The girls decided we should split up. Some went to a little boutique in a cobbled lane off the main square, while Molly, Taylah, and I went to a big department store with a revolving glass door and a checkered marble floor. I was glad to get out of the frenzy of the street and turned my face up toward the air-conditioning vents on the ceiling.
“This is Madison’s,” Molly explained as if she were speaking to a Martian. “It’s split over five levels and sells just about everything a girl could need.”
“Thanks, Molly, I think I get the general idea. Where’s ladies’ wear?”
“We’re not going anywhere near there. That’s for losers. We need Mademoiselle, which is on the third floor. They’ve got some great stuff, and it’s cheaper than those little exclusive places. Just because Megan’s got cash coming out of her butt…”
It took two hours of combing through the racks and the help of some very tolerant sales assistants before Molly and Taylah finally found dresses they were satisfied with. They went through rack after rack, discarding outfits because they looked too frumpy, too slutty, too middle-aged, too dorky, or not sexy enough. Forgetting that they’d debated this before, they launched into a drawn-out discussion about the perfect hemline. Apparently just above the knee was too schoolgirl, below the knee was geriatric, and mid-calf was only for people who bought their clothes at thrift shops. That left only two acceptable options — mini or floor-length. This they discussed as though it were a matter of national importance, until the discussion broadened to ruffle or no ruffle, strapless or halter, satin versus silk. I followed them around like a somnambulist, trying my best to keep up and not look as weary as I felt.
After what seemed like endless deliberation, Taylah settled on a short, backless taffeta dress in a peach color that kicked out at the hem. It served the purpose of showing off her toned legs even if, in my opinion, it made her look like a walking cream puff.
I spotted something I thought would suit Molly’s coloring perfectly and pointed it out to her. The shop assistant instantly agreed with me. “That color would look great on you,” she said to Molly.
“It is beautiful,” Molly agreed.
“So?” said Taylah. “Try it on.”
When Molly emerged from the dressing room, it was as though she’d undergone a transformation from gangly schoolgirl to goddess. Even other shoppers stopped to admire her. We made her spin around in order to appraise her from every angle. The dress was an off-the-shoulder, Grecian-style gown with a delicate gold chain over the bare shoulder. The fabric wound around her hourglass figure in soft layers, then pooled on the floor like liquid. But it was the color that was most incredible. It was a dazzling bronze that shimmered when the light caught it. It picked up the russet tones of Molly’s curls and heightened her peaches-and-cream complexion.
“Wow…,” breathed Taylah. “I think we found your dress. You and Ryan are going to look stunning together.”
“Wait, he asked you?” I said.
Molly nodded. “He took his time, but yeah.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.
“It’s not, like, major news or anything.”
“Are you joking!” Taylah cried. “You’ve been going on about him for weeks. Everything is perfect now. You got everything you wanted.”
“I guess so,” Molly nodded, but her face was lacking its usual enthusiasm. Was she thinking about Gabriel? I wondered if maybe Molly was changing and Ryan Robertson with all his good looks and bulging muscles just wasn’t enough to satisfy her anymore.
For Taylah and Molly the agonizing search was over and relief showed plainly on their faces. Shoes and accessories could wait; they had found dresses that suited them perfectly. I, on the other hand, had seen nothing even remotely appealing. The dresses were all more or less the same: either too busy, covered in sequins and bows or too nondescript. I wanted something simple yet striking, something that would allow me to stand out from the crowd and take Xavier’s breath away. It was a tall order, and I didn’t like my chances of finding it. Part of me felt ashamed of my newfound vanity, but my desire to impress Xavier was stronger.
“Come on, Beth!” Molly said, folding her arms obstinately. “There must be something here you like! We’re not leaving till you’ve found it.”
I tried to protest, but now that Molly had her outfit all organized, she threw herself magnanimously into helping me find one. On her insistence I tried on dress after dress, but none of them felt right.
“You’re nuts,” she said, after an hour had passed. “Everything looks stunning on you.”
“Yeah, you’re so thin,” said Taylah through gritted teeth.
“Here’s one!” cried Molly. She pulled out a white satin dress with pleats that opened like a fan. “A Marilyn Monroe replica. Try it on!”
“It’s lovely,” I agreed. “But not what I’m looking for.”
She sighed and thrust the dress back onto the rack.
I left Madison’s with the meager purchases of a bottle of nail polish called Whisper Pink and a pair of sterling silver hoop earrings. It had hardly been worth the time and effort.
We met up with the others at Starbucks. Various designer bags were scattered around their feet, and three boys in striped blazers had joined them. They were stretching back in their chairs, enjoying the girls’ shameless flirting.
“I’m starving,” Molly announced. “I’d kill for one of those giant cookies.”
Taylah wagged a finger at her. “Salad until after the formal,” she said.
“You’re right,” Molly groaned. “Is coffee allowed?”
“Skim milk, no sugar.”
By the time I got home my despondency was hard to disguise. The shopping expedition had failed to deliver, and I didn’t know where I was going to find a dress. I’d scoured the shops in Venus Cove weeks ago and all that remained were a couple of thrift stores.
“No luck?” Ivy didn’t sound surprised. “Did you have fun at least?”
“Not really. It was a waste of time. There are only so many dresses you can try on before they all start to look the same.”
“Don’t worry — you’ll find something. There’s still plenty of time.”
“It won’t make any difference; what I want just isn’t out there. I shouldn’t even bother going.”
“Come on now,” said Ivy. “You can’t do that to Xavier. I have an idea. Why don’t you tell me the kind of dress you’ve got in mind and I can make it for you.”
“I can’t ask you to do that! You have more important things to think about.”
“I’d like to do this for you,” said Ivy. “Besides, it won’t take me long, and you know I can make exactly what you want.”
I knew she was right. Ivy could become a skilled seamstress in a matter of hours. There was nothing she and Gabriel couldn’t do if they had a mind to.
“Why don’t we spend some time this afternoon going through magazines and see if there’s anything you like?” Ivy asked.
“I don’t need a magazine. I can picture it in my head.”
My sister smiled. “Okay, then close your eyes and send it to me.”
I shut my eyes and imagined the night of the prom. I saw Xavier and me standing arm in arm under a canopy of fairy lights. He was wearing a tux and smelled fresh and sharp. A shock of hair fell across his eyes. I stood beside him, and in my mind’s eye I saw the dress of my dreams. It was a shimmering ivory gown with an undergarment of soft cream silk and an overlay of antique lace. The bodice was studded with pearls and a row of satin buttons lined the fitted sleeves. It had a scalloped neckline with an intricate gold trim of tiny rosebuds. The material seemed to be woven with little fragments of light and emitted a faint pearly glow. On my feet I wore the daintiest, beaded satin slippers.
I looked at Ivy sheepishly. It wasn’t exactly the simplest of requests.
“Piece of cake,” said my sister. “I can whip that up in no time.”
At lunchtime on Monday I sat alone in the cafeteria. Xavier was at water-polo practice, and Molly and the girls were on the prom committee and had a meeting of their own to discuss the final decorations and seating arrangements. As I sat and picked at my wilted lettuce, people looked at me curiously, probably surprised to see
