Last Dance Page 10

  “Oh, we’ll take it easy on you,” DJ assured them.

  About midway through the game, DJ asked Conner if he had ordered his tux for the prom yet. Of course, she knew he’d already done it, but she pretended not to and he played along nicely.

  “I can’t believe it’s on Saturday.” DJ leaned down to take a shot, which she easily made. “It’s going to be so fun.” She stood, then looked at Casey. “Oh, I’m sorry, Case, I shouldn’t be talking about—”

  “Yeah, DJ,” said Conner.

  DJ went around the table for her next shot, then paused to talk to Emery. “Casey was invited to the prom,” she explained quietly, “but her jerk of a boyfriend—”

  “DJ,” warned Conner, “just play pool, okay?”

  “Yeah, right.” DJ leaned over and took her shot, missing this time. She stood and tossed Casey a sympathetic look. “Sorry, it’s just that I wish you—”

  “Hey, why don’t you go to the prom with me?” Emery said suddenly.

  DJ knew that Conner had been coaching him on it, but she was impressed with how natural it seemed.

  “I—uh—” Casey was tongue-tied.

  “Sorry,” Emery said quickly. “I guess that was socially stupid.” His cheeks got flushed again. “I’m not very good at that—”

  “No,” Casey said quickly, “if you’re serious, I’d like to go with you.”

  Emery looked honestly stunned. “Really?”

  Casey nodded, smiling shyly. “Yeah.”

  “That’s so great.” DJ gave Emery a high five.

  And Conner gave one to Casey. “We can all go together,” Conner said. “Some of the other guys and I got a limo reserved. Emery, you just need to get your tux.”

  “Cool.” Emery nodded, then leaned over to take his shot, which he made.

  DJ wanted to break out in a happy dance, but for Casey’s sake controlled herself. She didn’t want to be too obvious.

  Of course, by the time DJ was driving the girls home, Casey was questioning the whole idea. “I should’ve said no,” she told them.

  “Why?” Rhiannon questioned.

  “Because I don’t even know the guy,” Casey said glumly.

  “You’ll get to know him,” Taylor tossed back.

  “But he’s such a church guy,” Casey argued. “And I am so not like that.”

  “You grew up like that,” DJ reminded her.

  “But I’m not like that anymore,” Casey protested. “Really we’ll be like the weirdest couple at the prom.”

  “No you won’t,” Rhiannon argued.

  “It’s just all wrong,” Casey persisted. “I should call him and cancel.”

  “That would hurt his feelings,” DJ pointed out.

  “But it’s crazy!”

  “Why?” Rhiannon demanded. “Why is it crazy?”

  “Because he’s such a nice guy!” Casey shouted.

  “So?” Rhiannon shot back. “What’s wrong with that? What’s wrong with going to the prom with a nice guy?”

  “Because I’m pregnant.’“

  The only sound was the hum of the engine and soft whine of the tires on the road—no one said a word, and DJ was too stunned to even glance at Taylor.

  “What?” Rhiannon’s voice came out like a squeak.

  Casey swore quietly.

  “She said she’s pregnant,” Taylor said casually.

  “That’s what I thought she said.” Rhiannon still sounded shocked. “Is it true?”

  “Yes, it’s true,” snapped Casey. “And I think it’s stupid for a pregnant girl to go to the prom with a nice church boy, don’t you?”

  Again, the car grew quiet.

  “No…” Rhiannon’s voice was stronger now. “I don’t think it’s stupid.”

  “I don’t either,” said DJ.

  “Me neither,” added Taylor.

  Casey let out an exasperated sigh, and that was the end of the conversation.

  It wasn’t until the next morning that DJ was able to ask her grandmother about the phone call to Eliza’s mother. “How did it go?” she asked.

  Grandmother’s expression was hard to read. “I’m not sure.”

  “But you gave it your best shot.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “But Mrs. Wilton didn’t say whether or not Eliza was coming back?”

  “She did not.”

  “Oh.”

  The other girls started to come in for breakfast, and DJ decided to let it go. She’d call Eliza later to see if she knew more. But when she called Eliza it went straight to messaging, and that didn’t seem like a good sign. So when they got to school, DJ didn’t see the point in trying to revive Eliza’s prom queen campaign. Why get everyone’s hopes up needlessly?

