I pulled into Jasper’s driveway and shut off Mom’s minivan. I parked next to a Hummer in front of his mansion with all sorts of windows and dormers and additions. Hesitantly, I made my way to the front door.
A beautiful woman with smiley eyes opened the door. “May I help you?”
I tried peeking in behind her, but the insides were in shadows compared to the bright midday sun. “Is Jasper here?”
“Why, yes. Come on in.” She ushered me inside. “We’re just sitting down to a pancake brunch. Please join us.”
I walked into the kitchen to find the entire family sitting down. Jasper had four younger brothers and sisters, and everything looked rather normal. I almost expected a plethora of servants dressed in tuxes and tap dancing while serving hot chocolate. But other than the gleaming stainless steel of new appliances, it didn’t feel any different than my family brunches.
Jasper’s cold, steely eyes found mine, urging me to leave now.
“Um, maybe I should leave. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“That’s right,” Jasper said. “You should leave.”
Before he said that with condemnation in his tone, I might’ve found a way to exit gracefully. Any number of excuses would’ve done the trick. Hemingway came to mind. He was probably waiting for me to take him for a walk.
His dad picked up on it right away. “Jasper, that’s no way to welcome a friend. And who is this lovely young lady?”
After sending a warning to Jasper with just my eyes, I strode across the floor with as much confidence I could muster. After all, I was still wearing Carter’s T-shirt and sweats with words on the butt that now I was wishing said don’t make me mad because you’ll regret it. I stuck out my hand and firmly shook Jasper’s dad’s hand.
“I’m Cassidy, Jasper’s girlfriend.”
Jasper coughed and almost choked on the orange juice he was drinking.
“What?” his mom exclaimed as if Jasper never brought any girls home. “What a treat.” She pulled out the chair across from Jasper. “You must join us for pancakes. They’re Jasper’s favorite.”
“Why thank you so much. Jasper has been hinting forever that he’d like to invite me over but to tell you the truth, I think he was a little nervous.”
His brothers and sisters giggled. Jasper kicked me under the table.
His mother sat next to his father. “I’m Maryanne and this is Jasper Senior. And you are welcome anytime. Why don’t you tell us a little bit about yourself?”
Jasper smiled—quite evilly, I might add. “Yes, Cassidy. Why don’t you tell us about yourself.”
“Well, um, I…”
Jasper leaned back with his arms folded across his chest to enjoy the show.
“I live at home with my parents and my twin brother. We’re just a normal family. I’ve been studying hard in hopes of receiving a college scholarship to help my parents out…”
My enthusiasm to lie dwindled. Of course, I cared about all those things but his mom smiled at me with such trust and interest I couldn’t keep going. It didn’t mean I was going to leave and make life easier for Jasper. It just meant I needed to change my approach and turn up the heat on my so-called boyfriend.
“Why don’t I tell you how Jasper and I met?”
“We’d love that,” his mom said.
“I’m not sure we would’ve ever crossed paths, since we run in somewhat different social circles.”
“You can say that again,” Jasper mumbled.
“But honestly, I think Jasper was tired of all the clingy social-climbing girls, so when he asked for help with his English essays, I couldn’t say no. We were great friends at first and then it blossomed from there. I guess you could say my love for literature inspired him.”
His mom rested her chin on her hand and sighed dreamily. “Good thing you stopped by, then.”
Jasper’s dad clapped him on the shoulder. “Good to hear you took my advice seriously and asked for help. You should have told us sooner.”
Jasper sat up and leaned forward as if on the counter attack. I braced myself for the worst because I’d given him lots of ammunition.
“Why don’t you share with my parents what happened last spring? It’s quite the story.” It was my turn to kick him under the table. “Oh,” he said sweetly. “And she loves playing footsies with me.”
I closed my eyes and breathed, trying to stop what felt like fire spreading across my face as his younger sisters laughed.
“But about last spring?” he said.
After another deep breath, I said. “That’s old news. It started as me trying to help someone and slowly snowballed. I don’t even know what the real story is anymore.”
