I grabbed an empty seat in the middle of the theater. I skimmed the program for Kenyetta’s name and saw that she was performing four different times, one of them as a soloist.
The lights over the audience went down, and the stage lights came on. There was an introduction from the ballet instructor talking about the kids and their progress. She finished her speech, and the curtain raised to begin the show. The first group contained a bunch of three-year-olds in pink tutus and pigtails, and it was one of the cutest things I’d ever seen.
Then things took a turn for the boring. It was probably different if you were the parent and it was your child, but I was slowly losing the will to live.
Finally, it was Kenyetta’s turn. She danced with three other girls in some complicated routine where they held hands and did really fancy footwork. I’d seen her dance around plenty of times in tutoring, but I had no idea she was this good.
Not just good. Phenomenal.
It made me sad that her dad couldn’t be here to see her.
About twenty minutes later, Kenyetta walked onto the stage for her solo. She wore a red leotard and a matching gauzy thigh-length skirt. She struck a pose, and the music started. And it took all my willpower not to stand up in my chair and chant her name. She flew from one end of the stage to the other. There was so much elegance, power, and grace in her movements. Such beauty. Artistry.
I knew that someday I’d be watching this girl performing professionally.
When her dance ended, I did jump to my feet and yell “Brava! Brava!” as loudly as I could. And I wasn’t the only one in the audience who did. She curtsied gracefully and waved to the crowd with a huge smile. I wondered if she could see me, but I figured she couldn’t because of the lights.
She had her two other numbers, where she was every bit as good as she already had been. The show finished, and all the ballerinas came onstage to take their final bows and soak up all the applause. My voice felt a little hoarse from all the cheering I was doing.
People approached the stage and handed the girls bouquets of flowers. I groaned. I didn’t know about the flowers thing, or I would have stopped and picked some up for her on the way.
Guess I had to hope me being here would be good enough.
I made my way into the aisle and watched Kenyetta as she exited the stage. I waved both of my hands over my head and called her name. She ran up the aisle toward me, throwing her arms around my waist.
“You were so good! Seriously, so, so good. And you know I’d tell you if you were terrible. But you are gifted. So talented. You are going to be an amazing ballerina someday. And you’re right. You totally shouldn’t worry about math. Just keep dancing!”
I probably shouldn’t have said the math thing, but I was so excited for her and how amazing she was at ballet.
“Yes, you were very, very good.” A woman’s voice sounded behind Kenyetta, and I looked up to see Bahati.
And I was much happier seeing her here than the last time I’d seen her. While she was hugging my boyfriend.
“Hey, I didn’t know you were coming!” I said with a smile, but from the grumpy expression on Kenyetta’s face, it looked like she didn’t know either and wasn’t happy about it.
“Your father told me he wouldn’t be able to make it, and he was so disappointed. I would have driven you, but he said you were getting a ride from one of your friends. So I came down early to get a seat in the front row so that I could film the whole thing for him. I was hoping that later tonight the three of us could watch it together.”
“That would be okay,” Kenyetta said, shrugging.
Bahati grinned and then handed her a bouquet of pink roses. I was so glad somebody got the memo.
“Did you know that I used to dance ballet?”
“You did?” Kenyetta’s eyes got bigger.
Bahati nodded. “I dislocated my knee when I was fourteen, and the doctors said I couldn’t dance any longer. That was when I decided to go into medicine. So that I could help other people.”
There probably wasn’t anything better she could have said. It was as if I could see the ice surrounding Kenyetta begin to melt.
“I was also wondering if you might like to get some ice cream?” Bahati asked as Kenyetta nodded eagerly. “You’re welcome to join us, Mattie.”
“Oh, I can’t. I have to go home and get ready for my prom. But you two go and have a great time!”
Kenyetta gestured toward the stage. “I just need to go grab my stuff and tell Averie’s mom that I won’t need a ride home.”
“I’ll wait here for you,” Bahati said. She had so much hope in her eyes that I wished for Kenyetta to keep being responsive and accepting. And that she would give this poor woman, who was trying so hard, a chance.
“Her favorite is rocky road,” I said, attempting to give her a leg up. Bahati nodded and thanked me.
Kenyetta returned, carrying a large bag over her shoulder.
That was my cue to leave. “I have to get going. You two have fun.”
“You have fun tonight, too! At your dance! And thank you for coming,” she told me, giving me one last hug. Which I allowed. I waved to them both as I left the theater.
And they were smiling. At each other.
I took that as an excellent sign.
Admittedly, I was just as sad about leaving Kenyetta as she was about me going. It did my heart good to know that she’d be in such excellent hands after I left for school in the fall.
But right now . . . I had a prom to get ready for.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
As I closed the garage door, my phone beeped. It was a text from Jake. I was already smiling before I had even opened it.
Pick you up in an hour?
I texted him back some emojis with the hearts for eyes and said:
Sounds good. Can’t wait.
Which meant he had only an hour left to pull off his promposal. I wondered how he was going to manage that, especially since I needed to get ready.
“Is that Jake? When is he coming?”
