Tag Along Read online

  She turns, confused, as a window to her right slides open. A red-faced woman sticks her head out and cranes her neck, staring at Candace.

  “What are you doing?” the woman yells. She looks down, and her mouth drops open when she sees the rest of us. Her face disappears inside the building.

  “Security!” yells Paul. “Hurry up!”

  Candace scurries down the ladder, jumping from the fourth rung and landing in a crouch. We rush to the edge of the building and climb over the edge, one at a time. I hit the ground first.

  “Andrea!” Paul yells. I look up at him, and he tosses me the keys to the car. “Get her started!”

  I jump into the car, turn it on and pull it over by the Dumpster. Roemi jumps into the front passenger seat as Candace and then Paul hop to the ground and dive into the backseat. The security guard comes running around the side of the building and stops about twenty feet in front of us, right in the middle of the maintenance road. Our exit is totally blocked. She throws her hand up toward us, as if she’s trying to cast a spell.

  “Stop!” she yells.

  “Flash the brights on and off, really quick!” says Roemi.

  I do what he says, and the guard stumbles back and throws her arm over her eyes to block the light.

  “Go!” yells Paul.

  “I can’t! She’s blocking us!” I say, still flicking the lights as the guard gets her bearings and comes lumbering toward us.

  “Back it up!” Paul hollers.

  I throw the car into reverse and glance quickly over my shoulder. On a hill covered with large oak trees is a narrow walking path that looks just wide enough for the car. I aim for it and step on the gas. The Audi guns up the hill in reverse. At the top, I quickly snap it into Drive and we spin around the side of the building, over a lawn and onto a paved road.

  “That way,” says Candace, pointing at a side road. “It leads off campus!”

  In the rearview mirror, I see the security guard running along the lawn behind us, but I take the turn and we lose her. I race toward the university exit, drive through the open gate and turn onto a quiet residential street. Candace points the way and I follow her directions, my heart pounding as we move deeper into the city. Finally, after we’ve turned onto a busy street, Candace points at a parking space in front of a condo building.

  “Pull in here,” she says.

  I roll up next to the curb, turn off the ignition and carefully remove my shaking hands from the steering wheel.

  “I think I just pooped a little,” says Roemi.

  “Andrea, that was some rock-star driving back there,” says Paul.

  “Well, I don’t feel like a rock star. I feel like a criminal or something.”

  “Relax,” says Candace, “everything’s cool. No cops around. I doubt that woman got the license plate. Pretty smooth move, flashing the lights at her.”

  “I saw that on CSI,” says Roemi.

  “Okay,” says Candace. “Let’s go.” She opens her door and gets out of the car. When none of us move, she bends over and looks in at us.

  “What are you waiting for?”

  CANDACE

  When my dad moved out, my mother went kind of crazy and threw out everything that reminded her of their lives together. She told me it was a way of bringing fresh energy into our house. When that didn’t work, she sold the house and we moved into a condo downtown. The condo is okay, but I’m not in love with it or anything. It’s too new to consider home.

  Mom’s out of town with her boyfriend Walter for the weekend, which works out well.

  “Come on in,” I say, snapping on the lights. “Grab a seat. I need to find something.”

  I go into my mother’s bedroom, trying to ignore Walter’s boxers lying on the floor. I rummage around in her closet for a few minutes until I find something I think might work and bring it back to the kitchen.

  “Here,” I say, thrusting it at Andrea.

  “What is this?” she asks.

  “It’s a dress,” I tell her. “It’s my mom’s. You’re about her size.”

  “I don’t understand,” she says.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” asks Roemi. “She hates your clothes.”

  “No,” I say. “I think you should go to prom. You too,” I say to Roemi.

  “Oh my god, Andrea,” says Roemi. “It’s, like, destiny! We have to crash the prom. We can be each other’s date!”

  “Roemi,” she says, “the prom will be over soon. It’s not gonna happen.”

