“Maybe I should’ve made you a match,” I say, half teasing.
He chokes back a laugh. “Sure, right after you made yourself one.” George has never had a girlfriend for as long as I’ve known him. He’s like me—too focused on school and studying to have time to think about dating. And that’s at least half the reason why we get along. We understand each other.
“Come on.” George grabs on to my hand, pulling me farther into the gym, into the crowd. “Let’s get a closer look.”
Just as we make our way onto the middle of the dance floor, the song ends. For a second or two it’s quieter. There are only the noises of couples laughing, chatting. The DJ announces it’s time to switch things up, and a slow song comes on. All around me, couples move in closer, cling to one another, and there George and I are, staring at each other and trapped in the middle of all of it.
George holds out his hand to me. “Come on, let’s dance.” I think he’s joking for a minute, but I stare at him, his eyes hold on to mine and there isn’t a hint of laughter in them. “We can make our way around the floor easier this way. Better for people watching,” he adds.
I take his hand, he pulls me closer and we start to dance. But I don’t feel awkward, the way I had dancing with Richard Hall here in this gym a few years ago, because this is George, and everything about him feels comfortable. He slowly inches us toward Hannah and Phillip, stopping when we’re near enough to observe them, and then we stand in place and slow-dance.
I lean in closer to him; my cheek falls into the wool of his black suit jacket, and it smells good and familiar, like George: soap and just a hint of sandalwood aftershave. I inhale and close my eyes for a minute, and I forget I’m supposed to be watching Hannah and Phillip.
“Remember last year?” George says. “John and Iz went to this dance, and you and I worked on robot code instead?”
John and George and their parents had come over to our house to take pictures before the dance, and then after George and my dad had finished talking about the World Series, and we had both gotten bored of John and Izzy’s endless poses and endless background changes, we’d gone upstairs to my room and pulled out my laptop to work on the robot code. Dad had come to check on us later, and we hadn’t even realized it but a few hours had passed; it was already dark outside, and we’d missed dinner completely. There’s spaghetti in the kitchen if you kids are hungry, Dad had said, switching on the light in my room, stepping inside. It was the rare night when he remembered about making dinner before I did.
“That was the night we decided we’d be co-presidents this year, remember?” I say. Before then, I’d wanted to, and planned to be, president of coding club alone, and I thought, like everything else with me and George, it would be a competition I would have to work really hard to win. But it was George who pointed out how well we worked together, how as co-presidents we could have everything—his people skills and animation, my coding skills and ideas. “I guess it’s kind of crazy that we ended up here, tonight, huh?” I say now. If someone had told me last year at this time that coding club would lead me straight to the fall dance, where George and I would be dancing, I would’ve laughed and told them they were insane.
“It is crazy,” George says softly into my hair, so I can barely hear him. But I think he says: “Kind of nice, too, isn’t it?”
The song ends before I can say anything else, but George doesn’t let go of me for a few seconds, and I don’t let go of him, either. Until Hannah touches my arm. “Emma!” She squeals. “You came!” George and I both jump back, letting go of each other quickly.
Hannah grabs me in a hug, then stands back to examine me. “You look so pretty,” she says, running her hand over the velvet of my dress. She does, too—the green of Izzy’s dress is perfect for her eyes, especially with her hair up. But before I realize I’m supposed to tell her that, she has already moved on to George and is giving him a hug.
“How’s it going?” George shouts to her now to be heard over the music. Right. I should’ve said that to her, too.
“I’m having so much fun! Phillip is so sweet and so cute.”
I smile at her. Math came through for me, once again.
“I’m going to walk around,” George says, tapping my arm lightly. “I’ll find you in a little bit.”
I nod and watch him walk away into the crowd, not realizing for a minute that Hannah is still talking. “I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to date him, and that he actually likes me,” she’s saying now.
I hear her talking, but my eyes are still following George. And I’m thinking about the way my skin had felt warm, dancing so close to him. But then I lose him in the crowd, push the thought away and turn my attention back to Hannah and the reason I’m here. Our project. “Have you seen any of the other couples?” I ask her.
“I saw Sam and Laura, and they look like they’re having fun. And then Phillip’s friend Evan—he matched to a girl in my geometry class, Becca, and I saw her in the bathroom already and she said he was super nice.”
The music is fast again, and Hannah starts dancing to it as she’s talking to me. And I feel like I’m supposed to be dancing, too. I awkwardly swing my arms and sway my hips a little, and hope in the crowd of people, the semidarkness, no one sees or notices me. I look around, but it’s so crowded and the faces are a blur as everyone is moving all around me. No one is paying attention to me.
Hannah grabs on to my hand and looks silly as she jumps up and down, but her energy is weirdly infectious and I mimic her moves for a few songs until we are both laughing and sweating. And for the smallest moment, I understand why Izzy always liked going to these things.
“Hey,” Phillip says, pushing his way through the crowd and grabbing on to Hannah’s arm. “There you are! I couldn’t find you. Come back and dance with me.”
“Go,” I say to Hannah, remembering why she’s here. Why we’re both here. “Have fun.”
“Do you want to come and dance with us?” she offers.
“No, I’m good. I’m going to walk around, find George. I’ll catch up with you later.”
Hannah clings to Phillip’s arm, and the two of them disappear back into the crowd.
* * *
I scan the dance floor but don’t see George, so I gravitate toward the edge of the gym, the long tables set up with bowls of punch and trays of cupcakes. I grab a cupcake and lick the vanilla frosting off, noticing Ms. Taylor and Mr. Weston are both here as chaperones, standing just a few feet away from me, holding hands.
“Emma!” Ms. Taylor says, and they both walk toward me. “How nice to see you here.”