Will Work for Prom Dress

by Aimee Ferris

  “Hi,” he said softly. He struggled his way out of the machine and stretched. He led me out into the hall, pulling on a T-shirt.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. It’s okay, I’ll go.”

  “No, no. Just wanted to talk and not disturb Brett—” He pointed back toward the room at the boy leaning heavily into his crutches. “I help with him sometimes. He’s kind of like a little brother.”

  “Anne said she saw you at the parade. I was the pickle.”

  He raised one eyebrow, and I giggled in relief of the familiar Zanderness of him.

  “It’s kind of a long story,” I said.

  We stood looking at each other, done with the small talk, waiting for the other to speak.

  “Quigley? I know this is probably not going to happen, but do you think I could have a hug? I could really use a hug.”

  I practically launched myself at him, and we stood there in the middle of the hall, hugging for what seemed like a wonderful eternity.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said, kissing the top of my head. “So, so sorry.”

  I felt like crawling into him, but settled for kissing his chest directly over his heart, wanting to somehow make all the pain go away. “No, I am. I know how it must have sounded that night. It wasn’t like I really thought that stuff was no big deal. I know I kept saying things like that, but I didn’t feel that way. I just wanted to protect Anne. I’m not good at half-truths. I got lost in trying not to let too much slip.”

  “I had no right to talk to you like that. It was just plain wrong. You can’t imagine how ashamed I felt. I couldn’t even face you enough to call. After I’d calmed down, I assumed you hated me and would never speak to me again.”

  “No, but I can see why you were frustrated. And I did stand back and not jump in when someone’s safety was at stake. I totally get that. Even before I found out about what you went through and lost.”

  He shrugged. “I know it’s a little obnoxiously chipper, but these days I try to think of it as what I went through and found. A new way. A new life. I mean, me? A jock?”

  I giggled.

  “Well, it’s not that funny! But seriously, I was a different person then. You’re going to think this is crazy, but after the accident, I was here at the hospital for a real long time. Months. Not fun. I had a roommate for a few weeks from California. We still talk when the occasional bad day gets us down. The guy was in a bad motorcycle accident out here, and they put us together while he healed enough to transfer home. His girlfriend was a model on a designer reality show shooting in L.A., so we watched a whole marathon of it. By the end, his girl had been tossed off when her designer lost one of the final challenges, and I was hooked. I could just see where the designers were missing that special something. Once I could get my good hand on fabric, it turned out that my brain could translate that to working with material, too.”

  “So that’s why you can’t draw! You’re a leftie and you had to switch to right!”

  He gave a sigh of exasperation, waggling a perfectly good left hand my way. “While I would like to blame my lack of talent on the accident, I’m just awful. Thanks for that, though.”

  We laughed and stood there holding hands in comfortable silence until I remembered his gift. “Oh! I got you something.”

  Zander pulled back the embossed paper and opened the portfolio.

  “Happy birthday! I would sing, but you really don’t want that,” I said. “Might make these sick folks even worse.”

  “OMG, Quigley.” He flipped through each page, reacting with a little gasp at several. “These are amazing. Truly.”

  I blushed and waved away the compliment. “I had good inspiration.”

  “It’s all of my designs. You’ve found where they belong.” He pulled me close and kissed me. “Thank you. This is the best present I’ve ever gotten. I love it.”

  “There’s one more thing, but on the off chance you didn’t hate me, I wanted to see if you wanted to go to the citywide show with me tomorrow and see it in person.”

  I pulled out the shot of the sketching couple. Zander stared at it for a long moment. “You’re amazing.”

  I reveled in yet another snuggle. I could get used to this.

  “So, you got the slot in the show!” he said, pulling back. “Excellent. I’m guessing Mr. Art King is not your biggest fan right now.”

  I thought of the “lonely goatherd” prank that could have cost me a scholarship, had I not blown it on my own. “Oh, it’s mutual.”

  Zander laughed. “So what are you going to do with yourself today?”

  “Wow, you know so much about my school now that you know when Senior Skip is?”

