Freshman Year & Other Unnatural Disasters Page 18

  “Hmph.” I scowl, unconvinced. I hold up a relatively plain, long violet dress. “How about this?”

  “I think that’s a nightgown,” Em whispers, doing a weird thing with her eyes. I look in the direction she’s indicating and see a saleslady sneering at us from across the store. Terrific. Just what I need—a hovering Loehmann’s employee. I put the nightgown back on the rack.

  “Em, I know you miss him. And I’m glad he apologized … but now what happens?”

  “Well, he asked for another chance and swore he wouldn’t hurt me again. He wants to make plans to see each other before the summer.”

  “Em …”

  “He’s matured a lot in the last six months!”

  “He’s fourteen—how much could he have matured? Has his voice even changed yet?”

  “Actually, yes.” Em blushes. “And he’s fifteen now, anyway. We Skyped last night. For, like, two hours. It was so nice….”

  She trails off, smiling dreamily at an absolutely hideous one-shouldered affair, which apparently retails for $1800. She looks so happy. And why shouldn’t she be happy? She’s the nicest person on the planet, for crying out loud. I decide to be happy for her. But this James guy better watch it—I’ll take him out if he disappoints her again, and that’s a fact.

  “This is the one!” Em cries, holding up a dress. I cover my eyes and peer through my fingers like she’s showing me a scary movie. I’m ready to be horrified. And it’s … actually, it’s not awful at all. It’s a silky fabric in a pretty sky blue color, with a scooped neckline, spaghetti straps, and an empire waist. I check the tag. Within the budget! I seriously can’t believe I found a normal dress at Loehmann’s. And no one will know where it came from but me, Em, and my mother’s credit card company.

  What feels like a thousand hours later, Em and I get back to my house. I’ve got a dress, shoes, a necklace, and a headache. Em has six new texts from James and a happy heart. Success all around.

  We haul ourselves up to my room and I hang the dress in the closet. It really is very nice, and I actually like how I look in it. Maybe prom will turn out to be fun?

  My phone rings, and it’s JoJo. “What’re you up to?” she asks.

  “Em and I just got back to my house. I got a dress!”

  “Awesome. Can Cass and I come over? We’re bored.”

  “Yeah, of course. See you soon.”

  I hang up and find Em texting away. “You aren’t going to start this again, are you? Make yourself unavailable! He hasn’t earned your undivided attention back,” I remonstrate.

  “You’re right!” she says, snapping the phone shut and stuffing it in her bag. She flops onto the floor, stretching out. “I love shopping! I’m so glad we found you something. Do you think maybe you and Josh will hook up?”

  “Ugh, I don’t know. I haven’t had the best luck in that department so far this year, as you may recall. Two total failures in the makeout department,” I sigh, sitting next her on the carpet. “And don’t bad things happen in threes? Maybe I shouldn’t chance it.”

  “I dunno, Kels. It is prom. Very romantic.”

  “I wish you and Cass and JoJo were going to be there, too. I mean, I love Lexi, but she’ll be with Robby and I won’t really know anyone else except Jill from the play and, of course, Julie Nelson. And she’ll probably chuck her dinner roll at me.”

  “Well, if she’s as lousy at baseball as she is at soccer, you’re safe.”

  “Good point.”

  “Ben will be there,” Em says, rolling over and batting her eyelashes at me.

  “Don’t you start! Lexi is bad enough. I don’t know where you guys get this stuff from. I don’t even know the guy, and he has a girlfriend … and there’s something sketchy about him, anyway. There is no reason for you to bug me about him!”

  “Well, there wouldn’t be … except you totally like him. It’s so obvious.”

  “How can it be obvious? You’ve never even seen us in the same room together—and no, a hallway doesn’t count. And he walked in on me at one of the worst moments of my life. And he’s totally conceited. And—”

  “Methinks you protest too much!” JoJo announces, sashaying through my bedroom door.

  “That’s not the line.” Cass follows behind her.

  “Whatever.” JoJo sticks her tongue out at Cass. Cass returns the favor.

  “Very mature, ladies.” Em giggles. The girls throw their stuff in the corner and pull up some floor space.

