by Lena Prodan
"That's the field to go into."
"It's in the math department. I'm no good at math."
She pulled open a drawer in the filing cabinet, found what she was looking for, and flipped open a file. A lock of her hair dropped over her eyes. She shoved it back on the wrong side, making her part zigzag. “Your grades are solid. Mostly As."
Was she going to believe me or my report cards? “That's luck, not skill."
"Oh, don't be so modest."
"I need to know what to do."
"Try computers for a semester or two. Who knows? You might like it. And if it doesn't work out, change majors. Everyone does."
"I don't have a choice."
Her expression said it all. It wasn't her job to invent a future for me.
"I want to go to law school. How do I do that?” I asked.
"You get your undergraduate degree, and then apply to a law school."
That sounded stupid. “Why can't I just go right into law?"
"That's the way it's done."
"But it's a waste of time. I don't need another degree. I need a law degree.” My heart sank. Four years, and then how many more? By then, Amanda would be an adult, and I couldn't go after her father for child support. I slumped in the chair. “I'm going to fail. I can't do computers. Too much math. And when I fail, that's it, no more college. I'll never get into law school."
She patted my clasped hands. “If you don't feel you're ready for college, there are other options. Have you ever thought of joining the military?"
I glowered as I left her office, but realized, to be fair, I had no idea what I wanted her to say. I didn't even know the right question. Or maybe I did. Was it too late to change the future I never expected to have, or was I stuck? How on earth was she supposed to answer that?
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Chapter 20
I knew, as I stood in Eric's living room wearing a pink prom dress and high heels, that I would never, ever understand girls. How could anyone have fun when every piece of clothes scratched and pinched? Between my thighs was already moist, and not in a good way. Did girls honestly enjoy the torture? Or was dressing up some sort of weird double-dog dare to prove how macho they were?
Sean and Eric wore matching powder blue tuxedos. I envied their suits and wished I could have rented a classic black one. Even their shiny rented shoes looked more comfortable than what I had on my feet.
"Give her the corsage, Eric."
Eric took the plastic container from his mom and handed it to me.
"No, pin it on her.” His dad took the box from me and handed it back to Eric.
I knew that, inside, Eric was cracking up at the absurd little game as much as I was. He opened the box and looked at the back of the flowers. “It doesn't have a pin."
"It goes on her wrist, Mack,” his mom explained.
I stuck my hand out. Eric fumbled around with the thick elastic band and slipped it onto my wrist. The greenery around the roses scratched. As soon as we were in the limo, that thing was coming off.
Eric's sisters bounced around the room in an orgy of feminine bliss. There was no way I'd show it, but I was excited too. Maybe after we left the dance, and it was just the four of us, I'd drop my chameleon camouflage and let Amanda see how I felt about her. I daydreamed about it for weeks. One simple, frank gaze, and all would be clear, and then maybe, finally, a kiss. I wouldn't push her for more. That was enough.
"Oh, aren't you pretty,” Sean teased me.
I smacked him. “Shut up."
"Oh! Let me get a picture of you two!” Eric's mother squealed.
"Destroy all evidence,” I whispered to Eric.
"Blackmail photos,” Sean smirked.
"That threat works both ways,” I reminded him.
Sean patted the frills on his shirt. “Missy told me to wear blue."
"Missy?” I looked from Sean to Eric and back again. “Who the hell is Missy?"
"Missy Little. You know her."
Yeah, I knew her. Buck teeth, brown frizzy hair. She was probably the nicest girl in school, genuinely kind to everyone, smart, and because of her good heart, popular. But what did she have to do with our perfect prom night plans?
I couldn't ask, because Eric's father was in the living room with us. Eric stared at the floor. I could tell he was angry, though, because his neck was flushed.
The plan was that I'd pretend to go with Eric, and Amanda would pretend to go with Sean, just like every other double date we went on the past couple months. Sure, Sean and Amanda seemed a little slow getting the idea who the real couples were. Sean had to have a clue though. He sure flirted with Eric enough.
