“Sure.” DJ waited. “What?”
“Turn away from the mirror.”
DJ did as told and waited as Grandmother clasped something cool around her neck.
“Now look in the mirror.”
“Wow!” DJ stared at the beautiful necklace. “Those look like real diamonds!”
“Those are real diamonds. And the setting is platinum.”
“Oh, Grandmother, I can’t possibly wear—”
“Yes, you can.”
“But what if I lose—”
“I checked the clasp, it’s secure. Besides, they’re insured. Now hold out your hand.” She dropped a pair of teardrop-shaped diamond earrings into DJ’s palm. “I’ll let you put these on.” Grandmother waited as DJ fiddled with the earrings, then sighed in satisfaction. “Perfection.”
DJ held out a shoe. “And it all seems to go with the Jimmy Choos that Dylan sent.”
“Just like it was planned.”
DJ smiled. “Maybe it’s because God loves a cheerful giver.”
“What’s that?”
Just then Taylor, Rhiannon, Kriti, and Casey burst into the room, and suddenly they were all oohing and aahing over DJ’s “thrown together” ensemble. No one noticed Grandmother quietly slip out the door.
“You guys look fantastic too,” DJ told them as she admired the girls’ dresses. Kriti was actually wearing an Indian sari that looked like spun gold. It had been her mother’s, and Kriti looked like an Indian princess in it. Rhiannon’s gown was varying shades of pale green with layers of fabric and ribbons and lace and beads—a real work of art. It seemed that each girl’s dress represented her perfectly. And they all looked beautiful in their own unique way.
“Where’s Eliza?” DJ asked.
“Downstairs with her mom,” Kriti informed her. “She’s afraid to see you.”
“Afraid?”
“She’s worried you’ll look like something out of the ragbag and that you’ll change your mind and demand your Marceau dress back.”
DJ laughed. “Are you kidding? I feel like a million bucks.”
“And look at this bling!” Taylor fingered the diamond necklace. “Looks like the real deal.”
DJ grinned. “It is.”
“Whoa,” said Rhiannon. “Should we hire security guards or a Brinks truck?”
“Just don’t tell anyone,” DJ warned them.
When they got downstairs, Eliza was relieved to see that DJ didn’t want her Marceau gown back. “Wow, DJ, who’s your fairy godmother?”
“It takes a village of godmothers to dress Cinderella,” Taylor joked.
Mrs. Wilton took DJ aside. “Eliza told me about what happened this afternoon.”
DJ nodded. “We have our suspicions about who’s responsible, but Eliza doesn’t want to do anything about it.”
Mrs. Wilton waved her hand in a dismissive way. “I agree with Eliza on this. There’s no sense in inviting unwanted attention.”
“I understand.”
Mrs. Wilton reached for DJ’s hand. “I just want to express how grateful I am for your generosity to Eliza.” She glanced over to where Eliza was chatting with Grandmother. “You have no idea how much that means to her…and to me. Thank you very much.”
“You’re welcome,” DJ said quietly. “But really, it all turned out fine. I mean, look at me. Rhiannon and Taylor put this together just like that.” She snapped her fingers.
“Still, you didn’t know they could do this. And I appreciate what you did.”
Before long, the guys arrived. Photos were taken, appetizers were devoured, and then they were whisked away in a stretch limo. Tonight’s catered dinner—without alcohol—was served at Lane’s house, and this time his parents were present, although they stayed in another wing of the house.
Just before the group left, the parents came down and Lane did introductions. And when he got to DJ, he informed his parents that “this was the girl who was accepted at Yale.”
Mr. Harris firmly shook DJ’s hand. “Good for you. You couldn’t have chosen a better school.”
“Except she’s not sure she’s going,” Lane said in what sounded like a challenge.
“Not going?” Mr. Harris looked stunned. “Why not?”
“I haven’t actually decided. I was a late applicant at Yale…in the meantime I was accepted at Wesleyan U.” DJ reached for Conner’s hand, grasping it and giving it a squeeze.
“Fine for a small school, I’m sure,” Mr. Harris said, “but not Yale.”
