Prom Impossible

by Laura Pauling

  I steadied myself and sat back up. “Yup. I mean, yes, you’re correct.”

  He waited, stretching the moment out while I wanted the band to strike the chorus and balloons and confetti to fall from the sky.

  “Would you like to go to prom with me?”

  My breath hitched and my throat ached as I fought back the sudden emotion. I tried to ignore the tiny bit of sadness that I’d pushed Zeke away all year. A few months ago I would’ve been doing the happy dance—on the inside. But now, I was just happy to have my friend back. “Yes, I’d love to go with you.”

  “Great!” He smiled, all his attention on me.

  We chatted a bit more and said goodnight. At the edge of the woods he stopped. “A group of kids are going in together for a limo...”

  Limo? “Yeah, I think Jules’s and her friends are.”

  “I was thinking we could join that group. What do you think? Could you talk to Jules?”

  I swallowed hard, trying to wet my throat, which had gone dry at the mention of the limo. “Well…after what happened at lunch today, I’m not so sure Jules would want me there.” In fact, I knew she didn’t. His body sagged and he looked absolutely crestfallen. Even though I’d moved on from Michael, I couldn’t stand that look. “Ya know what? Let’s go anyway.” I laughed and waved the whole thing off. “I’m sure she won’t mind us showing up.”

  “Really?” His whole face brightened up.

  “Really.” Oh gosh, what had I just done? No way would she let us ride in the limo.

  “Great. I’ll pick you up tomorrow.” Then he left, practically skipping into the woods.

  When I used to daydream about Michael asking me out and then asking me to prom, I was naïve. I saw that now. I invented some pretend bond between us based on how long I’d known him, and because I talked with him at his window a few times—uninvited.

  When I was at camp last summer, setting my goals for the year, I stupidly included my great romance with Michael in it. But never once did I think he’d use my connections to Jules in order to be with Elena.

  Connections, unfortunately, that had been severed that afternoon.

  Chapter 29

  I needed a few moments. Okay, more like a thousand. Many different thoughts and ideas swirled through my brain, and I wasn’t liking all of them. That was why I needed time to sit and be myself, not thinking of who was around or who I needed to impress or who was watching to see if I was cool enough to be their friend.

  I sat on the middle of my bed, the canopy flowing around me. An array of chocolates from a Valentine box I found in a kitchen cupboard—sorry, Mom—in front of me, thinking on this past year. Hemingway lay at the foot of the bed, eyeing the chocolates and licking his chops.

  “You know dogs can’t eat chocolate. Sorry, Hem,” I whispered, then went back to my meditative pose, after popping another chocolate, this time with cherry filling.

  Today was prom. I was about to experience the pinnacle, the peak, the biggest moment of my high school life. Tonight, along with my classmates, some of whom I’d known since kindergarten, I’d waltz into the glorified gymnasium and experience the beginning of the end. With graduation only a couple weeks away, we were close to saying goodbye.

  I breathed in and I breathed out. I was trying to ignore this feeling in my gut that kept trying to tell me something. I just didn’t know what, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

  “Hey!” Carter poked his head into my room. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready? Like at least take a shower?”

  He was already dressed in a tux, except it wasn’t a normal tux. I popped another chocolate, this time caramel, and motioned him into my room. “Is that what I think it is?”

  A big grin spread across his face, lighting up his eyes. “Yup.”

  I gave up on meditation, because I had to touch him. That sounds really bad but this was his final masterpiece, anyone would want to touch him. “When did you do this?”

  He stroked the sleeve made completely from duct tape. “A bit at a time all year. Unfortunately, I couldn’t quite figure out the zipper part so I couldn’t use the pants.”

  “That. Is. Awesome.” I was sure this latest stunt would get him like a zillion more dates. “Your weekends will be booked until the end of summer.”

  He shrugged. “You’re really going with Michael?”

  I flopped backward against my pillow. “I guess so.”

  He swiped the chocolate wrappers to the floor and sat on my bed. “Sorry. I hate to break it to you, but true love isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be.” He gave me a hug and moved to the door.