"Oh, don't you all look so nice!” Eric's mother said for the thousandth time. “Now get close. Come on Sean, you too. Oh,” she put the camera down, “it's too bad your date isn't here."
Eric fidgeted. “Take the picture, Mom. The limo is waiting."
The limo was Eric's dad's idea, but it worked perfectly with our plans. That was, until Sean mentioned Missy Little. What the hell was wrong with him?
"Smile."
In the instant picture, only Sean had a real smile. Eric and I were morose.
"One more."
"Mom."
As soon as she took it, we headed for the door.
"Don't be out too late,” his dad called out.
"We're going to the after-prom party,” Eric reminded him. We weren't, but it was a good excuse to stay out all night. “But we're coming back here to change after the dance.” He tugged at his huge bowtie.
* * * *
As soon as we were safely in the back of the limo, and the partition was up, I scowled at Sean. “Missy Little? What the fuck?"
"I wanted to bring a date."
Sean wasn't the brightest kid, but I couldn't believe he was that clueless. “What about Amanda?"
"What about her?"
"You idiot. Why did you have to complicate things with a fifth person?"
"I wanted to bring a date, not just go with friends."
I slammed back against the seat and peeled the corsage off my wrist. All my perfectly planned cogs and wheels would have turned in unison, but he had to throw a wrench into the works. I could almost hear the evening grinding to a halt.
Eric touched my hand. When I looked at him, he shook his head, and then pushed all the buttons on the console between us.
* * * *
We picked up Amanda first. The drug dealers weren't around, thank goodness. Four fewer people to witness my staggering walk in heels.
Her mom answered the door. She looked past me, exhaled cigarette smoke into my hair, and then shifted a suspicious gaze back to me. “Where's Sean?"
"In the limo, waiting."
"Go fetch him. I want a picture."
I went back out to the limo. “Come on, guys. Her mom wants pictures. Sean, don't mention Missy."
The guys groaned, but followed me back to the apartment. They'd never been inside. I'd grown used to the threadbare carpet and filthy kitchen, but I was embarrassed for Amanda that Sean and Eric had to see it.
For once, the pullout bed was put away. We huddled together on the sagging couch while Amanda's mom flitted between the bedroom and bathroom. Eric tugged at his tie. Sean's eyes darted around the room, as if thinking, Where's the rest of it? No one can live in a place this small.
Finally, Amanda made her grand entrance. Her hair was piled on top of her head in stiff curls, and her eyelids were smeared with heavy swathes of blue shadow. She looked a bit like one of those dolls old ladies hid the spare roll of toilet paper under, but I wouldn't tell her that.
Amanda's mom didn't put down her cigarette as she snapped pictures of us. I watched it burn down dangerously close to her knuckles. She took one last drag and ground it out in the overflowing ashtray. “All right. You get on to that dance,” she told as us she lit another cigarette.
* * * *
Poor Missy Little. She had no idea what she was in for when she
accepted Sean's invitation to the prom. After we picked her up, she and Sean sat opposite Eric, Amanda, and me. Eric glared; I crossed my arms and gave her hard looks; Amanda was nearly in tears. Missy tried to make chirpy conversation. Sean seemed oblivious to the bad vibes.
As soon as we got to the school, Sean pulled Missy to the long line for photos that wound outside the teacher's lounge. Amanda, Eric and I headed into the cafeteria.
"Oh!” Amanda stopped suddenly at the entrance. “Doesn't it look wonderful? It's like a tropical paradise."
Eric and I exchanged mortified glances behind her back. No amount of tissue paper and plastic palm trees could make that cafeteria into paradise. A mirrored ball hung from the florescent light fixtures, but didn't spin. The food line was draped with a huge tropical sunset backdrop to hide the counter. In front of it, two high-backed wicker peacock chairs awaited the Prom King and Queen.
Some couples danced, but the rest gathered in groups and spoke in hushed, excited voices. People pushed past us into the cafeteria while we waited for Amanda to get over the enchantment.
She turned to us. “So, why is Missy with Sean? I thought he was my date."
