Read Online Prom and Prejudice by Stephanie Wardrop - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Stephanie Wardrop
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says. “You look fantastic in that Harry blue silky v-neck sweater of mine. And it’ll be cool enough in the evening for it.”
“That’s perfect,” Leigh agrees.
“You can borrow my skinny jeans,” Cassie offers.
“I am honored,” I tell her. And I am. She guards her clothes like a junkyard dog.
***
An hour later, I wash my hair and Cassie helps me blow dry it straight because she is a genius at that sort of thing and we all sit in my room and agree on the Harry v-neck and Cassie’s jeans but can’t decide on sandals or flats.
“Not your Chuck Taylors,” Cassie insists.
“Definitely,” Tori agrees. “Borrow some nail polish from Mom, do your toes, and wear those sandals you got on Pearl Street before we moved.”
They all go off to get dressed and I watch, without feeling like a hopeless loser for once, as Mom and Dad take pictures and shake hands with the dates in the living room. Alistair looks quite cute in his dark suit and Cassie’s Rob seems perfectly presentable.
Tori and Trey leave the house last, on their way to an Italian restaurant in Netherfield before the prom. (I think Rob and Cassie are going to the Texas Roadhouse, and I don’t know what Alistair and Leigh have planned but I hope it’s nice.)
“Say hi to Michael for us,” Trey says with a wink as he guides Tori through the front door.
Tori takes my arm and pulls me onto the porch away from Mom and Dad. “Trey’s having a party after prom. You should come.”
Trey smiles at me. “Yeah, my mom and dad are staying over in Hanover. They’re bringing Brittany back from Dartmouth tomorrow. You should stop by tonight, and bring Michael. Around 11:30.”
“I’m pretty sure I turn back into a pumpkin by then,” I say, “but thanks.”
On their way out, Mom and Dad stop in the family room, where I am watching Cupcake Wars .
“Thank you again for the dessert, sweetie,” Mom says. She looks really fresh and pretty in a madras skirt and crisp pink t-shirt.
“They look delicious and elegant,” my dad says, and he leans over the couch and kisses the top of my head.
“You’re sure there’s food here? Because there were no leftovers from your chili last night,” Mom frets as she hovers in the doorway.
“Yeah, I’m sure. Go and have fun.” I don’t tell her that I have no intention of ingesting anything because I am reasonably sure it will make a reappearance in a disgusting way minutes later. I do not feel like eating, but I know better than to tell her that when she is in solicitous mom mode.
Because I can’t focus on anything on TV, I end up flipping through the channels and scratching Rufus behind the ears until it is time to go to Michael’s. I decide to ride my bike, though I have no good reason not to take the car. In fact, as I get a block away from his house, outside the faux Tudor manor owned by the family that owns a bus company in Netherfield, I realize that if Michael is going to say something that will devastate me, it would be much better to be able to jump into the car and speed away than to have to pedal myself home on my own lame power, but it’s too late. As I ride, I force myself to notice that it is one of those spring evenings that lets you know winter is finally over, for a good long time. It’s warm, birds are chirping, the air smells like the budding chrysanthemums and lilies of the valley. It’s one of those evenings that makes you almost feel like nothing bad can ever happen to you.
I park my bike near the wide front porch and step up to the front door where there is a note taped to it:
Georgia, I am out back –M.
This strikes me as odd, but I walk down the steps, around to the back of the house, and past the bench and the bushes where I had smoked pot with Michael and Shondra and Los months ago. The bushes are bursting with purple flowers now and their smell almost physically hits me as I walk past and see the pool and I catch my breath at the most beautiful thing I think I
“That’s perfect,” Leigh agrees.
“You can borrow my skinny jeans,” Cassie offers.
“I am honored,” I tell her. And I am. She guards her clothes like a junkyard dog.
***
An hour later, I wash my hair and Cassie helps me blow dry it straight because she is a genius at that sort of thing and we all sit in my room and agree on the Harry v-neck and Cassie’s jeans but can’t decide on sandals or flats.
“Not your Chuck Taylors,” Cassie insists.
“Definitely,” Tori agrees. “Borrow some nail polish from Mom, do your toes, and wear those sandals you got on Pearl Street before we moved.”
They all go off to get dressed and I watch, without feeling like a hopeless loser for once, as Mom and Dad take pictures and shake hands with the dates in the living room. Alistair looks quite cute in his dark suit and Cassie’s Rob seems perfectly presentable.
Tori and Trey leave the house last, on their way to an Italian restaurant in Netherfield before the prom. (I think Rob and Cassie are going to the Texas Roadhouse, and I don’t know what Alistair and Leigh have planned but I hope it’s nice.)
“Say hi to Michael for us,” Trey says with a wink as he guides Tori through the front door.
Tori takes my arm and pulls me onto the porch away from Mom and Dad. “Trey’s having a party after prom. You should come.”
Trey smiles at me. “Yeah, my mom and dad are staying over in Hanover. They’re bringing Brittany back from Dartmouth tomorrow. You should stop by tonight, and bring Michael. Around 11:30.”
“I’m pretty sure I turn back into a pumpkin by then,” I say, “but thanks.”
On their way out, Mom and Dad stop in the family room, where I am watching Cupcake Wars .
“Thank you again for the dessert, sweetie,” Mom says. She looks really fresh and pretty in a madras skirt and crisp pink t-shirt.
“They look delicious and elegant,” my dad says, and he leans over the couch and kisses the top of my head.
“You’re sure there’s food here? Because there were no leftovers from your chili last night,” Mom frets as she hovers in the doorway.
“Yeah, I’m sure. Go and have fun.” I don’t tell her that I have no intention of ingesting anything because I am reasonably sure it will make a reappearance in a disgusting way minutes later. I do not feel like eating, but I know better than to tell her that when she is in solicitous mom mode.
Because I can’t focus on anything on TV, I end up flipping through the channels and scratching Rufus behind the ears until it is time to go to Michael’s. I decide to ride my bike, though I have no good reason not to take the car. In fact, as I get a block away from his house, outside the faux Tudor manor owned by the family that owns a bus company in Netherfield, I realize that if Michael is going to say something that will devastate me, it would be much better to be able to jump into the car and speed away than to have to pedal myself home on my own lame power, but it’s too late. As I ride, I force myself to notice that it is one of those spring evenings that lets you know winter is finally over, for a good long time. It’s warm, birds are chirping, the air smells like the budding chrysanthemums and lilies of the valley. It’s one of those evenings that makes you almost feel like nothing bad can ever happen to you.
I park my bike near the wide front porch and step up to the front door where there is a note taped to it:
Georgia, I am out back –M.
This strikes me as odd, but I walk down the steps, around to the back of the house, and past the bench and the bushes where I had smoked pot with Michael and Shondra and Los months ago. The bushes are bursting with purple flowers now and their smell almost physically hits me as I walk past and see the pool and I catch my breath at the most beautiful thing I think I
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