I nearly jumped out of my skin. Ella could have been a freaking ninja if she wanted to be. “He says he’ll be here in an hour.”
“An hour?” Much as she had yesterday, Ella pounced on me. I had only a second to notice the rollers in her hair and her totally made-up face before she said, “We’re running out of time! Let’s go!”
She shoved me into the bathroom and told me to take a shower and blow-dry my hair. I did as I was told, knowing better than to mess with my sister when she was this fired up. I stayed in the soothing hot water of the shower until Ella started banging on the door. Hard. “Come on, Mattie!”
Oh, she was serious. She was calling me Mattie. That meant she had entered the I’m-not-screwing-around portion of the evening. I got out of the shower, put on my robe, and towel-dried my hair. I then used her hairdryer to get the rest of the moisture out.
Apparently deciding my time was up, Ella opened the door and told me I was finished. She dragged me down the hall to her bedroom and had me sit in at her vanity table.
“Up or down?”
The world? A little bit of both at the moment. “What?”
“Do you want your hair up or down?”
I didn’t care, but I sensed that saying so would be wrong. “You choose.”
“Up. Definitely up. That way it shows off your back and you won’t get too hot while you’re dancing. Having sweaty hair stick to your neck is the worst.”
She ran her brush through my hair, gathering it up into a big ponytail. I kind of lost interest as she started curling the ends and using bobby pins to loop them under. The final effect was pretty, but I didn’t dare say anything to the currently muttering Ella.
She tackled my makeup next. I got eye shadow, blush, powder, eyeliner, mascara, the works. Makeup wasn’t really my thing, but I decided not to say anything while she wielded sharp objects dangerously close to my eyeballs.
She handed me some tissue and instructed me to blot
.
Then she sprayed me with glitter.
That was a step too far.
“I don’t need to be bedazzled!” But all my protest got me was a mouthful of the stuff. It tasted terrible. I studied my reflection. “I look like one of those candy strippers sneezed on me.”
“Striper. And it looks great. Now go get changed while I finish up in here.”
Ella had made me all beautiful, like she did for every dance we went to. It always gave me an extra little boost of confidence. And much as I knew Jake enjoyed it, one of my favorite things about him was that he thought I was just as beautiful without all this stuff on my face.
He loved me for me.
I couldn’t believe how close I’d come to totally forgetting that.
As I looked at my prom dress, now hanging on my closet door, a thought occurred to me.
“Ella?” I yelled.
“What?”
“How am I supposed to wear a bra in this thing?”
“You’re not!” she shouted.
That made me go back into her room. “Are you serious?”
She was sitting at her vanity table, pulling the rollers out of her hair. “Yes. I’m serious.”
“I don’t really let the girls go free range.”
“First time for everything,” she said. “I put lining in there for you, which should help. I also have these cup things you can use where you stick them onto your skin to keep your boobs in place.”
“And how do you get them back off?” I asked, alarmed.
Her expression told me all I needed to know. Free range, it was. “What if I have a wardrobe malfunction?”
At that, she rolled her eyes and sighed. I really was rubbing off on her. “You won’t. And even if you did, it would make the prom super memorable. Which is what you want, right?”
Time-crunched Ella was no fun. I retreated back to my room and finished getting ready. “What shoes should I wear?” I hollered.
She came into my room, totally ready and looking much calmer. Her hair hung in perfect soft ringlets so that when the sun hit her hair, it made her look like she was glowing. “You’ve got those black heels you can use. It would have been better if we’d gone out and bought you, like, a pair of strappy silver sandals, but it totally slipped my mind that you don’t have a lot of appropriate shoes.”
Having big feet was kind of a hindrance to owning cute shoes. I found the heels in the back of my closet. “Got ’em! And it doesn’t really matter. I’ll just kick them off when we get there so that I can dance.”
She nodded. “Jake’s boutonniere is in the fridge, FYI. Deacon’s going to be here any minute.” She put a lipstick in my hand. “This is your color.”
“Wait, you got a boutonniere for me?”
“Don’t get too excited,” she said, giving me a silver clutch to put the lipstick and my phone in. “I just grabbed them from the grocery store. But the guys are not going to care.”
She was right.
The doorbell rang, and Ella let out a shaky breath. I realized she was actually nervous. “Deacon’s a good-looking guy,” I commented nonchalantly.
“Yes, he’s hot, and yes, I’ve noticed, and yes, it’s kind of freaking me out a little.”
“That just makes it more fun.”
She seemed to agree as she grinned at me.
“Ella?” my dad called out. He had insisted on inspecting our dates, but we had vetoed him interrogating the guys. He settled on answering the door when they came, figuring that would be enough of a show of force to make them behave.
I followed behind her and saw my dad standing there, arms folded, sporting a frown. Deacon didn’t seem even a little intimidated, which was probably helped by the fact that he had at least an inch on my father.
That, and all his attention was focused on Ella. “You look amazing.”
“Thanks. So do you.”
