Freshman Year & Other Unnatural Disasters (23 page)

But … now I’m going to the
prom
. Maybe this is the experience I’ve been waiting for. Maybe the rest of that stuff was just a lead-up to the
real
awesomeness that is headed my way!

All I need now is a dress.

36

“Do you have any idea what things cost, young lady? If you think I get up at six o’clock in the morning to go to work so I can throw money away on crap that’s going to fall apart in five minutes, then you’ve got another think coming. Here’s an idea—why don’t
you
get a job? Then you can feel free to shop wherever you damn well please.”

Well, that experiment was an epic FAIL.

My mother, who was initially elated by the news of my impending prom attendance, was less pleased by the reveal that I hadn’t actually been
asked
by anyone, and fell apart completely when I told her where I wanted to shop for a dress. Which is: anywhere but where
she
wants to take me. Which is Loehmann’s. Of course.

I decide to run to my room and slam the door, which is as Typically Adolescent as it gets and therefore acceptable, I guess. Life is easier when you know what’s expected of you, isn’t it? I speed-dial Em.

“Hey, so: disaster. Ma Finkelstein is on the rampage.”

“Uh-oh. Is she doing the ‘I get up at six o’clock in the morning’ routine?”

“Yep,” I confirm, turning the volume up on my stereo. “She just got to the part about me getting a job when I split.”

“Oh, no! So, what now? You have to get a dress! I’d lend you the one I wore to my cousin’s sweet sixteen last year, but …”

“But it would drag on the floor behind me by about a foot?”

Em giggles. “Well. Yeah. And I don’t think trains are in this year.”

I groan despairingly. “I know—I’ll just wear the tempting blazer and beautiful checked pants I got on the September Loehmann’s trip! I’ll probably get asked to dance by every guy there.”

“Look, Kels, you have to restrategize. Tell you what—
I’ll
go with you to Loehmann’s. There has to be
something
normal there. Right?”

“No. It’s hopeless.”

“Come on,” she coaxes in her best soothing voice. “We’ll go together. Just us. What do you say?”

“Well …”

“Good, it’s decided! Now … do you think your mom will give you her credit card if you swear to only use it at Loehmann’s?”

“Maybe you’d better ask,” I sigh. “She likes you a lot more than she likes me.”

Saturday afternoon, I follow Em into the store, armed with my mother’s credit card and a resolve made of steel (which is instantly penetrated by the sight of two women arguing over what appears to be a pair of high-waisted purple leggings). Immediately, I want to run out. We are the youngest people here by about a generation, and there is a large sign advertising a sale on “Intimates.” Kill me.

“Come on,” Em says. “We’ll go to the dress section. They have lots of designer stuff, I swear!”

“Maybe I should just cancel this whole thing,” I grumble as we trudge up about seventeen escalators. “I mean, it’s not like Josh even knows me. Lexi can find him someone else. You could go!”

Em holds up a scary pink item and looks at it thoughtfully. “Are you insane?!” I cry. “That has weird fringe all over it! You’re supposed to be helping!”

“Kels, it’s Oscar de la Renta!”

“It’s gross and no way.”

“Fiiiine.” She puts it back and moves on to the next section. “Anyway … I actually can’t go to prom with Josh. Because … guess who IMed me last night after I hung up with you?” Em leads me over to a rack filled with terrifying gowns. She starts flipping the hangers aside like a seasoned shopper on a mission. I try on a hilarious fur hat and dance around in front of a wall mirror.

“Who?”

“James.”

“What?” I stop mid-jig. “What did he say? You should’ve ignored him—or better, signed off immediately!”

“I know I should’ve … he was such a jerk to me. And the last month or so, I’ve actually felt like flirting with other guys again. But … I couldn’t do it. I still miss him so much, Kels. And … he apologized.
A lot
.”

“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 stopped 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!