Shrinking Violet (22 page)

with me. With the way I am. I open my mouth and suck on the dead air. I take another deep breath and continue to drain the oxygen around us. I'm hot and stuffy Mom stares at me, eyes wide. I know she wants me to say something, but she waits, patiently. I look back at her, my eyes wide, too. Finally, on their own, the words tumble out. "Thank you."

Then, without notice, tears stream down her face. She sobs little tiny sobs.

Mom can be emotional at times, but I never thought she'd shed tears for
my
love.

I wait, anticipating a recall from her.
I didn't mean it, Tere. I really don't like the way
you've turned out.
But it doesn't come. I reach for her hand, and she squeezes tight.

Tears slide down my face, too. No matter what, I can't hate my mother.

"I'm sorry, Tere." She wipes her face with a napkin.

I watch her dab her eyes. "It's okay."

"If you don't want to go through with the contest, we can find someone else to take your place."

I sit up straight. "No, I've made it this far. I can do it."

"You're a strong girl." Mom pats my hand. Her slender fingers lay on top of mine. "I've never told you this, but I didn't go to my senior prom."

"You didn't? But the way you always talk about it . ."

"I helped plan it and counted down the days ever since I was a freshman, but I was already five months' pregnant with you. Four

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days before the prom, the school found out. They thought I'd be a bad influence on the other girls and expelled me. I received my diploma in the mail. I was so ashamed." Mom picks at her chipped nail, making it even worse.

I do the mental math. "So this very day, eighteen years ago--"

"Yes," she cuts me off. "I don't want you to experience what I did. To feel like an outcast."

"Sorry." I lower my head.

"For what?"

"For being born."

"No," she stops me. "I'm not sorry, and you should never be. I haven't told you enough that I love you. I can't make it up to you; I know that. It was hard raising you alone but I managed . . survived. But if there's something, anything I can do . ." Her voice fades out.

"There is."

Mom perks up.

"You can take me prom-dress shopping."

"I'd love that," she squeals.

Rob bumbles into the kitchen in his bathrobe. "Tere, I just got a call from the station.

The phones were ringing off the hook last night. They loved it. The winner. 'Moon Shine'?"

My eyes light up. "'The Moon Stops for You.' It's awesome."

Rob sets the newspaper down, onto the table and glances over at Mom. A stray tear slides down her cheek. "Did I come down at a bad time?"

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I'm compelled to answer for the both of us. "No, it's a good time."

"Really?" Rob takes a step back. "Could've fooled me."

"Tears aren't always bad. You know us girls." Mom sniffles.

"No, I don't. That's the problem." Rob laughs.

"Mom's taking me dress shopping today." I steal the inserts from Rob's paper, hoping to find some cool clothing ads.

I scan through a few of the pages, then head up to my room to shower. I'm having second thoughts about going shopping with just Mom so I call Audrey for backup.

"Hey, Aud." I fling open my closet door. "Remember how you said I should hurry up and find a dress for the prom?"

"Yeah, that was over three weeks ago."

"Okay, well, I'm ready now." I walk into my closet and stare at my rows of sneakers.

"Why now?"

"I picked the winner last night. He's amazing." Ispy an old pair of black wedge sandals and dust them off. "You met him?" Her voice rises an octave. "No, just his voice."

"What kind of song did he send in?"

"Oh, it's awesome. It's called 'The Moon Stops for You,' and it's so romantic. I almost cried." I cradle the shoes. "Wow."

"I'm in love already." I laugh. "Whoa, what happened to Gavin?"

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"Nothing." I sit down on the carpet and try the sandals on. "I love him, too."

"You're crazy." She laughs. "So you want to go to the mall?"

"Yeah. My mom wants to take me, but I'd like you to come, too. Safety in numbers."

"Your mom? That's good. You guys made up, then?"

"I guess. She apologized." I pace around my room in the wedges. They pinch my baby toes. I kick them off.

"Then what's wrong?"

I rub my feet. "I don't know. It's weird. She was so emotional. I've never seen her like that before. What if she does an about-face?"

"Give her a chance. People can change, you know."

"True, I just don't want to . . get hurt." I mumble the last part.