“No, really,” Jasper said. “Tell us. I’m not sure I ever heard the entire story even after all the time we’ve spent together. I guess we focus too much on sentence structure. I’d love to hear it.”
I took that opportunity to finish off the short stack of pancakes and links of sausage I’d been served. “Wow, this is really delicious.” That wasted about two minutes.
“Cassidy, come now, no need to be shy. We’re listening.”
And they were. The entire family had finished and were leaning back in their chairs, their full attention on me, waiting to hear some incredible story involving me.
I’d love to tell the truth about what happened. Let everyone know that I wasn’t the only criminal, but I pushed those desires deep down in the locked box I kept in my heart. But I had to say something to fill the silence.
I giggled. “I have an even better story to tell. It’s actually the reason I stopped by this morning. I didn’t want to keep Jasper waiting any longer.”
His whole body tensed, a muscle pulsing in his jaw.
“Your son is so romantic. He knows I love romance and the stars on the nights when everything is quiet and the sky is alight with beauty. He knows my love for surprise and originality, which is something he’s been working on in his writing, by the way.”
His parents gave nods of approval and his brother scoffed. Jasper’s cheeks were slightly tinted with pink, whether from rage or embarrassment I wasn’t sure.
That’s when I surprised him and reached across the table and grabbed his hand, which was fiddling with the fork. “He came over one night and surprised me with a late night stroll. He brought me to a field and asked me…” I waved my hand in front of my eyes to ward off the tears that were either a result of my romantic story or because he was squeezing my hand so tight.
His mother’s hands were clasped. “Oh, please. Don’t keep us waiting.”
I blinked and turned my attention to Jasper. “Honey, I’d love to go to senior prom with you. My answer is yes!”
He let go of my hand and shot up from the table as his mother sighed, his father nodded in approval and his siblings giggled. He walked over to my side of the table. I thought he was going to yank me by my hair and throw me out the door. Instead, he gently gripped my arm.
“Yes and we have lots of details to work out so we’ll be up in my room.” He smiled at his parents, but it was tight-lipped and I feared for my life.
“How about some more of those pancakes?” I asked.
He patted my shoulder. “Now, you know what you told me about cutting down on what you eat so you can fit into your prom dress.”
“Jasper. How awful of you.” His mom’s face paled. “Cassidy has a perfect figure. Where are your manners?”
“Well, Mom, since we’re sharing news and all and personal stories, Cassidy is working on sharing her own truth about her binge eating. She’s really trying to cut back and has asked me to help her.” He leaned down and kissed my cheek. “Right, Cass?”
“Well, I wouldn’t call it binge eating. More like—”
“You know what your therapist said about this. No down playing it.”
“Oh,” his mom said.
I shrugged. “He’s right. I couldn’t make it through the week without him.” I stood. “L
et’s go do some planning.”
“Jasper!” his mom called. “Please leave the bedroom door open.”
As soon as we got into the room, I lit into him. “Binge eating? Seriously? I have problems, but eating isn’t one of them. I have a perfectly healthy body image and eat lots of veggies.”
He flopped on his bed and tossed a football in the air to catch and then tossed it again. “Chill. Don’t want to trigger an episode, now.”
I stayed at the door, fuming and embarrassed, even though I knew I deserved that and worse. Maybe I had anger management issues when it came to Ava and her snide remarks. That was more my problem. Regardless, it had been worth it just to see the shocked look on her face when I told her Jasper asked me to prom.
“Might as well sit down,” he said dryly, “since we have to keep up the pretense of planning our prom date, which, of course, will never happen, because we’ll ‘break-up’ a few weeks before prom.”
“Just so you know. Finagling a date to prom with you has nothing to do with how cute you are or that all the girls want to—”
“You think I’m cute?” He tossed the football to the floor. “My day just got better. Want to make out?”
“Um, no.” I ignored his pout, which made him more irresistible. “It also has nothing to do with your status in school and that every girl dreams of going to prom with you.”
