Prom Ever After

by Dona Sarkar, Caridad Ferrer, Deidre Berry

“Some of you had fun sticking it to the other team, but now it’s time to call a truce,” I told them. “We lost focus somewhere along the way, but let’s not forget the purpose of what we initially set out to do, and that’s show the Brookfield elite that they aren’t the only ones who deserve accolades and honors like prom queen and king.”

  “Yeah, yeah...we remember...” Kristen said drily. She was still salty about not being able to exact even more revenge against Aubrey and her team for destroying our posters. I had never seen Kristen so unhinged. This new attitude was so unlike her, and I couldn’t wait for prom night to arrive so that everyone could calm down and get back to normal.

  “We’ve come too far to blow this now,” Michael added. “So seriously, you guys, no more pranks and other shenanigans, because it would totally defeat the purpose if Deanna gets disqualified.”

  Everyone promised to be on their best behavior from there on out, but I couldn’t be sure. Especially knowing what some of them were capable of.

  “So are we still going to prom as a group?” I asked.

  “Yeah, sure...”

  “Why not?”

  “We’ve all chipped in for the party bus, so we might as well...” To close out the meeting, I led a “Team Deanna” cheer, but there wasn’t nearly as much enthusiasm as there was the very first time we did it. The core of the team’s spirit had been deflated, and the wind had been taken out of many of their sails.

  * * *

  I stayed at school a little late to work on the Tyler Perry–Oscar Micheaux paper with Chad and Shelly. I still stood by the fact that they weren’t the easiest two people to work with, so progress was slow, but good. So good, that I was cautiously optimistic that we would at least wind up with a B-plus. Not the best grade, but certainly not the worst, considering who I was working with.

  When I finally made it home that evening, I walked into the living room and found my parents huddled together on the sofa.

  Mom was crying her eyes out, and Dad had his arm around her, trying to comfort her. My first thought was that Grandpa Parker had suffered another heart attack, only fatal this time. I dropped my book bag in the doorway and approached them cautiously. “What’s wrong?” I asked, which for some reason caused my mother to start bawling even harder.

  Dad handed her a couple of Kleenex and told me, “You got a letter in the mail from a college today...”

  My parents don’t usually open my personal mail, but they’d obviously been so anxious to hear the verdict that they just couldn’t help themselves.

  And, uh-oh...if Mom was crying then it couldn’t be good news. My hands shook as I read the letter Dad handed me.

  Dear Ms. Parker,

  We have reviewed your application for admission to Princeton University, and based on your exceptionally high grade point average and outstanding scores on your college admission exams, we are pleased to offer you a full scholarship to our university starting in the fall of this year...

  “I GOT IN!” I jumped so high my head almost hit the ceiling. I had been accepted to one of the top universities in the entire world.

  I was so over-the-moon happy, I ran from room to room screaming like a maniac for almost five minutes. When I finally calmed down, I went back into the living room and hugged my parents. “But wait, Deanna, that’s not all that came today,” Mom said, handing me a stack of letters that turned out to be from the other four colleges I’d applied to: Spelman, Northwestern University, Georgia Tech and Howard University. I read the letters one by one, and found out that they had all accepted me with full scholarships.

  I breathed a huge sigh of relief. All of the hard work had paid off. Now the only thing left to do was choose which school I would be attending in the fall.

  “Congratulations, Deanna, we’re so proud of you,” Dad said with a wide smile on his face. I saw the tears glistening in his eyes, but he was too tough to let them fall. It was okay with me, though. I still got the message loud and clear.

  Mom dabbed at her eyes with a tissue and blew her nose. “You did it,” she whispered in my ear and held me tight. “I never doubted that you would make it, and now you’re on your way.”

  It had been a long, hard road. We had been through a lot individually and as a family, so it was a happy moment for all of us.

