Prom Impossible

  Aunt Lulu gave a little huff where her cheeks ballooned out for a second before she finally breathed, probably trying to garner self control so she didn’t wring my neck. “Fine, let’s go.”

  We walked back toward the first store, where I’d seen the one. As we drew closer, I walked faster, my arms swinging, and believe me, I had focus. A driving need to slip into the gown, knowing it would fit me like silk on a fairy princess. Even Aunt Lulu was rather out of breath when we arrived.

  For the first time that day, I took the lead. Aunt Lulu might’ve argued or taken over but she could barely get a word between breaths. I almost suggested she join the early morning walking group that met in the mall every morning.

  I rushed past the shoes, the kiddy department, the makeup counters and didn’t even look. I weaved in between the dresses until I found the rack. The pink sparkled under the lights and the satin glimmered, waiting for me. I arrived, slightly out of breath and wondering if we should’ve eaten more than a power bar and an apple. With a happy sigh I ran my fingers over the material and brought the smooth satin up to my cheek.

  “But this was the first one,” Aunt Lulu mentioned in a strained voice.

  “It’s not the first one anymore. It’s the last one. Technically, I never tried it on. Remember?”

  “Oh, right.” She fanned her face, probably realizing from my half-growl-way of talking that we were adding amendments to her rules. “Okay, off you go. Size six, right?” She flipped through the dresses. She kept flipping and flipping and flipping and then flipped again. She bit her lip and beads of sweat appeared on her upper lip. “Are you sure you’re not a size 4?”

  I shook my head, stumbling back until I bumped into a rack of dresses, knocking half of them to the floor in a pile of soft colors and fabrics. I only stared, then stumbled back some more until I fell into a chair. I leaned over, breathing, trying to stop a self-induced panic attack.

  The size six dress was gone. While I pandered to Aunt Lulu’s rules, someone came in and stole my dress. The one.

  Minutes later, Aunt Lulu said, “Here we go.” She held the dress in her hand but one look at her face and the nervous twitching of her lips told me it was the wrong size. And I was right. In the dressing room, I zipped it up only to have my ribcage crushed.

  “Not working,” I said in a breathy voice, my heart crushed to bits. “Can we just go home? I think I’m done for the day.”

  “Yes, dear.” Then I think she added this rule just for me. “Sometimes when we’re tired and have put in a full day, we need to know when to admit defeat and go out for ice cream.”

  Okay, sometimes my Aunt Lulu can be almost cool. That was when it hit me that she’d given up her whole day for me. That even though it was a drop in the bucket for her, she was spending her money on me. She’d given up lots of her time all year for me.

  For the first time that day, there was silence on the other side of the door and silence in the dressing room. I sucked it up. “Aunt Lulu, was there a dress in this store you thought looked good on me?”

  “I’ll be right back.” Her heels clicked away. Maybe she should add wear sensible shoes when shopping all day to her rules.

  I tried to get the one that was in the wrong size off. I reached in the back and tugged on the zipper, but it stuck. I sank to my knees in the one that was not the one and waited.

  A few minutes later, a puff of yellow satin and crinoline came flying over the door. I saw it through a blur and barely remembered trying it on earlier. I tugged and tugged at the zipper, fighting the tears, almost ready to ask for help. At the last second, it came loose and I forced it off.

  Quietly, I dressed, without trying the yellow one on. I didn’t have the heart. I couldn’t see past the pale pink satin gown that I wouldn’t wear. My feet hurt. My stomach growled. And I felt like a zombie shuffling through the streets.

  Part way home I had to admit. “Aunt Lulu, thanks for the offer of ice cream, but I think I’d just like to go home. Maybe another day.”

  “Sure thing, honey.”

  She didn’t say one word on the drive to my house. Maybe she felt like a shopping zombie too. We trudged into the house and Aunt Lulu forced her enthusiasm, even though I knew she was drained too. “We’re back and found the one!”