“Wow. You’re good for my ego. You should come over every Saturday.”
“Gosh, thanks but no thanks. I wouldn’t want your head to explode.”
He just laughed. “So why do you want to go with me then? Let me guess. Something to do with your lover boy.”
“Something like that.” With no other witty remarks springing to mind, I studied his room. Typical. Shelves of trophies and ribbons from all his athletic pursuits. “Where do you want to go to college?”
He eyed me warily. “Is this a trick question?”
I sat on the bed. “No, I just figured since we’re going to prom we should cover some of the basics so we don’t have that one slow dance where we’re not sure what to say and it’s awkward and we start sweating and my make-up smears…you know.”
He laughed again. “You’re funny.”
“That’s a first.” No one has ever thought my rambling was funny.
“Even though you’re growing on me a little and you make me laugh, we’re going to have to stage a break up soon.”
“Phew. I’m getting tired of writing your essays anyway.”
He shrugged. “Okay, how about you write one last essay, that big one that’s due in a couple weeks, and then at some point we’ll have this dramatic cafeteria break up that will leave people talking for days. That’ll be fun.”
“A blast, I’m sure.”
I left while the going was good, said goodbye to his parents, then rushed home. I had the prom date, so Aunt Lulu would take me shopping, even though it was only a temporary date. Honestly? That was okay with me, because I was so done with this charade. Especially since it had never helped with Michael one bit. If anything it had hurt our chances.
Or, I’d never had a chance anyway.
Chapter 27
I locked the door to my room and thought about barricading it with my dresser but I didn’t want to pull a muscle in my back and walk around hunched over for the rest of the week, and a part of me knew this was a futile resistance.
Someone knocked on the door. I tensed and Hemingway who is attuned to my every emotion and need, growled.
“Just me,” Carter said with a sigh.
I rubbed Hemingway’s ears. I’d been getting a lot of that by the way. Sighing and huffing like what I was saying was absolutely ridiculous. But most of my words had been the truth. It was my life that was bordering over the top.
“Come on, Cass. Let me in.”
“Fine.” I huffed, unlocked the door, peeked in the hallway, then yanked him inside.
Carter shrugged me off and crouched, calling to Hemingway. “Come here, boy. Come to Papa.”
Papa? He couldn’t be serious, but I could see he was with his earnest expression and cute smile. “Not going to happen. Dogs usually bond with one of their owners and that happens to be me, but you got your use out of him—all your dates. I think Hemingway is exceptionally aware of human emotions and knew that you were using him. So deal with it.”
“Anyway, why are you hiding out? Aunt Lulu is waiting downstairs.”
“I know. She promised to take me shopping for a dress, but I didn’t know it would be the next weekend and I’m not sure I’m ready for it.”
He marched over to me. “Let’s go. It’s just going to get worse the longer you stay up here.”
“Cassidy!” Aunt Lulu trilled from downstairs. I groaned.
Carter walked me downstairs like he was the grim reaper and I was heading to my death. At the bottom of the stairs, he whispered, “You know you have always been her favorite. Hey, she’s buying you a prom dress.”
Somewhere between the bottom of the stairs and walking across the kitchen floor to where Aunt Lulu and my mom chatted, I went through a transformation. Carter’s words hit a nerve and gratefulness rushed through me. My aunt, the one with all the money, was taking me shopping for a prom dress. I wouldn’t have to wear Great Aunt Matilda’s old wedding gown with too much lace that had faded yellow with time and smelled like mothballs.
“Ready to shop?” I chirped.
Mom’s expression went from tense—probably from talking to Aunt Lulu—to surprised and a little bit sad. I went over and gave her a hug. “Sure you don’t want to come?”
“Well—”
“Of course not,” Aunt Lulu boomed. “Your mom hates shopping and we’re going to go to every store possible until we find the perfect dress. It’s going to be a long, utterly exhausting but exhilarating day.”
“I think I need a nap.”
