11th Grade, High School

Age: 16-17

May 2009

…

Mikey rounds the corner of the building, arriving at the agreed upon spot, and glances around for Francis. When he doesn't see the boy once known across the playground as Hustler Kid, he turns toward the clocktower at the top of the school building. It's just before their specified time, so perhaps the boy is still on his way. He looks over his shoulder toward the school parking lot, hearing the voices of his fellow students arriving on campus, and bites his lower lip.

It shouldn't be such a scary thing to meet Francis before school. Just two students meeting prior to the beginning of their school day. But Francis's reputation precedes him and Mikey isn't exactly his typical client. He probably sticks out like a sore thumb, standing in the shadow of the school, shifting from foot to foot as he waits.

If someone sees him and puts two and two together, the group's carefully constructed plan may be ruined.

He rubs his hands together and tries to shrink into the darkness, as if it's a grand disguise. Perhaps they should have agreed upon a more inconspicuous time. Or rather, a time with fewer prying eyes.

Mikey hears the crunch of sticks breaking underfoot before, "You can stop sweating now, Blumberg."

Francis no longer wears his long trench coat full of tomfoolery. He travels lightly, preferring to keep his evidence off his physical body, and just looking at him, Mikey can forget that this boy has assisted so many of their classmates in illegalities. Underage drinking. Cigarettes. Fake paperwork and forgery. Just looking at him, Francis appears like any other boy at school.

Francis reaches into his jacket pocket and withdraws a small plastic rectangle. "I assume you've brought the adequate funds."

Mikey nods and quickly hands over the amount that had been discussed, mostly small bills that make the pile appear much more valuable than Mikey expects some of Francis's other projects garner. A fake school ID is much less risky than a fake government ID and probably easier to forge as well.

Francis grabs the cash and hands over the product at the same time.

"Tell Francesca I hope she has a great time at the dance," he says, chuckling under his breath, before he turns around with his hands stuffed in his coat pockets, the exchange over and no further pleasantries necessary.

Mikey immediately looks down at the ID and finds himself surprised at how ordinary it appears. He has never seen the ID that students at Rogers get, but it looks similar enough to their own that he doesn't question it. It has the school name and their mascot, 2008-2009 for the school year, and the student name Francesca Funicello. In the top corner is the photo they took of Spinelli a few days ago, somewhat unrecognizable in the blonde wig he took from the theater supplies. The picture is small enough that with a quick glance it wouldn't be a clear giveaway.

It has to work. It's the only plan they have.

The fake school ID sits in his pocket for the remainder of the morning. Every so often, he reaches inside his pocket to touch it, to ensure it hasn't fallen out or gotten lost.

Since they all found out that Spinelli wouldn't be able to attend prom with them, they had all worked together to brainstorm ideas. TJ and Gus definitely took the helm, sending messages in group chats and bouncing ideas off of each other, with the rest of them adding subtle details or pointing out flaws. It wasn't long before they realized that the only way this would work would be by sneaking her in with a fake name. That had been the easy part – make up a fake name, put a wig on her head, and take the picture.

When the bell rings to signal the beginning of lunch, he removes the ID from his pocket and readies himself. Last night, he even came up with a backstory, in the chance that anyone asked. He met Francesca at a youth arts festival and became fast friends with the talented dancer. They then joined the same theater troupe, where she often led the dancers in their large musical numbers.

He steps up to the table set up in the rotunda where all four Ashleys have taken up residence for the past week. Ashley Q and Ashley B sit at the end, an open magazine in front of them as they gossip between themselves. Ashley A is beside them, focused partly on a pink notebook in front of her and partly on the other two girls' conversation. Ashley T sits at the end of the table next to the cash box, the only one dealing with the actual ticket sales.

Mikey takes a breath, quickly running through his story in his head, and stops in front of Ashley T.

She gives him a warm smile. "Here to buy your ticket?"

"Uh, two actually," Mikey says, trying to hide the nervous quiver of his voice. There is no reason why he can't buy two.

Ashley A glances up at him with only her eyes, keeping her head bowed toward her notebook, as if she's curious but not fully invested.

