I yawned as I stared out the window. It was a perfect May day, soft breeze, no clouds in the sky, not hot. We were supposed to be filling out a psychology worksheet, but my mind kept wandering. One more month of school, then summer, and drill team would start and I'd be having fun with my friends. The girl in front of me was chatting quietly with her friend; they were sophomores who were going to their prom this weekend. The junior prom was next week, but nobody'd asked me and there wasn't really anybody I wanted to ask myself. I blinked and made myself pay attention to the worksheet. It wasn't hard, I was just bored.
My English teacher had an interesting announcement, however. "Some students are forming a book club, which I am advising. There's a formation meeting tomorrow at lunch to choose leaders and books for next year, and the books will come from literature as well as genres, so there will be something for everybody. I urge you to come and sign up if you're interested." It did sound interesting, and I told John about it in earth sciences. He grinned.
"I'd like to have one normal high school thing to put on my applications," he said, and we agreed to go.
"I've never been to a book club before," I said. "Wonder if there'll be wine? In all the ones I've heard of, it's more an excuse to drink during the week than to discuss the books." John burst out laughing, not a good idea when we were supposed to be doing homework.
Alas, no wine, we found out the next day. The club first talked about what books we wanted to read, so we could get some done during summer when everybody has more time, and we decided on one book a month for each month we had school, barring August because we only had about ten days of school that month and it took time to settle back into school and December, because of finals and Christmas. We voted and chose three classics: Their Eyes Were Watching God, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, and Love in the Time of Cholera. Two nonfiction: Making the Monster: The Science Behind Mary Shelley's Frankenstein and Hellfire Boys. Then the genre fiction: my suggestion, Some Danger Involved, was accepted, and we would also read The Eyre Affair and Master of Crows. Then we chose officers. I was stunned, walking out, to have been elected president.
"I felt sure that one of the kids who organized the club would be president," I said. John just smiled.
"Everybody knows you after your campaign for student body president and you work at the library. You're the most qualified." I laughed. It felt really good to be have won something I wasn't expecting. We were back at my locker and I picked out my books for the next class.
"Hey, Leia, do you want to go to the prom with me?" John asked suddenly and I hit my head on the shelf in my locker as I straightened up. "I know it's last minute, but it sounds like fun." He smiled ruefully. "I've come to realize how much of normal high school I'm missing out on to skate."
"Thank you, I think that will be fun," I said, and we smiled at each other. "But you realize that this will mean photographic evidence that we're friends," I warned him, and he laughed.
"Yeah, I'm not going to let a bunch of guys I don't even know tell me that I can't go places and have fun with my best friend," he said. "I'll get the tickets and pick you up for dinner next Saturday, then."
"I'm not a very good dancer," I warned, and he rolled his eyes.
"You just got on the dance team."
"Choreography I can do, apparently. Dancing in the wild is a different proposition."
"Huh." I didn't think about that," he said, frowning slightly. "We might just end up being the goobers flailing away out there, but we'll still have fun."
I was a little dazed still when I met my friends for an emergency meeting at the skate park after school. "I'm glad you're getting to go," Carol said. "What's the point of having a friend who's a boy if he won't take you places you need a date for?"
"It's so last minute that you should be able to get a good deal on a dress," Keshondra pointed out.
"You'd better get shopping," Zayna said seriously. "I can't go with you today, unfortunately, but it might take some time with the supply being diminished."
She was right, and I took off right after for Nordstrom. There weren't as many dresses as there had been, but they still had a nice selection. I started to fret, though, they all looked sexy, and I felt that that aesthetic would be wrong since we were firmly in the friend zone.
Fortunately, the associates at Nordstrom are legendary for their helpfulness, and the one who took me under her wing listened to my concerns and steered me to a few dresses that had lovely but more demure looks, and in short order I had a long halter-top dress with an A-line skirt in navy satin with a chiffon overlay with tiny pleats in the chiffon adding interest to the bodice. The back was open from just under my shoulder blades to the narrow collar, but softly gathered chiffon panels helped to fill in the area without being fussy. I felt both pretty and relaxed in it, not like I was trying too hard. My saleslady explained that it was actually a bridesmaid dress but during prom season they were put into the mix. It had been a hundred fifty, but there were markdowns since the dances were imminent, and I got it for thirty five off. "You'll need heels, two or three inches," she noted. "The dress is a little too long, and there really isn't time to get the hem altered unless you want to pay a lot for a rush. We don't have anything here that would really work unless you want four-inch heels, but I saw some really pretty shoes at DSW over the weekend."
"I do not want four inch heels, thank you," I said, and she laughed and finished ringing me up. But as I was leaving, I saw an evening purse in royal blue velvet with a jeweled clasp, and took that and a fine black lace shawl back to her. Why shouldn't I have my own nice things rather than borrowing from Mom? She rang me up and then we detoured through the fragrance section where she helped me choose a special perfume and, there being no samples, had the associate there fill a little vial from the sample bottle. From there, I went straight to DSW, where there was a large selection of dress pumps and sandals. I chose a pair of sandals with a two and three quarter inch heel, a strap across the toe, and a strap around the ankle. The fabric was blue velvet, and there was beading on the ankle strap for a bit of glitz. Best of all, they were also marked down, from $39.99 to $29.98. The one cent made me laugh, but the ten bucks was a nice savings. Back at the car, I checked the color; the shoes had a little violet cast in comparison, but it wasn't a huge difference, and besides, they'd be under the skirt. Satisfied, I headed for home.
