Worthy

by Donna Cooner

  Evidently, even Kat Lee feels sorry for me. I must have hit the bottom of the barrel.

  “Did you know I have an older brother?” she asks, and I shake my head. It’s a random question.

  “He had a hard time in school. People bullied him online a lot.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, and I am, because now I know how that feels.

  “He tried to commit suicide.”

  The air is sucked out of my lungs. I’m not prepared for this. “I didn’t know.”

  “Not many people did. He’s better now. In college. Doing well.” She slides back on the carpet until she can rest against the shelf behind her. “I tried to get back at the guy who started it all, but I didn’t handle it well.”

  This must have been the incident that brought her to the library for community service.

  I swallow hard. Guilt swells in my chest. I’ve been so selfish. I’m not the only one with problems. Some people, like Mrs. Pirtle and Kat, are dealing with things even worse than I could imagine. “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah. It’s different when it’s personal.” Kat looks over at me. “What I’m trying to say is, you can’t fight it the way I did, but you can fight.”

  “How? I don’t know how to stop that stupid app.”

  Kat shakes her head. “The app isn’t the problem. I could take that down in minutes, but something else would just take its place.”

  Kat could destroy Worthy? The thought is intriguing.

  “I just want someone to tell me what to do.” I’m not only thinking about Worthy. I’m thinking about Alex, too. A lot.

  Kat says, “You’ll have to figure that out for yourself.”

  I’m leaving the library when I get a text from Taylor.

  TAYLOR: CRISIS AVERTED. WOLF INVITED ME TO PROM. STILL ON FOR AWARD CEREMONY?

  ME: NOT GOING TO PROM

  TAYLOR: YOU HAVE TO GO!

  ME: NO

  TAYLOR: MEET ME AT MALL TONIGHT. HAVE TO PICK UP GIFT CERTIFICATES FOR CONTEST.

  ME: NO

  TAYLOR: THIS IS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY!!!! YOU CAN’T LET US DOWN NOW.

  ME: FINE. I’LL BE THERE.

  “Where’s Mia and Jayla?” I ask Taylor when I catch up with her outside Nordstrom.

  “Mia had cheerleading practice and Jayla”—Taylor pauses for effect—“wasn’t really invited.”

  And I was? “Why?” I ask.

  “The prom queen competition is putting a strain on our friendship,” Taylor confides. “I feel the need to branch out a bit and spend some time with new friends. Like you.”

  We’re not friends, Taylor.

  I’m starting to get suspicious. What is Taylor’s game? I narrow my eyes at her. “I don’t understand. After my verdict on Worthy, I’m not exactly the most popular person to hang out with.”

  Taylor laughs. “As I always say, no publicity is bad publicity. Besides, showing a little compassion for the underdog always looks good.”

  Great. Now I’m the charity case who’s going to help Taylor win the prom queen competition. As soon as I finish my obligation to this prom committee, we’re done.

  After picking up the gift certificates from various shops in the mall, Taylor insists we look at prom dresses just in case she finds something she likes better than the two possibilities she already owns. I really don’t have the energy to argue and don’t want to go home to my sad playlist, so I reluctantly agree.

  A young blonde woman with a pink-striped name tag that reads “Tracey” rushes over to greet us. Her fringe boots slap the sides of her legs.

  “I love your cold shoulder top,” she gushes at Taylor. “Aaaaamazing.”

  I’ve never received this kind of interest from any sales clerk, but Taylor takes it all in stride, obviously used to the attention. I hang out beside a polka-dotted, headless mannequin wearing a white lacy swimsuit and try to be invisible.

  “Can I help you find something special?” Tracey smiles at Taylor, completely ignoring me. I want to yell “No, thank you” and run out the door, but Taylor is not the least bit intimidated. She starts picking out various dresses and holding them out toward me.

  “We’re looking for a dress for her,” Taylor says, pointing at me. “It’s for prom.”

  “I told you I wasn’t going,” I hiss under my breath, but Taylor ignores me.

  The saleswoman arches one perfect brow and looks up and down my figure. “The prom dresses are a little … picked over.”

