Lucas is in a state I’ve never seen before. Worn jeans and a t-shirt. Day old stubble and disheveled hair sort of shooting in every direction. He’s clearly spent the last few days in hell, probably trying to convince himself to finally get over me. I pray I’m not too late.
“You have to listen to me,” I continue. “That thing with the job was a misunderstanding.”
My words are weak and he knows it. Sure, he probably wasn’t thrilled to learn he might be out of a job, but I know deep down it was never about work. It was about me. He’s a mess because he thinks he’s wasted half his life loving someone that would casually stab him in the back. He shakes his head and starts to back up and I know what I have to do. I shout into the microphone and it rings sharply in everyone’s ears.
“I LOVE YOU, LUCAS THATCHER!”
All is quiet. The entire school cafeteria has been momentarily silenced by my desperate outburst. A wolf-whistle breaks the spell and a few kids giggle, but Lucas has paused once again. He’s looking back at me, waiting for me to continue.
“I love you, which seems crazy because up until about four days ago, I really thought I hated you. But when you think about it, love and hate aren’t so very different, right? To love someone is to strive to be a better person for them, and isn’t that what our hateful little competition has been about the whole time?”
“Booooo!!!” a few middle school boys shout. “Get a room, grandma!”
I forge ahead.
“I feel so stupid because it took me so long to see it, but I see it now. You’ve loved me from the very beginning and I think everyone knew it but me. I couldn’t see it because I was so selfish, caught up in my own silly need to win every battle with you, but this whole time, you’ve been patient. You’ve played the games with me because that’s what I needed, but your heart was never in it. You were never trying to take me down. You were in love with me.”
“Get off stage, weirdo!” another boy shouts.
“And I know it took me a really long time to see that, like an embarrassing amount of time, but now I understand and I’m not going to let you walk away from us. That’s why I’m dressed like this! I have a boutonniere! A corsage! I want to go back in time and make things right!”
A chaperone has come up onto the stage behind me and is trying to wrest the microphone out of my hand. I’m seconds away from being carted out of the dance in handcuffs.
“Hey! Stop. I just have one more—”
“Ma’am, you have to get off stage.”
“Lucas!” I shout right before the mic is ripped out of my hand. “If it’s not already clear, you’re my Mr. Sadie Hawkins 2017!”
“Those are not the official results!” squeals the small student body president, still tugging on the microphone cord.
The middle school’s resource officer moves very quickly for such an elderly man. Within seconds, he’s pulled me off stage and with the help of the chaperone, they’ve got my hands pulled behind my back, held together by a zip tie.
“Sorry about this, Daisy.”
I turn over my shoulder and recognize Tiffany Gaw, an old friend from the neighborhood. I forgot she taught at the middle school. She’s the one who helped detain me.
“Oh, hey there Tiffany. How ya been?”
“Not bad. I mean, compared to you, I guess I’ve been pretty good,” she jokes before quickly apologizing. I tell her not to worry about it—she has a point.
“Um, excuse me!” Tiny middle schooler is back, huffing harder than ever. “I’m here to press charges.”
The officer shakes his head. “I’m afraid this here is a catch and release situation, missy. Nothin’ really illegal about embarrassing yourself in front of children.”
“Daisy!” Madeleine shouts melodramatically, running through the crowd to get to me. “Oh my god officer, don’t take her to the big house, she’d never last! Will I be your one phone call from jail, Daisy?! Oh hey, Tiffany.”
“Hey Madeleine.”
“So is she going downtown? To the slammer?” Madeleine asks.
The officer looks up at me. “If I cut this tie, you’re not going to run back on stage and continue to ruin the dance are you?”
I look up and see Lucas hovering in the periphery of the group, watching the scene and wearing a smile. It’s small, but it’s there, and when his eyes lock with mine, there’s no evidence of hatred anymore, just amusement. It’s the answer I needed.
“No. I swear I’m done.”
“Right, well, just to show those kids and their parents that I’m not letting you off easy, I’mma cart you out of here like this and then I’ll cut you loose outside.”
“Seems fair.”
“This is an injustice,” mumbles the middle schooler before retrieving the microphone and attempting to regain the crowd’s attention.