On Friday night, I changed dresses three times before choosing the navy one that made me feel visible without feeling exposed.
When Norton knocked at seven, I opened the door before I could lose my nerve.
In the car, he noticed my trembling hands.
“Want to rehearse?”
“No. If I rehearse, I’ll sound rehearsed. I was terrible at drama.”
At the school, music spilled from the gym. A reunion banner hung over the doors, bright and cheerful, as if that building had not once taught me how small a person could feel.
My hand tightened around my purse.
“I can’t do this.”
Norton turned off the engine.
“You can,” he said. “But you don’t have to pretend it’s easy.”
I stared at the gym doors.
“She wants me to walk in small.”
“Then don’t.”
So I got out.
Norton offered his arm.
I took it.
The moment we entered, people turned. Some whispered. My seventeen-year-old self immediately searched for the nearest exit.
Then Miriam appeared.
She moved through the room like she owned it. Mark followed half a step behind her, older than I remembered and less confident than I expected.
“Daphne,” Miriam said, opening her arms. “You actually came.”
“I did.”
Her eyes slid to Norton.
“Well. You brought someone.”
“This is Norton.”
Norton offered his hand.
“Nice to meet you.”
Miriam ignored it and looked him up and down.
“Someone’s doing charity work.”
Heat rushed to my face.
Before I could answer, Norton tilted his head.
“Jealousy is a sin, ma’am.”
A few people nearby laughed. Miriam’s smile stiffened.
Mark cleared his throat.
“You look good, Daphne.”
“Thank you, Mark.”
He glanced at Miriam, then back at me.
“I’m glad you came.”
I wanted to ask if he had ever wondered whether Miriam had lied. Instead, I said, “It’s good to see familiar faces.”
Miriam gave a soft laugh.
“Oh, Daphne. Still so careful.”
There it was again.
Careful Daphne. Cold Daphne. Difficult Daphne.
But this time, I did not shrink.
“Norton and I are going to look at the yearbook table,” I said, then walked away before Miriam could respond.
At the table, our senior yearbook lay open to the drama club page. Miriam smiled from center stage. I stood in one corner, holding programs.
Norton leaned closer.
“You were in theater?”
“No. I wrote the program notes. Miriam said I had the face for backstage.”
A woman beside the table turned toward me.
“Daphne? I remember those notes. They were funny.”
For the first time that night, my smile felt real.
Norton murmured, “See? Not everyone remembers her version.”
For nearly an hour, I moved through the room instead of hiding from it. I spoke to old classmates. I laughed. I breathed.
Then Miriam tapped a champagne glass.
“Everyone?” she called from the stage. “Can I have your attention?”
My smile faded.
Norton leaned closer.
“Stay with me.”
Miriam lifted the microphone.
“It’s wonderful to see so many familiar faces tonight. Old friends, old memories, old stories.”
Mark stepped toward her.
“Miriam. Don’t.”
She smiled wider.
“And speaking of stories, let’s clear one up.”
My fingers tightened around my glass.
“Before everyone starts admiring Daphne’s handsome plus-one,” Miriam said, “you should know he isn’t her boyfriend. He isn’t even her date.”
People turned.
Miriam raised her glass.
“She paid him.”
A gasp moved through the gym.
Someone whispered, “Oh my God.”
Miriam laughed.
“She hired an actor because nobody would actually choose her.”
Phones lifted.
I looked at Mark.
He stared at the floor.
I whispered, “Say something.”
He didn’t.
I turned toward the exit, but Norton gently touched my elbow.
“Your choice,” he said.
My throat burned.
“I can’t stand there while they laugh.”
“Then don’t stand there,” he said. “Walk.”
I looked at Miriam beneath the gym lights, glowing like she had already won.
I refused to let that be the ending.
I set down my glass.
“I didn’t come here to run.”
Norton nodded once, stepped onto the stage, and took the second microphone.
“Miriam is right about one thing,” he said. “I am an actor. Daphne hired me through a professional agency as her plus-one. Not as a boyfriend. Not as anything shameful. As support.”
Miriam rolled her eyes.
“Support. How sweet.”
Norton looked straight at her.
“You already knew what I was, Miriam.”
Her smile slipped.
“I don’t know you.”
“Yes, you do,” he said. “Think.”
“Norton,” she warned.
It was the first time she had said his name.
Mark looked between them.
“Wait. You know him?”
Norton nodded.
“We were once signed with the same talent agency.”
Miriam stepped forward.
“Don’t.”
“You were dropped,” Norton said, “after making complaints every time someone else got a callback.”
“That’s a lie!”
“No,” Norton replied. “It’s a pattern. You insult people, report them when they react, then cry first.”
The room began to murmur.
Mark stared at Miriam.
“Is that true?”
“You’re seriously asking me that?” she snapped.
Norton turned to me and held out the microphone.
“Daphne should finish the rest.”
Miriam laughed.
“She won’t say anything. She never does.”
I climbed the steps and took the microphone.
PART 3
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