  She unzipped it for my mom and dad and Carter to see. The puffs of yellow spilled out, especially the ginormous poofy flower on the right shoulder. I was finally able to really look at the dress I ended up with, that I could only be grateful for…and it was awful. The bright yellow would make my skin look pale and my hair dull. The skirt was just the amount of poofy that it was too much and little girlish.

  I blinked furiously, then wrapped my arms around Aunt Lulu before I lost it. I barely held it together and hoped she took my emotion as gratefulness, which made me feel even worse. “Thank you so much. I appreciate everything.” I pulled back. “But I’m really tired.”

  She patted my cheek, her eyes misty. “Anytime, dear.”

  ***

  Late that night after three grilled cheese sandwiches and chocolate milk, I stole into the backyard. Somehow I’d hoped that the full moon would create enough of a romantic atmosphere that my mood would lighten and I could find the positive in all this.

  The screen door squeaked. “May I join you?” Mom asked.

  “Of course.” I lay back in the lounge chair and closed my eyes so she couldn’t see all the different thoughts and emotions swirling through me. My mom has this radar, this special way of knowing when I’m upset.

  She sat on the edge of the chair and took my hand in hers. The simple act, the simple gesture caused a sob to break through, a hiccup really.

  “I should’ve been stronger this morning and gone, but you seem to have developed this special bond with Aunt Lulu this year and I didn’t want to squash that.”

  It wasn’t about some special bond. “Aunt Lulu had taken me on as her project. Buying the prom dress was just following through.”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  I opened my eyes. “What do you mean?”

  Even though the moon was bright, the light was soft and fell around my mom. She had an ethereal beauty about her. “I mean you’re more than a project. She loves you and that’s how she shows love. It just took me years to understand my sister was never tearing me down with her advice but trying to love me in her own way. She loves fiercely, and how better to show that than an all day shopping trip.”

  And buying me a dress even though it’s not the one. Knowing that the dress was her love for me meant I could never take it back or change my mind or wear another one. I fell into my mom’s arms and let her hug away my tears.

  “Even though I love Aunt Lulu, I’m so glad she’s not my mom.”

  Mom laughed and hugged me tighter. “Me too.”

  Chapter 28

  The spring of my senior year was passing by way too quickly. So many things were happening like senior pictures and yearbook committees and final prom committee meetings.

  The so-called break-up Jasper and I were supposed to stage in the cafeteria never happened. My feelings toward Jasper sank to new lows every day. Sometimes he was a complete snob and other times he would decide he didn’t mind having me around.

  It was one of those times, when I was simmering in a place of pain, licking my wounds from his short words with me that I wrote the final essay for him. Yeah, I probably should’ve waited for another time, but it felt good to unleash my pain.

  Totally regretted it.

  It was a Friday, the day before senior prom. The year had flown by and so many of us had senioritis. Mr. Troller stood and cleared his throat. He loosened the bow tie at his neck.

  “It isn’t often I receive an essay from a student filled with such personal insight and transcendence that I’m moved to tears.” He got choked up and had to take a few breaths. “Teachers work and live for those few moments where they see a student grow beyond themselves. I’ve asked this student if h
e would read his essay aloud to the class and he agreed.”

  Everyone whispered—thankfully for the first time that day or even that week it wasn’t about me—and peered around. But then Jasper stood and swaggered to the front of the room, his chest puffed out and that glory smile splattered on his face. That’s when I knew that he’d grown comfortable, trusting me, and had never read my essay.

  I didn’t remember exactly what I’d said, but I knew it wouldn’t make him look good. And that would be bad for me. Hot needle pricks of panic spread all over and the temperature in the room went through the roof and into outer space. In desperation, I shot my hand up, waving frantically.

  Jasper narrowed his eyes as if suspicious that I was trying to steal his limelight. I shook my head at him, silently begging him to decline or get a sudden case of laryngitis.

  “Yes, Cassidy. Do you have something to add?”