  Twelve

  AUBREY GARRETT

  My custom-made prom dress designed by none other than the great Jules Jamison finally arrived via FedEx the day before prom. Unfortunately, over half of the hand-beaded jewels that were supposed to embellish the bodice were rattling around at the bottom of the garment bag.

  The box the dress had shipped in was marked “Fragile! Handle With Care!” but the package was dented and battered, indicating that it had been severely manhandled on the way from New York to Texas.

  I was so shocked by the horrible condition of my dress that my knees buckled and I almost fainted.

  Thankfully, my mother caught me before I hit the floor. She helped me to the sofa and started fanning me with the latest copy of Vogue magazine.

  “Oh, noooo...” I moaned, unable to believe that anyone’s luck could be this bad.

  “It’s okay, Aubrey, don’t worry. This is a setback, but it’s not a total disaster,” Mom tried to assure me. “Esther Knox is a wonderful seamstress, and I’m sure she can have all those jewels sewn back onto the dress in no time.”

  Esther Knox had been my mother’s personal tailor for years, and she was very good at making alterations, but this was a couture gown we were talking about. Could a nearsighted sixty-four-year-old woman really have my dress in good, wearable condition before Saturday afternoon? I prayed that she could. That was all I could do at that point because I didn’t have a backup dress, and there was no plan B. Prom was less than twenty-four hours away. It was literally a race against the clock.

  DEANNA PARKER

  It seemed like months had passed since the prom queen announcements were made instead of just two weeks. But prom weekend finally arrived. That Friday during seventh period, there was an assembly held in the auditorium where the faculty and prom committee talked to everyone who’d be attending the prom about the importance of making good decisions on the big night.

  “Don’t drink and drive,” “don’t use drugs” and “abstain from sex” were the main bullet points. In other words, “Don’t do anything you know in your heart is wrong, which are things that we adults probably did on our own prom nights.”

  They also talked to us about the behaviors that were expected, and the ones that would not be tolerated. There was to be: no twerking, no gyrating on anyone else’s body parts and absolutely no spiking the punch. “Offenders will be tossed out immediately, no questions asked!”

  The next morning, I woke up bright and early, anxious to get started on the full day of beauty my Mom had scheduled for me at Empress Salon. In the span of a few hours, I hoped to go from shabby to chic with a facial, a French manicure and pedicure, hair and makeup.

  It was my first time getting pampered and glammed up at a high-end Dallas salon, and I enjoyed every moment of the experience, but while sitting in the chair getting my hair curled, I came down with a serious case of pre-prom jitters. A thousand what-ifs raced through my mind all at once. What if Michael doesn’t think I look pretty, and that inviting me to prom was a huge mistake? What if I, or someone else, accidentally spill punch on my dress? What if I don’t have fun? What if I don’t win prom queen, and end up letting my entire team down?

  I took a few deep breaths and reminded myself that even if all those things happened, which was highly unlikely, I was still on my way to college, and still destined for greatness no matter what happened tonight.

  “Voila!” Chauncey said after putting the finishing touches on my makeup. He spun my chair around to face the mirror, and I barely recognized the person staring ba
ck at me. The makeup was tasteful and subtle, and my shoulder-length hair had been cut in soft layers that framed my face. I was so happy with the results, I couldn’t help but grin back at my reflection in the mirror. I wasn’t even fully dressed yet, but I already looked and felt like a million bucks.

  AUBREY GARRETT

  Mrs. Esther Knox will eternally be on my Christmas card list because of the last-minute miracle she was able to perform on my prom dress. A few hours before prom, she returned the dress to me in such perfect condition, I would’ve thought the designer himself had done the work if I didn’t know better.

  With the dress issue out of the way, I now had to deal with prom-mom who was on a rampage, acting as if it were her special night instead of mine.

  “Aubrey, stop all that tweeting and into the shower,” she said, snatching my cell phone right out of my hands. “Julian will be here before you know it!”