  “I was afraid of that,” Taylor says.

  I back up a little more and bump into the mannequin, sending it wildly wobbling toward a big pile of tank tops. Frantically, I catch it around the waist and try to set it up straight again quickly before anyone notices. Tracey watches, hands on hips, until I am through wrestling with the mannequin, then says, “Okay. Let’s see what we can do for you.”

  She bustles around the store with Taylor following along behind, calling out opinions. I stand waiting near the headless mannequin. Tracey comes back carrying a strapless fit-and-flare blue BB Dakota dress.

  “I’m not sure this will fit. You are quite … ” Tracey pauses, staring at my chest. Finally, she looks up at my face. “Petite.”

  Taylor nudges my side and says, “Just try it on. What could it hurt?”

  We follow Tracey back toward the dressing room, and Taylor sits down on a shiny pink-striped couch to wait.

  “I could take some measurements,” Tracey offers, but I just shake my head and grab the dress. The sooner I get this over with, the sooner I can get rid of Taylor.

  “Trust me. The dress is going to look great. You just need to wear it with confidence,” Taylor says through the door.

  Easy for her to say.

  I pull the dress over my head and turn around for her to zip it up. When I face the mirror again, I’m shocked. This is all wrong. The dress stretches across my top, making me look unbalanced. It shows way too much skin. All I can think about is Nikki. She would know if it was right or not.

  “Hey, guess what?” Taylor calls out.

  I open the door a crack and she steps to the opening, holding her phone out. “Wolfgang has a cousin at another school. I told him you guys should go to prom together.”

  “Definitely not going to happen,” I say.

  Taylor pushes the door open a little wider. “That one fits nicely. Turn around.”

  I spin around a little self-consciously.

  “How does it feel? Not too tight, but tight enough?”

  “Ummm.” I am not sure what I am supposed to say.

  She gives me a squinty look and I cough into my hand to pretend I was just choked up.

  “Don’t you think it’s a little low cut?” I ask carefully.

  She covers her mouth with her long, thin fingers and giggles like it’s the most hilarious thing she’s ever heard. “It’s perfect, silly.” She bends down to dig around in the shopping bag at her feet.

  “Ohhh-kay,” I say slowly, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I unzip the dress and let it fall to the floor. With an attention span shorter than a two-year-old’s, Taylor goes back to the couch to wait for me to get dressed. She taps at the screen of her phone, looking in vain for something, and talking at me through the closed dressing room door.

  “I like hanging out with you,” Taylor says. Ever the politician, she is throwing out compliments like candy in a parade. “A lot of the other girls are jealous. That’s why I don’t have that many really close friends.”

  I frown. Taylor is not my friend. This dress is not me. None of this is right. I pull on my jeans and sweater, then put the dress back on the hanger.

  Taylor keeps talking outside the door. “It’s crazy that people are saying Nikki Aquino has a chance at junior prom queen. All because of that stupid Worthy thing.” She looks up when I open the door. “No offense.”

  I do take offense. I leave the dress hanging on the hooks in the dressing room and walk toward her. For the first time, I say what’s actually in my head. “Why w
ouldn’t she have a chance just like everyone else?”

  “Let’s face it, Linden. Nikki is like the cat videos on YouTube. She’s entertainment, but no one is actually serious about her being queen,” Taylor says. “She makes us feel better about ourselves.”

  My head hums. I lean into Taylor’s beautiful face, nose to nose. “You are pretty, Taylor. But that’s all you are. No one describes you as funny or loyal or smart. You’re just pretty.”

  She stares at me like I’ve sprouted another head.

  Now that I’ve started, I can’t stop. “No one will ever expect you to work hard or accomplish anything. All they are ever going to see is your beautiful exterior.”

  Taylor’s mouth falls open.

  “And you may think you’re better than Nikki … or me … but the truth is I just feel sorry for you.”

  “You forgot the dress,” the salesgirl says as I march out of the store.

  “No,” I yell back over my shoulder. “I changed my mind.”

  I sit on the bench outside Sephora until closing time. When Nikki comes out, I’m there waiting. She looks at me but doesn’t say anything.

