“Thanks.” I lift an eyebrow, giving her a look that reads: “Why do you have three strapless bras?”
Wendy shrugs. “I can’t ever find one when I need it, so I keep having to buy new ones.”
Taking the bras, I shake my head and step into the bathroom. I replace my bra with a beige strapless one and pull the dress over my head until it falls to just above my knees. I can’t zip it myself, so I poke my head into the bedroom and come nose to nose with Tera. I let out a gasp. “Oh, hello!”
Tera reddens. “Er…sorry. I was just excited to see how it looks.”
“Perfect. You can be the first. Can you zip me up?”
Tera steps inside the bathroom then turns me toward the mirror. She beams at my reflection and slides the zipper home. “Perfect fit—I knew it!”
I study myself. The dress is not only a perfect fit but, with my wavy red hair billowing out over my shoulders, I feel like a princess. It’s beyond anything I ever imagined.
“Wow!” Tera blows out a gush of air. “It looks better on you than it ever did on me.”
Tears blur my vision, but again I bite my lip to staunch their flow.
Wendy knocks twice and opens the door without waiting for a response. Seeing me, her eyes widen. “You look amazing! And I have just the shoes!”
She races back into the bedroom where she forages through the mess of her closet until only her tiny rear end pokes out from beyond its open doors. When she emerges, she offers me a pair of strappy silver highheeled shoes. She holds them by the straps, extending them toward me. “Try these.”
“Um.” My eyebrows rise to my hairline. “How tall are those heels?”
She purses her lips and squints her eyes. “Maybe four inches? Give ’em a try.”
I step into the shoes and grab for the doorframe while my ankles wobble precariously. When I’m steady, Wendy bends down and fastens the straps at my ankles. Now standing, she looks me over from head to toe. “Wow!”
Tera studies me. “What are you gonna do with your hair?”
I turn to the mirror and lift my hair off my neck, then let it fall back to my shoulders and down to my waist. “I hadn’t thought about it.”
“Ooh! Let me do it!” Wendy’s eyes sparkle. “Zach’s eyes will bug out when he sees you!”
I pause, not sure how to respond.
“C’mon, Abs. I’m good with hair. Please?”
“You should, Abby,” Tera interjects. “She’s great with hair. And I’ll do your makeup.”
I shake my head, but Tera’s face is already lit with excitement.
“I—I didn’t bring any makeup,” I stutter.
“Are you kidding?” Tera says. “Wendy has enough for an entire department store. I’ll do your makeup and she’ll do your hair. Please, Abs?”
I waver, my brain scrambling for how to say no.
“It’s decided,” Wendy says.
Tera races to the bathroom and grabs a tray of makeup from the counter, then rummages through the drawers for more.
I nod slowly. “Okay…”
“Relax, dah-ling.” Wendy imitates an English accent. “When we’re done with you, you shall look simply mah-velous. Trust us.”
My stomach flip-flops, but I take a seat on the barstool Wendy stole from the kitchen earlier. I inhale a breath but it catches in my throat.
Wendy pulls out a curling iron. “Seriously, Abs. Relax. We promise you’ll love what we do.”
With those words, she takes a small section of hair and winds it around the iron’s hot barrel. I bide my time by studying the images of perfection that are Tera and Wendy.
Wendy’s short hair is styled half up and half down with tiny ringlets escaping around her face. It’s the perfect accompaniment to the black strapless cocktail dress she’s chosen for the evening. Tera, on the other hand, has styled her much longer sable locks into large waves of curls that cascade over her right shoulder and nearly to her waist. It’s secured with a small comb embedded with rhinestones matching the sparkling jewels on her teal satin dress. Both girls are stunning, and I know I must look like a charity case standing between them.
“Wow! Your wavy hair is easy to curl!” Wendy says, interrupting my thoughts. “I bet the curls stay and don’t fall out after fifteen minutes like mine. If I had hair like yours, I’d grow mine out.”
I’m turned away from the mirror, so I twist my neck to sneak a peek but Wendy thumps me on the head with her comb. “Uh-uh! You’ll ruin the surprise.”