I winced.
Eric took her arm. “He's an asshole. I'll be your date tonight."
"But...” She glanced at me.
"We'll share,” I said. “It's not like Eric and I are dating. We're strictly friends.” I had imagined telling her that at a better time, when we were alone, and close.
Eric pulled her toward the dance floor. “Come on. Dance with me."
I found a seat against the back wall and watched them slow dance. Amanda put her arms up around Eric's neck and hugged him close. They rocked in a tight circle. Every time Eric faced me, he spit locks of her shellacked hair out of his mouth.
Through the evening, Eric hardly left the dance floor, which was okay by him. I took the fast dances with him. It took everything I had to stay upright on my heels.
During a long set of disco, which everyone groaned about, I got worried about Amanda sitting alone, but I saw her out on the floor with a grit boy. Later, when it was her turn to slow dance with Eric, I saw her slow dancing with the same guy.
"I need a break anyway,” Eric admitted.
We headed for the refreshment tables.
"This didn't work out exactly like we planned,” I said.
Eric poured a glass of bright red punch and handed it to me. “It wasn't as if we'd get away with dancing with them."
"No."
"But we could have hung out together. Sean's acting like he doesn't know us.” Eric sipped from his cup and winced. “This is pretty bad. I could go for a beer."
"We should have dropped acid."
He watched the dancers. “I'm about ready to leave."
"You know, me too. Sean deserves to be ditched. Let me find Amanda."
"Last I saw her, she was slow dancing with some guy."
"Yeah. Thank God she isn't sulking over Sean. He's such a jerk.” I set my punch down on the table.
Eric pointed toward the door to the smoke hole. “I'll take the left flank, you take the right."
I circled the dance floor three times before I gave up. “Maybe she's in the bathroom,” I told Eric when we met beside the wicker thrones.
The bathroom was packed. Girls stood around the mirrors, spackling on thicker layers of makeup. The sound of deep sobbing came from the last stall.
"Amanda?” I tapped on the door.
There was no answer. I peeked through the gap between the door and the wall. It wasn't Amanda, so I went back out into the cafeteria. Then I couldn't find Eric anywhere. I moved through the dance floor to get to Sean. He lifted his head from Missy's shoulder.
"Have you seen Eric?” I asked.
"Not in a while."
"Fuck. We're leaving as soon as we can find Amanda."
They stopped moving. “What do you mean, you're leaving? They haven't even named the King and Queen,” Sean said.
As if watching two socials have their popularity confirmed was the most important issue of the night for me. “We're bored.” I glared at him so he'd know it was his fault.
Someone put his hand on my arm. I turned around. “Dance one slow dance with me,” Eric said. I didn't want to, but he didn't give me much of a choice. He nuzzled against my cheek. “Mmm. You smell like ... nothing. Just soap. Thank God. Amanda's perfume was killing me."
I sniffed his lapels. “Did you go get stoned? You smell like smoke. God, I could use a cigarette."
"I checked out the smoke hole while I was looking for Amanda."
"Did you find her?"
"Um, yeah. We can leave anytime,” he said.
"Which means?"
The music switched to a fast dance, but Eric held on to me. “She dumped you.” He looked away. “She was with that guy, and I don't think she'll be back."
I quit moving. I heard every word he said. I understood what he meant. And yet, my brain couldn't work around it.
Maybe Eric was afraid I'd run to the smoke hole and cause a scene, because he gripped tight. “She thinks you're just a friend. She likes boys."
I pushed his hand away. “I get it. Don't make a big case out of it, okay?"
I knew he was right. She'd never shown any interest in me. Not when I slept over at her place, not in all those times I'd taken her out. That didn't make it hurt less. A big ache welled up in my chest.
No matter what I did, how I dressed, how I acted, how I felt, nothing would change the outside of me into a boy, or the inside of me to a girl.
Every smile on my classmates’ faces seemed to be mocking me. My cheeks got hot and I wanted to melt away. Nothing was worse than humiliation, even if Eric was the only one who really knew how stupid I'd been.
