A New Reflection

17. Prom Dress

Sorry about tonight, I didn't mean to burden you with my problems.

I'm relieved when he texts, because I want a second chance to properly articulate myself after freezing up in the car earlier.

You didn't, I reply.

I'm not good at expressing myself in the moment, but I really hope your brother is okay and I'm sorry you have to go through that.

I hold my breath.

Thanks. And don't give it another thought.

Your awkwardness is one of the things I love about you.

He adds a winking emoji.

I make a sarcastic mental note that Alex just said he loves me and giggle out loud. I'm so hilarious.

Great, I respond with an eye roll and monkey covering her face in awkwardness.

Lol, Alex types back.

Besides, the hug was extremely... comforting.

Oh God, I'm dying to know what those three dots mean; I even go as far as to write a text asking him, but of course I don't send it. It would be so easy to click the tiny arrow. In my imagination, I can easily flirt with Alex, but I've set such a strong, stubborn precedent for my personality. A steel wall of shyness I can never break down, even though it's half-façade.

I scroll through my recently used emojis, looking for an adequate response to a covertly flirty text from my twenty-one year-old volleyball coach. The absurdity of this whole situation slams into me, and for a brief moment I consider just how much my parents would freak out if they knew this was happening.

I send the blushing face with the cute little eyebrows.

* * *

Mom takes me prom dress shopping the next day. My church friends invited me to attend; most of them don't have dates either. I've never been to a school dance, and it's just about the most uncomfortable way I can imagine spending an evening, but part of life as an introvert is forcing yourself to do normal things. It's having had the experience, not the experience itself, that's important—a shiny memory souvenir to slip into your back pocket.

I've been opening myself up more to my friends at lunch; I can't pinpoint a particular moment of transformation, but I realize my conversations are no longer quite as stiff and tortured. Raquel, my friend from English class, and I have also been getting together often on weekends. Now that I will be graduating from high school in a few weeks, I finally feel as though I have fallen into a more comfortable groove with my social life.

"These dresses are all so tacky," Mom complains, holding up a short, turquoise-sequined garment.

I glance around at the racks and nod my head in agreement. We continue perusing the aisles, but nothing catches our attention.

"Let's move on to another store," Mom suggests.

"Yes, definitely."

At our next stop, I select three dresses to try on. In the dressing room, I avoid looking at my face in the mirror, focusing on how the dresses fit my body. They are absurdly uncomfortable, and I despise all three of them.

"Nope," I declare, shaking my head as I exit the fitting room after less than five minutes.

"That was fast," quips Mom.

We enter a boutique on a whim, and there are several unique designs that catch my eye. When I glance at the price tags, however, I turn around immediately to guide Mom back out of the store.