  “Senior Skip?”

  “It’s an ‘unofficial’ official holiday for seniors. It always falls on the day of prom and all the seniors are expected to ditch. It started when all the girls were blowing off the last half of the day to get their hair and nails done.”

  “Ah. I’m afraid the seniors don’t have the corner on the market today. Your whole school is closed. I saw it on the news while I was working out. I thought that’s why you were here.”

  “Why is the school closed? Did they cancel prom, too?”

  A shadow of hurt crossed Zander’s face, covered quickly by a polite smile. “No, I guess you’re still on for that.”

  “Not for me. Anne and I are having an anti-prom party at her house tonight. Lots of terrible-for-you frozen food, trashy celeb magazines, old John Hughes movies, that sort of thing.”

  “Sounds … fun?”

  “Yes, fun. You just don’t understand these things.”

  “But wasn’t prom the whole reason you guys were working for Ms. Parisi this semester?”

  “Sure. But it’s okay, really. I got a one-hundred-dollar check for the regional essay contest, and added to the four hundred dollars I saved for the dress, it’s exactly enough to buy myself an SLR digital camera. The kind that comes with different lenses that you can control F-stops on and adjust the way the picture is taken, like the old-school models.”

  “Sounds like you’re decided.”

  “Yeah, I guess. Some things just aren’t meant to be. Why is school closed, though?”

  “Haven’t you seen the news?”

  My phone rang, earning a nasty look from the nurse.

  “Those aren’t allowed in here. They interfere with the medical machinery somehow,” Zander said.

  I nodded and tried to understand the jumble of words Anne blasted through the phone.

  “I’ve got to go, Zander. Anne’s freaking out about something. Do you think we could maybe talk tomorrow? Grab a coffee at ten before the show, or something?”

  “Trying, but not thinking of anything that would make me happier.”

  I blew him a quick kiss as I was chased into the stairwell by the cell-phone-hating nurse.

  Anne and I sat sharing a pint of Ben & Jerry’s and surfing channels to catch more footage of Anne’s baby sister. “You could just ask him for a video,” I said. “They’re new parents. They probably have a camera glued to that kid twenty-four/seven.”

  “I don’t know. Seems kind of weird since I’ve never even met her yet. Did I tell you Dad lined up a gig doing a Broadway show next fall?”

  “Only your dad could decide on a whim he wants to do Broadway.”

  “Hey, he’s got an amazing voice. They’ve been after him for years to do a show. Getting Hollywood stars is their way of amping up the audiences—to find an actor who can actually sing is a bonus. He just wanted a chance to get to know me better and this at least brings him to the right coast. I think it’s really sweet.”

  I hid my smile at the one-eighty a few weeks could bring. “I do, too.”

  “I still can’t believe one of the guys ’fessed up to the cops,” Anne said.

  “I can’t believe that they hid the light bar at school, backstage!”

  “Well, that area is pretty impossible to reach. It’s way above the stage curtain in the
rafters. I just can’t believe how many years of stolen traffic signs, statues, and highway patrol materials were stockpiled with it.”

  “I wonder if it was T-Shirt who confessed. If he was caught up in that group freshmen year, it could explain his dad’s sudden generosity after hearing about Zander’s accident and scholarship fund. Maybe there’d be no way to tie him to it specifically anymore, but a court might have gotten him even more,” Anne mused.

  “If the rest of the family is anything like Zander, I don’t think they would be the type to sue. Maybe to put the guys away if they kept it up—to protect other people—but I can’t imagine going after money just to get it. Zander seems to be in a pretty good place about what happened.”

  The doorbell chimed.

  “Pizza!” We raced each other down the stairs.

  Anne looked through the etched glass and whooped. “I think it’s for you.”

  I took in her strange expression and uncontrollable giggles and opened the door as gingerly as one of those cans of nuts where fake snakes are about to pop out.

  “Zander?”

  He stood there, grinning. In a tux. Behind him waiting alongside the mailbox was a long black limo. “Quigley, would you go to prom with me?”

