Crashing Prom II
“Where’s your date?” Gitt asks. She looks at me and then around at the other couples and then everyplace else except at Mickey.
"He's right here," I say. "Do you need him for prom king pictures?" I glance up at Mickey.
“She doesn’t see me,” he says. “You’re the only one.”
And what he says makes a kind of strange sense about everything bad that happened tonight that I blamed Ally’s curfew, my hair, and even how I wobbled in my shoes and then went deeper to get mad at little lies and then the big lie and the video after that when really would it ever be enough? There would always be bad things – but would I, could I ever be good enough? If Mickey didn’t want to take me to the prom after what happened at Gitt’s, he would have just said it.
The feel of Mickey’s tuxedo beneath my fingertips disappears and then I get what he means.
“I didn’t make you up,” I say.
I turn towards Gitt and expect a Wave girl crowd and more teasing about a boyfriend they call Smoke. I say a thousand things then. How much comes out of my mouth and then leaks out through my eyes I don’t know. My cheeks feel wet, the eyeliner mixes with the mascara, it’s a mess on the back of my hands.
“I guess he's gone,” I say. I wait for the laughter, the jokes about my shoes, my dress, and my hair and what I said to Gitt about the air around me being my date and the prom king. Gitt reaches inside a tiny glittering bag and pulls out her cell phone. It sparkles too. I start to put my hands in front of my face, but she hands me the phone. “Is there someone you can call,” she asks, “for a ride home?”
"He's right here," I say. "Do you need him for prom king pictures?" I glance up at Mickey.
“She doesn’t see me,” he says. “You’re the only one.”
And what he says makes a kind of strange sense about everything bad that happened tonight that I blamed Ally’s curfew, my hair, and even how I wobbled in my shoes and then went deeper to get mad at little lies and then the big lie and the video after that when really would it ever be enough? There would always be bad things – but would I, could I ever be good enough? If Mickey didn’t want to take me to the prom after what happened at Gitt’s, he would have just said it.
The feel of Mickey’s tuxedo beneath my fingertips disappears and then I get what he means.
“I didn’t make you up,” I say.
I turn towards Gitt and expect a Wave girl crowd and more teasing about a boyfriend they call Smoke. I say a thousand things then. How much comes out of my mouth and then leaks out through my eyes I don’t know. My cheeks feel wet, the eyeliner mixes with the mascara, it’s a mess on the back of my hands.
“I guess he's gone,” I say. I wait for the laughter, the jokes about my shoes, my dress, and my hair and what I said to Gitt about the air around me being my date and the prom king. Gitt reaches inside a tiny glittering bag and pulls out her cell phone. It sparkles too. I start to put my hands in front of my face, but she hands me the phone. “Is there someone you can call,” she asks, “for a ride home?”
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