"Oh, whose are you picking up?" Ashley T says, the surprise leaving her voice by the time she finishes her question.

Mikey swallows. This should be no different from acting, but his heart is beating wildly in his chest.

"I'm bringing a date from another school."

This peaks the full attention of Ashley A, who now lifts her head toward him. He runs through the story in his head again, hoping the Ashleys won't attempt to call his bluff and blow their cover story. But none of them start to dig into him immediately. Ashley B and Ashley Q have yet to notice him or, if they have, find him no more interesting than the magazine they're reading.

Ashley T nods and reaches for a clipboard behind her.

"Do you have her form?"

Mikey frowns and reaches for the ID in his pocket. "I have her school ID."

Ashley A then leans over next to Ashley T and reaches for a paper from the clipboard.

"If they're coming from another school, they have to have this form filled out," she says, more matter-of-factly than cruelly.

A lump forms in his throat and he takes the sheet from Ashley A's outstretched hand. He skims through the writing. It isn't a terribly difficult form to fill out, nothing more strenuous than a permission slip signed by the principal of the school to demonstrate that the student is well behaved. His frown deepens.

"I can't buy it now and bring it in later?" Mikey asks, aware of the desperation in his voice.

While Ashley T just shakes her head, Ashley Q clicks her tongue.

"What's the big deal? It isn't like she's fake, right?" she says behind a snicker. Ashley Q and Ashley B start giggling and turn back toward their magazine.

"We're selling the tickets until the day of," Ashley T offers. "So you have plenty of time to get it signed."

His shoulders slump as he walks away from the girls. Now would be the perfect time to enact Plan B…if they had one.

…

Gus sighs and unbuckles his bike from the rack. It feels like the universe is against them. Their plan had been nearly foolproof, but none of them had realized that they'd be required to fill out a form. Gretchen offered to forge it, but Vince balked.

"That's a good way to get us all in trouble," he had said. "And probably get Spinelli suspended."

"It's fine!" Spinelli had said firmly, standing up from the lunch table. "I just won't go. You all will go and have fun and you can meet me after."

And then she had walked out of the cafeteria, even telling TJ to stay behind because she wanted to be alone. They had decided at the lunch table that the six of them would just not go. Just like always, it was all or nothing. And while some of them were more eager to boycott than others, it was a mutual decision. Senior prom is the more important dance anyway, right?

"Gus!"

He sets his feet on the ground to stabilize the bike on the sidewalk, turning to see Ashley T rushing toward him from the main entrance of the school. It doesn't take her long to reach him, despite wearing heels. Her outfit in general – with a mint green sweater over a collared button up with short white shorts and white and black heels – does not appear comfortable to run in. But as she runs, he can't help but glance at her bare legs, her calf muscles flexing with each stride. By the time she reaches him, he thinks his heart might be beating faster than hers.

"Hi," he says, embarrassed by the pitch of his voice. "Heading home?"

She nods her head and Gus gets off his bike, ready to walk with her. He doesn't work today and typically that would lead him to just head home instead. But if Ashley is free, he wouldn't be opposed to going to Kelso's to do homework with her. Usually, on the days that he works, she stops by on her way home from her cheerleading practices and other after school activities. It feels different to ask her to go to Kelso's when she isn't otherwise planning to stop by. His stomach flips.

He opens his mouth to ask, but Ashley beats him to it.

"You guys haven't RSVP'd to our pre-prom party," she says, her voice lifting at the end like a question.

His own question dies on his lips and he sighs, tapping his fingers against the handlebars. He had been excited to go, but now the whole night is out of reach.

"Oh yeah," he mumbles. "We, um, we're probably not going to prom."

Her lips part and the corners of her mouth downturns as her eyebrows jerk upwards.

"What do you mean you're not going?" she asks, the words tumbling out of her mouth quickly. She frowns. "Mikey was just going to buy his ticket this morning."