  “Just in case anyone else feels bad, I want everyone to realize that sometimes when writing personal narratives we write from a place of pain or privacy, say when our feelings have been hurt, but it turns out the insight never should’ve been shared.” I ran out of words because Jasper clearly wasn’t getting my message and the whole class was just staring at the girl talking nonsense, and Mr. Troller was tugging violently on his bow tie. “Sorry!” I squeaked. “Carry on.”

  I slumped low in my seat, closed my eyes, and listened to what would be the end of my life.

  Jasper paused, then started to read. “My life has been one of privilege that few ever hope to have. I’ve never had to work hard for anything and my parents hand me almost everything I want. Most would think this would be a bad thing, but no, instead, this golden touch on my life has blessed me with a sense of humor and compassion.”

  He took a breath, pausing. I cracked an eye and noticed that he looked confused as if he couldn’t quite understand if what he was reading was serious or not.

  “For example, when I bless girls with my smile throughout the day, I give them hope that someday I might ask them out. When I wear my rolled-up khakis with moccasins even though it went out of style twenty years ago”—his hand started trembling causing the page to shake—“I show everyone that we should never be afraid to be ourselves and that means dressing however we’d like. But we should never carry…this…too far by lying and …”

  Then he started mumbling.

  “Jasper, please speak clearly. We missed a section. Why don’t you back up?”

  But he didn’t back up. He kept on reading and he kept on reading faster as his face got redder and the whispers got louder. He zipped through until at the very end he was practically spitting out each word.

  “That’s why even though I said privilege was a blessing, it’s really a curse because it blinds me to the true nature of life and those around me. I will continue to work hard everyday to overcome this.”

  Slowly, he lowered the paper, his eyes zeroing in on me. He trembled, his body a tight fist of rage, barely controlled, barely masked.

  “Thank you, Jasper. And that class is an example of bravery…” The teacher blabbed on about the essay while Jasper stood, his gaze still piercing right through me.

  Okay, I figured he’d be mad but I never meant him to read this aloud to the whole class and until now it had stayed sorta hazy in my mind because I was so hurt and tired. That’s what I meant about writing from a place of pain.

  As soon as the bell rang, I zipped out of there so fast, I could’ve been a super hero. I didn’t go back to my locker and I took the long routes to all my classes. At one point, I hid in the guidance office and then walked to class late. After receiving my second detention, I made a decision. Time for me to be proactive.

  Jasper wanted drama? He’d get girl drama to the extreme. And there’s no way he could strangle me to death with slimy spaghetti and meatballs or stab me with a fork with hundreds of witnesses around.

  I slammed open the lunch room doors, the sound barely making a dent in the lunchroom chatter. Gosh, this would be harder than I thought. Screwing my face up into one of extreme hurt, I stormed over to our lunch table and with one swipe, knocked his tray to the floor. We were, in fact, having spaghetti and meatballs and the sauce splattered Ava’s shirt.

  The clatter of the tray and Ava’s shriek started to capture everyone’s attention. Everyone at the table stared with various expressions of shock.

  I opened my mouth, ready to spurt all sorts of lies about Jasper and how he was too controlling and I couldn’t take it anymore. How I needed space and I didn’t have to tell him where I was every second of the day or how many calories were in my dinner the night before.

  But in that one moment, I remembered all the times he was nice. I remembered being at his house and his family and how he laughed at my ramblings. I remembered that I was the one who approached him in the bathroom and suggested our arrangement. And I remembered he said I was cute.

  “Cassidy? Are you okay?” Jules asked.

  I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t be that mean. So in a normal voice instead of going all drama queen on him, I said. “Jasper, this isn’t working for me anymore. I’m just not ready to say I love you back, and that’s when I realized we should probably take a break.”

  Okay, so I got in a little jab. Big deal. He seemed to like my sense of humor.

  I didn’t even look at his face. I whirled around and left the lunchroom, walking faster and faster as I approached the exit, expecting at any second for him to grab my arm and force the truth from me.

  But I made it outside safely. I went straight to the nurse’s office and called home, saying I felt the beginnings of a scratchy throat, and with prom the next day, I didn’t want to start an epidemic.

