MAYBE TOMORROW ... gilmore girls

chapter twelve

December 2000

Chilton Preparatory School, Hartford

18:15 

THE GRAND hall of Chilton – usually filled with a stuffy silence, sometimes cut into by the quickened pace of shoes clicking against the wooden floor – is alive with modern music that I do not recognise.

The school always goes all out for the winter formal. Christmas trees decorated in pretty silver lights. Mistletoe hanging just out of the way so nobody can really get caught underneath it. Fairy lights wind around the staircase, and the backs of chairs, and sometimes even the table legs. The few teachers in charge of the winter formal love to go all out, and yet, they almost never end up chaperoning.

No. That is left to Jethro and I, standing behind the drinks table that is laden with a rather large punch bowl, multiple jugs of ice water, and more glasses than there are students.

"Did you like school dances as a kid?"

I shake my head. "No." I hand over a glass filled with cranberry punch to one of the girls in my junior algebra class. Her date is a senior who is failing calculus. "No. Hated them. I never had a date unless my mother convinced one of her friends' sons to take me. And then people would just laugh at me all night because my mom had to get me a date, so I usually hid wherever I could. I was never very popular."

I clean up some punch I've spilled on the black and gold patterned tablecloth. When I finally look back up, Jethro is staring at me incredulously. His eyes wide behind his glasses, his mouth hanging open. I reach forward – what am I doing? Stop that. Stop it Leighton! – and use two fingers to push underneath his chin and close his mouth.

"You'll catch flies."

His eyes never leave mine.

I'm the one who breaks eye contact, ignoring the almost painful twinge in my chest. God, it's been so long since I felt like this. I throw the napkins I used to clean up my spillage in the trash can hidden beneath the table.

"Sorry." Jethro rubs the back of his neck with his hand. Pink tints his cheeks. He seems to shake it off, though, I get the hint there is pink caught just beneath his beard. Has he trimmed it for the occasion? "I wasn't expecting it to be that bad. Did you not have friends you could have gone with... or, just not gone at all?"

"Nope." The time on the clock hanging on the wall catches my eye. Rory should be arriving any time. "To both of those. I had one friend and she moved to Canada when we were fourteen and I found it difficult to make friends. I was too shy to talk to people and all my interests weren't interesting. And, my mother always made me go. Leighton, you shouldn't miss out on opportunities just because they make you uncomfortable." Jethro hasn't met my mother often enough to understand how good that impression is. But, Lorelai would laugh.

The doors at the top of the staircase are creaked open. A few heads turn in the direction and I hear a few whispers of Mary scattered around, but there is my niece standing at the top of the staircase in a periwinkle dress her mother made for her and her new boyfriend on her arm. He's a lot taller than I expected and her boots aren't making her any taller. But, she looks beautiful with her hair curled up in a bun and sparkly blue eyeshadow glittering on her eyelids.

I look away. I'd hate to know I was being watched when I'm just trying to have fun.

"Can we stop talking about my loser childhood?"