Chapter Forty-Nine

We dance. We take selfies. We cram far too many bodies into the photo booth and trade photo strips like they’re collector’s items. We take girls’ trips to the bathroom. We freshen our makeup. We laugh, a lot. We dance some more— in a group as friends for the fast songs and together as couples when the music slows.

During a break, Zay reaches for my hand.

His voice is low as he whispers in my ear. “Come on.”

He leads me through a crowd on the dance floor toward the side door of the cafeteria that opens to the courtyard. The door closes behind us, drowning out the loud music, leaving us in the quiet of the autumn night. The stillness of the courtyard compared to the loud hum of music, laughter, and voices is stark.

Though a few classmates are out here, too, it feels as if Zay and I have stepped into our own little world. The courtyard is all dressed up for the dance, illuminated with delicate string lights and the same vibrant mums that adorn the front of the school. Disco balls the size of my palm decorate the branches of the elm tree, catching the moon’s light as they sway. Out here, there are actual min i– Lava Lamps glowing on each table. I totally want to steal one.

“Well, this is magical,” I breathe.

“Thought it might be nice to just take a minute away from everything.” Isaiah leads me over to one of the picnic tables to take a seat. “How are you doing?”

“I’m having the time of my life,” I say. “Though . . . I a m getting a little tired.”

Zay tilts his head at me. “You did just get out of the hospital, you know.”

“I know. It’s like I can hear Abuela’s voice in my head reminding me to take it easy.” I laugh. “And I hate that she’s right! Everything has already been so surreal, I almost want to head home after the crowning.”

“We can do that, you know,” Isaiah says. I shake my head. “We can’t go home early!”

“Why not?” he asks, leaning in close to me. “It’s our night, after all. We get to decide what we do.”

As much as I don’t want to admit it, going home sounds amazing. My whole body is tired, my feet hurt, and I just want to snuggle up next to Isaiah. Maybe that makes me sound like I’m a hundred years old, but the reality is this is the most I’ve done in more than a week. If nothing else, maybe my hospitalization let my body rest, and I think I needed the reminder that rest is not a luxury; it’s survival.

“I don’t want this night to end, though . . . ,” I protest. Isaiah reaches for a curl by my face and gently tugs. “Who says it has to? We can go back to your house and hang out. Curfew’s not till midnight, right?”

I shake my head again. “I can’t have you miss out on this.”

He leans in even closer. “As long as I’m with you, I’m not missing out on a thing.” His voice is low as he says this, and it sends a shiver down my spine.

I reach for him, pulling his face to mine, and kiss him. It’s slow and soft and gentle and I melt into him as he tugs me still closer.

From inside, I hear the music cut out and the DJ’s muffled voice call that it’s time to announce homecoming court. As much as I want to stay out here with Zay, kissing under the stars, I also very much want to celebrate whoever gets crowned.

Reluctantly, I pull back just a little. “That was nice,” I murmur.

“Really nice,” Isaiah whispers.

“But we should head inside,” I say. “The crowning is about to happen.”

Isaiah sighs. “All right.” He rises to his feet and holds out a hand for me, which I’m all too happy to take.

I lead the way back inside as Principal Johnson takes the microphone from the DJ and starts her speech about another close race for this year’s homecoming court. She launches into a rundown of the expanded homecoming court.

I reach for one of Marisol’s hands, while Sophie takes the other; beside me, Lily looks nervous.

Principal Johnson clears her throat. “Let’s begin with the nobles. We’ll select one person to take on this historic, prestigious title to represent our phenomenal special education students.” She reads off the list of nominees, and a thrill ripples through my heart at the sound of Lily’s.

“And, without further ado, Elmwood High’s inaugural noble is”— she pauses, and I hold my breath—“Margot Isaac!”

My heart sinks.

But as the crowd erupts into applause and cheering, I cut my glance to Lily, who seems far from disappointed. In fact, she looks relieved as she and Ruby clap and holler for their friend.

Margot, a petite girl with red hair, makes her way toward Principal Johnson and adorably curtsies after getting her crown placed on her head.

“Yeah, Margot!” Lily shouts, cupping her hands around her mouth. She looks over at me and grins. “That’s my friend!”

“You’re okay that you didn’t win?”

Her eyes go big. “Are you kidding me? I’m glad I didn’t win. I didn’t want to have to wear a crown and have everyone watch me dance!”

And it’s like . . . of course, right? Lily, who has never enjoyed being the center of attention, wouldn’t want to have everyone staring at her. Instead, she’s beyond content to be celebrating one of the new friends she and Ruby have made.