  DJ tried to call Eliza again during lunch break, but with the same result—straight to messaging. This time DJ left a message. “Call me, Eliza, and tell me what’s up. I know my grandmother talked to your mom, but did it do any good? Is there any chance you’re coming back? I hope you’re doing okay. Hang in there.” She closed her phone and turned to Conner. “It’s not looking very good for Eliza.”

  “Well, you’ve done all you can do to help, DJ. You’ve been a good friend.”

  “I wish I’d been a better friend early on.”

  He patted her back. “You can’t change the past.”

  “I hope I get a chance to change the future.”

  Most of the talk at the lunch table was driven by the girls and focused on the prom. But DJ wasn’t saying much. Mostly she was ready for the whole prom queen thing to just be over with.

  “I can’t believe that everyone’s predicting Madison will win,” Daisy said sadly. “Now that Eliza’s out of the race.”

  “Maybe we should campaign for Haley” suggested Kriti. “She’s nicer than Madison.”

  “Depends on who you talk to,” Casey told her. “I know girls who hate Haley.”

  “Maybe we should go ahead and vote for Eliza anyway,” offered Taylor. “What could it hurt?” She nudged DJ. “Are you in?”

  DJ shrugged. “Sure, why not.”

  “It’ll be like a protest vote,” Kriti told them.

  “Yeah,” said Daisy, “a protest over that stupid lowlife who made the MySpace page. I wish they’d catch her.”

  DJ didn’t recognize the car in front of Carter House when she got home, but figured it must be one of her grandmother’s friends. She was barely in the front door when she was practically tackled—by Eliza!

  “What are you doing here?” DJ demanded.

  “We just got here,” Eliza told her as she grabbed Casey and Taylor and hugged them both.

  “We?”

  “My mother came with me.” Eliza nodded toward the library. “We’re having a meeting in there, and your grandmother wants you to join us, DJ.”

  “Sure.” DJ followed Eliza to the library to find Grandmother and Mrs. Wilton sitting at opposite sides of the desk.

  “You’re just in time, DJ.” Grandmother smiled. “Please, sit down, girls.”

  “How are you doing, Mrs. Wilton?” DJ asked as she took the seat next to her.

  “As well as can be expected…under the circumstances.”

  DJ nodded. “I understand.”

  “And I understand you were involved in Eliza’s kidnapping and—”

  “Involved?” DJ felt alarmed. “What do you—”

  “I’m sorry that came out wrong.” Mrs. Wilton smiled slightly. “I meant to say you were involved in helping her. Eliza told me how grateful she was for your help, DJ. I want to express my gratitude too.”

  “Oh…thank you.”

  “No. Thank you, DJ.”

  “Well, we’re kind of like a family here.” DJ glanced over to where Eliza was sitting nervously, literally on the edge of her chair. “And we’ve really missed Eliza.”

  Mrs. Wilton sighed. “Yes…and Eliza has missed you.”

  “And we were really hoping she’d get to come back,” DJ continued. “There’s so much going
on right now. Prom, the fashion show, graduation…”

  “Yes, I’m aware.”

  Grandmother cleared her throat. “Yes, we had really hoped to have Eliza with us until the end of the year.” She smiled at Mrs. Wilton. “I had hoped that you would join us for the Mother’s Day fashion show. It’s a charity event and Dylan Marceau will be so disappointed to learn that he’s lost one of his favorite models.”

  Mrs. Wilton frowned. “I really don’t enjoy playing the heavy role, but you must understand my concern.”

  “As I said, I understand completely,” Grandmother reassured her. “I can’t apologize enough for not contacting you directly about the Palm Beach incident.”

  “But she tried,” Eliza pleaded.

  “After we got back to Crescent Cove, Eliza begged me to allow her to handle it.” Grandmother folded her hands on the desk. “As you know, I try to treat the girls as adults…for the most part. I expect them to take responsibility for themselves.”

  “And I let her down,” Eliza told her mother. “And I told you I’m sorry. And I told you that I just wanted to bury the whole thing. It seemed easier that way.”