“DJ and I are going to do a day trip to campus next week,” Eliza told him. “So DJ can check it out and hopefully make up her mind.”
“Excellent plan,” Mr. Harris said. “You should take Lane for a guide. He knows his way around that campus.”
“I consider myself invited,” Lane told them. “And I’ll show you why Yale is the best university on the planet.”
And so as they rode to the prom, the great debate about college ensued again. DJ continued to hold onto Conner’s hand. She respected that he didn’t engage and that, when provoked or put down, he didn’t respond defensively. In fact, he was even able to make some pretty good jokes about the Ivy Leaguers without offending anyone. DJ appreciated that about Conner. He was one of those rare guys with both feet on the ground. And that was just one of the reasons DJ didn’t want to let him go. Did that mean she’d follow him to Wesleyan? She wasn’t sure. And as the rest of them argued about schools, DJ realized that this was a decision she’d need to place in God’s hands.
16
DJ KNEW THAT THE BEST PLACE TO FIND CATTY GIRLS on prom night (and who would want to?) was in the ladies’ room. But that wasn’t why she went there. She wanted to make a quick adjustment to her bra, which for some reason kept slipping around while she was dancing. And being a confident girl, she didn’t drag any of her friends off the dance floor to go with her either. So she was in the stall with her dress half off, tightening the back of her bra, when she heard a bunch of noisy girls come in. She knew right off that it was Madison and her followers, and for that reason she moved to the far corner of the stall and remained still.
“Eliza thinks she’s going to be prom queen,” one of the girls said. It sounded like Jolene. “You can tell by the way she’s acting. All smug and superior.”
“She always acts like that,” Madison said lightly. “All the Carter House girls belong to the same stuck-up snot club.”
“Where do you think Eliza got that dress?” Tina’s voice sounded suspicious. “Everyone’s talking about how great she looks.”
“I heard someone at the punch table say it’s a Dylan Marceau original,” Jolene told them.
“We knew that Taylor and DJ were supposed to wear Marceau dresses tonight,” Madison said.
“Maybe he made one for Eliza too,” Tina suggested.
“Then why wasn’t it in her room?” Madison seethed.
“Maybe she hid it in one of her friends’ closets,” Jolene said.
“I should’ve hit all their closets while I had the chance.” Madison’s voice was quiet but mean.
Tina laughed. “It would’ve been funny to see if they all could’ve come up with a last-minute gown.”
DJ burst out of the stall. Her dress was still half off-half on, but she didn’t care. “You guys totally stepped over the line today.” She kept her voice calm as she slipped her arms into her dress and then pulled it up, reaching awkwardly behind her to zip up the back. “You went too far.”
The three girls stared at her as if she were an apparition. Then Madison seemed to recover. “What do you mean, DJ?” she asked in a saccharine voice. “What are you talking about?”
DJ looked into the mirror, watching the three girls’ reflections off to her side as she continued to adjust her dress. She smoothed down the gauzy fabric, then checked to make sure her diamonds were still intact. “You know exactly what I mean,” she said coolly. She turned and looked Madison right in the eyes. “Eliza is wearing my dress tonight. Because
you ruined hers. And not only her prom dress, but her entire wardrobe.”
“Eliza’s whole wardrobe is ruined?” Tina asked with what seemed genuine curiosity.
“Says DJ,” Madison retorted.
“And FYI, girls, Eliza’s wardrobe was worth thousands of dollars—which might make your little vandalism act fall into the felony category.”
Madison looked slightly surprised, but said nothing.
“And you may be interested to know that my grandmother is not a bit pleased about it.”
“What are you talking about?” Madison put on her best innocent face and her fidgeting friends attempted to imitate her. “How can I possibly be responsible for ruining Eliza’s wardrobe? This is ridiculous.”
“Don’t play stupid.” DJ reached into her little beaded bag, one that Rhiannon had loaned her from her retro collection, and retrieved her lip gloss, taking her time to apply it and blot it with a paper towel. Then she dropped the lip gloss back into the bag and pulled out her cell phone and held it up. “It’s all right here.”