Gus grunts at the memory of their failed plan. He had really believed that would work and the whole group had been devastated. They all want to go to prom. Heck, Gus was really looking forward to going to the pre-prom party that the Ashleys were throwing. It was going to be at Ashley A's, with tables in her backyard and a photo area. Tyler A was a budding photographer and had gotten a fancy camera for Christmas that year that he was going to use to take the photos. It sounded like fun and Ashley T had made a few comments about sitting next to each other. He had hoped to maybe even dance with her.

But that's all just a dream now.

"Spinelli isn't allowed to go," he starts. Then the whole story starts to tumble out of him, telling her how they've been trying to figure out a way around the rules and had ultimately come up with the fake ID plan that had failed.

"So, you're all not going," she says quietly when he pauses.

"We can't abandon her," Gus responds.

Ashley's face remains still, her lips tight, her eyes unblinking and glassy. Then her movements happen all at once, as if she had just remembered how to move. She blinks a few times as she sucks in a quick breath, giving him a smile that doesn't quite meet her eyes.

"You guys are good friends."

He shrugs. "I'm sure your friends would do the same."

She nods her head and looks down as they begin to walk down the sidewalk toward home. When they get to the crosswalk, she turns back toward him.

"I was looking forward to you coming to our party," she says.

"I was too."

"And you've thought of everything to get her to the dance?" she asks.

He nods his head. "Our last ditch idea was to just sneak her in, but it seems risky. A little too risky for her taste."

"Would you be interested in coming anyway?" she asks. When Gus frowns in confusion, unsure of what she's asking, she continues. "Even if you're not going to the dance, you could still come to the party. All of you could! I know it wouldn't be the same as going to the actual dance, but maybe she would feel included that way. Getting a chance to dress up and take pictures."

"The Ashleys would let us go even if we're not going to the dance?" Gus asks.

She shrugs. "As long as you're dressed up, I can't see any problems," she says matter-of-factly. "I would love for you to come and I'm an Ashley. I'm inviting you."

"You're inviting me?" he repeats, not because he didn't hear her, but because it feels good to say himself.

"Well, if you're not going to the dance, the least you could do is come to my party," she states.

"That sounds fair," he says, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"So you're coming?"

He nods his head and his heart thumps in his chest as he watches her smile.

"I'll talk to the others, get you a final head count."

His hands are both still clutching the handlebars of his bike, but Ashley loops her arm through one of his, leaning her head against his shoulder briefly. He hears her whisper, "Thank you," before she lifts her head away, looking forward. He expects her to take her arm back, but she doesn't. Instead, she just keeps her arm looped through his, walking in step with him and his bike.

…

The Armbrusters' backyard is covered in lights, looking more like a wedding venue than a junior prom photography set-up. The Ashley mothers are fluttering around the yard, setting up snacks and finger foods on tables, while Ashley A has put her brother to work. Tyler stands close to a backdrop hung up against their fence, a fancy Canon in his hands. According to Gus, who excitedly gives her a hug when she and TJ arrive, the middle Armbruster is a budding photographer – and he must have some sort of innate talent if Ashley A is allowing her photographs to be taken by him instead of a professional.

Spinelli tugs at the waist of her dress, suddenly wanting a little bit more space between her skin and the fabric. But as she and TJ fully enter the backyard, no one stops to stare at her. No one calls her out on being here when she shouldn't be. Instead, her classmates mingle in small groups, going back and forth between the photo wall and the trays of food waiting for them.

TJ shuffles next to her and she realizes that she has been rooted to her spot in the grass, her body frozen and unable to join in with the rest.

This is really all just for show anyway. She isn't allowed inside the dance, which was never really the problem for her. But her friends wanted to go to the dance and they wanted to go with her. More importantly, TJ wanted to go and there was no universe she could think of where TJ would go to prom without her. Not after everything that had transpired this year. He deserved to go and so she had gone ahead willingly with all his and Gus's crazy ideas.

The least she can do is get all dressed up and go to this pre-prom party the Ashleys are throwing. The others had clearly wanted to go and they had tried for her. Now it's her turn to try for them.