Facing the center of the room again, butterflies flit in my stomach—I hope they know what they’re doing!
After a long while, Tera steps back and surveys me through narrowed eyes. The edges of her mouth slide up. “Close your eyes and I’ll help you turn around to see the mirror.”
“Why do I have to close my eyes?” I laugh.
“Because we want to see your expression when you see the new you!” Wendy interjects. “Now c’mon, Abs. Do as you’re told.”
With my eyes closed, Tera helps me turn around until I’m facing the full-length mirror.
“Okay,” Wendy says. “On the count of three, open your eyes! One…two—”
But I don’t wait for three. I open my eyes and blink hard at the image before me. I work my throat, trying to form saliva, but my eyes have a monopoly on moisture. The room is silent as a rush of emotions flows through me. I open my mouth, but no words come out. My heart clenches and the first rogue teardrop falls.
“No!” Tera grabs for a tissue and shoves it at me. “Don’t cry! You’ll ruin your makeup!”
Wendy studies me, her eyebrows drawn together. “Do the tears mean you’re happy, or that you hate it?”
“Are you kidding?” I blow out a breath. “I love it. I—I don’t even know what to say. It looks like me, but it doesn’t look at all like me.”
I turn back to the mirror and study myself. My copper hair is arranged in loose, wavy curls that hang down to my waist. On the left side, a delicate French braid extends across the top of my head and disappears on the other side beneath a rhinestone-studded hair clip complementing the jewels on my dress. My makeup is impeccable. Natural shades of beige and brown are blended seamlessly to color my lids, and my green eyes are made huge with carefully applied eyeliner and mascara. Instead of lipstick, I wear a shimmery gloss with only a hint of pink to enhance the natural color of my lips. I can’t believe it’s me staring back from the mirror.
“I don’t know what to say,” I admit. “Thank you!”
Wendy shrugs. “We’re friends—it’s what friends do!”
“Speaking of friends…” Tera glances at her wristwatch. “I almost forgot about Josh! Where is he, anyway?”
“Have you called him?” I ask.
“I will.” Wendy scans the room for her mobile phone. It takes several minutes, but she locates it under a pile of blankets on her bed. “It’s already after five—he should’ve been here two hours ago.”
While Wendy dials Josh, Tera retouches her own makeup and I take one last look in the mirror. The transformation astounds me.
“He’s not answering,” Wendy says.
“He’s probably on his way and not picking up ’cause he’s driving,” says Tera.
Wendy tosses her phone onto the bed then nudges me aside to share the mirror. She adjusts the bodice of her dress, then the skirt, then applies another coat of lip gloss. “I’m going to try Josh again. He should’ve been here by now.”
“It’s only been five minutes, Wen,” Tera says.
A knock sounds on the door and Wendy’s hand flies to her heart. “Finally!” She pulls the door open, but her face drops when she finds her mom on the other side.
“Why don’t you girls come down and have some cheese and crackers?” Karyn suggests. “You three must be starving.”
“You guys go ahead,” Wendy tells us. “I’m gonna call Josh one more time.”
Tera and I find the kitchen and scarf down most of the cheese before Wendy joins us.
<
br /> “He’s still not answering,” she reports.
“Did you leave a message?” I ask.
“Yeah. And on his mom’s phone, too.”
“He probably had a family emergency,” Tera says.
The doorbell rings and the first of the boys arrive—Tera’s and Wendy’s dates. Another ten minutes pass and the doorbell chimes again. Knowing it must be Zach or Josh, I answer while Wendy’s parents are distracted by Wendy and her date.
Standing before me in black dress pants, a shimmery gray dress shirt, and a green tie the exact color of my dress is Zach. He stares at me, his dark eyes holding an emotion I can’t read. After a few seconds, his lips split into a grin so wide the dimple in his cheek draws my eye. Before I can stop myself, I reach out and press my index finger into the divot on his cheek. His hand snatches mine, weaving our fingers together.
“Abby,” he says. “You’re always beautiful, but this—I hadn’t expected this at all.”