  I laughed. “Are you serious? I mean, yes! Or no—I don’t have anything to wear.”

  He held up one arm and rustled the black garment bag laid across it. “Good thing I’m on pretty tight terms with an excellent designer.” As he unzipped the bag, I recognized the flash of purple-and-red glowing material immediately.

  “Zander! Yes, how did you—I mean—when?”

  Anne grabbed me in a hug, jumping up and down.

  “I just thought, prom being a once-in-a-lifetime experience, this might be one of those times you give this a second measure before cutting.”

  “You know about the speech.”

  “I do. Thank you. I can’t tell you what it means to me. But hearing how you really get it, and weren’t afraid to share, meant more than the money. So I decided a girl this special needs to be well taken care of.” He gave a little bow and handed me the dress.

  I giggled but glanced at Anne. “Can we take Anne with us?”

  “Two lovely ladies on my arm, are you kidding? But wait, I might have a better option.” He pulled out his cell, dialed, and held it out to Anne.

  “Hello? Hi!” She playfully smacked Zander. “Yes. Well, yeah, I guess. Should we come pick you up?”

  The rear door opened and out climbed The Spikester, sort of. A tamer version of The Spikester, with a few less metal accessories, carrying a garment bag of his own. Anne squealed and nearly bowled him over halfway up the walk jumping into his arms.

  Halfway through their ten-minute welcome kiss, Anne broke away, “Oh, wait. I need to check in with my mom and make sure it’s okay.”

  “It’s okay.” Ms. Parisi appeared like magic through the kitchen door bearing a camera. Shockingly, my parents were close behind. “Now go change so we can embarrass you by taking a million pictures like any proper parents would.”

  “I checked with Ms. Parisi and Quigley’s folks before I ever arranged for the car,” Zander said.

  “My man Zander talked me up good.” Lance nodded.

  “Nothing but the truth,” Zander said.

  “Prom, school-sanctioned after-prom party at the bowling alley with faux gambling till dawn, watching sunrise at the waterfront, swapping cars before a late, greasy breakfast at the diner, and then off to Quigley’s art show,” Ms. Parisi ticked off the list. “While you kids are off, the Johnsons and I are going for our own evening out together. When chatting about logistics for tonight, your parents thought it was high time we got to know each other a little better, too!”

  The hall looked more like a wedding than a prom, with white twinkly lights covering the walls and dripping like icicles down from the ceiling and chandeliers. A long aisle, surrounded by round candlelit tables with red rose centerpieces, led up to a dance floor in front of a stage. We posed for a group shot beneath the cheesy rose heart trellis backdrop and headed in to snag a table.

  “Is it weird for you guys to be back in high school?” I asked Zander and The Spikester as I carefully adjusted the swirling silk of my skirt before sitting. Zander pulled his chair close behind mine and rested his chin on my shoulder with a sweet peck.

  “Tough to notice your surroundings when you’re blinded by beauty like this,” The Spikester said as he twirled a giggling Anne and pulled her down onto his lap. He leaned toward Zander. “My God, we’re incredible designers, aren’t we? Oh, you girls look nice, too.”

  Anne playfully smacked his chest, earning her a deep, seconds-too-long kiss. Tonight, I didn’t even mind.

  “Nice, no. Breathtaking, yes,” Zander corrected, sliding his fingers in mine and flipping my hand to gently kiss my palm.

  “Awww. You guys clean up pretty well, too,” I teased, embarrassed at the electric tingle Zander’s lips left behind.

  “Yeah, but I’m not so sure this tamed-down look really does it for me. You’re not going soft on me, are you? How am I supposed to scandalize my mother when you look like this?” Anne asked as she pulled The Spikester’s spike-free arms around her tighter.

  “Oh, I’ve got plenty of scandal left in me, don’t you worry.” He nipped her neck. “Though I hate to break it to you, your mother likes me.”

  “Obviously, there’s no future here, then,” Anne called over one shoulder as The Spikester dragged her onto the pulsing beat of the dance floor. Anne shimmered in her faux wedding white with the jagged slit up one thigh.