Her eyes scan the crowd again, making a judgment about where to go. Gus is standing with Ashley T and Mikey, while Gretchen and Vince are talking with Sam, Dave, and Phil. Ashley Q and Vance Lombardi have been hogging Tyler's attention, not having left the photo area for a while and obviously trying to garner the best shots. She sees Ashleys A and B with some of the football players and cheerleaders. She glances toward the food area, which is a ghost town while people wait in line for Tyler to take their pictures, not wanting to spill on their dresses before photographic evidence of their night has been obtained.

"Let's get a plate," she suggests, leading TJ in that direction. She grabs one of the gold paper plates and sees TJ grinning at her. She raises an eyebrow. "What?"

"Nothing," he says.

He doesn't have to say it. She had used food restriction at the height of her anxiety as a mechanism of control. If she could control what she ate, it didn't matter that she couldn't control anything else about her life. It had been a subconscious thing that she hadn't even realized until her parents brought her to the doctor and they had made a comment that she had lost too much weight. It later became evident in her therapy that she was using food to cope.

Growing up, she had always been the girl to get seconds, to race Gus in milkshake drinking contests, to go burger for burger with Vince. She hadn't even realized the change in her behavior. But, to be fair, she had so much on her mind.

TJ is smiling because he sees this as progress, which he should. Her mother would also be thrilled. She is just happy that she didn't even think twice about going to the food table. Even just a few months ago, at Valentine's Day, when the Ashleys were fundraising for this dumb dance with pink heart-shaped cupcakes in the rotunda, she had warred in her head about eating it.

Baby steps. Little victories. Her therapist will be proud of her.

"Well, eat up," she says, passing him a plate. "Looks like this is dinner."

They each fill a plate and then stand, eating as they look out at their classmates. She smirks as she sees Gus following Ashley T to where Tyler is standing and nudges TJ's arm.

"Did you see that coming?" she asks.

TJ shrugs. "I mean, he did call me asking about a hunter green tie the other day and, knowing Ashley T's favorite color, I thought that might be it."

Spinelli giggles and shakes her head. "Gus and an Ashley, go figure," she mutters.

TJ tugs on one of the curls her mother left hanging by her face.

"Don't be mean," he says with a teasing tone. Then he coughs and sounds more serious as he says, "I'm thinking about asking Gus to run with me."

She knows that TJ has been planning on running for senior class president all year. He has kept his grades up and stayed as much out of trouble as TJ Detweiler can in hopes of having a clean enough record that nothing will get in his way. The question was never if TJ would run, but who would run with him as a VP.

"I think that sounds like a good idea."

"Vince doesn't want it. And I double checked," he tells her, both of them vividly recalling the incident freshman year that caused so much strife. "Gus and I have worked really well together in the past and working together to get you to prom really sealed the deal."

"But none of your ideas worked," she teases.

He gives her a lopsided smile. "I've still got one last plan."

She quirks an eyebrow, but he turns away, not giving away any secrets. Instead, he continues his thoughts.

"I guess I just wanted to see what you thought."

"Does it really matter what I think?" she scoffs.

"Everything you think matters to me," he says.

"Oh brother," she says, rolling her eyes and batting him in the arm. "It's senior class president. It's not some life-altering decision."

"Yeah, well, you're my number one." He gives her a sweet smile and she feels her cheeks heat up. "And I think it's important that I run big decisions by you."

"You sound like we're married."

"One day," TJ says with a smirk and she tries to hide her smile with a grimace, but she can tell it fails. He leans over and kisses her cheek. When he pulls back, his smile has faded just a touch.

"But," he says. "I just wanted to make sure this was okay."

"That you run with Gus? Do you really think I would oppose it? Gus is great. He'll be fine," she says.

"No, I meant, in general," he says. "Running for president will inevitably put you into the limelight just by being connected to me and if that is going to make you uncomfortable–"

"Absolutely not," she interrupts. "You and Gus are going to run together. No way are you going to sit this out again. It's where you thrive."

"I know, but–"

"No buts," she says, setting her plate down on the table behind them so she can grab a hold of him, reaching around his waist to hug him. She presses her cheek to his chest and breathes him in. "I want you to do this."

"If you change your mind, you let me know."

She pulls away just enough to look up at him. "I won't."

