My parents had other ideas. That evening, they outlined when I could use the car and how long I could be out, and drilled into me what to do in case the car broke down or God forbid, I got into an accident. I don’t know what they worried about. I was responsible. I would be totally fine.
30
Prom
Junior Prom was just around the corner, but I doubted Pete would want to go. He hated those kinds of things, which is why we skipped the Homecoming Dance. The only formal event he didn’t complain about was the annual soccer banquet, probably because trophies were involved and as the starting goalkeeper, he expected to win Best Defensive.
That’s why when Pete asked me formally, I didn’t believe him at first. I got on board super quick though, before he could change his mind, throwing my arms around him in response. I assumed his mother had pushed him into it, but so what? I really wanted to go. Junior Prom came around once in a lifetime and I wanted it to be a special evening. The romantic in me liked the idea of dressing in a long, flowing gown and dancing with Pete on a dimly lit floor.
Within a few weeks, our prom plans evolved to include dinner with Reese and Jaime, Steve and Lindsey, and Jim and his date, Alicia, before we caravanned to the dance.
My mother took me dress shopping, an activity we suffered through. We had the opposite taste in clothes, so everything she held up as a possibility struck me as hideous, and everything I liked made her purse her lips in disapproval. Nothing flattered my physique or coloring, and I was close to giving up when I found a sleeveless emerald gown. On the way home, my mom dropped me off at Curl Me Crazy to get my first permanent wave.
Steve worked part-time at the salon stocking shelves and doing maintenance chores. To my chagrin, he showed up for work just as the stylist finished winding my hair in rollers. Mortified, I hid behind a fashion magazine and pretended to read.
Steve popped up by my ear. “Nah, nah, nah, curlers in your hair…” he sang like the popular television commercial.
I glared. “Don’t you have somewhere else you need to be? Like cleaning toilets or something?”
“I wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else at this moment.” He grinned, dazzling me with his smile. Razor stubble peppered his upper lip.
I narrowed my eyes at him.
When he laughed, I couldn’t help joining in.
“What are you and that ugly boyfriend of yours doing tonight?”
“Didn’t you hear? Party at Mary’s. Come early and you can have dinner. We’re making spaghetti.”
Steve winked. “Sounds good, hot stuff.”
The hair stylist returned and took out the rollers, which pulled sadistically at my hair. She blow-dried, styled and fussed for over an hour. The entire process took just shy of an eternity, but when she turned me around to face the mirror, I gaped, speechless.
The haircut changed my appearance so radically, I almost didn’t recognize myself. My straight and fine hair now had waves and waves of body. I couldn’t stop touching it. It transformed me.
Steve let out a long slow whistle behind me. “Damn girl, you look fine! Forget the party. What do you say we just go back to my place?”
I laughed. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”
“I’m hoping!” He kept staring. “Seriously, you look great.”
I stared in the mirror, unable to tear my eyes away. “Thanks. It’s really different, isn’t it?”
“Pete’s not going to be able to take his eyes off you.”
My friends went so berserk over my new hairstyle, it embarrassed me. And just like Steve predicted, I caught Pete staring at me throughout the night.
“Stop it! Why do you keep looking at me like that?” Part of me wanted to disappear from so much attention.
“Because you’re beautiful,” he said. “Come here.”
I sat on his lap and we kissed.
He motioned with his eyes, one of our silent ways of communicating when he didn’t want other people to hear what we were saying.
I wasn’t quite getting it. “What?” I whispered.
He dramatized the action this time, adding, “Want to go downstairs?”
I smiled wide as understanding prevailed. We traipsed down to the lower level and found an empty bedroom. Locking the door, we ditched our beers and lay down in the dark. His lips claimed mine, and our tongues danced slowly together.
“You really are beautiful,” he said.
I kissed him in response. We shed our clothes and made love, touching each other with gentle tenderness and moving in unison, just the way I liked.
“Where have you two been?” Reese wisecracked when we rejoined our friends an hour later.
“Steve threw up everywhere,” Jaime said. “Mary is freaking out. She’s trying to clean it up, but he didn’t make it to the bathroom, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh, God. Where is he?” I asked.
“Passed out. In her parent’s bedroom.”
“Oh no!”
Mary joined us, her expression grim. “Can you guys get him out of there?”
“What do you want us to do, carry him into the front yard?” Reese said.
“Is he okay?” I said.
“He’s asleep, but what if he wakes up and blows chunks all over their bedroom? You should see what he did to the hallway. It’s hella uncool for him to be in there.”
“Just leave him be. I’m sure he’ll sleep it off.” Poor guy. “What’s he been drinking anyway?”
“Just beer,” Reese said. “The lightweight.”
“He’s blaming the spaghetti, which is totally bogus,” Jaime added, rolling her eyes. She’s the one who made the sauce.
We convinced Mary to let Steve stay crashed before going back to playing quarters.