  It always happened before every big event where I had to get dressed to the hilt. Mom hovers over me, instructing me on how to get dressed as if I had no clue what to do without her. And I should have known that prom night wouldn’t be any different. We have a small salon area set up in the lower level of our house, so thankfully, I didn’t have to go out to a crowded beauty salon and wait in line to get my hair and makeup done. My mother called her trusty glam squad over to help me get ready, but we butted heads on everything from how they should do my hair to what shades of lip gloss and eye shadow to use.

  * * *

  After months of worry and anticipation followed by a major mishap, it was finally time to wear my custom-made creation.

  “You’re not my little girl anymore, fooling around in my closet,” Mom said, as she helped me slip my dress on over my head. “I’m so proud of the woman you’re blossoming into.”

  “Well, I have you to thank for that, because you’ve been such a great role model,” I told her, which seemed to make her happy.

  Once I had the dress on, I twirled in the full-length mirror attached to my closet door, feeling like Cinderella on her way to the ball. The dress had turned out to be all that I had hoped it would be, and everything in between.

  “Oh, my God, I’ve never seen you look more gorgeous!” my mother said, wiping tears away.

  “Mom, why you crying?” I asked, hoping I wouldn’t start crying myself and ruin my makeup.

  “Because next you’ll be graduating from high school, going off to college, and then getting married and having a family of your own...” Before I knew it, Mom dissolved into a tearful sobbing mess in front of my eyes. I hugged my mother close to me, not even caring if her tears stained my dress.

  “Chad is out of the picture, so the marriage thing isn’t happening for at least another ten to fifteen years,” I assured her.

  “And speaking of Chad...” She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue and blew her nose. “It’s probably going to be hard for you to see him tonight, but put him out of your mind and just concentrate on enjoying yourself. He made his choice and is now what?”

  “Null and void!” I said, using one of her favorite catchphrases.

  Mom gave me a fist bump. “You got that exactly right!” she said, beaming with pride.

  I thought putting Chad out of my mind was going to be impossible, and then Julian arrived to pick me up in his father’s silver Mercedes-Benz, looking like my knight in shining armor.

  His tuxedo was black, and his shirt and the tiny flower in his breast pocket were the same shades of yellow as my dress. It was the exact same ensemble Chad would have worn if we’d gone to prom together, only Julian looked like an elegant gentleman in his, instead of an overgrown boy playing dress-up, like Chad.

  A wide smile bloomed on Julian’s face when he saw me all glammed up and ready to go. “You look like an angel transported straight from heaven,” he told me. “And I’m so honored to have the prettiest girl in the world on my arm tonight.” He kissed the back of my hand ever so gently, and then slipped a yellow gardenia corsage on my wrist.

  Mom took a few pictures of Julian and me, and then we were off to the pre-prom party at Mia’s house. Mia lived just a few minutes away, and when we arrived at her house, all of my other friends were already there with their dates. Some of the guys were wearing top hats and tailcoats, and I wasn’t the least bit surprised that all of my girls looked fabulous.

  Jessica looked regal in a backless purple satin gown. Kimberly looked radiant in a strapless fuchsia dress with rhinestones across the bodice, and Mia had embraced her inner princess with a white sequined ball gown and matching tiara.

  There was no need to introduce Julian to my friends, because one thing about this group is that all of our parents were friends and knew one another from the social organizations they belonged to.

  We spent a good fifteen minutes telling one another how great we all looked, and then started taking pictures in every way possible: individually, in couples, just the girls, then just the guys and then one big group picture.

  With the picture-taking out of the way, we helped ourselves to yummy catered hors d’oeuvres. There were all kinds of tempura, sushi, spring rolls, fruit kabobs, finger sandwiches and pastries, all of which Julian kept shoveling into his mouth at an alarming rate of speed.

  I understood that he was a big boy with a huge appetite, but the way he was double-dipping everything like a caveman who didn’t know how to behave in public was embarrassing.

  “Maybe you should slow down on the appetizers,” I said diplomatically. “The limo is on its way, and we’ll be heading to dinner in about twenty minutes.”