“What?” demanded Madison.
“The little confession you just made.” DJ knew she was stretching things a bit, but Madison didn’t know that. The truth was it was all right there in her head. If they wanted to think she’d taped their conversation on her phone, let them.
Madison stepped toward DJ. “Why don’t you just hand that over to me,” she said quietly. Her eyes looked serious.
DJ closed the phone and considered dropping it back into her bag, but worried they might grab the bag and run. So she dropped her phone down the bodice of her dress.
“Clever,” Madison said in a chilly tone. “Jolene, you go block the door so no one can come in here.”
DJ feigned a laugh. “Seriously, what are you going to do, Madison? Do you plan on mugging me in the ladies’ restroom with all our friends within shouting distance?”
“Madison?” Tina’s voice sounded concerned. “We should just go.”
Madison continued to approach DJ with a menacing expression.
“Madison,” DJ warned her, “you do know that I’m an athletic girl, don’t you? I mean, I work out, I do sports…and you don’t. Are you sure you want to try to take me? I’d hate to hurt you.”
“Madison!” Tina’s voice was louder. “What are you doing?”
“I want that phone!”
DJ looked at Tina. “I think Madison is losing it, Tina. Maybe you should get her out of here and see if you can get her some professional help.”
“Give me that phone, DJ!”
DJ stood straighter now. “If you girls will excuse me, I’m sure my friends are missing me by now.” She locked eyes with Madison as she began to walk toward her. DJ was prepared to be tackled, but she felt confident she could hold her own, and if all else failed she would simply scream for help.
“Let us in,” came girls’ voices from where Jolene was attempting to barricade the door. “Quit blocking the door!”
Suddenly several girls, including Daisy and Monica, burst into the bathroom. “What’s the matter with you, Jolene?” Madison asked.
“Hey, DJ.” Daisy glanced around curiously. “What’s going on here anyway?”
“Madison was just threatening to steal my cell phone,” DJ announced loudly enough for everyone to hear.
“Huh?” Daisy looked confused.
“Come on, Madison,” Tina urged. “Let’s go.”
Daisy walked over to DJ. “Seriously?”
“I overheard them talking about something they aren’t very proud of,” DJ said. “But, don’t worry, it’s under control.”
“Are you sure?” Daisy looked concerned. “It looked like they were trying to take you out—three against one?”
DJ chuckled. “I’ll let you know if I need help.”
“Yeah, between you and me, we could take ‘em.” Daisy grinned.
DJ hoped it wouldn’t come to that. But at the same time, she really did not want to see Madison get away with this. Despite Mrs. Wilton and Eliza’s desire to keep the vandalism under wraps, it seemed that Madison needed some kind of consequence.
“Hey, what took you so long?” Conner asked when she rejoined him.
“Can you keep a secret?”
His eyes lit up. “Sure. What is it?”
She led him back to a quiet corner and told him the whole story. “Can you believe that?”
“No way!”
She shook her head in unbelief. “I know. It sounds like I’m making it up. But it’s all true.”
“Want me to hold onto your cell phone for you?”
She chuckled. “Well, it really doesn’t have their conversation on it.”
“But they don’t know that.”
“Okay.” She turned toward the wall and fished the phone out of her dress, then turned back and handed it to him. “Thanks.”
“It’s still warm.” He grinned.
“So…anyway, I’m kind of stymied.”
“If Eliza and her mother don’t want the police involved, it doesn’t seem like there’s much you can do. Well, besides making them uncomfortable.”
DJ nodded. “And that’s worth something.”
“Eliza seems to be having a great time tonight.” Conner nodded toward the dance floor where Eliza and Lane were dancing. “It was cool that you let her wear your dress, DJ.” He turned and looked back at her. “But if you’d told me you were wearing the designer original and Eliza’s dress was from Target, I wouldn’t have known the difference. The truth is, I think you’re the most beautiful girl here.”
She laughed. “Thanks. Now let’s get back out there and I’ll see how uncomfortable I can make Madison. I want to see her squirm.”