The proudly serene expression on Margot’s face as she looks around at our classmates who voted her in as nobility reminds me that, although I may have wanted Lily to win, this entire event is about so much more than me. It’s about the incredible moments tonight is affording us and the history we’re making. Suddenly, homecoming court has taken on new life, ushering in the next era for Elmwood High, which hopefully will be more inclusive and accepting of students who have traditionally been left behind.

“Way to go, Margot!” I shout, and she shoots me a thumbs-up.

“And now, for our first-yea r king and queen . . .”

She goes on to list the nominees and winners for the first-yea r, sophomore, and junior classes. For the first time ever, we end up with a royal (!) in the junior class, plus a gender- swapped king and queen for the sophomore class, which warms my queer little heart. Loud cheers and applause erupt for each pair of winners as they make their way to the front and receive their crowns, taking their rightful place beside Principal Johnson.

“At long last, I am beyond honored to announce Elmwood High’s senior king and queen.” She rattles off the list of nominees, including Ari and Marisol. I cross my fingers. Please, please, please. “Our senior winners have traditionally embodied all of the wonderful things about Elmwood High. They are driven, smart, kind, and valued members of our student body. Previous senior homecoming court winners have gone on to do remarkable things. I have no doubt this year’s winners will do the same. Now, it is with great pleasure that I announce: King Ari Garcia and Queen Marisol Pérez.”

The scream I emit surprises even me, but I can’t help it: that’s my best friend!!!!!!

Sophie and I throw our arms around Marisol and Ari, jumping up and down to celebrate this absolutely incredible moment in time— no, i n history, as our school’s first- ever same- sex couple makes its way onto homecoming court.

Happy tears roll down Marisol’s cheeks as she makes her way toward Principal Johnson, who gives her and Ari both a hug.

“Congratulations, Marisol and Ari,” she says. “You deserve this.”

Seeing Marisol and Ari standing together, poised with crowns on their heads, brings tears to my eyes. Our group is whooping and hollering and cheering like our lives depend on it.

“They did it!” Zay whispers.

“They did it,” I sigh, clasping my hands together over my heart.

The only thing that gets the crowd back under control is when the DJ announces that the court will now lead us in a slow dance.

As Ari reaches for Marisol, Zay extends his own hand to me. I close the gap between us, welcoming the warmth of his skin against mine. Together, we gently sway to the music.

“Can you believe just a few weeks ago I ran you over with my skateboard?” he asks.

“I could’ve killed you,” I laugh.

He laughs, too. “I would’ve deserved it.”

“There were many moments over these last few weeks when I wanted to kill you, actually,” I tease.

“I can’t say I wanted to kill you, but I definitely enjoyed getting you all riled up. And making your life harder.”

“Trust me, I know,” I say, grinning. “But I kind of like it. I hope you never stop.”

He smirks. “You think it’s kinda hot when I mess with you, don’t you?”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t get carried away.”

He gives me that easy smile, eyes twinkling. “It’s tough not to when I’m around you.”

I press my cheek to his, letting him lead me gently around the dance floor.

When I started this year, I was so convinced I knew exactly what perfect looked like. More than that, I thought I needed perfect— I yea rned for it, so consumed with the idea that if I could control everything, I would finally fix everything that was wrong with me.

As it turns out, the only thing that was really wrong with me was my need to fix everything.

So much of what I’ve learned over the last few weeks is how much happier I am when I embrace things just as they are. I don’t need perfect or anything even close to it.

I need friends I’d do anything for. I need a sister who knows her worth. I need an abuela who supports me. I need tenderness from a boy who sees me.

I need people who don’t just let me obsess over boy bands and make my silly lists and daydream about pumpkin spice lattes, but love me for it.

I need a life brimming with moments like this— chest to chest with Isaiah, hearts beating together as a reminder that we’re here, and we’re happy.

As the song we’re swaying to comes to a close, I catch sight of Lily up by the DJ booth saying something I can’t quite make out.

A moment later, though, it becomes clear when the familiar notes of Intonation’s “Girl Be Mine” fill the air. I lock eyes with my sister and squeal.

She rushes over to me, pulling Ruby with her, and Sophie and Marisol dance their way toward us, mouthing the opening lyrics.

“It’s your boys!” Marisol laughs. “I hope Zay doesn’t get jealous.”

I grin. “He knows about my first loves, don’t worry.”

“Let’s show everyone what our living room concerts look like,” Lily says, giggling.

“Now we’re talking, Lil!” Sophie shouts.

