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  FIRST EDITION

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