Chapter32: Young Lady in Red
Mom puts makeup on my face carefully since I’m not used to doing it myself yet. With a last flourish, she finishes my eyeliner and takes a look.
“Perfect. I’ll add a little blush and máscara, then put on the cover spray. Remember not to get your face wet afterward if you can help it.”
She finishes a little bit later, then takes off the towel we used to protect my dress. I hear her step back, but then she stops moving.
My eyes blink open after a bit, ready to ask what was wrong. It’s strange seeing her without my curtain of my bangs since they’re pinned to the side with a homemade rose hairpin.
She’s just standing there, a hand to her lips as she gazes down at me with watery eyes.
“Oh, honey…”
Mom insisted on paying for me to have my hair done before the party. Since it would be something that lasts longer than a dress, I decided it was okay. So, just a few hours earlier, three women at a salon worked hard to tame my wild hair into something much less hectic.
They cut my bangs shorter, though not so short that I was uncomfortable, and cut some of the hair near the sides of my face. Now they curl up against my cheeks and frame my face instead of flowing over my shoulders and down my back like the rest of my hair. My waves are, however temporarily, more condensed and less frizzy.
My altered dress is a shade of red I’ve always liked–somewhat darker, closer to wine or burgundy but still vibrant. While it initially was a long, flat turtleneck dress with long sleeves, I cut the neckline until it was off the shoulder, made the sleeves much shorter, and added a scrunchy–top overlay with the cloth I bought. I sewed the little cloth roses I made into the off–shoulder overlay.
The lace I added covered the start of my chest and over my collarbones, attaching to a cloth choker around my neck. With the waist cinched in with elastic and thread, I added the net fabric to make the skirt puff out. After much fighting with myself, I decided to forgo
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wearing tights or stockings, my legs bare and feet concealed in black closed–toe shoes with a thick ankle strap.
I stand up and look in the mirror, pausing at the sight of myself.
She gave me a natural–looking style, so it looks like my face, but without the fading acne marks. It’s just that, seeing everything together is…
“Oh, you look so beautiful,” Mom coos again, her voice thick with tears. “Oh, hold on a moment. I’ve got to get a picture.”
“Mom…”
a
She ends up giving me some red–orange teardrop–shaped earrings before having me stand in the living room for better lighting. I have a scarf–like wrap made of the same dress cloth I wear like those rich ladies in evening dresses. The glitter spray I added to it glimmers as I move, making her tear up more as she snaps pictures with her phone.
I’m not sure when the photoshoot will end, but then, someone rings the doorbell.
“Oh, oh, wait right here,” Mom says, scurrying to the door.
I hear it open as she sweetly greets Alex, saying that he looks handsome. They chat a little, so I start inching over, peeking past the wall to look down the hall.
I can’t lie and say my heart doesn’t skip a beat.
He’s wearing a sleek black suit with shiny shoes and a deep, wine–red shirt, just like I’d asked. His hair is slicked back, though a few curls escape. With his hands tucked casually in his pockets, he looks really good.
“C’mon, Cynthia!” she sings, giddy.
“Coming…”
I grab my purse–a small one, borrowed from Mom–and step into the hall. Alex looks up to say hi, but then his smile slips off his face, eyes going wide.
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“Well? What do you think? Doesn’t she look lovely?” Mom asks him.
Even after I’ve approached, he still just stares at me. Those golden flecks in his eyes look bright, almost like they’re dancing
“…Alexsss?”
He blinks as though startled, then quickly glances between me and Mom,
“Oh, uh, yeah.” His hands slip from his pockets and he stands strangely straight, swallowing thickly. His gaze shifts away when he looks at my face for too long, “You look gea.”
“Thanksss. You look gr–great, too.”
We just stand there, Alex looking at me in a way I’d almost call nervous, I stare up at him in return, trying not to have my heart burst out of my chest with how hard it’s beating,
“…Don’t you two have a party to get to?”
“Uh, yeah! We do!” Alex laughs stiltedly. He holds his hand out to me. “Then, let’s ”
I take his hand, and he leads me from the house, promiting my mom not to bring me back too late
“Oh my God,” Halley says, her jaw dropped open
The books scanning in her desss, her glasses replaced by contacts and her makeup toote what and stylish than any com Even so, the rushes over to me and holds my hands before twiring me as
“Te difs seally the same frase? The glow–up is to call if you ever way using become &
designer!”
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“Ah–hhah. Thanks,” I murmur back.
I barely manage to grab Alex’s wrist before Hailey drags me in. Soon, we’re surrounded by a bunch of other people in beautiful dresses. The lights are dim at the moment with calm music playing, many round tables situated at the venue for people to choose their seats.
“C’mon, c’mon, I saved two for you guys-”
She tugs us over to a table with Lenard and a few other players. Some of them have dates from other schools, so there’s a few new faces I’m not familiar with. Though it’s a bit awkward for me to introduce myself to the other girls there, Alex ends up making fun of
- me.
“So, this is my girlfriend, drama deer.”
I punch him lightly in his side. “Cynthia Bossston. Nice to meet you.”
The others laugh and introduce themselves, the stiffness of greeting new people lightened. At least his jokes make it easier to talk to others.
When the lights in the room brighten, we all look to the stage, a teacher calling for our attention. The adults talk about the effort the team put in and how close they are to the finish line. Something about congratulations, something about being responsible, something about growing older, that sort of thing
I’m usually more diligent toward these sorts of things, but I can’t help peeking over at Alex. He is, of course, not listening much at all, more focused on balancing a plastic straw on his top lip. I snatch it and put it in his drink, giving him a scolding look he only laughs at.
Then, with all the announcements and talking settled, they start us off with prom dance music. Something pop–like with an 80s beat. It’s a bit loud, but I figure it has to be to reach everyone in the venue.
“C’mon, let’s dance!” Alex grins, pulling my seat out.
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“Ah, I dunno.”
“I mean, you know how to do the two–step, yeah? It’ll be fun!”
“Wait–ah-”
I quickly throw my shrug over my bag, and he pulls me over to the dance floor.
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My right hand finds his shoulder, my left his right, and his left hand holds my back. Then, we start swaying side to side with the two–step on the beat.
At first, I look down, trying to make sure I don’t stumble and step on his foot. But when I glance up, he’s smiling down at me.
“You’re not bad at all. See?”
The multicolored spotlights moving around the dance floor shine behind him briefly.
My heart skips in my chest at his expression. So handsome…
And he’s nice. Protective. Many things he didn’t come off as the first day we met.
Sometimes, it’s almost like they were two completely different people, but I know he’s still himself. The kind who can be an asshole, but at his core, when he’s putting his flirting to the side and he’s being genuine, this is who he is.
And, I know he’s the kind of person I like.
As he spins me around when the music gets preppy, I can’t help but let out a squeal.
Yeah. I’ve broken the contract.
I can only hope he feels the same about me now.
Judging from the light in his eyes, I think… Maybe he does.
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