There was one of Amy standing next to a bench by a rosebush. She had one foot up on the bench and she’d pushed her skirt up high enough to reveal a black garter snug around her thigh. She was winking at the camera. Megan’s mum appeared to think she was just being mischievous and ironic. We knew better.
There was one of me in my vintage, beaded sea-green dress. It was shorter than the others’ – flapper style – and I’d pinned up my hair so that it resembled a nineteen-twenties bob. It was very different to everyone else’s dresses, but it suited my lean shape perfectly. My smile, however, was more sad than hopeful. Like my dress, I seemed nostalgic. Out of time.
There were other photos too. Megan and I with our arms around each other, grinning stupidly at the camera. The three of us with exaggerated pouts. Megan with her parents.
We were still viewing them when the limo pulled up outside and the driver sounded the horn.
‘Bye, Mum!’ Megan yelled, hiking up her dress and almost running out of the door.
The limousine was silver with white leather seats. Ryan, Connor and Matt were already inside, each dressed in tuxedos with bow ties and cummerbunds to match our dresses. Matt was holding a half-empty bottle of vodka. He passed the bottle to me.
‘Not for me, thanks,’ I said, passing the bottle on to Megan.
‘Someone still hung-over?’ said Connor.
That was when I remembered that I was angry with Connor for ratting on me to Miranda.
‘About that,’ I said, trying to control my voice. ‘Why did you tell your mother that I spent Thursday afternoon drinking vodka in Perran Park?’
‘I thought you might have alcohol poisoning,’ he said, his expression wide-eyed and earnest. ‘You don’t normally drink and you downed a lot of bottles in a short amount of time.’
‘Oh, please,’ I said. ‘Ryan was with me. He drove me home.’
‘Which – no offence, Ryan – was also a bad idea.’
‘Connor!’ I began. ‘If you were concerned about me, you could have called Ryan. Or me, for that matter.’
‘I was too busy throwing up myself. All I was able to do was tell my mum that I thought you might be sick.’
‘You know what Miranda’s like!’
Ryan kicked me gently from across the limousine. I looked up and caught his eye. Almost imperceptibly, he shook his head.
‘I wanted to make sure you didn’t pass out in your room and choke on your own vomit.’
I literally bit down on my tongue and counted for ten seconds. Then I composed my face into a grateful smile. ‘That was very thoughtful of you, Connor. Thank you.’
‘Where’s the other bottle?’ asked Amy.
Matt removed a medium-sized bottle of vodka from the inner pocket of his tux. Amy reached out for the bottle, but he pushed her hand away gently.
‘Let me,’ he said.
Amy laughed and hiked up her dress, revealing her lacy, black garter.
‘Close your eyes, boys,’ said Matt.
They didn’t.
Matt slid the bottle of vodka under Amy’s garter and checked that it was snug against her thigh.
‘How does that feel?’ he asked.
‘Fine,’ she said, pulling her dress back down.
‘Why are you wearing a bottle of vodka under your dress?’ asked Ryan.
Amy raised her eyebrows. ‘How else are we going to smuggle alcohol into the ball? They’ll check your jackets and our bags. But there’s no way they’re going to check my thighs!’
Mr Peterson, the deputy head, was standing at the entrance to the school canteen, flanked on either side by Mrs Link and Mr Chinn. The two men were dressed in the same suits they wore to school every day. Mrs Link, however, was dressed in a pink cocktail dress that showed rather too much of her ample bosom and the crêpy skin of her neckline.
‘Link is looking rather glamorous tonight,’ Ryan murmured, raising an eyebrow.
Matt laughed. ‘I think I might have to ask her to dance. Imagine being pressed up close against those.’
Connor made a puking sound. ‘Enough.’
The canteen had been transformed from the usual yellow plastic tables with moulded white chairs and harsh fluorescent lighting to something actually quite striking. If you had a good imagination – or had had a few drinks – you might be able to make believe you were in a restaurant in a luxury hotel rather than a glammed-up school canteen. The tables were covered with heavy, white linen tablecloths, and each table had a simple glass vase with a single pink rose. Pink and white confetti was sprinkled across the table like cherry blossom. Shadows flickered on the walls and the ceiling; hundreds of white tealights placed in pink holders were dotted around the room, giving the whole place a rosy glow.
‘This looks amazing,’ I said to Amy, who was part of the leavers’ ball committee.
‘Doesn’t it?’
Out of habit and nostalgia, we chose our usual lunch spot by the exit. A table for six. I looked around. The tables were mostly full. Year Ten prefects were our waiters, coming around to take our orders. Ryan and I both ordered the only vegetarian option on the menu – some sort of pasta dish. The meat-eaters had a choice of fish, chicken or beef. As I watched my friends order their meals, I leant back in my chair feeling utterly content. This was perfect. School and exams were behind me, I was sitting in a pink and white dream with all of my classmates, sharing a table with my best friends, sitting across the table from the best-looking boy in the universe. Later on, I hoped, we would dance. I glanced up at Ryan, who was smiling at me with his big, happy grin. I didn’t allow myself to think any further forward than that night. I wanted to enjoy the feeling of contentment, the thrill of the here and now.
‘I can’t believe that this is the last time all of us will be together,’ Megan was saying. ‘In September Matt and Amy will be going to college in Truro and . . .’
‘Stop,’ I said. ‘No nostalgic comments. That can come later. Let’s enjoy being here all together tonight.’
‘Hear, hear,’ said Connor, raising his glass of fruit punch. ‘Here’s to the end of school, the best friends a guy could wish for, and a brilliant future ahead.’
‘Aww,’ said Matt, leaning in to hug Connor. ‘You’re so sweet.’
One of the Year Ten prefects arrived back at our table with a tray of bread and soup. Our first course. Surprisingly, it looked nothing like the watery gruel served up at lunchtime on a daily basis. The bread rolls were different shapes: some were round wheat rolls, others were star-shaped with walnuts, and others had little pieces of tomato and olive in them.
‘If they can produce food like this, why have we eaten crap for the last five years?’ moaned Megan. ‘It’s the same cooks.’
‘They had a way bigger budget,’ said Amy. ‘Like ten times what they get to spend per head on a school day. And the menu had to be approved by the leavers’ ball committee.’
‘Well, they did a good job,’ said Ryan. ‘This actually looks edible.’
Amy smiled happily. She and her drama-club friends had spent hours organising the ball.
‘But the big question is where do we go after the ball?’ said Matt.
The dance was in the drama hall. Like the canteen it was decorated in pink and white, but rather than candles, the room had been rigged up with disco lights and a strobe. A cover band was supplying the music for the first hour and then a DJ for the rest of the evening. Amy and Matt went straight on to the dance floor. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Chloe Mason heading our way. I tensed up. With only a few hours left, I did not want to have to share my time with Ryan. But then she slipped her arms around Tyler Cook and dragged him out on to the dance floor.
‘Come on,’ said Ryan, reaching for my hand.
His hand felt warm and strong. The band was playing an upbeat rock song, too fast for slow dancing, so we just danced next to Amy and Matt. Connor didn’t dance. Ever. Ryan kept repositioning himself so that he was facing Connor.