  “Well, we’d better get a move on,” he says. “Come on, girl. Just try the dress on.”

  She thinks about it for a minute, then stands up. “Where’s the bathroom?”

  “Come with me,” I tell her.

  She follows me into my room, and I point her to the bathroom in the corner.

  “What do you think?” she asks when she comes out a few minutes later.

  “It looks great,” I tell her. It does look great. She’s wearing what my mother refers to as her little black cocktail dress. Nothing fancy, just a black slip with spaghetti straps.

  “We need to do something about your hair though,” I say.

  I reach up and push my hands into her hair, then start tousling it.

  “This doesn’t feel like an improvement,” she says.

  “Just give me a minute,” I tell her. There’s a black button-up shirt hanging on the back of my bedroom door. I grab it and get some scissors from my desk and begin to cut an inch-wide strip from the lower hem of the shirt.

  “Oh my god,” she says. “What are you doing?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I say. “Sometimes you gotta break some eggs if you want to make an omelette.”

  I twist the fabric in and around her hair. Soon her hair is up off her neck, and it actually looks really good. I loosen a few strands so they fall off to the side of her face.

  “We’re not quite done,” I say. “Grab a seat.”

  I dig around for a few minutes in the messy depths of my closet. “Here we go,” I say, pulling a small knapsack out from behind a cardboard box full of old shoes. I dump the bag, which is full of makeup, out on the desk. Then I grab some eyeliner and pull the chair from my desk over to sit in front of her.

  “Close your eyes and lean back your head,” I say.

  “Where did you learn to do this?” she asks as I outline her eyes.

  “A good friend of mine used to be really into makeup,” I say. “I guess she still is. I haven’t really talked to her in over a year. She left this stuff here the last time she came over, and she hasn’t been back for it. Anyway, she’s really good. Taught me a few things.”

  I pull out a tube of lipstick and open it. Dark red. Perfect. I hand it to Andrea; she puts it on and then smacks her lips together.

  “I’m not used to wearing makeup,” she says, staring at herself in the mirror. She turns around to look at me. “Thanks,” she says. “Seriously.”

  “Listen,” I say. “About all that shit I said before…”

  “Forget it,” she says.

  “No, seriously,” I say. “I don’t know what made me act like such a bitch. And it was really cool of you and your brother to help me out like that.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” she says. “Besides, I had the wrong impression about what it is that you do.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “I guess I just never thought of graffiti as being…I don’t know, artistic. That rose you painted though. It was really beautiful.”

  “Are you serious?” I say.

  “Yeah,” she says. “I’ll be pissed when they paint it over.”

  “That might be the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in a long time,” I tell her. “Okay, turn around. One last thing.”

  I pull my bag of markers out of my backpack and get her to hold the loose tendrils of her hair up off her neck. I quickly sketch out a rose, but I do it upside down so that the stem and thorns twist up her neck and the flower sits dead center at the
top of her back. Instead of filling it in with blue, I use a dark red that matches her lipstick.

  When I’m done, I hold a mirror at the back of her neck so she can see. “Perfect,” we say at the same time.

  When we go back out to the kitchen, Roemi puts two fingers in his mouth and gives her a loud jock whistle.

  “Wow,” says Paul.

  “Wow what?” asks Andrea. “Does it look okay?”

  “You look awesome,” says Roemi. “Justin won’t know what hit him.”

  “Justin Sanchez?” asks Paul.

  “Oops,” says Roemi.

  “Thanks a lot, Roemi,” says Andrea, laughing.

  “You guys would be a cool couple,” says Paul. “He’s a good guy.”

  “You think so?” asks Andrea.

  “He’ll have to get past me,” says Roemi. “She’s my date tonight.”

  “Not so fast,” I tell him.

  My school is right downtown and has seen better days. It’s big and brick and rough around the edges. It has a lot of things going for it, but architectural integrity isn’t one of them.

