Jodi's POV:
"Should I pick the black one, the red one or the maroon one?" I frown in frustration, staring at the three equally gorgeous dresses on the changing-room rack as Mary sits cross-legged on a stool, texting at lightning-speed. "Hon, choose the sluttiest one there. Nobody judges others on prom night." she replies. I give her the 'I-have-a-father-not-a-dad' look. She wilts, sighing. "But all of them look so pretty.." I say, frustrated. She puts her phone down, touching the fabrics
"Why don't you ask him to help you? Text him." she says, a mischievous grin on her round face.
"He has zero taste in women's clothing." I snort
"How do you even know that?"
"He prefers them naked."
A strange, strangled giggle bubbles from her lips. She shakes her head. "Sorry, that's just hilarious." she manages. I roll my eyes, groaning. "Go try one on." she offers. 'What if it's against the dress-code?" I worry my lip between my teeth, my brow furrowed in the reflection of the mirror.
"None of them are showing your ass, Joe. Try them on and shut up." she snaps, her short-patience taunt. I sigh, picking up the black dress first and stepping in the small changing stall. I slip off my shirt and wriggle in it, zipping the back clumsily. It was a very simple cut, the lower layer black silk to my knees a clean circular cut in the upper-back, the collar a sweetheart, with sheer lace all the way to my shins, the sleeves something from the 80's.
I step out, "What do you think?" I ask Mary, giving her a 360º look She nods slowly. "It's cute....but isn't it a little too simple for prom?" she offers. I grimace, nodding in agreement, the maroon dress the next victim of my flatness. This one was also silk (I love silk), a slip on with a string of pearls for the straps, , a few more strings of pearls slipped down on my shoulders. The bodice slim-fit sliding into a simple skirt to the floor, an alluring slit all the way up to my right thigh.
"I'm done." I announce, my heart giddy as I step out, my clammy hands sticking to the fabric. Mary's jaw drops. "Jesus Christ." she whispers. Her eyes latch onto mine. "Girl, marry me." I laugh, waving my hand. "Stop, you're flattering me!" I giggle, shoving her playfully.
"This is THE ONE. Fuck the red one." she beams, looking me up and down.
I check out at the front desk, taking off in the mid-December wind, the cold biting at our smiling cheeks. One thing down. A ton to do.
-------------------------------------------------
"You're going? With who?" Dad asks over dinner. I straighten up a little. "With Rodrick." I say, trying to make my tone seem nonchalant and final, though my skin prickled with dread.
Dad frowns. "Rodrick Heffley?" like there's a second Rodrick anywhere else.
I try to smile. "Yeah." I almost forgot he basically hates his guts.
"Did he ask you out?"
"Yeah." I nod.
"When'd that happen?" he turns on Mom.
"Last get-together with the Heffley's." she replies, her hands folded in her lap neatly.
I feel a lecture starting.
"You know we want the best for you,"
Here we go again.
"...and Rodrick isn't what we were hoping for, really. Are you sure you want to go?"
I sigh, a millimeter away from rolling my eyes. "Yes, Dad. It's not like we're getting married, it's just prom." I protest.
"i know, I just don't really think he's your type. At all." he says sympathetically. Like he isn't a manipulative, eveil, sly, abusive, bad-tempered, jerky arrogant, stupid-
"So maybe, just sleep on it?"
I nod, holding back so much rage. "I've been sleeping on it so long it's turning into a coma."
Dad frowns, an argument rising in his stubble-covered throat. I stand up suddenly. "I just remembered. i have homework." He stands up, too. "Homework? Before Christmas? Really?" I look at him, watching the blue-green vein pulse in his temple. "Yeah, high school's just like that." I reply snarkily. His jaw ticks. Bad sign.
Mom whimpers something to Dad, tugs the hem of his shirt, her eye wet with worry. Christie and David are already halfway upstairs.
