Read Online Even When You Lie to Me by Jessica Alcott - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jessica Alcott
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thoughts on
Pride and Prejudice
?” It was a Friday and Drummond knew we were flagging. The homecoming dance was that night and we’d just come back from a dress-code assembly. No shorts for guys; no skin for girls.
When no one answered, he said, “I’m not going to get
Dangerous Minds
on you and try to link Jane Austen to your homecoming dance, but they’re not entirely unrelated.” Silence again. “Lila, any brilliant theories?”
Lila looked up from doodling. “Paul Rudd was really hot in
Clueless.
”
He sighed. “That’s not even based on the same…You know, I don’t even know why I’m bothering today.” He put the book down so its pages splayed out on the table. “All right, Frank, you’re obviously dying to tell us, so—what color is your dress?”
Frank tapped his pen against his bottom lip. “If I tell you, then someone else might steal my idea.”
“Mine’s purple,” Dev said. “The color of royalty.”
“An excellent choice,” Drummond said. “Frank could learn something from you.”
“What’s yours, then?” Frank asked.
“My dress?” Drummond said. “Red, obviously. Slinky, to show off my curves. Short, because I’ve got great legs.”
Everyone was laughing now. “You are way too old to pull off a dress like that,” Katie said.
An “ooh” went up from the class and Drummond said, “That’s ageist.”
“So you’re coming to the dance, then?” Lila asked.
“If Frank doesn’t upstage me,” Drummond said.
“But are you really?”
“If Dev promises he will wear purple. I don’t want to clash.”
“Cross my heart,” Dev said.
“But are you
actually
going?” Lila said, exasperated.
Drummond finally looked at her with mock annoyance. “
Yes,
Lila, I am actually going. As a chaperone. Apparently it’s illegal for Frank to take me as his date.”
Drummond turned back to the class, and Lila whispered, “Coming now?”
I rolled my eyes. “You think I’m that predictable? But, yes.”
—
Lila came over to my house to get ready that night. She brought three outfits: all, she said, in increasing factors of sluttiness.
“This one’s a three,” she said, holding a glittery top and a long skirt against her body. She curled her lip. “Senior bingo?”
“A little,” I said.
She tossed it onto my bed. “How about this?” She held up a red dress with a shiny bodice and ruffles on the flared skirt. “Too nineties?”
I nodded. When she threw it onto the bed, I picked it up and stretched it experimentally. “Is the top of this spandex?”
“Yep. My aunt bought it for me,” she said. She held up a short black dress. “This will have to be it.”
“Just slutty enough,” I said.
She wriggled into it while I averted my gaze. “So?” she said after a minute.
She looked fantastic—older and sexy and confident. It made my throat constrict with fear.
“You look great,” I said.
She turned to the mirror and smoothed the fabric over her flat stomach. “I look fucking hot, actually.” She turned back to me. “Now you.”
“Me?” I said. “I’m just wearing what I have on.”
She squinted at me like she was scrutinizing a poorly drawn map: I had on a pair of loose jeans and a button-down shirt.
“It’s not a T-shirt,” I said. “It has buttons.”
“It’s plaid,” she said.
“It’s festive.”
“At least try on the dress.”
“No way.”
She looked at me seriously. “Please?”
“It’s not going to fit.”
“Don’t,” she said. “Anyway, it’s stretchy.”
“Oh good,” I said. I considered her, looking hot in her dress. “I’ll try it on. But no promises.” I grabbed it and went into the bathroom. I didn’t have any strapless bras, so I pulled it on over my bare skin. My boobs sagged a little, but not too badly. It fit, at least, and the ruffles didn’t look that stupid. There were no horrible bulges or gobs of fat leaking out the sides. But it looked all wrong on me; I didn’t recognize myself in
Pride and Prejudice
?” It was a Friday and Drummond knew we were flagging. The homecoming dance was that night and we’d just come back from a dress-code assembly. No shorts for guys; no skin for girls.
When no one answered, he said, “I’m not going to get
Dangerous Minds
on you and try to link Jane Austen to your homecoming dance, but they’re not entirely unrelated.” Silence again. “Lila, any brilliant theories?”
Lila looked up from doodling. “Paul Rudd was really hot in
Clueless.
”
He sighed. “That’s not even based on the same…You know, I don’t even know why I’m bothering today.” He put the book down so its pages splayed out on the table. “All right, Frank, you’re obviously dying to tell us, so—what color is your dress?”
Frank tapped his pen against his bottom lip. “If I tell you, then someone else might steal my idea.”
“Mine’s purple,” Dev said. “The color of royalty.”
“An excellent choice,” Drummond said. “Frank could learn something from you.”
“What’s yours, then?” Frank asked.
“My dress?” Drummond said. “Red, obviously. Slinky, to show off my curves. Short, because I’ve got great legs.”
Everyone was laughing now. “You are way too old to pull off a dress like that,” Katie said.
An “ooh” went up from the class and Drummond said, “That’s ageist.”
“So you’re coming to the dance, then?” Lila asked.
“If Frank doesn’t upstage me,” Drummond said.
“But are you really?”
“If Dev promises he will wear purple. I don’t want to clash.”
“Cross my heart,” Dev said.
“But are you
actually
going?” Lila said, exasperated.
Drummond finally looked at her with mock annoyance. “
Yes,
Lila, I am actually going. As a chaperone. Apparently it’s illegal for Frank to take me as his date.”
Drummond turned back to the class, and Lila whispered, “Coming now?”
I rolled my eyes. “You think I’m that predictable? But, yes.”
—
Lila came over to my house to get ready that night. She brought three outfits: all, she said, in increasing factors of sluttiness.
“This one’s a three,” she said, holding a glittery top and a long skirt against her body. She curled her lip. “Senior bingo?”
“A little,” I said.
She tossed it onto my bed. “How about this?” She held up a red dress with a shiny bodice and ruffles on the flared skirt. “Too nineties?”
I nodded. When she threw it onto the bed, I picked it up and stretched it experimentally. “Is the top of this spandex?”
“Yep. My aunt bought it for me,” she said. She held up a short black dress. “This will have to be it.”
“Just slutty enough,” I said.
She wriggled into it while I averted my gaze. “So?” she said after a minute.
She looked fantastic—older and sexy and confident. It made my throat constrict with fear.
“You look great,” I said.
She turned to the mirror and smoothed the fabric over her flat stomach. “I look fucking hot, actually.” She turned back to me. “Now you.”
“Me?” I said. “I’m just wearing what I have on.”
She squinted at me like she was scrutinizing a poorly drawn map: I had on a pair of loose jeans and a button-down shirt.
“It’s not a T-shirt,” I said. “It has buttons.”
“It’s plaid,” she said.
“It’s festive.”
“At least try on the dress.”
“No way.”
She looked at me seriously. “Please?”
“It’s not going to fit.”
“Don’t,” she said. “Anyway, it’s stretchy.”
“Oh good,” I said. I considered her, looking hot in her dress. “I’ll try it on. But no promises.” I grabbed it and went into the bathroom. I didn’t have any strapless bras, so I pulled it on over my bare skin. My boobs sagged a little, but not too badly. It fit, at least, and the ruffles didn’t look that stupid. There were no horrible bulges or gobs of fat leaking out the sides. But it looked all wrong on me; I didn’t recognize myself in
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