  An announcement with the number to text in the vote for prom king and queen momentarily interrupted the music.

  “Do you guys mind that bringing us ruins your big shot at royalty?” Zander asked.

  “God, no. That’s hardly my thing, and Anne’s not exactly the traditional kind of girl, either. Besides, rumor is D. W. Bostwick, mathlete and computer nerd of the century, rigged the vote so that he and his date would win.” I shrugged. “Who cares, anyway. I mean, do you even remember who the king and queen were at your prom?”

  “I didn’t go,” Zander said softly.

  I counted back the years, and my stomach dropped. “I’m sorry.”

  “Just didn’t exactly feel important at the time.”

  “I guess not. Does it now?” An ache swelled in my chest as I thought of the things he’d missed out on that I took for granted. The music switched to a slow ballad that echoed the shift in mood.

  “No. But being with you does.”

  I felt his breath on the back of my neck and heard the smile in his voice as he tugged on a lock of my hair. I turned, serious for a moment. “I’m here if you ever want to talk about it.”

  “I’d really, really like that. But not now.” He jumped up and extended his hand with a smile. “Now, we dance.”

  We joined the slow swaying mass of bodies glued to each other on the dance floor. I leaned against Zander’s chest and tried to memorize every touch and brush of his hand, inhaling the clean scent that made the rest of the world drift away.

  “Bathroom,” Anne commanded as the final notes of the song swelled.

  Zander looked down and rolled his eyes with a fake exasperated sigh. “Okay, fine. Lance and I will just entertain ourselves by rating all these dresses passing by.”

  The Spikester nodded and leaned in, pointing a finger at a short figure walking away from us in an overly poofed version of Cinderella’s ball gown with an exaggerated falsetto, “Hideouuuus!”

  We followed Cinderella out and across the hall, into the bathroom. There was something familiar about her, but she slid into a stall before I caught her face.

  “So, let me guess,” I said from experience. “This is the moment when you explain you have to”—I raised my hands for air quotes—“stop for a bite to eat, and will catch up to me in a few hours.”

  Anne smiled at me from the far end of the mirror and stuck her tongue out. She lean
ed in to check her eyeliner. “I don’t think so. Not this time.”

  “Really? Wow. Really, that’s great—”

  “Yeah, yeah. Don’t make a big thing of it.”

  “Awww, my little girl’s growing up,” I teased her, dodging the blusher brush she threatened to throw.

  The restroom’s intercom interrupted the moment. “Announcing this year’s king and queen of the prom … D. W. Bostwick and his date, Kallie Cristenson! Can we please have this year’s royalty make your processional walk down the aisle to be crowned.”

  “Who the heck is Kallie Cristenson?” I asked.

  “I am,” said Cinderella smugly as she stepped out of the stall to wash her hands in the sink between us.

  “Maria!” Anne and I both said at the same time.

  Maria primped her updo and floofed out her disproportioned poofy cap sleeves. “Suckers,” she spat at us and turned to me with a sneer. “Thought you could stop me from coming to prom by making David and T-Shirt afraid to show? Not only did I come, but I’m taking the crown. A freshman beating out all of those seniors! They’ll be talking about this for the rest of my high school life.”

  “Even longer, I bet,” said Anne from behind her in a mild voice, and smiled. “You really deserve this, Kallie.”

  Maria shot a superior glare over her shoulder before pushing past me. “Later, losers. I have to go get my crown.”

  Anne jumped forward to hold me back as we watched her flounce out of the bathroom, the back of her dress firmly tucked up into her stockings.

  Chapter Nineteen

  We walked through the grassy lane between tents, bleary-eyed from lack of sleep, but in excellent spirits.

  “There’s your division,” said Anne.

  The Spikester had to get home before his son woke up and missed him, so it was just the three of us, strolling through the park like it was the most natural thing in the world to be wandering around in a tux and ball gowns at 9:45 in the morning.

  “Any sign of Foster Neuwirth?” Zander asked.