Aunt Lulu pinched my cheek. “You are so funny. Such a sense of humor. Now, let’s get started.”
What Aunt Lulu didn’t realize was that I wasn’t kidding. Just the idea of shopping all day made me need a power nap. Mom stood timidly next to me.
“Mom should come. I’m sure Jules won’t mind.” I glanced out the window at Aunt Lulu’s car. “Where’s Jules?”
Aunt Lulu waved her hand. “I’m taking Jules on her special trip later in this week. I supposed your mother could join us…”
Mom laughed and pulled me into a hug. “Don’t worry about it. I have work to do here, and I’ll hear all about it later.”
The car drive over was filled with Aunt Lulu’s shopping advice, and let me tell you, she should write a book on it.
First, she shoved a water bottle at me and told me to drink half of it by the time we arrived at the mall. “There’s an art to keeping hydrated.”
She proceeded to explain that it’s best to drink just enough that you’re not parched in the middle of Macy’s but not so much that you’re in a dressing room with a pile of clothes, standing in your unmentionables and suddenly have to use the little girls’ room. Mainly because that would waste prime shopping time. If I drank half the bottle, then my tinkle break would come after we were done with the first store. It was all about timing.
“What if the first dress I try on is the one?” I asked, timidly, knowing that it’s always a risk to say anything to Aunt Lulu when she’s on a roll.
She did this gasp/flutter thing with her voice. “Nonsense! The first one is never the one. You have to have comparison.”
She went on to tell me that we’ll never know which one is the perfect dress until we try on all sorts of different colors and styles. Even the ones I hate, I should try on, because you just never know. Dresses can look different on than off.
“Even the pink zebra-striped nylon stretchy dress with feathers on the sleeves?”
Aunt Lulu smiled. “Even the pink zebra-striped nylon stretchy dress with feathers on the sleeves and sequins on the derriere.”
Okay, she totally up
ped me on that one.
Another rule was to keep focused. We were there for a prom dress and that had to take precedence, because the next weekend the dress that was the one could be gone from a store we didn’t get to. So no side trips to look at necklaces on sales or at the new Spanx that promised to make anyone look like a size eight. I hoped she was talking about herself there.
She might’ve said something about dressing room strategies and the perfect number of dresses to try on at a time but I’d zoned out and couldn’t help but think about my date and that prom was going to be nothing like I’d always imagined.
In the first store, we went directly to the prom dress section and it was like heaven opened up from above. I saw it. The one. It was pink and had tulle and a shimmery material over it with tiny little sequins in the dress part. The top part was a simple pale pink satin with spaghetti straps. My heart did this funny little beat like I just ran into the guy of my dreams.
I lost all focus and forgot all the rules because I had to touch the dress, feel it between my fingers and hold it against my cheek. I needed a moment to fantasize and do some visual imagery.
The dress was just within reach, when Aunt Lulu pulled me in the other direction. “If that’s the first dress you like, then it’s not the one.” She stacked ten dresses on the cart that paled in comparison and shooed me into the dressing rooms.
I went back to the dress and ran my fingers over the pale pink satin material. “I’ll try on every single one of these, but I’ve got to try on this one, too.”
“Trust me, darling. I know what I’m talking about here.” Then she pulled me toward the dressing room.
I tried on every single one—just to make her happy. And even though some weren’t bad, they weren’t the one that made my heart go pitter-patter, the one that I’d dance around my room wearing, pretending.
When I said no to ones that Aunt Lulu thought were gorgeous—with a strong emphasis on the first syllable—she brought in dresses of different styles. See, another one of her rules was that after the initial shop around, I stay in the dressing room, while she, or I should say while a worker brought in more dresses.
They never brought in the one.
We went to five other stores, and I couldn’t find a single dress that matched the first one I found even though that broke Aunt Lulu’s rule. After we left our sixth store, and even though Aunt Lulu’s hair was a bit on the frizz, and her lipstick was fading, I said, “Why don’t we go back to that first store?”
Prom Impossible Page 16