On the way, Grandpa called and was interested in seeing my dress when I told him where I'd been, so I stopped by and showed him my haul. "And I'll be able to wear my new earrings," I said, touching them. "They're the prettiest ones I have." They were the only really nice jewelry I had, actually. I had a little pair of sterling hoops, but everything else was just the unspecified metal you get with cheap costume jewelry. Pretty, but with that tendency to turn your skin green. There was a little stamp on the back of one earring, 14K.
"You'll look so pretty, punkin," he said. "Do you want to get your hair done? I'll pay for a salon, since you've already got the dress." He peered closer at me. "You could probably use a trim, honey. You're getting a little shaggy. Which of your friends has the best haircut, and where does she go?"
"That would be Zayna," I said, thinking. "She goes to Salon Nouveau." He nodded, and looked up the number on his phone. Shortly thereafter, I had an appointment to get my hair cut and styled for the dance, and he even threw in a manicure and pedicure.
"Your grandma loved to hit the salon when we had an event to go to," he said fondly. "Wait here, punkin," he said, and left the room. He came back and handed me a ring. It was white gold, delicately pierced, with a tiny sparkly diamond in the center. "This was my mom's engagement ring," he said. "They got married in the 30's, it was after the Depression, but not so much after that my dad had a lot of money. It's not your mother's style, she likes clean and modern, she didn't want it, but maybe you'd like it."
I put it on. It was too loose for my right ring finger, but it fit my middle finger perfectly. I admired the shine. "Thank you, Grandpa," I said. "It's beautiful."
"Your dress is pretty and the color is lovely for you, but this will be a nice touch," he said, pleased. "Right after my dad died, the diamond fell out. We found the stone, fortunately, and she had the prongs repaired, but she never wore it again. It's still in good shape."
"I'll say," I said, and kept it on. On the way back to the condo, I stopped by a florist and ordered a boutonniere. The florist asked what color my dress was, and when she heard navy, she suggested a white flower. That sounded good, and she showed me a few pictures. I chose one with Stars of Bethlehem and a taller, fat green leaf. It was different, which I liked, and not fussy.
The revelation of my plans at dinner caused some consternation, as I'd expected. I shrugged it off. "It's just a dance, even if it's dressy," I said. "I wasn't going to go, so this was nice of John." My brother fussed about it, though. "John's the one who has to answer to the figure skating people, not me. Who cares?" Mom took my hand when I gestured.
"That looks familiar," she said, and I told her where I'd gotten it. It did cross my mind that if she'd taken it when it was offered, she probably would have sold it at one point when money was tight. "I remember," she said slowly. "I thought it was too old-fashioned. But it looks good on your hand, Delia. It was nice of Dad." I agreed.
So I was pretty perky about everything. I'd take a selfie in the dress and sent it to my friends, who thought it was pretty. "Looks great with your hair," Cass texted. "Not extravagant but not boring," Keshondra judged. "John's lucky!" Zayna texted. "Other guys are going to be sad they didn't ask you." It was just what I wanted to hear, even if if the comment about the other boys in the class was probably wishful thinking. But the work I was doing with weights was giving my arms and shoulders some definition, so I did think the dress looked good on me.
I was surprised at how fast the time went, and suddenly it was Saturday afternoon and I was off to the salon in open-toed sandals. The manicure and pedicure were up first, so I sank into the very comfortable padded chair which had a massage function where the legs were positioned. I'd never taken much time with nail polish so I wasn't comfortable with bright colors, but I was taken by a creamy periwinkle blue, not too dark, not so light that it was insignificant, and I chatted happily with the technician and forty-five minutes later, I walked rather gingerly over to the stylist's station.
"My word," she said as she finger combed my ponytail out. "I have clients who would sell half their souls for your color. It's beautiful. And so thick." We went to the washing station where she left on a deep conditioner, then it was back to the mirror. "I almost never get to say this, but your hair's almost too thick," she said, carefully combing it out. We talked about how I usually wore and styled it and my activities.
"Oh, you're going to be a Spartanette?" she asked brightly. "My daughter, she's in grade school now, can't wait til she can try out for the team. They're always so cute. You can flip your hair around more if you get some layers cut into your hair, it won't sacrifice your overall length, but give it some bounce and shape. It's good that you don't blow dry your hair, but leaving it to dry naturally doesn't give it a lot of movement." I agreed to the layers--they'd grow out if I didn't like them--and she gave me styling tips as she snipped. Then she set my hair on enormous curlers and stuck me under the dryer. We discussed up or down, and I kind of wanted to downplay the hair because this was supposed to be fairly casual. So she braided it around the back of my head, having back combed it carefully on top and the sides so it wasn't tight to my scalp but more attractive. A few tendrils framed my face. I could hardly believe it was my hair, it was so glossy and pretty. Grandpa came in as we finished up and grinned.
"You look lovely, punkin," he said, and the stylist agreed. I thanked her and Grandpa shook her hand. "Why don't you get all the products she used on your hair? You always look pretty, Delia, but your hair looks spectacular."
"Doesn't she?" the stylist agreed. "I couldn't mix that shade if I tried." She took me over to the products display and showed me what she'd used, and gave me her card as Grandpa shooed me out so he could pay. Costcutters kept split ends under control, but my new cut was several leagues ahead of my usual style. Wow. Grandpa came out with a smile on his face and a big bag of stuff that included shampoo, conditioner, and the hair masque in addition to the styling products.
I thanked him and gave him a hug. "You better get moving, punkin," he said briskly. "Time's awasting. You said he was picking you up at five?" Yikes. I did need to go. "I'll be over to see the full effect." He winked, and I knew he'd also keep a lid on my brother if he was around. Hopefully, though, he'd be elsewhere. I didn't need any rain on my parade. I hustled off to my car; I still had to pick up the boutonniere.