  “I need a makeover. I heard you were the best,” I say. She keeps walking, so I stand up and step in front of her.

  She stops. “What are you doing?”

  The babble that pours out of my mouth resembles nothing like what I want to say. “I wanted the best for you and I thought I was helping but I was so … ” My voice trails off.

  “Stupid.” She fills in the blank.

  “I was going to say wrong.”

  “That, too.”

  My chin quivers.

  She looks at me a moment, then grabs my hand. We sit back down on the bench. “Talk to me,” she says. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  I try to find the right words. “Okay. Well, to start. You are always so sure of yourself. Of everything,” I say. “And I wish I were more like you, but I’m not.” As I say it, I realize the truth in the words.

  “I’m not always as confident as you think,” Nikki says. “Sometimes I doubt myself.”

  I reach out and smooth her hair back behind one ear. “Nobody can be strong all the time. Not even Nikki Aquino.”

  After a minute, she says, “Jake and I broke up.”

  “Because of Worthy?” I ask, shocked.

  She shakes her head. “No, because of me. I didn’t like myself when I was with Jake.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “Not that you broke up, but for how it feels. I know. Alex and I broke up, too.”

  “I heard.” She leans her head against my shoulder. “I thought you guys were great together.”

  “Thanks,” I say, then mutter under my breath, “I thought we were, too.”

  Nikki sighs deeply. “I didn’t vote for you on Worthy. I didn’t vote at all.”

  My body relaxes next to her and the knot in my stomach releases. “I’m glad.”

  “What about the prom?”

  “I’m not going.”

  Nikki stares at me in disbelief. “Are you serious? You’ve worked so hard.”

  “Are you going?” I ask, surprised at her reaction. “Even without a date?”

  “Nothing is keeping me from it.” The old Nikki is back with a vengeance, and I couldn’t be happier to see her.

  I pull in a deep breath and give her a wobbly smile. “We could go together.”

  “Now that,” Nikki says, standing up and pulling me up off the bench, “is a very good idea. And you, girlfriend, are going to need a dress.”

  On the night of the prom, I come downstairs to see the dining room table set with china and crystal. Candles are lit and soft jazz is playing in the background. I see them before they notice me—holding hands, fingers entwined. My mom smiles at my dad and then giggles, tucking her hair behind one ear.

  “Mom?”

  She looks at me, startled. “You look lovely, sweetie.”

  “What’s going on here?” I ask.

  “Your dad and I just thought as long as both you and your brother were out for the evening, we would have a date night.”

  “Couldn’t you at least wait until I left?” I ask, but it makes my heart feel good to see them together. Someone should be having a romantic evening.

  “Is that a new dress?” my mom asks. “Turn around. Let me see.”

  There was no time for Nikki to make a creation just for me, and the prom dresses at the mall were few and far between. So we improvised with a lace bolero over an embroidered cami tulle dress. I feel like an itchy princess whose fairy godmother had a bad day.

  After the obligatory twirl, I ask, “Is Rat already gone?”

  My dad nods. “He left to go pick up Ever thirty minutes ago. You’ll have to take some pictures of the two of them at the dance. He was too excited to pose for me.”

  “Which reminds me, stand over by the mirror.” Mom picks up her camera and I pose for a few quick snaps. I can’t help but think of another photographer across town who is taking pictures of a fifteen-year-old girl dressed like Belle. And her brother.

  Don’t think about Alex.

  I hold up a hand to stop my mother from taking any more pictures. “Nikki’s going to be here any minute.”

  My dad stands up and goes around the table, holding his hand out to my mom. “Would you like to dance?”

  They both laugh.

  “Oh, brother,” I say, rolling my eyes. A honk from outside lets me know that Nikki’s waiting for me. “I have to go. You guys have fun.”

  “You too,” Dad says as he pulls my mom into his arms and spins her around the room.

  I hear the music in the parking lot from the moment I open the car door. The parade of excited fashionistas walking toward the gym is impressive, but the glimpse of sparkle inside the windows is extraordinary. The huge round tables are draped in black, with glittery white bows tied around the edges.