  The sidewalk out front is jammed with people. Smoke from cigarettes and weed sits in the air, and lots of people are openly drinking.

  “Prom night at Sodom and Gomorrah High School,” says Roemi. “I should have transferred here years ago.”

  Paul parks across the street.

  “Probably best if you guys stay here,” I tell them. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

  I walk across the street. A few people turn to watch me as I approach, but nobody bothers to talk to me. Not much of a surprise, considering I haven’t socialized with any of them in over a year.

  I walk up the front steps to the school and into the entry hallway. The doors to the gymnasium sit directly in front of me. Through them, I can see lights spinning across the floor and hear the music pounding at full blast.

  Jenny Dervette is standing by herself at the entrance to the gym, staring at her phone, because apparently there aren’t enough people here for her to interact with.

  “Hey,” I say. “Do you know if Sean is here tonight?”

  “Yeah,” she says, barely glancing up at me. “I’ve seen him around. I think he’s probably dancing.”

  I walk into the gym and stand on the edge of the dance floor. I see him right away, busting a move with a group of adoring girls. Sean has always been an awesome dancer.

  The dance song ends, and as some cheesy ballad starts, the floor more or less empties. It must be too early in the evening for people to start sucking face, although I notice that a few couples are making exceptions. Sean moves toward the other side of the gym, and I push through the crowd, trying to follow him.

  Someone steps out of my way, and all of a sudden I’m standing face to face with Vanessa.

  She looks as surprised as I am. Her eyes widen, and I can tell that she’s struggling to come up with something to say. I’m not, since I don’t have anything to say to her at all. I don’t move though. I just stand there as we look at each other. It’s been months since we’ve said a word to each other. She’s with Evan Wong, who stands to the side and looks back and forth between us, as if he’s trying to figure out what to do. Vanessa’s always thought Evan is pretty cute. I’ve seen her in the hallways with him lately and had assumed they’re an item now. I guess this proves it.

  “I’m going to hit up the bathroom,” he tells her before he walks away, leaving us.

  “Hey,” she says finally.

  I feel frozen in place. “You look good,” I manage to tell her. It’s true. She’s got a cool vintage dress on, and she’s wearing new glasses, red-framed cat-eyes. Right up her alley.

  “Thanks,” she says. “I got the dress online. I was pretty excited when I found it.”

  “Yeah, you look good,” I say again. I feel incredibly stupid and begin to walk away, but she reaches out and grabs my arm.

  “Candace,” she says. “What is going on?”

  “I’m trying to do a favor for a friend,” I tell her.

  “No, I mean, what’s going on with us? What happened?”

  “Oh give me a break,” I say, feeling my face getting hot. “You know what happened. You ratted me out.” I realize my voice is raised and people are looking at us, so I lean in and lower it. “You called my mother, Vanessa. How could you do that?”

  “Candace, I was worried about you! You changed so much, so quick. It freaked me out, and then when you and Rick…”

  “You were jealous of him,” I say. “You were jealous that I’d found something special in my life, and you didn’t understand it, so you had to ruin it.”

  She snorts. “Special? You mean breaking into buildings just to impress some guy who treated you like shit?”

  “He didn’t treat me like shit,” I tell her.

  “Oh yeah? So where is awesome Rick now?” she asks. “How come he’s not here with you tonight?”

  I laugh at her. “I should have known you’d bring that up. You’re just thrilled to have that to fall back on, aren’t you?”

  “Jesus, Candace,” she says. “Do you even understand why you’re so angry at everyone? Do you even think about it?”

  “There’s nothing to think about,” I tell her. “It’s all pretty straightforward.”

  “You really see things that way, don’t you?” she asks. “It’s just you against the world.”

  “That sure is how things turned out,” I say.

  She stares at me. “I don’t know what happened, Candace,” she says finally. “I miss you.”

  “Shit,” I say. I put my hand up to cover my face and squeeze my temples. “Vanessa, I miss you too. We’re just too different now.”