“What if she wins tonight?” he asked as they walked toward the dance floor. “Would you say anything?”
DJ frowned. “What would I say?”
“I don’t know…”
“You and me both.”
DJ noticed Casey and Emery out on the dance floor again. Casey was actually laughing and smiling. It seemed that for one evening, she had forgotten about her condition. Or else she was putting on a good show for Emery’s benefit. Either way, DJ was happy for her.
When it came time for the coronation, thankfully Madison did not win the crown. But neither did Eliza. It was Haley who was honored as prom queen. Although DJ felt sorry for Eliza, she was happy for Haley. And to everyone’s surprise, as they drove home, Eliza confessed that she didn’t mind losing that much.
“Oh, I’ll admit it stung a little at first,” she told them. “But then I thought about all my friends—I mean you guys—and I thought about how much we’ve been through this year and how patient you’ve all been with me and how you all campaigned for me even when I was in Louisville having a breakdown.” She chuckled. “And I remembered all the times I’ve acted like a spoiled brat, and I just thought to myself, I’ve already won something a lot better than a prom queen crown.”
They all clapped and cheered.
“Thank you.” Eliza held up the smaller coronet that had been awarded to the second-place winner. “Besides, I’m still a princess!”
“At least you beat Madison,” Casey said.
DJ was bursting to reveal what she’d overheard in the restroom, but knew Eliza wouldn’t appreciate her closet ordeal being made public. And, really, it could wait. Besides, DJ wished she could come up with some kind of plan that would bring justice for everyone—quietly. There had to be a way to make Madison pay restitution for what she’d done. DJ decided to talk to Grandmother about it tomorrow.
17
“I’M NOT SURE THERE’S VERY MUCH WE CAN DO, DJ,” Grandmother told her Sunday afternoon. DJ had just replayed the prom restroom scene and Grandmother was still shaking her head in amazement.
“You mean because Mrs. Wilton and Eliza want it kept quiet?”
“Yes. Although I will certainly give Miss Dormont her walking papers when it comes to the fashion show.” She made a tsk-tsk sound. �
�Other than that, it feels that my hands are tied. You don’t have any actual evidence. Even if you did, we can’t get the law involved.”
“But I wish there was a way to make Madison suffer a little.” DJ was pacing in Grandmother’s suite. “It seems like she should at least learn a lesson. It’s not like this is the first time she’s gotten away with something either. We’re pretty sure she’s the one who slandered Eliza online, but we can’t prove it. Anyway, she just needs a little wake-up call.”
“Being excluded from the fashion show is—”
“Something more than that.” DJ sat down and looked at Grandmother. “Shouldn’t she have to pay for her crime? Do public service or something?”
“The Wiltons won’t be interested in any restitution…if that’s what you mean.”
“Maybe Madison should be forced to donate the amount of what she destroyed to charity? Don’t the fashion show proceeds go to the Boys and Girls Clubs?”
“Yes…” Grandmother grew thoughtful. “I know they’d happily take any donations. But I’m not sure that Madison could afford the value of Eliza’s clothes. Out of curiosity I did a quick inventory when I shot the photos. The total was rather staggering.”
“I can imagine.” DJ stood. “What if we got Eliza to agree to confront Madison, out of court…privately…and demand that Madison donate the amount of damage to the Boys and Girls Clubs—either in money or in volunteer work?”
Grandmother smiled. “Why DJ, that’s an excellent idea.”
“And it might do Madison some good to see how other people struggle,” DJ continued. “It might remind her that she’s got it pretty good even if she didn’t get crowned prom queen.”
Grandmother was writing something down. “Now, DJ, you don’t need to get into the middle of this little skirmish. I’ll speak to my attorney and Mrs. Wilton and I’ll handle the situation from here. The less involved you can be, the better it will probably go. And if I need you as a witness, I’ll let you know.”
“But you’ll let me know how it’s going?” DJ asked as she was leaving.
“If and when there is news, I will keep you apprised. But it may take some time. After all, this is a busy week with the fashion show preparations and all. But in due time, DJ, Madison will get her comeuppance.”
Last Dance Page 13