  I didn’t have to explain anything to him. He knew Michael and I going to prom had nothing to do with love or romantic sighs or kisses in the moonlight. Absolutely nothing.

  He smiled. “Try to have a good time.”

  When he left I knew I couldn’t stall any longer. At some point, I’d have to open the dress bag and look at my dress—even put it on. I was hoping it wasn’t as bad as I remembered, because I hadn’t looked at it since my shopping trip with Aunt Lulu.

  I showered, primped, used tons of vanilla-scented lotion, and stood in front of my closet in my strapless bra and granny underwear. Tonight was about being comfortable and no one would see underwear lines in the poofy monstrosity I’d be wearing.

  “Cassidy! Leave time for pictures!” Mom called up the stairs.

  “Okay!” I yelled back.

  Pictures are moments in time that in the future when we look back will encapsulate a memory of an entire night. It’s what we’ll show to our future husbands and our children or our pet goldfish. They’ll ask about the night and we’ll show them pictures. They won’t know or be able to see the heartache behind yellow dresses and limos and prom dates.

  It was time. With a deep breath, I slowly unzipped the bag. Puffy swathes of yellow silk spilled out. The flower on the shoulder was even bigger than I remembered. It was a disaster. I hadn’t imagined it.

  “Michael’s here!” Mom called.

  I got dressed, not bothering to glance in the mirror because I didn’t want to give into my craving for double fudge nut ice cream just to feel better. Yes. I totally admit to eating ice cream during times of emotional duress.

  I wanted to feel like a princess in her ball gown, sweeping down the stairs in a cloud of glitter and sunshine. Instead, I felt like a baby duckling or an overgrown flowerbed in need of weeding.

  Michael waited at the bottom. Mom and Dad stood next to him, oohing and aahing. She snapped a billion pictures, and I understood why Carter left early. She made us pose inside and outside, in front of the flowerbed, in front of the porch, and peeking out from behind a tree.

  She gave me a huge hug before we left and whispered in my ear. “Remember. It’s not what you look like. It’s not the clothes or dress you wear. It’s not how well you do your make-up that makes you beautiful.”

  Right, Mom. What planet do you live on? I fake-smiled and whispered thanks.

  Michael was a perfect gentleman, holding my arm and opening the door to his mom’s Honda. Then we were driving toward Jules’s and I wanted to puke. I counted the telephone poles we passed, and as we got closer a sense of doom fell on me.

  “Are you sure you want to ride in a limo? I think limos are way overrated and sensationalized. It’s really a marketing gimmick, so teens think their prom experience isn’t complete without it. And do we really want to be a part of that kind of brainwashing marketing scam?”

  I stopped talking. Michael’s face looked rather pale, and he gripped the steering wheel like he was in the Indy 500.

  I laughed. “Never mind. Just joking. I’ve been watching way too many documentaries on the big marketing schemes in corporate America.”

  More silence.

  “So, nice weather, huh? For a while there, I was afraid it was going to rain, not that guys have to worry about that, but you know, hair and makeup. The whole prom experience could be ruined by inclement weather
.” I laughed again, which was beginning to annoy even me. “Yeah, so good weather.”

  Then I took to looking out the window and thinking about anything and everything except what was about to happen.

  “This isn’t a good idea, is it?” Michael finally said.

  He took his eyes off the road for a second, but that second was enough for me to dip into his soul and taste and feel the hope and longing there. Hope and longing I had felt for months when it came to this boy. A part of me, no matter how hurt I was that he blew me off this past year and went after one of my friends, didn’t want him to experience that bitter crushing disappointment when hope is snuffed out and replaced by lies and yellow dresses.

  “I’m not sure. I guess we’ll find out.”

  I didn’t, couldn’t say anything else as we pulled into Jules’s driveway. The white stretch limo gleamed in the late afternoon sun, spit and polished until it shined.

  I found my happy place, the place where I don’t care what everyone else thinks. “Let’s go.”