  “The decorating committee outdid themselves,” I tell Nikki.

  “Thanks. It looks pretty good, if I do say so myself.”

  I flip down the mirror on the visor to get one last check before I get out. Nikki’s tutorials were on point. My eye makeup is flawless, with sparkly lids and black liner, but the thought of walking in without Alex by my side is reflecting darkly in my eyes. The makeup. The dress. The shoes. Everything about this feels wrong.

  Even though I’m glad to be with Nikki, I can’t shake the shadow of disappointment. I think of Alex again. I wish for that magic mirror from Beauty and the Beast so I could see what he’s doing right now. His sister’s mass is probably over by now and they must be starting the reception. I hope it is just as spectacular as Izzy hoped it would be.

  “Let me see,” Nikki says, leaning over to get a look in the mirror. She jabs one more bobby pin in my already crowded hair. “There. That should hold it. Do you want more hair spray?”

  I shake my head. We both get out of the car and stand for a moment, smoothing dresses and patting updos. Nikki is wearing the dress she created and a sparkly tiara headband in her thick, dark hair. She looks incredible. My last-minute dress feels awkward and I tug at the sides. My stomach is flipping, but I try to ignore it.

  “Walk in there with your head held high,” Nikki says. “Remember, it doesn’t matter what people said about either of us.”

  “Let’s get this over with,” I say, and follow Nikki toward the music.

  Inside, the gym is dark except for the stage lights illuminating the band and the big photo booth in the corner. Mr. Landmann, my world history teacher, is talking to Mrs. Boggs, my Spanish teacher, underneath the basketball hoop draped with green and gold streamers.

  Nikki doesn’t even wait for an invitation. She goes straight out on the floor and starts dancing as if no one is watching. At first, I stand over against the wall. It feels familiar. Comfortable. Raylene dances by with Ross, wearing a yellow rose corsage on one wrist. She towers over him in her high heels, but he smiles up at her as though she’s the only one in the room. T
his is one couple Worthy couldn’t break up, and I’m happy for them. If only Alex and I had survived as well.

  I also see my brother dancing with his girlfriend, Ever, over near the edge of the dance floor. He is smiling down at her in his oh-so-handsome tuxedo, and I think it must be wonderful to have someone look at you that way.

  I don’t want to, but I think of Alex yet again. My heart hurts.

  The music slows and couples step closer, arms winding around each other’s necks. Jake Edwards suddenly appears at my elbow. Not surprisingly, he looks incredibly handsome in his tuxedo, even though his shirt is unbuttoned at the neck and his bow tie is dangling off to one side.

  “Hey,” he says.

  I’m not sure why he’s talking to me, but I nod back.

  “Nikki looks great, doesn’t she?” he asks, his eyes following her.

  “She’s beautiful,” I say. “But then, she’s always been beautiful. Too bad you couldn’t see that.”

  “Yeah,” he says quietly. We both watch Nikki, smiling and twirling around the room with Chance Lehmann. They get just close enough that we can hear her laugh at something Chance says; then they spin back out of sight into the crowd.

  “I’m an idiot,” Jake mumbles, and for a minute, I actually feel sorry for him. But before I can say anything else, he walks away and disappears into the crowd.

  Wolfgang two-steps by me, spinning Taylor in his arms, then smoothly guides her around the perimeter of the dance floor. The prom queen votes were all turned in at the ticket booth when everyone came through the door, so Taylor has no more reason to play nice. She shoots me a dirty look, but I survive. I don’t feel anything but relief that our fake friendship is over.

  Jayla sees me and waves, threading her way through the dancing couples to my side. She’s wearing a strapless porcelain ball gown and her skin is glowing. “I’m glad you came,” she says. “You deserve the recognition for this great turnout.”

  I swallow hard and give her a hug. She knows the prom queen votes have been turned in, too, but she’s still being nice. “You look amazing.”

  She grins and nods. “I know, right?”

  Then Derek comes by and grabs her hand, dragging her away from me to the dance floor. “I’ll see you later,” she calls back over her shoulder.