Eric rested his chin on the top of my head as we swayed together. A year back, he couldn't have done that. I slid my fingers under the slick lapel of his rented tux. We stood there, barely pretending to dance, through several songs. “I'm sorry about Amanda,” he said as he eased his hug.
"Forget it. It doesn't matter.” But it did. It mattered a lot. “Were they making out?"
He groaned. “Do you really want to know?"
I wiped the back of my hand across my eyes. “Worse?"
He nodded.
"Fucking in the smoke hole? What, up against the brick wall? And risk mussing her hair?"
"Nothing can harm that helmet she's wearing."
Despite how horrible I felt, I laughed. He seemed relieved that I wasn't having a breakdown over it. When I got home, I planned on kicking a few things, and maybe beating myself up for being so stupid over her for so long. She read Cosmo, for Christ's sake, and couldn't even complete the crossword in People without help. Sure, she looked outdoorsy, but deep down, she was just another grit girly-girl.
Eric shuddered. “I wish I hadn't seen that. I'm scarred for life."
He was scarred? My heart was a mass of raw ache. “Can we leave now? I told Sean we were going.” I felt tears rising and fought them down. I didn't want to be another girl crying her eyes out in a bathroom stall on prom night.
"Fine by me."
Sean showed up with Missy trailing behind him. He touched Eric's arm and said, “Stay for a little longer.” Eric looked to me. “Please,” Sean said. His dark eyes never left Eric's face.
Eric turned to me. His expression was unreadable. I wanted to go, to hide, but we were friends, and there was still hope that at least one of us would have a happy prom.
"Okay,” I said, but I mouthed, “You owe me."
We formed a little square and the four of us danced as a group. Sean aimed his slinky moves at Eric. They loosened their ties, tossed away their jackets, and showed our scandalized classmates how sexy boys could dance. I bounced on the balls of my feet and wished they'd play at least one punk song. Missy held up the skirt of her frothy dress with both hands and stepped side to side while sort of bobbing her shoulders off the beat. She waited for Sean to look her way. Poo
r clueless thing. She was simply a prop in a play she'd never begin to understand. I almost felt sorry for her.
* * * *
We closed down the dance, leaving only after they flicked on the florescent lights. The cafeteria looked even more pathetic, with streamers dragging from the walls and crepe flowers trampled on the floor.
When we piled back into the limo, Missy dropped broad hints about the after-prom party. We ignored her. Sean didn't even walk her to her door when we got to her house. What an ass.
As the limo pulled away from Missy's house, Sean wedged in close to me. I shifted closer to Eric. Eric sighed and stared up at the roof.
"So, that was fun,” Sean said.
I didn't remember Eric or me saying anything the entire ride home.
The limo dropped off all three of us at Eric's place.
Sean rocked on his heels as we stood in the driveway. “So, are we still going out?"
Eric's eyebrow rose as he glanced at me.
I pulled off my shoes. “I have to get out of these pantyhose."
We left it at that.
* * * *
Once home, I quickly changed into jeans and a T-shirt and went to the gazebo. I was the first one there. Eric came along ten minutes later.
He showed me a baggy. “Thai stick. Opiated."
"Light it."
We sat on top of the picnic table and passed the joint he rolled. The smoke was sweetly herbal, but had a flat, metallic aftertaste.
"Prom night disasters,” I said between hits. The ache hadn't gone away.
"Yeah, well, what were the odds that it would turn out the way we wanted it to?"
"Slim to none. I'm an idiot."
Eric didn't correct me. We let time slip without saying much. Moonlight glowed so brightly in the sky so that the stars paled in comparison. It was probably a romantic night, for someone else.
I sniffled a bit, but Eric had the decency to act like he didn't hear me.
He shook his head and laughed. “Missy Little."
"Amanda was worse.” I clasped my hands to my chest and batted my eyelashes. “Oh, doesn't the cafeteria look beautiful. Like a tropical paradise.” My voice trembled still and was thick with tears.
"The sad thing is, they don't know how horrible that was,” Eric said.