The Beginning of After

that mattered, something that would make the Yale admissions department think I was special. I knew I should have been home working on it, but all of this somehow seemed much more important.
    “You’ll come up with something in time,” Nana had said confidently. “You always do.”
    Downstairs, Meg’s parents and Nana waited with their cameras. Mrs. Dill had changed her mind about “those girls” when Meg brought Andie home for dinner one night, and they all got along famously. Nana had changed her mind the day after my birthday, when Andie came to the house with a card and a gift certificate for a mani-pedi at Happy Nails “from all of us.” If there was a way to Nana’s heart, it was through good grooming.
    More photos in front of the staircase. Nana didn’t really get the sushi thing, but she made a big deal out of us anyway. Then she took Meg into the kitchen, just the two of them, and I heard her whispering something about not leaving my side. The whole scene was such a flashback to prom—we all felt it, I could tell—that I couldn’t blame Nana. I was even a little grateful, and glad she’d postponed her trip home yet again to be here.
    We neatly folded the costumes and loaded them into Meg’s car before driving to school for the dance. We were both wearing white head to toe, and glowed a little in the fluorescent light above the Dills’ driveway. Before we climbed in, Meg and I stood on either side of the car, looking at each other over its glossy black roof.
    “I feel like we’re going to a mime party,” I said, unable to hide the shaky nervousness in my voice.
    “You’ll be fine,” said Meg, but she sounded unconvinced.
    We’d been worried about being late, but as soon as we pulled into the school parking lot I realized we were going to be among the nerds who showed up first. There were only a handful of other cars there.
    “It’s okay, we need the time to get dressed,” said Meg.
    So we stood behind the Toyota, yet again putting on the Styrofoam and the green felt belts, hoping nobody saw us until we were together with the rest of our platter. And then we waited, huddled in the shadows between the car and a tree, just a pair of raw delicacies watching other kids arrive.
    Meg offered commentary.
    “Luke Trumbull is Frankenstein. That’s old school. Oh, look! Somebody’s Thing One and Thing Two from Cat in the Hat . Can’t tell who yet, they’re too far away.”
    Finally, we saw Andie’s Beetle swoop in, and we made our way to where she was parking.
    “You guys look yummy!” she said, then Hannah and two of their friends climbed out. We helped them get their costumes on, and together, we looked less stupid. Hannah had designed and made them, so she was extra proud as she herded us toward the school, snapping pictures of us from behind.
    “Let’s get a group shot before we go in,” said Hannah as we reached the main entrance. We arranged ourselves on the steps, our arms around one another, while Andie flagged down a sophomore to snap the photo for us. He looked thrilled at the opportunity and made a big deal out of positioning the camera.
    “Say ‘sake’!” he said.
    “Sake!” we all echoed, smiling.
    He took a photo, then said, “One more, the other way.” As he was turning the camera, something caught my eye off to the right, near where the squat, round auditorium building sat like a big tuna can in front of the school.
    The bear statue appeared to be moving.
    No wait. Not the bear statue. A person standing in front of the bear statue, shadowed in silhouette.
    A person who looked like he could be David.
    “Say ‘ sayonara ’!” said the sophomore, trying so hard to be cool.
    I was afraid to turn my eyes away, in case what I saw disappeared, but Meg tightened her arm around me and I glanced at the camera long enough to get blinded by the flash.
    Now I couldn’t see anything by the auditorium except white sparks. Meg and the rest of the platter headed into the school, but I just stood there on the steps, watching the sparks fade from my vision.
    The David-person moved again, and I started to move toward him, walking across the wet grass in my white sneakers, not caring about how muddy they were getting. Finally I reached pavement again, the walkway in front of the auditorium, and now I could see him unshadowed. He saw me, too.
    “Laurel,” he said simply.
    His hair was longer now, brushing the tops of his shoulders, and the weight of it made it hang straight