Read Online Top Ten Uses for an Unworn Prom Dress by Tina Ferraro - Free Book Online
Authors: Tina Ferraro
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around noon, all right?”
“Okay, Jared,” I said, just to be sure.
“Bring one of your mother's business cards. And a picture of her.”
“Huh?”
“I'll explain tomorrow.” He paused and sort of laughed. “And it'll give you something to think about.”
I didn't need anything to think about. My brain was already overloaded. What I needed was to get
off
the phone and
out
of this dress.
“So, yeah, tomorrow,” I said, looking down at myself, caught in a weird net of fantasy and reality. “Okay, see you then.” I hung up and shuffled toward the hanger on the back of my door, and with a hot face and a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach, retired The Dress to its home.
T he next morning, I did my usual Saturday sleep-in and long, lazy shower. Then I broke with tradition. I reached under the sink for the blow-dryer. Luckily, Mom was sitting an open house for some other realtor or I would have gotten Twenty Questions from her. She'd grill me about boys, ask me who I was trying to impress.
Ugh.
Anyway, I
hated
blow-drying my hair. Not only did my arm get achy, but no matter what I did, my hair never looked any better. Tight blond curls turned toyellow frizz. But for some reason, that morning, I felt like breaking new ground. I told myself if I only tried hard enough … But after a good forty-five minutes, no luck. I got the totally predicted result.
I did my thing with a palmful of gel. Then I dug up my favorite clips, pulled back the loose strands from my face, and went to my closet. No dress code to worry about, so I went with low jean shorts and a peachy crop top. I would have killed for a belly ring.
I topped off my look with some mascara and this really pretty pink lip gloss. You'd almost think I was trying to impress someone. I was only going somewhere with Jared, to do something with my mother's picture and her business card—but you never know, right?
I'm not sure why, but my pulse did a little jump when the white Camaro rounded the corner. I locked the front door and moved to the edge of the curb. Only to see a silhouette in the seat beside him.
Several inches shorter than Jared. With longish hair. A girl.
A girl?
He'd never mentioned anything about a girl. A girl friend. Or girlfriend. Alison had never said anything—
Of course. Alison.
God, was I an idiot, or what?
My best friend's face came into view as Jared rolled to a stop. She pushed the door open and leaned forward so I could crawl into the back.
“Hey, Nic,” she said, and smiled.
I felt relieved. Foolish. Embarrassed. But when Alison swiveled around to take in my look, embarrassment won hands down.
“I like what you did with your hair,” she said, and slammed the door.
I shrugged. “I was bored this morning.”
“You should be bored more often. Seriously.”
“Thanks. Hey, I didn't know you were coming today,” I said, hoping to sidetrack the conversation away from why I'd picked this morning, of all mornings, to spiff up. Then realized my comment was exactly the wrong thing to say. It probably seemed like I wanted to spend time alone with her brother.
“Her idea,” Jared said, eyeing me in the rearview mirror.
“Well, someone has to keep Nic company at the mall.”
“I told you,” he said. “Mom could have dropped you off
later
, after we were done.”
“Okay! I either need a translator,” I said, “or someone's gotta start speaking my language.”
“We're going to the print shop,” Jared said. Our gazes connected in the mirror. No sunglasses this time. Just dark eyes, looking slightly amused.
“My uncle's got tons of extra paper lying around. I thought we'd make some promotional stuff for your mother. Flyers. Notepads. Things she could hand out so people get to know her name.”
“Wow. Great. But how much is this going to cost?”
“
Nada
. My uncle said we could use the paper for free,” he went on. “And he'd overlook the toner charges as long as we don't go crazy.”
“The thing
“Okay, Jared,” I said, just to be sure.
“Bring one of your mother's business cards. And a picture of her.”
“Huh?”
“I'll explain tomorrow.” He paused and sort of laughed. “And it'll give you something to think about.”
I didn't need anything to think about. My brain was already overloaded. What I needed was to get
off
the phone and
out
of this dress.
“So, yeah, tomorrow,” I said, looking down at myself, caught in a weird net of fantasy and reality. “Okay, see you then.” I hung up and shuffled toward the hanger on the back of my door, and with a hot face and a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach, retired The Dress to its home.
T he next morning, I did my usual Saturday sleep-in and long, lazy shower. Then I broke with tradition. I reached under the sink for the blow-dryer. Luckily, Mom was sitting an open house for some other realtor or I would have gotten Twenty Questions from her. She'd grill me about boys, ask me who I was trying to impress.
Ugh.
Anyway, I
hated
blow-drying my hair. Not only did my arm get achy, but no matter what I did, my hair never looked any better. Tight blond curls turned toyellow frizz. But for some reason, that morning, I felt like breaking new ground. I told myself if I only tried hard enough … But after a good forty-five minutes, no luck. I got the totally predicted result.
I did my thing with a palmful of gel. Then I dug up my favorite clips, pulled back the loose strands from my face, and went to my closet. No dress code to worry about, so I went with low jean shorts and a peachy crop top. I would have killed for a belly ring.
I topped off my look with some mascara and this really pretty pink lip gloss. You'd almost think I was trying to impress someone. I was only going somewhere with Jared, to do something with my mother's picture and her business card—but you never know, right?
I'm not sure why, but my pulse did a little jump when the white Camaro rounded the corner. I locked the front door and moved to the edge of the curb. Only to see a silhouette in the seat beside him.
Several inches shorter than Jared. With longish hair. A girl.
A girl?
He'd never mentioned anything about a girl. A girl friend. Or girlfriend. Alison had never said anything—
Of course. Alison.
God, was I an idiot, or what?
My best friend's face came into view as Jared rolled to a stop. She pushed the door open and leaned forward so I could crawl into the back.
“Hey, Nic,” she said, and smiled.
I felt relieved. Foolish. Embarrassed. But when Alison swiveled around to take in my look, embarrassment won hands down.
“I like what you did with your hair,” she said, and slammed the door.
I shrugged. “I was bored this morning.”
“You should be bored more often. Seriously.”
“Thanks. Hey, I didn't know you were coming today,” I said, hoping to sidetrack the conversation away from why I'd picked this morning, of all mornings, to spiff up. Then realized my comment was exactly the wrong thing to say. It probably seemed like I wanted to spend time alone with her brother.
“Her idea,” Jared said, eyeing me in the rearview mirror.
“Well, someone has to keep Nic company at the mall.”
“I told you,” he said. “Mom could have dropped you off
later
, after we were done.”
“Okay! I either need a translator,” I said, “or someone's gotta start speaking my language.”
“We're going to the print shop,” Jared said. Our gazes connected in the mirror. No sunglasses this time. Just dark eyes, looking slightly amused.
“My uncle's got tons of extra paper lying around. I thought we'd make some promotional stuff for your mother. Flyers. Notepads. Things she could hand out so people get to know her name.”
“Wow. Great. But how much is this going to cost?”
“
Nada
. My uncle said we could use the paper for free,” he went on. “And he'd overlook the toner charges as long as we don't go crazy.”
“The thing
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