  Mrs. Wilton looked upset. “Don’t you realize how dangerous that was, Eliza? You could’ve been killed.”

  “I know, Mother.” Eliza stood and began pacing. “But that wasn’t really my fault. I mean, I got myself into it, but the guy was a creep.”

  “That’s right,” DJ agreed. “And he stalked Eliza without her knowing it.”

  “But I’ll bet she’d know if it started to happen again,” said Grandmother.

  “Don’t be too sure.” Mrs. Wilton frowned.

  “I know I’d be a lot more careful,” Eliza shot back. “I did learn a thing or two, Mother.”

  “Yes, yes…I know you did.”

  “Here’s what I think,” DJ said suddenly. “I think something like that could’ve happened anywhere. In Louisville or Paris or even here in Crescent Cove. I mean, it’s pretty hard to prevent someone from being evil. But Eliza is eighteen, Mrs. Wilton, and next year she’ll be in college, and she’ll be even more on her own than she is now. So you’re going to have to let her go.”

  Mrs. Wilton nodded. “Yes, you’re right.” She looked over at Eliza. “I suppose I’m feeling a bit guilty.”

  “Guilty?” Grandmother looked surprised.

  “For not being more involved in Eliza’s last year of high school.”

  “But you and Daddy had your hands full with the vineyard and everything,” Eliza said. “And I’ve really liked being here in Carter House. I’ve made some really good friends. And we’ve had some good times. I’ve actually learned a few things…and I hope I’m growing up a little.” She gave DJ a wistful smile. “But I know I have a long way to go.”

  Mrs. Wilton smiled ever so slightly. “Yes…it’s good you know that.” She turned to DJ. “Is it true that you’ve been accepted to Yale?”

  DJ glanced at Grandmother. Where was this going?

  “Yes, it’s true,” Grandmother said proudly. “And she’s been invited to visit their campus.”

  Mrs. Wilton turned back to DJ. “How about if I make a deal with you, DJ?”

  “A deal?”

  “Yes. I will allow Eliza to come back for prom and the fashion show…and possibly until graduation…if…”

  “If?”

  “If you let Eliza go with you for the Yale visit.”

  “Can I even do that?” DJ looked to Grandmother, but her expression was blank.

  “Of course you can,” Mrs. Wilton assured her. “Eliza’s father is already negotiating something with the dean of admissions. We suspect they may have declined Eliza’s application simply to get us to up our donations. But I think if Eliza could go to visit there with you, DJ, you’re just a normal sort of girl…well, perhaps that would help Eliza to be seen in a different light.”

  DJ blinked. “Seriously?”

  “Absolutely. Are you willing?”

  DJ glanced over to see Eliza looking at her with big blue puppy-dog eyes. “Sure,” DJ told Mrs. Wilton, “I don’t see why not.” She almost added that she didn’t really plan on going to Yale, so even if Eliza made a bad impression, it wouldn’t matter much. But, for Grandmother’s sake, she didn’t.

  “Good.” Mrs. Wilton smiled at DJ. “Now, if you girls will excuse us, Mrs. Carter and I need to discuss some more details.”

  “No problem.” DJ was eager to get out of there.

  Once they were out of the room, Eliza threw her arms around DJ in a tight hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

  DJ hugged her back. “I’m glad you’re back.” She laughed as they stepped apart. “And there was a time when I never would’ve guessed I would say something like that.”

  “I know.” Eliza grinned sheepishly. “I’ve been a spoiled brat for most of the year. And I’ve gone out of my way to make you miserable.”

  “Well…” DJ gave her a half smile.

  “And I can’t promise that I’ll never go back to my old snooty-pants ways.” She made a face. “The truth is I really like being a princess.”

  At least Eliza was being honest. DJ considered the whole princess thing. It had never appealed to her, but Eliza seemed to need it. “Maybe the problem isn’t in being a princess—but in being a selfish princess. I don’t think anyone would mind if you were a nice princess.”

  Eliza nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m going to try to do.”

