“Deets!” is the only thing Claire can get out.
“Not much to tell,” I say, but no one believes me. I rehash the date. In this version, I’m not nearly as nervous and much wittier when talking to the college guys. It’s possible Marcus remembers it this way, too. I even make his flying leap from the car sound funny not frantic.
“Prom.” Claire breathes the word. “We can double.”
I shake my head. “Never came up,” I say. Despite everything, prom feels as far away as ever.
“But he’s into you,” she says. “Maybe you should ask him out again.”
“What?”
“He might think he blew it or something. That’s why he ran from the car.”
The heat in my cheeks goes up a notch.
“But if you ask him out again—” Claire places a hand on mine, locking me in place, insisting on my full attention— “then he knows he