I release his hand and do a tiny twirl. “You like it, then?”
“Like it? I love it.”
Zach tugs me into a kiss, careful not to smudge my makeup. “I’m glad I changed my mind about going tonight.”
I step back and touch his green tie. “It matches my dress exactly. How’d you know?”
“Tera,” he says. “She made me go tie shopping with her this week and insisted I buy three—one for each of the dresses she had for you to choose from. Wendy texted me the color about an hour ago.”
Heat flushes my face. “I’m sorry—you didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to,” he says. “I’ll just take the other two back next week, but I’ll keep this one for a souvenir.”
My eyes catch a flash of movement over Zach’s shoulder and his mom approaches.
“Zachary Michael Andrews—quit staring at that girl and get her inside the house. It’s cold out here,” Cherie scolds, but her mouth is stretched wide in a smile. She embraces me and I breathe in the gentle floral scent of her perfume. “Abby, you look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” I say, closing the door behind us.
“I’m so glad Zach changed his mind about Homecoming. And he couldn’t have found a lovelier date,” she says.
My face heats again as I show her into Wendy’s living room where parents are exchanging phone numbers. The doorbell rings again, but nobody makes a move to answer it, so I head back into the foyer and greet our next guest.
“Abby?” Mom stands on the front porch, her eyes wide. “Oh my goodness, sweetheart. You look stunning.”
I smile back and search over her shoulder for the rest of my family. “Where are Nick and Amber?”
Mom clears her throat. “Nick thought it would be good for you and I to share this experience together. You know—after everything. He stayed behind with Amber.”
Mom dabs the corner of her eye with a tissue, and for a moment everything in the past is forgotten. I step into her arms and she hugs me close.
“Thanks for coming, Mom.”
“I can’t get over how beautiful you look,” she whispers. “But please be careful with that dress. It must’ve cost a fortune and we can’t afford to replace it.”
I roll my eyes and step out of her arms. “Of course, Mom.”
Zach winds an arm around my waist and extends his hand to Mom. “Mrs. Lunde? I’m Zach. It’s nice to meet you.”
Mom smiles and shakes his hand. “Nice to finally meet you, Zach.”
He turns to me and holds up a clear box with a gardenia corsage inside. “For you.”
“Oh. Thank you! I’m sorry—I didn’t even think about a boutonniere for you!”
“No worries. I don’t like them anyway.” He slides the ivory-petaled flower onto my right wrist and smiles. “There! A wrist corsage means no nasty pins!”
“Zach?” Wendy wrings her hands. “Have you talked to Josh? He was supposed to be here hours ago.”
“No—have you called him?”
“Several times, but I’ll try again.” Her face is flushed and a crease forms between her brows. She scurries away.
“She’s really worried,” Zach says. “What time was he supposed to be here?”
“Three o’clock,” I say.
“He’ll be okay. I’ll bet he shows up at the dance, ‘fashionably late.’” Zach makes air quotes with his fingers.
“Maybe,” I say. “Speaking of late, where’s Trish and Scott?”
Zach smiles. “They’re going with a different group. Scott and I talked about it last night and decided it’s better if they go with Zoë’s group. Trish will be happier anyway.”
My shoulders slump in relief. “Are you okay with that? I know you’d hoped Scott would go with us.”
“It’s okay,” he says. “He’s happy, I’m happy, you’re happy. It’s all good.”
Taking my hand, he leads me into the chaos that once was Wendy’s living room. We’ve barely stepped over the threshold when Tera grabs my arm.
“We still can’t get ahold of Josh,” she says. “Wendy’s freaking, and I don’t know what to do.”
“This isn’t like him,” Wendy says, joining us. “He wasn’t at school yesterday, we didn’t talk last night, and he hasn’t shown up. Josh would call if he couldn’t make it.”
“What do you want to do?” Zach asks. “Should we wait for him?”
Wendy gnaws on her bottom lip but shakes her head. “No. I’ve left several messages already. I guess he’ll call us when he gets a chance. But I swear I’m going to throat punch him when I see him for making us worry.”
