Because I'm still not used to the idea yet, and I don't think I ever will be.
***
There are girls from my school getting their hair and nails done in almost every salon I pass. It only a makes me more stressed, when I examine my own nails, with their two-week-old chipped coral nail polish I borrowed from Macey. My mom stops to look at some potted plant, so I pull out my phone and text Macey.
Help me! Call 9-1-1.
She texts back, fast. Oh my God, are you O.K?? Where are you??
The mall.
Lol. Don't freak out. I'm kidding.
Val! Don't make jokes like that!
I dropped my waffle. (Thanks a lot.) She sends me a picture of her fake angry face and I laugh out loud.
Sorry. I send a sad face.
It's just that I haven't found a dress yet.
I don't know what I'm going to do.
It's fine.
Then, Well at least you get to choose yours. Mrs Mom picked one out for me.
Macey sometimes calls her mom 'Mrs. Mom' as a joke because she's kind of bossy. Even her dad was in on it. It's the reason we don't hang out at her house that often, unless Mrs Mom is cooking lasagna, because that's something no one can resist. But regardless, Mrs Mom has a great fashion sense. Her closet is actually color coordinated.
Well, I'm sure it looks great. I hit send and wait.
Across the floor I see Gina walk out of a shoe store with her friends. She fires gun shots at me with her eyes and I look away, back at my phone, refusing to be wounded.
Macey sends a smiley face. Yeah, it actually does. My butt looks greaaattt.
I stop texting to look for my own mom, who has wondered away to a tie shop with a new potted plant in hand. I had forgotten that her love for shopping had it's downsides. Nina would be pretty handy right now, getting her to stay focused, but she slept at her friend's house the night before. Katy, I think.
I decide to wander off on my own, purposefully avoiding people from my school, not wasting time in extra fancy stores and telling myself that I don't need those cute denim overalls or those sneakers or that charm bracelet right now.
I eventually end up at the same store Dean and I visited a few weeks back and walk in, with one thing in mind. The skirt that I'd hidden on the back shelf. It was in the third aisle, I think, so I go there, where I find the lady from last time dressed in a long black vintage dress and colorful beads draped around her neck and arms. She packing things onto the too-full shelves, her bracelets jingling with her every movement. I couldn't exactly rummage through the stuff to find the skirt when she was standing right there. So I pretend to be scanning the shelves, hoping she'll leave soon.
But she doesn't.
"Looking for something?" She asks eventually, holding a bright green feather boa in her hand. I stare at it as I shake my head. "Are you sure? We just got some new beaded necklaces," She gestures to the one she's wearing, "Some fishnet stockings, knitted beanies and um..." She taps her finger against her powdered cheek, "Oh! And dresses!"
I feel my face light up. "Dresses? Where?"
With a flicker of hope in my heart that this store had something good, I tell the beaded lady that I'll be right back and then I run outside the store and scan the second floor of the mall for my mom. Lucky for me, she's just rounding the corner, so I grab her hand and lead her inside. So far, before we'd gotten distracted, all the dresses we found were either ugly and expensive or gorgeous with prices that could barely fit on the price tags.
"Found something?" My mom asks following me in.
"Not exactly." I say, "But have faith." She laughs.
The beaded lady is showing us racks and racks of the new dresses she got yesterday, still in their plastic covers. There are all sorts of colors and styles, but something catches my eye. A long mermaid dress, that seems to glow under the lights. When I point it out and the beaded lady hands it to me, I see that it's really a shimmery gold material with gold sequins all over. The back is low, but not too revealing for a school dance and it has a sweetheart neck line at the front. I don't think I can pull it off. But there was only one way to know for sure.
"Can I try it?" I ask.
In the mirror of the dressing room, I look like I belong in a magazine. The fit is snug in all the right places, hugging my body and accentuating curves. I just stare at myself until everything blurs and I lose focus. If this wasn't going to do the trick, then I don't know what was.
When I pull back the curtains, the beaded lady makes a noise. I look at her because I can't tell if it's a good noise or a bad one. But her face says it all. Wide eyes and raised eyebrows. Then she tilts her head and gives me a look, the kind that any sales attendant would when they want you to buy something.
"It's perfect." She mumbles, and the way she stares makes me believe her.
"It is." I turn to look at my mom, whose mouth has formed a little o. "And affordable," She whispers in my ear. She makes me turn round and round, studying the fit around my waist and butt, asking me if I can breath, if I can walk and sit comfortably before we finally decide to buy it.
As we walk back to the counter, I think, It wouldn't even matter if the dress was too tight to sit in. I'd just stand the whole night like mannequin and look pretty.
"You'll look like you belong in a book." The beaded lady says, handing me the bag and receipt. I smile at her. She leans against the counter and look at us as we walk to the front door. "In a fairy tale, even." She calls out.
I want to take that so literally. Because I want it to be like a fairytale. When I get to the dance, when I step in front of Dean, when I confess the truth. Fairy tales are supposed to have happy endings and I don't want this to be the exception.
Favorite animated Disney movie?
Mine is Tangled.
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