  Of course, Aunt Lulu rushed over to me, gushing about the dress and my hair and makeup. “I didn’t expect you! What a surprise.” She welcomed Michael. “All the kids are on the back porch with some appetizers. The professional photographer should be here any second.”

  When we walked onto the back porch, silence fell, except for the rather loud crinkle of my dress. I knew they were staring at the god-awful poofy flowers on my shoulder and were secretly cringing or laughing on the inside. Or questioning whether I was truly related to Jules.

  But then I saw something pink and glittery and satin with spaghetti straps and my breath whooshed out of me. I stumbled back, spots dancing in my periphery.

  Michael jumped in to help me. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” I took a couple sobbing breaths that I hoped no one noticed and thought maybe it had been my imagination. But when I looked again, it was still there. My dress. My beautiful pink satin dress with the shimmery skirt and fairy tale glitter.

  And she was talking about it to Zeke who looked bored out of his mind. “And I was so lucky because this dress was the last in my size and they weren’t restocking. It was like it was meant for me.”

  I kinda zoned out after that, numb to the sparkle and glitter of prom.

  Jules didn’t say one word. She nodded in welcome then went back to conversing with Jasper. Michael pulled out a seat for me and made small talk for a little bit, but eventually, bit by bit, gravitated toward Elena.

  I nibbled on fancy cheese and rye crackers and looked anywhere but at the dress. Yeah, sure I could write a novel about each person there and my complicated history with them. I could’ve spent days observing Zeke and Ava flirt and talk, wondering how he ended up with someone like her. I could’ve camped out with a bag of chips and watched Jules and Jasper and figured out how they ended up going together. But I watched Michael. And I watched Elena.

  Her eyes seemed brighter and a little bit twinkly, like the stars Michael loves. She had this giggly floaty aura about her every time he leaned forward to whisper some intimate joke that was just between them. It was like, when Michael strode through with that hot-but-dorky look he gets away with, she remembered all the incredibly nice things he’d done for her that year. Things I wished he’d done for me.

  Maybe she was caught up in the whole prom thing, but I think she finally liked him and just couldn’t fully go for it because he was a cute geek, and she’d finally made it into the “it” crowd.

  I brushed the cracker crumbs from my dress and didn’t even try to break into the conversations. They laughed and joked and talked around me, but it was like I was in my own little bubble, floating there, and no one saw me.

  Zeke flashed his concern a couple times toward me, but Ava pulled him right back in. Ava and her pink glitter satin dress. Jasper and Jules didn’t look once after they’d said hello, but in the brief half-second I devoted to him, I noticed the tense way he sat with his shoulders all knotted up and his strained smile. He kept fiddling with the silverware, and I worried briefly whether he was going to throw a knife at my chest.

  Finally, the photographer arrived and we went through a series of poses again. I tried to stay out of as many as possible, more out of respect for Jules. I was here for Michael, not for myself.

  With a shrill call, Aunt Lulu ushered us out to the limo. She and Uncle Rudie were heading out for a night on the town in her car. She gave me an extra squeeze. “You look absolutely beautiful in that dress.”

  After some more pictures, everyone climbed inside. It was Michael and Elena and me left standing outside. The group in the limo had already popped the fake bubbly and were passing it around.

  I caught Elena’s arm before she climbed inside and motioned for Michael to come here. “Listen, guys. I’m going to do you both a favor.” I looked at Elena. “You’d have to be stupid not to realize that this guy is totally crazy for you.” I fought off the rush of emotion. “Don’t you realize he’s a hot geek? I can tell you like him, and I think you should give him a chance. I don’t know why your date didn’t show or why you said no to Michael—”

  “He never asked,” Elena said, a tinge of hurt behind her words.

  I stared at Michael. “Seriously? You’ve been after her all year and you never asked her to prom?”

  He scuffed his shoe against a stone in the driveway. “I didn’t think she’d say yes.”

  Elena reached for his hand. “I waited, hoping you’d ask. I said no to others, hoping. Finally, Jules said I could ride with them.”

