#GirlsShitToo

Prom, Part 1

Prom was on Friday.

Justine had made all of the prom preparations, reserving us what she referred to as "the metal van," which would take us out for dinner and then to prom and then the after party, playing whatever music we wanted, as long as it was metal or a close cousin of metal. All of my best friends, minus Valerie, were in it with me: Alex and Justine, Eric, Dylan, Benny, and Adree. Even Sharkbite and his date came with us.

The van looked like what you would call a legit raper van: white and creepy, the kind of vehicle that sends the message to run away. But Justine told us we should get in anyways, because "a life lived on the edge is a life worth living." And we came to realize she knew the driver, who was this totally awesome college guy named Boston with long messy hair and a love for thrash metal and a need to make a few extra bucks. He wore a Rust In Peace shirt, and I knew we had no reason to be afraid of getting in the van.

Besides, next to that beat-up van, the rest of us looked like we belonged on the red carpet.

Mom had gone with me to buy a tight black pantsuit with a dark gray button up shirt to wear under the blazer. When Alex saw me in it, he said, "You look seriously hot! Kind of girly compared to usual..." which I guess he wasn't expecting, since I'd been planning to wear an oh-so-masculine pantsuit. I had picked out a more form-fitting one, which showed off more of my hardly-curves. Why had I done that? Not sure. But I was feeling comfortably feminine. I felt sexy.

And I looked even sexier alongside my sexy date. Adree was wearing a form-fitting dark red dress that was more than two inches above the knee, except for those few seconds after she pulled it down to give it the appearance of being "two inches above the knee." The top half was long-sleeved and made out of this pretty lace that came almost to her fingers, and she had matching fingernails. I couldn't believe I'd ever proclaimed that nail polish sucked. Justine took a picture of us from behind, and I grabbed Adree's butt and she grabbed mine with her long red nails. I put it on Instagram instantly, which is something I didn't often do, despite the fact that instant documentation was the purpose of Instagram.

Justine wore a vampirish black dress with a studded collar, and she'd gotten Alex a studded black tie with his all-black suit. Justine's dress might not have met Runsberger's "traditional bra line" rule on the back, but she wore a fishnet shirt underneath to compensate. So technically, her shirt had a back. "Very tricky," I told her.

Dylan and his date both wore traditional black and white suits with brightly colored neck ties and brightly colored shoes, and both of them were wearing guyliner, which would probably make Runsberger cringe. Dylan's shoes, of course, were lime green, and his nails matched.

Eric wore baggy dress pants and a button up forest green dress shirt, which wasn't tucked in, which slayed. I told him that if Runsberger tried to tell him that non-tucked-in shirts were "un-formal" that he should call me over to mediate. Trish wore a strapless purple prom dress that went down to the floor, along with Eric's hand on her backside.

Benny, to surprise us all, wore a dress. "What?" he asked when he saw our faces of shock. "Adree encouraged us to. I'm not gonna pass up the chance to wear a dress to prom after all the hard work you put into changing the dress code."

"It was my idea," Sydney beamed, wearing a matching dress; bright red and spaghetti strapped. That was when I remembered their giddy conversation, the one I'd thought was a joke.

"Guys, we got pedicures before this," Benny chimed in, "And they were so relaxing. I don't know why dudes aren't encouraged to get them. Some lady massaged my legs for like twenty minutes straight."

"Really?" said Sharkbute, intrigued at this prospect. He had surprised us by wearing a dress, too, although he and his date weren't matching, and Sharkbite wasn't wearing heels like Benny, which was good, because Benny had already complained about his feet hurting.