  “Too different for what?” she asks me. “To be friends? Do you really think that?”

  “I don’t know,” I say. “I don’t know what I think anymore.” To my horror, I feel my eyes start to well up.

  “Oh, Candace,” she says, reaching out to put a hand on my shoulder. “I’m still here, if you ever decide you want me around.”

  She turns and walks away. For a split second I want to follow her, grab her and tell her that I’m sorry, but the moment passes. I watch her move away through the crowd.

  I spot Sean sitting on the stage, talking to a couple of girls. All I want to do is get out of here as quickly as possible, so I walk over to them and interrupt one of the girls in mid-sentence.

  “Hey, Sean,” I say. “Do you have a second?”

  “Candace,” he says, surprised. “What’s up?”

  “Do you have a date tonight?” I ask him.

  ROEMI

  When Candace comes back to the car, she’s with some guy. He’s totally cute, average height but nicely built, with cropped ginger hair and a killer smile. He’s also super well dressed, in a tailored gray suit jacket over a white shirt with the top couple of buttons undone, dark pants and electric-blue Chuck Taylors.

  They climb into the backseat, and the new dude smiles at us.

  “Everyone,” says Candace, “this is Sean. Sean, this is everyone.”

  I wonder if he’s her not-quite boyfriend or what, but then he leans into the front seat and holds his hand out to me. “Hey,” he says. “You must be Roemi.”

  “Yes,” I say. “I must be.”

  There’s an awkward moment in which it dawns on me that Sean is some kind of blind date. I twist my head around to look at Candace.

  “Hey, man,” she says. “You’re the one who wanted to be the first gay prom couple in Granite Ridge.”

  “So you grabbed the first gay person you could find and just assumed that would work?” I ask her.

  “Hey,” she says. “Sean’s a friend of mine, and I happen to think you guys might hit it off.”

  I turn to Sean. “You’re sure you’re cool with this?” I ask him. “You don’t mind leaving your own prom to come with us?”

  “No way,” he says. “It’s pretty dead in there.”

  “I wouldn’t
get my hopes up,” I tell him, looking out the window at the crowd outside the school. “This is probably like an all-night rave on Ibiza compared to ours.”

  “No worries,” he says. “At least I have a date now.”

  He smiles at me, and I feel like I’m going to melt into the upholstery.

  “Okay, Paul,” I say. “We have less than an hour of prom left. Let’s gun it.”

  “If you insist,” says Paul, revving the engine and pulling away from the curb.

  We make it back to Granite Ridge in record time. Paul parks on the far side of the sports field behind the school. We get out of the car and stand, facing the building. From across the field, we can hear the faint thump of heavy bass coming from the gymnasium.

  “I guess this is it,” says Andrea.

  “You sure you don’t want to come with us?” I ask Paul. “There’s still time to salvage Lannie’s prom.”

  “I don’t think I’ll be salvaging anything if I show up at the end of the night in jeans and a ballcap,” he says. “You guys go ahead. I’ll stick around and drive everyone home after the dance.”

  “You’ll be here?” I ask Candace.

  “Where else would I go?” she asks.

  “All right then.” I turn to Andrea and Sean. “What are we waiting for?”

  The three of us step onto the field and start walking toward the school.

  “How do you know Candace?” Andrea asks Sean.

  “We have some of the same friends,” he says. “Or used to anyway. Nobody’s seen much of Candace over the last year or so. I was surprised when she came looking for me tonight, actually.”

  “I’m glad she did,” I say, feeling embarrassed the minute the words are out of my mouth. It takes a lot to make me blush, but I can feel color rising in my cheeks.

  Sean doesn’t seem to notice. “Me too,” he says. “Totally glad.”

  From the corner of my eye, I see Andrea grin.

  When we reach the far side of the field, we stand on the edge of the parking lot and look at the school. The music is a lot louder now, and I can make out a Beyoncé song through the heavy walls of the gym.