  “The point is,” JoJo continues, “I saw you talking to him at rehearsal. He pushes your buttons. You love that.”

  “My mom pushes my buttons, and I hate it.”

  “So not the same thing,” Cass says. “I think he likes you back. Otherwise, why would he go out of his way to flirt with you all the time?”

  “Teasing is not always flirting—”

  JoJo jumps in. “He gave you that newspaper with your picture from the awards thing—that means he was thinking about you. Even if it turned out, uh—”

  “Horrifying?” I suggest.

  “—less than desirable,” JoJo says. “He meant it nicely. I mean, he told you that.”

  “Yeah, right before he brought up the Sam thing! And this was all weeks ago, anyway. Totally irrelevant. I’ve barely seen him since then.”

  Okay, that’s not totally true. I’ve run into him in the hall at school a bunch of times, but I always find an excuse to escape when he starts a conversation. I just get so flustered around him.

  “You guys are bonkers. Besides, even if he did like me, which he doesn’t—and have we forgotten about his girlfriend, by the way?—I don’t like him back. He’s … too … you know. Something annoying,” I sum up grandly.

  “Kels. Come on. You can tell us! I think we’ve all learned this year,” JoJo says, raising her eyebrow at Cass, who blushes, “that honesty is the best policy. Right?”

  Em and I exchange a look. Was that a meaningful segue or not? I prepare myself to be extremely supportive just in case. I say, “Of course. We should all feel completely able to tell each other anything. If it’s true, that is,” I add (just to clarify that I’m not talking about Ben).

  “Definitely. What’s the point otherwise?” Cass agrees. She gives me a smile.

  “Well, James and I made up. So … that happened,” Em volunteers, getting the ball rolling. Cass and JoJo gasp excitedly, and Em fills them in on the details.

  Then: “So … since we’re in sharing mode, I actually wanted to talk to you guys about something,” JoJo says tentatively.

  Oh my God. Is she going to come out to us? Finally? Should we act surprised or go straight for the supportive thing?

  “You’ve probably noticed I haven’t been around so much lately,” she goes on, “and I wanted to explain that, um … well, it’s not because I don’t want to hang with you guys. Obviously.”

  “Obviously!” Em squeaks. JoJo gives her an odd look. I give her a surreptitious poke.

  “So … yeah, anyway, I’ve just kind of been dealing with some, um … See, this year I realized that—well, actually I didn’t realize, I just, um … Well, okay. I met this—”

  The door suddenly swings open and bangs against the wall. Travis, in her ridiculous Annie costume, is standing there with her hands on her hips. “Mom wants to know how many people are staying for dinner, because we’re having pizza!”

  I scramble to my feet and haul her out of the doorway and into the hall. She starts shrieking immediately.

  “Mom!” I holler as I stomp down the stairs, still dragging Travis. “Can you please not let her come barging into my room like that? Is it too much to ask for some privacy in my own house?”

  My mother comes out of the kitchen drying her hands on a dishcloth. “First of all, this is my house, not yours—so yes, it is. Second, let go of your sister.” She looks over at Travis. “And you: stop being a pest.”

  I release Travis, who makes a dash for the TV room. “Mom. Seriously? You guys couldn’t have stoppe
d at one? For the world’s sake, if not mine?” I turn, disgusted, and head back up the stairs. “We’re four for dinner,” I call over my shoulder. “And no olives!”

  I get back to my room and slam the door. Dealing with this family is beyond my capabilities, honestly. I may soon be unable to soldier on.

  Unfortunately, the intense conversation window has clearly closed now. I sit back down with the girls and apologize for the interruption, but JoJo waves it aside and says it was no big deal. Stupid Travis! If JoJo’s budding sexuality is stunted by the antics of a part-time Annie, I will have to behead her.

  “Okay, you guys!” I say, trying to break the tension. “We’re getting pizza! And … I’m going to prom with Josh, um, Something, who is a cute and available junior that I might feel like making out with! Let’s talk about him, shall we?”

  So we do.

  37

  I may not make it to prom after all. I might be in jail for killing my mother. She is driving me up the wall, into the sky, onto the sun, and out of the solar system.

