Prom Surprise | Degrassi, Fimogen

Prom Surprise

Imogen's second prom was supposed to be magical—a redo of last year's disaster. She'd reconciled with Jack, designed her own sailor-styled dress, had her hair up in a bun half down and even though prom ended up being held at The Dot last minute, she was looking forward to a fun night with Jack. But the evening was coming to an end, and the final dance arrived, but Jack and Imogen remained seated, watching their fellow students engage in careless, fun swaying and bodies pumping.

Imogen looked around the intimate cafe where tables had been evacuated and twinkly lights strewn throughout the walls and outside. Most students crowded on the pavement packed like a box of mixed-up crayons and faces plastered with hopeful dreams, bittersweet smiles, and joyous-filled eyes. Imogen sighed as she brushed shoulders with Jack, sitting inside the dot in front of the big glass window that made for a viewing of the dancers like a zoo. Imogen hadn't shared not one dance with Jack and she'd spent the night listening to her complain about how dumb prom is that she was dying to get out of there.

"I'm gonna get something to drink,"' Imogen spoke, the broken silence and the lack of emotion on Jack's face making her wince. She cleared her throat, eyeing Jack.

"Don't be gone too long," Jack smirked, finally making eye contact with Imogen. "Or else I'll miss ya too much."

Imogen stood to her feet, smoothing out the long white skirt of her sailor dress. Doubt it, she grumbled in her head. She flashed a forceful smile at Jack before turning on her heels towards the snack table.

Imogen was met by her best friend Becky who held a plate of crackers and various kinds of cheese. The breezy night air prickled Imogen's bare arms, adding to the already uncomfortable feeling gutting her stomach. Although she came for a drink, really it was only a ploy to remove herself from Jack's presence.

"How's your hot prom date going?" Becky asked, holding a cubed piece of cheddar up to her teasing smile.

"It's not." Imogen rolled her eyes, shuffling her feet.

Becky dropped the cheese on the paper plate, her face softening. "I thought you were happy?"

"I was, but Jack thinks she's too cool for prom and she doesn't want to do any of the dances with me." Imogen crossed her arms, attempting to warm her bare shoulders.

Becky set the plate down on a bare spot on the snack table. "Aww Immy, I'll dance with you." Her voice was coated with sincerity and empathy.

Imogen shook her head. "You go ahead. I think I'm going to go home."

"Are you sure?" Becky's eyebrows wrinkled.

Imogen mustered a yawn, rubbing her ice-cold arms. "Yeah, I'm pretty beat. You go and enjoy the last dance."

"Call me if you need anything." Becky hugged Imogen tightly.

Imogen disappeared off into the pitch black, disconnecting from her rambunctious classmates. With her arms hugging her shoulders, and head down, she stepped off the sidewalk towards the path to De Grassi street. Not even a couple of feet from The Dot, Imogen was stopped in her tracks.

"Hello, Immy."

Imogen's heart dropped and grew two sizes. She hadn't heard that nickname roll off that tongue in a year. With her legs buckling and breath heavy, Imogen lifted her head, meeting with those grey-blue that once made her melt. A few feet in front of her, in the flesh, stood Fiona Coyne in her familiar leather jacket, and leather pants and sporting a new look of light brown hair with highlights. Shocked and confused, Imogen parted her mouth, out of any vocabulary—not only because she didn't know how the hell Fiona was here, in Toronto at the prom of all days, but how different she looked since she'd last seen her. She didn't know how else to describe it except 'more womanly.' Fiona was twenty after all; no longer a teenager. She had accomplishment and maturity washed over her and the way she said her nickname almost sounded cringe because of how much more mature her voice became.