  “I know,” Julian said with his mouth full, “but I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast, and I’m starving!”

  In the limo headed to the restaurant, Julian started rubbing his eyes and loosening his tie. He looked so itchy and uncomfortable, I leaned over and whispered, “What’s the matter?” in his ear.

  “It’s my allergies,” he said, as if he were in pain. “I think I ate something that I shouldn’t have...”

  As a kid, I remembered that Julian had had such severe asthma that he was forced to carry an inhaler with him at all times, but I didn’t know that he had food allergies, too.

  By the time we arrived at Jasper’s Steakhouse, Julian had morphed from his normal handsome self into a hideous troll. All I could think as I looked at his red, lumpy and distorted face was EWW!

  Thirteen

  DEANNA PARKER

  All day I had been more excited than nervous, but nervousness completely won out when Michael showed up to take me to prom. He was on time, but I was still in the process of getting dressed, which made me even more panicky. I ditched my glasses and struggled for five minutes to put my contact lenses in. Once that was done, I ran around the room tossing things into my evening bag that were essential: breath mints, lip gloss, my cell phone and the pepper spray Dad had given me to use in case Michael got too fresh.

  After touching up my makeup, I sprayed on a layer of perfume and slipped on the bronze strappy heels that I’d spent hours practicing how to walk in correctly.

  Gripping the wooden railway for support, I headed downstairs to make my big reveal. Mom was waiting at the bottom of the stairs with a video camera rolling, and when she saw me, she made that sharp squealing sound that people usually make when they accidentally stub their toe.

  “Oh, Dee Dee, you look gorgeous!” she said excitedly, and then fluffed my hair just a bit.

  I fully expected for my Dad to be in the living room coincidentally cleaning his gun collection, but Michael and Dad were sitting on the sofa talking about the NBA playoffs like two old buddies. Michael immediately stood up when I entered the room, and the big smile that emerged on his face made me feel as if I had done something right.

  “Hey, Deanna,” he said, his voice quivering a bit. “You look just as breathtaking as
I thought you would.”

  Dad shot Michael a hard look that read “Back off, buddy!” Then he turned to me, looking like a proud papa. “Daughter, you look marvelous tonight... Tyra Banks, eat your heart out!”

  Instead of a corsage, Michael presented me with a bouquet of assorted flowers, which I thought was a nice touch since I’m not a big fan of corsages, anyway.

  “What time should I have Deanna back home?” Michael asked my parents politely.

  Mom smiled at his thoughtfulness, but Dad barked, “Have her home at midnight, and not a minute after!”

  “Don’t mind him,” Mom interjected. “Two a.m. is reasonable, and if you need to stay out later, just call us and let us know.”

  Dad snarled and grunted to himself, but to my surprise and relief, he didn’t say much else. Apparently he had come to grips with the fact that I had grown up and he couldn’t shelter me forever. It was time to let me fly on my own, and trust that my prom night wouldn’t turn out the same way my sister’s did, simply because Erica and I were two completely different individuals.

  Michael and I left my house arm in arm and walked out into a warm spring evening where the moon was already glowing in the sky. He escorted me to the sleek, black party bus that was idling in the middle of the street, and the sheer size of it was a shocker to me.

  Renting a party bus had been Michael’s idea, and I just assumed that he meant one of those cute little stubby buses that aren’t much bigger than a van, but the actual party bus we ended up with was about seventy feet long, and was the exact same type of bus that superstars go out on tour in.

  “Hello, young lady, watch your step,” the bus driver said as Michael helped me climb onboard.

  My mouth fell open when I saw that the inside looked like a nightclub on wheels with twirling neon lights, a large sitting area and the requisite stripper pole just in case you were into that sort of thing. There was a restroom onboard, a master bedroom with a humongous flat-screen television, and a refrigerator stocked with an assortment of nonalcoholic beverages like bottled water, Red Bull, juice and soda.