  And for Eliza’s sake, DJ hoped that she’d succeed. After all, Eliza had mostly hurt herself when she played the role of entitled royalty. A spoiled princess stepped on toes and made enemies. Really, what was the point?

  13

  ELIZA’S MOTHER JOINED THEM FOR DINNER that evening. And after Grandmother said grace, Eliza asked if she could say something.

  “Certainly.” Grandmother smiled at her.

  Eliza stood. As usual, she was the picture of elegant perfection in what must’ve been a new and probably expensive outfit, possibly from Paris. Even DJ could appreciate the chic simplicity of the perfectly cut sleeveless linen top and sleek pants in complementary shades of pale blue, accented with delicate jewelry that probably was the real deal. Eliza really could pass for royalty. “I just want to thank everyone for working on my prom queen campaign while I was gone,” Eliza began. “And I want to say that I don’t deserve the kindness you have all shown to me. I know I’ve acted like a spoiled brat for most of this year, and I know I’ve hurt everyone at this table. For that I’m sorry. And I’m going to try to do better. I really am.” She looked around the table. “Some of you might think I’m just saying this because my mother is here, but I’m saying it because I realize that I’ve been selfish and self-centered and, as DJ put it, ‘a selfish princess.’”

  Several people, including her mother, laughed at this.

  “The truth is I like being a princess, but I’m going to try to take DJ’s advice and be a nice princess. And for my first gesture as a nice princess, I’ve made all of you an appointment at Yo-bushi’s Day Spa on Saturday—pedicures, manicures, facials, the works…my treat. We’ll all be princesses!”

  After the girls expressed their gratitude, Grandmother cleared her throat. “That’s very generous of you, Eliza, and I’m sure everyone appreciates it. But I hope you didn’t forget that we have a short modeling practice on Saturday morning.”

  “I asked that all the appointments be scheduled for after eleven,” Eliza told her.

  “Perfect.” Grandmother nodded to Clara to begin serving.

  It seemed that all the girls were on their best behavior during dinner. Whether it was to impress Mrs. Wilton, or in gratitude of Eliza’s spa gift, or simply that they were relieved to have Eliza back, DJ wasn’t sure. But she could tell that Eliza’s mother was impressed. Even Casey, who’d been grumpy all day, seemed to be trying to act normal.

  “I must say,” Mrs. Wilton declared as they were finishing dinner, “you are a lovely group of young ladies.” She turned t
o Grandmother. “It seems you’re doing a better job with your Carter House girls than I had thought.”

  DJ suppressed the urge to laugh. And, to be fair, maybe Grandmother had done a better job than DJ had thought too. Or maybe the girls were simply growing up. Or both.

  “I have an announcement,” Kriti said. “Daisy has asked for us to have an emergency campaign meeting for Eliza’s prom queen campaign at seven thirty. We’ll meet in the ballroom.”

  “Well, it’s almost seven thirty now,” Grandmother told them.

  So they began to excuse themselves, and before long they were gathered in the ballroom, where Daisy took center stage.

  “We all have to do everything we can for Eliza’s campaign tomorrow,” Daisy told them. “I’ve just heard that Haley’s being dragged through the mud.”

  “How’s that?” asked DJ.

  “They’re talking about her on MySpace, reminding everyone about when she tried to kill herself last fall, saying she’s unstable now, and that she’s got an eating disorder, and all kinds of other things.”

  “Isn’t that slander?” Kriti asked.

  “Not if it’s true,” Taylor told them. “It’s only slander if it’s false.”

  “Is it true?” Daisy asked. “Does anyone know?”

  “Some of it’s true,” DJ admitted. “Not that it’s a reason to publicize it on MySpace. Or a reason for Haley to lose votes.”

  “According to my sources, that’s what’s happening.”

  “Who are your sources?” DJ demanded.

  Daisy looked slightly embarrassed.

  “Come on,” DJ urged her. “Who have you been talking to?”

  Daisy made a weak smile. “My little sister is best friends with Madison’s little sister—they’re in middle school together.”

  “You’re using your little sister as a spy?” Rhiannon asked.

  “Not really. It’s just that my little sister is really yappy,” Daisy explained. “I mean, she just opens her mouth and everything comes flying out.”

  They laughed.