He presses a kiss to her forehead. "You're so stubborn."

She leans up on her tiptoes. "You missed," she says, glancing at his lips.

TJ has barely closed the gap between them when she hears someone clear their throat. They pull apart to see Vince with his arms crossed, eyebrow quirked. He shakes his head.

"Please, there are children," he says, gesturing to where the four Brittanys stand off to the side of the yard with a clipboard between them.

"What are they doing?" she asks.

Vince shrugs and walks by the couple, grabbing a plate and talking as he fills it. "Taking notes? Rating all the girls' dresses? No idea. But whatever it is, they've been giggling and pointing at people for a good half an hour."

TJ shrugs, wrapping his arms around Spinelli's shoulders and resting his chin on her head.

"They're, what? Seventh grade? They're at the point where people are getting their first boyfriends and girlfriends. They're probably just giggling about that," he suggests.

Vince ignores him. "Did you guys let Tyler take your pictures yet?"

Spinelli shakes her head. "No, my mom took plenty," she says. "Did you?"

He starts chuckling. "I saw Ashley B heading over with her boyfriend, so I grabbed Gretch and cut her in line, just to piss her off," he says. "Old times sake, you know?"

She snorts and can feel TJ's laughter against her back.

"I'm sure Gretchen was thrilled," Spinelli monotones, glancing across the yard to where Gretchen is standing with Mikey, Gus, and Ashley T.

Vince shrugs. "Well, she's the only other person here without a date. I wasn't about to take pictures by myself."

"Why not?" TJ asks. Spinelli can hear the smirk in his voice. "I thought you and your ego were very happy together."

"Ha. Ha," Vince says, but he grins as he says it. "Very funny."

"You could have had a date, you know," Spinelli says.

Vince shrugs and looks up. Spinelli follows his gaze to see Gretchen walking toward them.

"I'm sure my potential date would have been thrilled to know Gretch already called dibs on my front seat," he jokes. Then he shakes his head. "I can't deal with girls right now. They're too needy and I need to focus. I'm still not sure what school I'm going to pick."

She nods her head, not needing Vince to elaborate. During their morning runs together, Vince often goes on long tirades about the pros and cons of all his choices. She knows that of the schools that have shown interest in him and have since extended their offers, he has narrowed it down to two – Wake Forest in North Carolina and Boston College in Massachusetts. Every run where he brings it up, he seems to have a different favorite.

"We're talking about schools again?" Gretchen asks as she arrives. She shakes her head at Vince. "You need to go visit this summer and make decisions after. We've already discussed that you'll make more informed decisions once you've spent time in each of the cities."

"I know," he grumbles, his eyes glancing across the way. Spinelli doesn't even have to look to know he's looking at Vance, who knows exactly where he'll be playing football as a freshman. Bama.

Gretchen turns away and looks toward Spinelli.

"Are you sure you don't want us to stay with you tonight?"

"We will hang out after the dance," she insists. Then she gestures over Gretchen's shoulder. "It would be cruel to change my mind now – look at Gus. Poor thing keeps tripping over himself."

"He does seem very thrilled," Gretchen says.

Vince nudges Gretchen. "Guess we'll chaperone," he says, chuckling. "Our little Gus, all grown up."

The four all chuckle.

Once the sun starts to set, the teens all begin to make their way towards the cars lining the Armbrusters' street. She watches Gretchen and Mikey pile in Vince's car, but they lose Gus to Ashley T's Jeep. She follows TJ, ready to head back to his place, just as they had planned with the rest. Once the dance is over, or if they decide they're done with it sooner, the rest of the gang would head over to TJ's and they'd figure out what to do from there.

But TJ skips the turn back toward their street and she recognizes the route he is taking almost immediately.

"Where are we going?" she asks suspiciously, as they make their way toward the school.

"Like I told you, I have a plan," he tells her.

"You're not going to try to sneak me in, are you?"

TJ shakes his head. "No, why would you think that?"

She has no idea what else he could possibly be planning though, if not to sneak her inside the dance. If that's the case, she'll refuse. That is too much of a risk for her and TJ should know that.

