With Hollywood's resident sweetheart as her mother, of course Micah Tanner is lapping up the fame.
Or is she?
In truth, Micah suffers from a Social Anxiety Disorder...
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"So." Norman looks at me with great expectations (pun unintended) as I slide into the seat beside him in the cafeteria the next day. It is Friday, the final day before the big dance.
I sigh. "Yes. I'll go with you to Prom." I tell him. I mean how bad could it be? "My boyfriend gave me permission," I add, just so he doesn't think I ditched Nick for him.
The reaction on his face is instantaneously brighter. "Really?" He asks in an excited voice. "I've got the tickets ready! I just need to update my Facebook Status."
Okay. Maybe this was a bad idea.
Suddenly, RJ, Norman's creepy friend, comes stomping up to the table, a look on his face so cross that it sends me into a fit of laughter.
"Hey, RJ!" Norman says excitedly. "Micah's going to Prom with me!"
A low growl comes out of RJ's throat, and I scoot a little father down the bench, away from him. He's angry.
"You jerk," he says, clenching his teeth.
"What?!" Norman asks.
I almost do a facepalm. Stupid oblivious child.
RJ looks like he's about to throw a punch when I clear my throat loudly. The tall teenager turns to me, and his deep brown stare into my soul. I blink, looking away. This guy is seriously freaking me out.
"Um, class is about to start," I note, looking at my watch. In truth, passing period will begin in three minutes, but neither boy has a watch of their own.
"Okay, then," Norman says, turning away from his fuming friend. "I'll see you tomorrow, Micah!" He grins broadly, as if completely unaware that RJ is ready to kill him.
I roll my eyes, then stand up, waving. I quickly stroll out of the cafeteria, clutching my lunch bag in my right hand. I speed-walk down the hallway, then up the steps to my locker. I spin combination, first to the left, then the right, then the lefty again until the metal door pops open. Our school's colors are orange and blue, so all the locker have been painted appropriately. The top row are all blue, and the bottom orange.
I slam the door closed, then walk back down the empty hallway. I decide to take a detour to avoid Norman and his terrifying friend.
After school, Nick picks me up, telling me he has a surprise in store. I roll my eyes as I slide into the passenger seat, buckling the hot seat belt.
Nick cruises along the freeway, then turns into the parking lot of a mall. He parks the car and we both get out. I'm surprised he hasn't brought up the topics of my prom date yet.
The boy grabs my hand and leads me down the main strip. On either side are shops selling all kinds of things: shoes, tops, athletic wear, thongs, makeup, hair supplies, the occasional deli, shorts and skirts, robes, baby clothes, manicures, and pretty much everything else you could think of.
Finally, after climbing a few flights of steps and escalators, Nick pulls me to a stop outside a fancy dress designer.
"Nick..." I say, groaning. This is the kind of thing my mother would do.
Nick grins devilishly. "If you're going to go to prom, you might as well have a nice dress."
I roll my eyes as he drags me inside. I stare in awe at the rows and rows of different styles of dresses. I have only let my mother take me shopping a few times, and those were limited to shirts and pants, never dresses.
The are so many designs I am almost hypnotized. The blur of color and patterns overwhelms me, and for a few dangerous seconds I am on the verge of another panic attack.
Nick must notice my worry, and he quickly wraps his arms around me, pressing his lips to my forehead. I stare into space, trying to ignore his warm breath.
"May I help you?" A voice asks. I look left to see a heavily make-upped woman smiling at us, her hands clasped across her stomach. Her rose- tinted eye shadow blends in with the pink chrome of her cheeks and lips. She somewhat resembles my mother, what with her blonde hair and perfectly manicured fingernails.
"We have come to get my girlfriend a prom dress," Nick says formally. I cringe at his use of the word.
"Oh, yes, of course," the woman replies, daintily beckoning for us to follow her. We walk past another rack of dresses, then come to a halt at the back of the store.
"Are you planning of doing a color scheme?" She asks, looking at me, then at Nick.
"Just a minute," Nick says as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. He looks at the screen for a few seconds, then tucks it back into his pocket. "Gold," he says with confidence.
I give him a look. How does he do that?
"Can it have other color too it?" the clerk asks, pleadingly.
"What do you mean?" Nick is surprisingly well-versed in this situation. He seems to know what he's talking about.
I just stare at both of them, confused.
"Like black and gold."
"I guess," Nick replies, shrugging. "I'm not the one going with her."
"You're what?" The sales lady seems surprised and then shakes it off. "How about this one." She pulls from the rack a short knee length fluffy poofy number that is a black strapless, fading into huge gold glittering sparkles. It's simple and elegant.
"Micah?" Nick asks, turning to me. He gives a smile of encouragement.
"Umm. Sure. I'll try it." I blurt out before I can think. Nick does these kind of things to me.
"Lovely. Go to room 7." She hands me a key.
I turn, glancing at the numbered doors, then head towards the one marked seven. Nick starts, but she holds up a long, slender finger, halting him. Both the walls and door are painted pink. I'm beginning to regret delving into this in the first place but it's too late to back out now. I hurry into the room and try on the dress. It fits like a glove.
"Micah?" I hear Nick's from outside the door. "Does it look good?"
"See for yourself." I open the door and twirl around for him to see all angles. I find myself smiling.
"You're a definition of a 100. One hot dime piece." Nick grins.
"Thanks. I'll get it." I smile back. I am about to go get changed he halts me.
"Wait Mikes let me take a picture. So I can send it to Norman." He holds up his phone. I wonder how he got Norman's number.
I shrug, smiling as he takes the photo. I hear the whoosh sound of a text sending.
"Shoes?" He asks, raising his eyebrows.
"Excuse me?"
"Do you want shoes?"
"I guess," I reply, shrugging again. "No heels, just flats. Do we have enough money?"
"Norman's paying for it. So I'd say buy kinda expensive stuff." Nick laughs, and I giggle a bit.
Okay, I think as I begin to peruse the flat section. I pick out a pair of silver incrusted black leather flats. Nick also let's me choose a hair accessories and I choose a bunch of gold and black ribbon for my hair.
"Thanks, Nick," I say, turning to him and smiling. He leans down, pressing a kiss to my hand formally.
"My pleasure," he says. "If letting you go to Prom with some other guy makes you happy, I'm willing to do whatever it takes."