“We need pictures!” Jennifer declared, and started documenting Deacon and Ella’s entire interaction. Deacon opened up the plastic box and slid the wrist corsage onto Ella’s arm. She took her boutonniere and pinned it to the lapel of his tuxedo. They were so cute.
Her date wasn’t what she had originally wanted, but I could see that she was happy and excited. It was still good even if it was different.
Like me and my promposal. Because Jake was due to arrive any minute, and there was no way he was going to be able to ask me before the actual dance. I wasn’t getting a promposal, and I had really wanted one, but I was going to spend the night dancing in the arms of my adorable boyfriend. Which was even better than “still good.”
Then Jennifer had Deacon and Ella stand together and put their arms around each other while she took picture after picture with her camera. Like she was a professional or something and couldn’t use her phone like any other parent would.
“Okay, I think we’re good!” Ella finally decided, which got Jennifer to stop acting like they were models in Jennifer’s photo shoot. I sighed because I knew my turn was coming.
We told them good night and waved and watched as Deacon took her out to the waiting limo. “Good thing he brought that instead of the horse.”
“Why would he bring a horse?” my dad asked, sounding super confused.
“Never mind. I’ll be in my room.”
Since we lived in a one-story home, we didn’t have a staircase. Which I found especially devastating considering I couldn’t have a 1980s movie-worthy prom dramatic reveal. So I’d settled for walking slowly down the hallway to the front door so that Jake could admire me.
I’d been in my room for only a few minutes when I heard the doorbell. My heart leaped with excitement.
My prom was about to officially begin.
Well, not technically, since there was at least another hour before the prom doors officially opened, but I guessed that Jake had made reservations for dinner somewhere, and that would count as part of the whole prom experience.
“Uh, Mattie? I think the door’s for you.”
My dad still sounded confused. Maybe I should have explained the horse comment.
I grabbed my clutch, gave myself the once-over in my mirror, and then headed down the hallway. Slowly. Like I was a bride marching down the aisle.
My father stood in the doorway, blocking Jake and ruining the entire effect. With a sigh, I began to walk normally and put my hand on Dad’s shoulder to move him to one side. “You’re totally killing my . . . oh my Buddha.”
I actually felt my jaw hit the floor.
Because it wasn’t Jake standing at my front door.
It was the only person in the whole world who might possibly be better than him.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Hello. I was told to find the most beautiful girl in the world at this address, so I’m guessing that you must be Mattie. I’m here to ask if you’d make Jake’s life Some Kind of Wonderful and go with him to the prom.”
My mouth refused to cooperate and form sound.
“Blink twice if that’s a yes.”
I settled for nodding.
“Great! That means these are all for you.”
There, on my front porch, stood John Hughes’s redheaded muse. The actress who had starred in my all-time favorite movies. “You’re . . . you’re . . . Mol . . . Mol . . . Mol . . .”
Ignoring my inability to finish words, she smiled and handed me a massive bouquet of white roses, and with shaking arms, I took them.
This could not be happening. I passed the flowers over to Jennifer, and I saw that both she and my dad were just as stunned as I was.
“And here.”
Then she gave me several DVDs that she had autographed. They had just become my most prized possessions.
“I heard you were a fan,” she said.
That was a bit of an understatement. I again nodded enthusiastically and then immediately stopped. I kept telling myself, Don’t be weird. Don’t be weird. Don’t be weird. But the rest of me didn’t seem to be getting the message.
I gave my DVDs to my father and followed behind the actress. Dad and Jennifer, still in shock, stood in the doorway and watched us go.
“Your dress is pretty,” she told me.
“My sister made it out of another dress.” Just like in Pretty in Pink. Only I didn’t say that part because of the celebrity-induced daze I was currently in.
The driver held the back door of the limo open, and I crawled inside after the actress. “Your boyfriend must really love you.”
“Yeah” was all I could manage. She was right. Jake did love me, and he did get how important this promposal was to me, and he’d given me the most amazing, perfect one in the entire universe.
This actress owed her career to John Hughes. Because he’d seen something special in her and made her a star. It was something I could relate to on a very personal level—Jake had seen something special in me and made me feel like a star.
After a few more minutes of her trying to make me feel comfortable, it finally worked. My tongue loosened, and I was able to ask her questions about her experiences. She told me funny behind-the-scenes stories and had me either laughing or being completely in awe of her for the entire ride.
“Did you want to take a selfie?” she asked, and I realized then that nobody had taken any pictures of us together. Jennifer had really dropped the ball. And I definitely wanted photographic evidence. I fumbled with the button on my clutch and finally wrangled my phone free. Rather wisely, she took the camera and took several pictures. My hands probably would have shaken too hard to have a single clear shot.
“And . . . we’re here. Enjoy your prom!”
“Thank you. I’m so glad I got to meet you. You’re my favorite actress ever. Ever.”
She laughed as the driver opened the door for me. “Have a good night, Mattie!”
I stood on the sidewalk and watched as the limo pulled away from the curb. It was then that I realized I was not at Victor Kim’s house. In fact, I’d been so caught up in my conversation that it hadn’t registered that we’d been driving for a long time.
The Promposal Page 15