  She refused to let me get ready at Lexi’s house, even though now she has to drive me there so the limo doesn’t have to make an extra stop. She insisted that she wanted to see me all dressed up and have a real “mother-daughter” moment. I finally acquiesced, since it took me a whole day already to explain to her why my date was meeting me at Lexi’s and not picking me up in a horse and carriage like in the olden days.

  She did let me go to a salon with Lexi to get my hair done this afternoon at least. She drew the line at fabulous blond highlights, though, which was Typical Lame Parent Behavior as far as I’m concerned. But my hair does look really good—the guy blew it out super-straight and it feels really swingy and full. I just hope it doesn’t get all stringy before I even get there from repeated hair-flipping on my part. I just can’t help it!

  So now I’m made up, bejeweled, heeled, dressed, and ready to go. I think I look good. I hope Josh thinks so. I mean, this is kind of a “take it or leave it” situation for him, but it would be great if he didn’t puke when he saw me heading his way. I don’t think the old self-esteem could handle that, frankly.

  Deep breath. I grab the silk wrap and beaded clutch Mom lent me and head down to the living room. I practically fall down the stairs when my dad blinds me with his camera but manage not to end up in a heap at the foot of the staircase. A neck brace would really not complete my ensemble.

  “Oh, Kelsey … you look like a WOMAN!” my mother exclaims. Gross. Can we not say things like that in front of Dad, please? Or at all?

  “Thanks, Mom. So … can we go?”

  “Just a few more pictures—and you’d better get some with your date! I still can’t believe he didn’t come over here to introduce himself, by the way. When I was your age—”

  “Right, yes, I know. But seriously, things have changed since the invention of electricity. So … can we wrap this up?”

  “Watch it, Kelsey. Just because I’m glowing with maternal pride at the moment doesn’t mean I can’t ground you for the rest of your life starting right now.”

  Argh. Where is my Typical Adolescent leeway when I need it most?

  “Sorry, but I’m nervous! My hair might get stringy. And I don’t want to be late.”

  “Come on, honey, you look terrific,” my dad says, hauling out a scary camera attachment that will probably burn my skin off. “Just a couple more pics, huh? Stand with your mom over there near the mantel.”

  Sigh.

  A hundred years later, we finally leave. Miraculously, my mother gets an emergency phone call from my sister just as we pull up to Lexi’s house. Apparently, she can’t find her Annie costume (could someone have hidden it behind the washing machine? I wonder …) and Mom is therefore unable to hang around and embarrass me in front of my date. Pity, that.

  Josh looks really cute in his tux. He stands by stoically with Robby while Lexi and I hug and shriek over each other’s outfits. Lexi, in a strapless silvery sheath of a gown and her hair curled halfway down her back, looks like she just wandered off the cover of Elle. But I actually feel pretty good about myself tonight, even in comparison.

  “You look nice,” Josh says. His voice is much deeper than I expected, which is a tad disconcerting. I don’t know if I’m prepared to slow dance with Voldemort tonight.

  “Thanks. And thanks for inviting me, by the way,” I say breezily, like this is the fifth prom I’ve been to this month. I even manage to pin on the boutonniere my mother insisted I bring for him without stabbing either of us. Success!

  “You guys want some champagne?” Lexi asks, holding up an open bottle.

  “Nah, I’m sticking with herbal tonight,” Josh says. He pulls a little ceramic pipe that looks like a regular cigarette from the inside pocket of his coat jacket. “It’s a one-hitter,” he explains when he sees me looking. “You want? I’ve got plenty.”

  “Uh, no, thanks, I’m fine with—”

  “Josh, you can’t smoke that in my house!” Lexi interjects. “My parents will freak if they smell it. Anyway, I don’t want my dress to reek of pot.”

  “Fine, whatever. I can wait till we get there.” Josh tucks the little pipe back in his jacket. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his tuxedo pants and rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, staring at the ceiling. Then he gazes at the floor for a while. Is he already high, or is he just really boring? Or both? I sip my champagne and smother a giggle when Lexi rolls her eyes at me.

  Robby downs his champagne in one gulp and sets the glass on the coffee table. “So … should we head?”