  “That settles it then.” I took a deep breath and said the hardest words I’d ever spoken in my life. I had to start several times before I got the sentence out. “You two were meant to go together.”

  Elena hugged me. “Really? You mean it?”

  I nodded. “I don’t think there’s room for me and my dress in there anyway.” I laughed when I wanted to sob.

  Elena climbed into the limo, squealing with her news. I swallowed the lump in my throat.

  “I’m sure there’s room for you too,” Michael said with a shy smile.

  I knew all along Michael was a nice guy, and this just proved it. But the idea of squishing into the corner, the odd girl out, with my yellow flower hitting the person next to me in the face every time I moved, plus the fact that Jules didn’t want me, made me take a step back. “No thanks.”

  He handed me his keys. “Then take my car.”

  “Sure.”

  The limo pulled out and I stood in the driveway, more thoughts and ideas swirling, but I still wasn’t able to quite figure them out. But one thought kept cropping up, and I couldn’t say no to it. Maybe it was desperation. Maybe it was that at that moment I felt completely powerless. I ducked inside their house and grabbed the key from the kitchen.

  Minutes later, I sat in Uncle Rudie’s Porsche. All the power was at my fingertips. My fingers shook as I gripped the wheel and the garage door opened, the late afternoon sunshine spilling through.

  Chapter 30

  Uncle Rudie’s Porsche was like a dream. Every time I barely pressed on the gas it zoomed forward, like a spaceship through the Milky Way. On the drive to the school, I figured out why my uncle loves this car and keeps it hidden away most of the year. This car is an escape. Like a fantasy novel, or triple-decker ice cream, or pink satin dresses. Except way more expensive. This car sucks away your problems and injects you with the power to make decisions.

  I pulled into the high school parking lot and made the first one. I parked way in the back corner of the lot because the idea of some careless driver dinging the side made me feel sick. Once I locked the door and patted the sides, then wiped off the fingerprints it left, I made another decision. This was my senior prom. Even if it turned out nothing like I expected, I was going to own it, big poofy yellow dress with the obnoxious flower on my shoulder and all.

  We’d spent months planning, purchasing supplies, and then decorating the gym according t
o my brilliant idea of a fairy tale prom, which was really Jules’s. Uncle Rudie had paid for a construction company to build and paint what looked like the outside of a castle at the entrance. The insides of the gym brought me back hundreds of years. Fake torches flickered and chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Plastic sheets on the walls made the interior like the stone walls of a castle. And in the middle was Carter’s armor on a mannequin, plastic sword and shield and all. Just for a moment, I could take a breath in and pretend this was a fairy tale.

  The only problem with being confident in the decision to go solo and own it is that everyone else is caught up with their date, giggling, flirting, and tugging their strapless dresses up, which is why I wanted the whole spaghetti strap approach.

  But who came up with the rule that girls had to have dates to go to prom to have a rewarding experience?

  I wanted to know, because the date deal turned out to be a big scam. There’s the whole gigantic wrist corsage thing, and the stress of wondering if your pits smell halfway through a dance.

  But going alone wasn’t so hot either. There was the stab of jealousy and heart wrenching experience of watching a certain guy dance with another girl. I’m not going to mention any names, because it had been my choice.

  I hid among the shadows, only making an appearance here and there. I danced a few times with boys from my classes and tried not to knock them out with my huge flower. I danced alongside Elena, but Zeke and Ava always seemed to be close by. I nibbled at the appetizers, but all I could manage was sips of Sprite because the realization that I’d taken Uncle Rudie’s Porsche was not sitting well in my stomach. At all.

  By the middle of prom I was plain ole depressed. My feet hurt in the tiny heels Aunt Lulu made me wear, and it was an emotional marathon watching everyone.

  I slipped over the drawbridge and into the warm spring air. I couldn’t help but think of last spring at this time. I sat on the steps and stared up at the starry canvas, painted with my dreams, each and every little one scattered among bears, lions, and dippers. I didn’t move for quite awhile, caught up in the awe and beauty.