  At home, I ignored all texts and voice messages and drank tea and honey. I slept on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket, trying to avoid the fact that I hadn’t thought through my actions.

  Without Jasper, I didn’t have a date to prom.

  Late in the afternoon, Jules stopped by. I was outside, soaking the last warmth of the day. “Hey, don’t worry. I’m okay. I’ll make prom tomorrow.”

  “Oh, I know you’re okay.” She dropped a basket full of first aid supplies on the patio next to me. “But I decided to drop this by just in case.”

  Her eyes flashed, and I knew she was beyond furious.

  “I know you’re thinking I shouldn’t have called Jasper out like that, but it really could’ve been much worse, I promise.” I didn’t stop to take a breath. “My original plans were to make it seem like a really bad break-up and everyone would ooh and aah but I couldn’t do it…”

  Jules eyes were like a cold winter day, ice balls, sharp and cold. “Does everything always have to be about you?”

  Huh? “Trust me, nothing is about me.”

  She held up her finger, refusing to listen. “We’ve always been close but I’m finding it hard to summon up feelings of closeness right now. You embarrassed me. You embarrassed our friends. And you embarrassed Jasper, and why?” She paced the patio, barely able to look at me. “I have no idea, so please, explain.”

  Where did I start? I could tell her about my deal with Jasper, or about how Michael had rejected me all year, or how Zeke caused all these weird twisty feeling inside me even though he wasn’t really talking to me or how I had a yellow poofy dress with humongous flower on the shoulder that I had to wear because of all the time her mom had spent with me, and how it didn’t matter because I wasn’t even going to prom.

  I could tell her all that. But words failed me. Somehow I knew that all those reasons would be like dandelion fluff in the wind, meaningless. That somewhere underneath that tsunami of crap was the truth, but I didn’t know how to dig it out.

  “You know what? I don’t want to know.” She lowered her voice. “I love you. You’re my best friend. I’m sorry this year has been kind of strange, and I know I’m partly to blame. But as far as prom night is concerned, I’m not sure you should travel with us, especially s
ince Jasper will be there. So when my mom insists you ride in the limo with us tomorrow, maybe...”

  I got the message loud and clear. “Don’t worry. I’ll have other plans.”

  ***

  Later that night, well past dark, I still sat on the porch. Mom brought out a blanket and more tea with honey, but I promised it was just nerves over prom. She understands me and even when she doesn’t, she knows when to give me room. She’s just awesome like that.

  I was about to go in when I heard a shuffle in the trees, almost like an animal. Do we have bears? Or mountain lions? I shook it off only moments later to hear steps on the patio, and I wasn’t imagining it.

  “Cassidy?”

  My heart stopped beating and almost fell through the floor. It was Michael. He was visiting me, pointy ears and everything.

  “I understand if you don’t want to talk to me.” He stepped backwards. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Um, no. I mean, you can stay. Sure.”

  He shuffled forward and sat next to me. We looked up into the sky at the stars, twinkling, and the clouds skimming across them. I wasn’t up to idle chatter. “Is there a reason you stopped by?”

  He clasped his hands and twisted them. “I know it’s late and it’s almost the end of the year, but I wanted to say I was sorry for blowing off our friendship.”

  Wow. I didn’t know what to say. My heart started this little pitter patter, sparking old dreams, ones I’d sworn off.

  “I understand if you don’t want to be friends.”

  Friends? Well, friends would be a good place to start. “No, that’s okay. Everyone makes mistakes and uses bad judgment at times. I don’t judge any one.”

  He smiled, the moonlight reflecting off his glasses. I still thought he was one of the most underrated guys in the school. Someday, he was going to be a knockout running his own computer company. I knew it.

  He cleared his throat a couple times. “I’m thinking that after what happened at lunch, you know, with you and Jasper, that you might be out of a prom date.”

  Oh. My. God. My throat almost closed up and I had to sit up and put my head between my legs, breathing in and out. I couldn’t believe this was happening to me. Me! Cassidy! The girl who never gets what she wants even when she least expects it. Or doesn’t want it anymore.