"Take it one step at a time," Audrey offers.

"Hmmm." I'm not too convinced.

"First, let's find you the perfect dress."

"Okay, I can handle that. We'll pick you up in a little while." I hang up the phone before I change my mind.

"I thought we'd start at the Aventura Mall." Mom checks her lipstick in the mirror before she cranks up the car. "Sure." I nod.

Mom reaches for the radio dial. "Mind if we listen to SLAM?" I ask.

"No, go ahead." Mom lets me take over. "So, I was thinking 249

of a halter dress for you. Maybe coral or red."

"I guess." I roll my eyes. "Can we wait until we get there? Until I see what jumps out at me?"

"Sure." She pulls at a loose strand of hair poking out of her ponytail.

We pull up to Audrey's
Casa de la Selva.
We call it that because they have so many overgrown trees surrounding their property that you'd half expect jungle animals to jump out at you any minute. My favorites are the mangos. The fruit is juicy, and Audrey and her mom make the best mango bread. Audrey's waiting for us on the front steps.

She climbs in to the backseat. "Hi, Delilah. Hi, Tere."

I fill Audrey in on where we're going, and we hit the expressway. It's already after eleven and all the primo spots are taken, so we park toward the end of the mall lot. I'm nervous. Maybe I shouldn't have eaten breakfast. That could've probably saved me a whole two pounds.

We hit Macy's first. Mom tries her best not to hover, staying a few feet away from us.

"What about this one?" Audrey holds up an eye-straining pattern of swirled yellows and oranges.

"Not." I make a gagging sound.

"Be daring." She pulls out a bright-green silky one that looks perfect for the Victoria's Secret runway show.

A stick-skinny girl with platinum-blond hair is ogling over the same one.

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"I'm going to the prom with a complete stranger. Isn't that daring enough?"

Audrey doesn't say a word. She knows it's true.

I pull four blacks off the rack and a turquoise dress just to add a little color. Mom throws in two red dresses, and we parade to the dressing room. I've never had an entourage before. It's usually me following Mom or Audrey around. Being the leader is pretty neat.

I need some breathing room, so I make them sit outside.

I try on one of the red dresses that Mom suggested first. It makes my boobs look like stuffed sausages. Not a pretty sight. I rip it off and throw on a long black dress next. I like the way the bottom of the dress dusts the tops of my feet.

I open up the stall and walk toward Mom and Audrey.

I put my hands on my hips. "Well?"

"It's nice." Audrey looks me up and down.

"Too safe," Mom says.

Audrey bites her lip. "I'd have to agree with your mom. It's not doing anything for you."

"Okay." I turn around and climb back into my box. Stuffed Sausage is out. Safe is out. I rummage through the pile of dresses. There's got to be something
wow
in here.

I try on a couple more black numbers, but they're too everyday. I realize I'm tired of being blah. I reach for the shiny turquoise one. I zip it up and stare into the full-length mirror.

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Okay, the color is nice, but it's not me. I'm afraid one of my boobs might pop out. I still have to be myself. Mom knocks on the door. "Any luck?"

"Be right out." I'm standing here in my pink bra and underwear. I feel so vulnerable.

Instinctively I cross my arms over my breasts.

"Try the sexy red one," she says.

I quickly grab another black dress, this one strapless with a pink sash. I zip it up and look into the mirror. It hits me just right at my knees. Not too long and not too short. And I can breathe in it. I feel it in my bones--this dress is it. Of course, the fact that I don't immediately have the urge to tear it off is a good sign, too.

I swish back and forth and sneak peeks in the mirror.
I look good.
The dress de-emphasizes my stomach and accentuates my boobs. It's like this dress was custom-made for me.

It's definitely worthy of leaving the comfort of my stall, so I step out and twirl around.

"Ta-da!" I stand in front of Mom and Audrey.

They both look me up and down. Mom pulls at the fabric. I knew it. She hates it.

I look at Audrey and frown.

"It's nice," Mom says.

My eyes bug out. "Really?"

"Yes. It fits you well. They have it in white, too. Let me get it for you."

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I put my hands on my hips. "Mom, you can't expect me to travel too far out of my comfort zone. The black is good."

