Project Fat Suit

Thirty-Eight: You Finally Make Sense, Katy Perry.

Chapter Thirty-Eight: You finally make sense, Katy Perry.

Two words: Spring Break.

Usually students loved this time of year, but I absolutely hated it. The majority of my neighbors host these loud, obnoxious parties that seem to never end. And drunken college kids roam the streets like lost zombies. I swear. Some guy rang our doorbell to ask for his pants…while he was wearing them.

It got so bad that Benny, the craziest of all my neighbors, always went up to his vacation house just to get away from the ‘hooligans’.

Add this insanity to the already torturous mall and you have me own personal hell, but Holly seemed to pay no attention to this.

“What about this one?” Holly asked me, pulling out a hot pink dress.

I gave a brief lookover and gave her a tired shrug. “These dresses are all starting to look the same to me,” I told her, leaning against the wall to rest for a bit.

“Rena, we’ve been here for fifteen minutes,” Holly told me, giving me an exasperated look.

“Fifteen minutes too long,” I muttered bitterly.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” I waved off my negativity. “Why are you looking for prom dresses anyways? Isn’t prom in, like, April?”

Holly just stared blankly at me for a moment, as if what I had just said should never ever be said. “Are you serious?” she finally spoke. “Prom is in two weeks.”

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s in April,” I argued.

“Rena, the seniors’ prom s in April. Our prom is in two weeks,” Holly spilled out for me, using really emphatic hands signs.

“Why would we have two proms? Isn’t that a waste of money?”

“Our school wants the best for our seniors, so the school goes all out for them. That leaves us juniors with the scraps. We’re lucky the school raised enough money to even let us have a junior prom this year,” Holly explained, probably using her knowledge as class president.

“Well, that’s stupid.”

“Why aren’t you more freaked out about this?” Holly asked, but then realization struck her. “Don’t tell me your not going,” she warned me.

“Well, I’m not going to lie,” I responded nonchalantly.

“Rena, it’s prom. You have to go.”

“That’s what you said about winter formal and looked how that turned out,” I pointed out, recalling the punch. “And I don’t really want to talk about this. I’m not going, alright?” I quickly dismissed the topic and walked a few steps away from Holly and began rifling through the dresses. “This way you’ll have four arms looking for your dress,” I tried to lighten the mood.

“Fine, but this conversation isn’t over,” Holly decided to listen to me and went back to looking at dresses.

I mentally let out a sigh of relief, glad that she let go of that so easily.

I paused and looked at the dress in front of me. It was hideous. It was an all-sequined, barf-green dress. The hem consisted of heavy beads and there were two red circles were your breast were supposed to be.

I silently cursed myself for letting Holly talk me into going prom-dress shopping with her. Well, she didn’t really talk me into it. She just asked and I said yes, which was surprising because I utterly despised the mall.