  “Wait! I promised my mom I’d get a picture of all of us!” I grab my digital camera from my purse. One plus about being with guys who barely speak: I don’t bother feeling dumb when I say dorky things about pictures for my mom. Who cares?

  Lexi’s dad comes in and takes pictures of the four of us in every combination possible. My mother will be simply delighted with the shots of me and Josh (who I’ve now discerned is definitely somewhat stoned as well as dumber than a box of hair) standing awkwardly next to each other. Then we pile into the limo, stop to pick up the rest of our group—two other guys from the lacrosse team and their dates—and head to the dance.

  When we pull up to the hotel, it’s totally gorgeous and all lit up and I start to get really excited and nervous for no particular reason. The guys flash our invitations to the doormen and we go up in the elevator, exiting into a beautiful ballroom all decorated in black and white. (It’s not until later that I realize the theme is actually “The Intrigue of Chess,” which is weird and makes no sense at all. Who was on this prom committee, anyway? And what could the rejected suggestions possibly have been? Bunions? Gang Warfare? But I digress.) We find our table, put down our wraps, and Lexi and I head for the bathroom immediately to check our makeup. Of course, when we get there, it’s full of girls.

  “Lex,” I say quietly. “You didn’t tell me Josh was a total pothead! If I go home smelling like weed, my mother will actually kill me. Not like yours—but real, actual death.”

  “I know, sorry—they sort of all are, and I forgot you don’t smoke. But he won’t do it here. I mean, there are teachers and stuff! He’s a bit dim, but not that dumb.” Lexi whips out some shimmery lip gloss and a little brush and starts applying it carefully.

  “Yeah, about that—”

  “Oh my God. How did you get in here?” I turn and there she is—Ms. Julie Nelson herself, surrounded by her friends. Of course I knew she’d be here, but I didn’t think I’d run into her in the first ten minutes. Do not panic. She can’t do anything to you. She’s just a mean, scary girl. Remember how well you handled her after the play?

  “Oh, hey, Julie,” I say, trying to sound friendly. “I’m here with Josh, uh—”

  “Just don’t get in my way, Finkelstein. This is my prom, not yours.” She fluffs her hair in the mirror, then turns back. “Hi, Lexi. Hot dress.”

  And she stomps out with her friends in tow.

&nbs
p; “Well, that went remarkably well!” I say to Lexi with false cheer.

  “Whatever, Kels—just ignore her. You are awesome and she’s just insecure.” Lexi scoops up her makeup and crams it back in her purse. “Ready?”

  “Let’s roll,” I say. We head for the door.

  When we get back to the ballroom, Robby is sitting at our table with one of the other girls we came with. He looks up excitedly when Lexi approaches—though, to be fair, so does every other guy in the place. Josh, the other two lacrosse players, and one of their dates are nowhere in sight. I sit down and start flexing my toes, which already hurt inside my new shoes, when Jill, who played Golde in Fiddler, slides into the seat next to me.

  “You look fantastic!” she gushes. “Where’s your date?”

  “Hey! You look great, too—I love your eye makeup. And I have no idea where my date is, actually. Hey, Robby,” I say, leaning across the table. “Where’s Josh, do you know?”

  “Oh, yeah, he and the guys went out for a smoke. They’ll be back in a sec, prob’ly,” Robby offers. I see some movement under the table and realize he’s pouring something from a flask into his glass of Coke. Sweet.

  I’m contemplating how to get in on that when Dr. Shanman, the scary math teacher and one of the chaperones, approaches the table. She looks mad. She also appears to be wearing a burgundy bedspread, belted around the middle with a kind of weird sash. I think it’s meant to be a dress of some sort. At least she took off her customary leather fanny pack for the occasion.

  “Robert Amabile!” she bellows, totally drowning out Jay-Z’s latest dance remix. “Do you know where your teammates are?”

  Robby’s head snaps up. His hands are still underneath the table. Oh, God. This is not good. “Uh … yeah, I think they had to make a phone call.”

  “Really, all of them together? How interesting.”

  “Uhhhh …”

  “I think Steve had to make a call and the others went, too, Dr. Shanman. Is everything okay?” Lexi interjects smoothly. Man, she is good under pressure. I glance at Jill, who looks as freaked out as I feel.