"TJ!"

He pulls over and stops the car before taking her hand across the dash. "I promise you that you won't get in trouble."

"TJ, please," she says, her voice begging. "I don't want to sneak in."

He unbuckles his seatbelt so he can lean toward her. He takes her other hand in his and squeezes both her hands firmly, but not tightly, making sure to keep her attention.

"Do you trust me?" he asks sincerely.

"Of course." And she does. She always has.

"Just see my plan. If you still don't like it, we can leave immediately."

She takes a deep breath and nods her head. He settles back into his seat and looks over his shoulder before merging back into the traffic lane. She leans her head against the door window.

"Man, Teej, why do I let you talk me into these things?" she mumbles.

Her heart pounds the entire rest of the drive and by the time they arrive at the school parking lot, she is taking deep breaths to center herself. She does trust TJ, but sometimes his plans go awry. She knows that he did not buy a ticket to prom, meaning that if he was going to sneak her in, he would need to sneak in himself. That's not only doubly risky, but a good way to get him barred from running for president. It can't be that.

But, if it isn't that, what is it?

Once her breathing settles down, she opens her eyes and sees TJ looking at her worriedly. She reaches for his hand and gives it a squeeze.

"This better be good," she says, giving him a tight smile.

"Are you okay?"

She nods her head. "Let's go, Romeo. Let's see what you have planned."

The dance is already in swing, judging by the colored light escaping through the gym windows. She walks across the lawn with TJ, glad she wore her boots rather than any fancier shoes, and he brings her to the back stairs. She knows this doorway is usually by where the DJ sets up at homecomings.

TJ lets go of her hand and reaches into his pocket, grabbing his cellphone. He sends a quick message and then turns to her.

"I promise I'm not sneaking you in."

What feels like eternity passes, but then the doorway opens a crack and Gus pops out through the small opening. He smiles at her before turning to TJ.

"Here's the stuff," he says and they can see him reach back behind and into the building, where a dainty hand passes him a basket. "The wedge should be plenty big enough to let the music out."

"Thanks, man," TJ says as he takes the basket from Gus.

Gus nods and turns to Spinelli. "I know it's not exactly the same, but I hope you have a good night."

The wedge that Gus places as he sneaks back inside allows the gym door to stay open a crack, barely large enough for anyone to notice. But it's enough, given where the speakers are located, for the music to flow out into the night. She glances at TJ, who has walked down the stairs. The basket sits on the lawn and he has removed an old blanket that he is laying on the grass.

"Our dance floor," he says, gesturing to the blanket.

She walks toward him and wraps her arms around his waist.

"So, what do you think?" he asks.

"I think," she says, pausing to make sure she catches his eye. "You and Gus will make a fine team." Then she presses herself firmly into his side. "Thank you. I know I scared you a little back there."

"I was worried I pushed too hard." He gives her a tight hug back. "I don't want to overstep."

She shakes her head.

"I'm glad you pushed. Sometimes I think having a little help out of my comfort zone isn't a bad thing," she tells him. Then she lets go and steps back, kicking off her boots and starting to find the music. "Let's dance!"

…

Notes

Sorry this took so long to come out. The original idea I had planned just didn't feel in character and then it took forever to get the tone of this section the way I wanted it. Then, I'd worked on it for so long, it felt flat. I hope it came out okay.

This is Spinelli's first narration since September 2008, when she was at her lowest, and I really wanted to get it right - she still has work to go, but she is in a much better space now. And I was hoping to have her exposition be more forthcoming as part of her growth - before she dropped hints, but I kind of wanted her to be less…unreliable, if that makes sense.

I used her section to parallel back to some previous chapters, specifically Chapter 3. Again we have Spinelli not particularly wanting to go to an Ashley party/not able to go to prom when the rest of them want to go, but a slightly different circumstance and result.

The line "Man, TJ, why do I let you talk me into these things," is almost identical to what Spinelli tells TJ in the episode The Trial ("Aww man, Teej, why do I let you talk me into these things.") I also use the line in Chapter 5.

And that's a wrap for junior year. Senior year, here we come!