The four of us dance along with the music and, surrounded by them, I feel lighter than I have in weeks, so full of joy I could float up and away, especially when Zay, Noah, and Ari join right in and somehow know the chorus to the song.

Soon, between fits of laughter, we’re all singing along at the top of our lungs, forming the silliest boy-band dance circle to ever hit the floor at a homecoming dance.

Looking from my best friends to my little sister to Zay my Zay I find t hat all at once, I’m overcome with emotion over this entire night. My life feels as if it’s been plucked straight from a teen movie.

Once the song ends, leaving us giggly and amped, Zay places his hand on the small of my back.

He leans down to my ear and whispers, “Jay just texted me that he and his date are leaving, if we want to catch a ride with them. Do you want to stay or should we go?”

As much as I enjoyed our incredible dance party, I think leaving now is probably the right call. Abuela will be happy I took it easy, my body will thank me, and I truly can’t imagine anything that could make this night better.

“Let’s get going,” I agree.

With that, I give hugs and kisses to my friends, and we head back to my house.

Awhile later, when Jay’s car pulls up in front of my bungalow, I see that Abuela has left the front porch light on for us.

“Can you stay a little?” I ask.

“Of course I can,” Isaiah says with a smile.

We meander up to the veranda and breathe in the cool autumn air, leaning back against the railing. Every part of me is still buzzing.

“I can’t believe tonight actually happened,” I say with a laugh. “It doesn’t feel like it could possibly be my life.”

“Why’s that?” Isaiah asks.

“Coming off a terrible summer, I found myself wanting big things for my senior year, but in the back of my mind, I was just expecting the worst,” I admit. “But this dance? These last few days? Hell, these last few weeks— they’ve just been amazing. I don’t want tonight to be over yet.”

“It’s not,” Isaiah assures me. “There’s even one more surprise left.”

I turn toward him. “A surprise?”

He reaches for the corsage on my wrist, his fingers delicately grazing a flower at the center. “This flower look a little different from the others?”

Peering down, I realize that yes, the texture does seem slightly different from the surrounding ones. I trace my fingers over one of the petals.

“Is it paper?” I guess.

“That’s paper,” he confirms. “Check out the other side of it.”

I gently flip the pet al- shaped piece of paper forward.

On the back, I see Isaiah’s familiar scrawl with the words I LIKE YOU .

I take in a shuddery breath, instantly taken back to the piece of notebook paper he gave me back in middle school. Though the handwriting on this one is slightly more grown-up than the version from back then, it elicits an emotional response all the same.

“And then . . . tr y that one.” He points at the next petal.

Eagerly, I turn that one over, too.

It reads: WILL YOU BE MY GIRLFRIEND?

My eyes dart from his face to the flower and back. I’m rarely speechless, but this has left me feeling that way at th is romantic gesture; at how he managed to plan something for me, the perpetual planner; at the fact that there is nothing I want more in the world than to be with Zay, now and for every autumn after.

“I went back and forth on whether it should include a pun, since I know you like them, or something more thematic, but I thought simple would be better here.” Isaiah is rambling. “And there’s no pressure to say yes or no now. I mean, you can —”

“Yes!” I practically shout.

I pull him in and kiss him with all that’s in me, a kiss that starts fiercely and urgently and slows to something sweet, gentle, deep. It’s my best attempt at showing him how much he means to me, how much this has all meant to me.

Isaiah’s hands cup my face as if he can’t get enough— like this means the same to him, like he’s as grateful as I am that we found our way back to each other all these years later.

I lose myself in that kiss and when we part, breathless and pulse racing, we’re both grinning.

“Where did you learn to make origami flowers like that?” I ask.

The question must catch him off guard because he bursts into warm laughter like honey. “Amaya. She got this origami book for her birthday, so she’s been obsessed.”

Now I laugh, because the image of him at the dinner table beside Amaya as they pore over an origami book and he works on this corsage for me is the most endearing picture I can imagine. “That’s incredible. I guess this means she does like me.”

“We’re getting there, but don’t push it,” he teases.

Then Zay catches me off guard with another kiss, stroking my cheek with his thumb, his other hand on the small of my back, eliciting tingles that ring throughout my entire body. My toes curl when I feel his fingers toying with the ends of my long curls.

Zay pulls back but keeps his face close to mine. He nudges his nose against my forehead, dropping a kiss there, too, and softly says, “I know you’re beyond the whole perfection thing, but sti ll— I hope tonight was perfect for you.”

“It wasn’t,” I whisper. “It was better.”