"I like it," Audrey proclaims. "And it's great for dancing."

Dancing? No one said anything about dancing. Is that in my contract? I shake my head.

"Don't worry," Audrey says. "It'll be dark and half the school will be drunk. No one will know if you dance like a toad."

"Thanks, that makes me feel much better." I roll my eyes.

"All right," Mom agrees. "It moves well, and black is always in style."

"Good, then I'm going to change." I point to my back. "Can somebody unzip me?"

Mom gently picks up my hair and loosens the zipper. Her fingers are cold against the skin of my neck. I shiver. "I should just be glad you're not wearing sweats, right?" She lets go of my hair.

"Uh-huh." I hold on to the sides of the dress. I can't believe I'm wearing this to my prom.

Unlike my mom, I never thought I'd really be going.

"Sure you don't want to try the shimmery red one?" Mom asks.

I don't bother turning around. "I'm sure." When you find something you like, don't push it.

I quickly throw on my jeans and tee. I hand Mom the dress and meet Audrey over by the handbags.

I pick up a black Juicy bag and read the price tag. Three hundred 253

dollars. Double the price of my dress. "I still don't know if I should go through with this contest. I could become really sick the night before the prom."

"Or Contestant Number 13 could be the man of your dreams." Audrey unzips a blinding purple purse with a pocket for everything.

"I already thought of that, and the other possibilities, too." I pretend to slit my throat.

"It's just one night, and if Gavin's meant to be, it'll happen," Audrey says.

"He didn't even ask if I was going. I'm sure he assumes I'm not, but still . ." I look down at my shoes. "That can't be a good thing."

Audrey pats my shoulder. "Maybe he didn't want to know."

"I never thought of that." I drape a sheer black scarf over my head.

"See, that's why you have me, to think of the things that you don't."

"Okay, evil twin sister." I hang the scarf back up. "I hope you're right."

"And if I'm not, you can make me disappear with your laser gun." She makes zapping sounds. *

"I'll remember you said that." I watch as a plastic-surgery addict runs her fingers over a cream-colored Coach bag and licks her collagen lips.

"Really?" Audrey puffs out her lips behind the woman's back.

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We both giggle and run to meet up with my mom. We find her looking at shoes.

"I thought you were paying," I say.

"You didn't think I'd let you wear sneakers to the prom, did you?" she asks. "No, not really."

She hands me a few boxes, and I obediently try the sandals on. We actually agree on a pair of black strappy two-inch heels. It's a miracle. Hopefully I can dance in them. Too bad they don't come with lessons.

It's not too late to change your mind,
half of me says as we wait in line at the register.

The other half says,
Oh, yeah, it is.
Still, I'm a bit freaked about the whole situation, but hopefully it's something I can laugh about later. Yeah, like in fifty years, when I've successfully found a way to live harmoniously with the aliens on Mars. Speaking of aliens, does Plastic Surgery Lady know that she'd need a passport to get back to Earth if she ever left the planet?

Mom pays and hands me the shopping bag.

"Thanks." I gulp.

"You're welcome," Mom says and walks toward the escalator. "Now come on, girls, let's grab some lunch." We follow her down a level and end up at The Cheesecake Factory.

That's so unlike her. Maybe she has changed.

We walk over to the glass case with the cheesecakes while we wait for a table.

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"Oh, I want that one." Audrey points to a slice of cookie dough.

My eyes go wide. "No, I like Macadamia Nut."

"Carbs galore." Mom waves her finger. "Salads only. You want to fit in your prom dresses, don't you?"

Okay, I was mistaken. The good fairy did not sprinkle my mom with a layer of sweetness.

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Where is she?" Mom's pacing back and forth in the front foyer like an expectant father on an old sitcom. "Relax. She's only five minutes late. We have plenty of time." I throw myself onto the living room couch in an attempt to relax. I haven't sat down since the end of school when the bell rang at two-thirty. I don't know why they had to have the prom on a Friday. Everyone was rushing around like crazy, and all my classes were half empty. Even the teachers seemed distracted, discussing where they were going to get their hair done and if their dresses from last year would still fit.