“MY FACE HURTS from smiling.” Zach pulls the seatbelt across his chest and starts the car. “I thought they’d never stop taking pictures!”
I laugh. “How many do you think they took?”
“At least a thousand, I’d bet.”
“I wish Josh had made it. It doesn’t seem right without him.”
“You worried?” he asks.
I lift a shoulder. “Yeah—I guess. I haven’t known him that long, but it doesn’t seem like Josh to stand us up.”
He nods. “I’m sure he has a good excuse.”
“He better,” I say. “Otherwise he’s in big trouble with Wendy!”
“Now that would be fun to watch.” Zach parks in front of Victoria’s, a locally owned Italian restaurant in the heart of downtown Rochester. He opens his door, then flashes me a severe look. “Stay there.”
My stomach flip-flops as he walks around and opens my door. He takes my hand and helps me out of the car, then holds the restaurant door for me to enter first before stepping in behind me.
The scents of garlic and fresh-baked bread waft toward me. My stomach grumbles, but I pause long enough to snap mental photographs of the Italian decor. I want to remember every second of this night for the rest of my life.
The hostess greets us and escorts us to a round table for eight behind a private wall. Tera, Wendy, and their dates are already seated, so we take the spots closest to Tera. The two empty seats for Josh and his date stare back at me, and I wonder again why he didn’t let us know he wasn’t coming.
“Order anything you want,” Zach says as we glance over the menus.
Here’s the truth: I’ve never been on a date. I’m seventeen years old, so that’s embarrassing to admit, but Mom and Nick wouldn’t let me date until I was sixteen, and then I didn’t have much chance before everything unraveled with Mom.
I scan the menu and can’t decide. After the third time going through every item on the list, I feel Zach’s eyes on me.
“What?” Embarrassment creeps up my neck and to my cheeks.
“You look like you’re about to order your last meal, and your entire life depends on ordering the right thing,” he says with a laugh.
“I give up.” I place the menu on the table. “Everything looks good. Just when I decide on one thing, my eye catches on something else. You order for me.”
“Really?” Zach’s eyes light up.
“Sur
e. Go for it.”
The waiter comes back and Zach begins by ordering virgin strawberry daiquiris.
“Good choice, sir.” The waiter scribbles in his notepad. “Would you like to order any appetizers, or would you prefer to skip to the main meal?”
Zach’s lips twitch and he turns to the waiter. “We’ll start with an order of calamari fritti, and then we’ll each have an order of gnocchi alla Romana.”
“Excellent,” says the waiter. “And would you like a salad with those orders?”
I shake my head, but Zach winks and turns his attention to the waiter. “We’ll each have an order of carpaccio di manzo.”
“Very good.” The waiter takes our menus then moves around the table and takes orders from our dinner mates.
“What in the world, Zach?” I say. “I can’t eat all that! And isn’t calamari another word for octopus?”
“Octopus. Squid.” Zach shrugs. “They’re both the same. You’ll like it.”
My face must signal my disgust because Zach reaches for my hand and squeezes gently. “Trust me, okay?”
I nod. “And what about the carpaccio di—whatever it was? What is that?”
“It’s a salad—you’ll like it. It has little pieces of beef, capers and arugula.”
“I don’t even know what capers are, and I’m pretty sure I’ve had arugula and didn’t like it.”
Zach laughs. “You’re being difficult, Abs. Trust me. We still have dessert to order.”
“Oh no,” I tell him, but I can’t keep the smile from my face.
In the end, I try—and like—everything Zach orders. The calamari reminds me of fried clams, and the salad is the best I’ve ever tasted. When our main meals arrive, I’m too stuffed and only eat a few bites before setting my fork down.
“Is that all you’re going to eat?” Zach lifts an eyebrow.
“What do you mean, all?” My eyes are wide. “I’ve never eaten so much food at one sitting in my life!”
Zach shoves another forkful of pasta in his mouth and chews, relishing every bite. “You’re missing out. Do you want to take it with you for later?”
I do, and the waiter returns with a “to go” box. He transfers the food to the container then asks, “Will you be having dessert tonight?”
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