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groggy. It’s six o’clock, which means we’ve missed our dinner reservation and Lannie is probably on her way to Terry Polish’s house for the pre-party.
    I glance across the room at the tuxedo and an uncomfortable shiver goes down my spine. I haul my ass out of bed and shove the tux into my closet so I don’t have to look at it.
    A movement across the street catches my eye, and I look out the window in time to see Andrea Feingold climbing out of her bedroom window and onto the roof of her garage. Weird.
    I watch as she scrambles over the edge and hangs there before dropping to the ground. She lies there for a minute, staring at the sky, then gets up and turns back to glance at her house before running away down the sidewalk. I’ve known Andrea for a long time, and I’ve never seen her act like this. I wonder where the hell she’s going.
    I go downstairs and out the sliding glass doors to the back deck.
    Dad is home from work, and he and Mom are relaxing at the patio table. My brothers are wrestling in the backyard. “We’ve already eaten,” she says. “We didn’t want to disturb you.” She slides a plate with a couple of burgers and some potato salad across the table at me.
    â€œSo, you’re missing prom, eh?” Dad asks as I tuck into my food.
    I nod, my mouth full.
    â€œCan’t say I blame you,” he says. “I always hated that kind of thing when I was in school.”
    â€œDo you think I can borrow your truck?” I ask him once I’ve finished eating.
    â€œYou sure that’s a good idea?” Mom asks.
    â€œI’m fine,” I say. “I just need to get out of the house for a little while. Get my mind off things.”
    She looks like she wants to say something else, but she keeps it to herself.
    I expect my dad to tell me to take Mom’s Corolla, like he usually does. Instead, he reaches into his pocket and tosses me his keys.
    â€œSweet, thanks!” I say.
    â€œBe careful where you show your face,” says Mom. “I’ve convinced Lannie that you’re on death’s door. She probably wouldn’t enjoy seeing you bumming around town.”
    Yeah, no shit, I think. Funny thing is, now that I know I’m not going to prom after all, I feel like a million bucks.

CANDACE
    I wasn’t even planning on going out, but my father has been watching TV and drinking beer since noon, and my grandmother is busy in the kitchen. I figure if I stick around it will just turn into another episode of My Depressed Dad! and the last thing I want to do on Friday night is sit around Gee-ma’s sad little bungalow helping my forty-five-year-old father regain his self-esteem. Then what would we do on Saturday, right?
    I decide to hit the road. I grab my backpack from my room and I’m trying to sneak down the stairs and out through the front porch when Dad yells for me. I consider ignoring him and bolting, but instead I roll my eyes and go into the living room.
    My grandmother’s house is like a time capsule—wood paneling, tacky green furniture from the seventies, thick orange carpet, a gigantic TV in a wooden cabinet. There’s even a heavy glass ashtray on the coffee table, even though nobody around here has smoked since before I was born. It’s like time has stood still since Jimmy Carter was president.
    The most depressing thing is that it’s always perfectly neat and tidy. Gee-ma vacuums every day, and the place smells like lemon furniture polish. I imagine her getting up every morning and going through the exact same routine. The only thing that’s changed is that now it’s my dad flopped on the couch instead of my grandpa.
    It’s only six o’clock, but the drapes, heavy and brown with a swirly beige pattern, are drawn tight against the sun. The TV is blaring, and all the lamps are turned off. It might as well be midnight.
    â€œHey,” I say, standing in the