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He grins at me. “One knight in shining armor, at your service.”
“Where did you find a dress?” I ask
“Your mom ordered it weeks ago,” he says. “I just had to grab it out of her closet.” Then he kisses my cheek, whispers “good luck”, and leaves.
I can feel tears pricking the corners of my eyes. For the first time in my life, I’m grateful for Mom’s frivolous shopping habits.
“Emma, what’s wrong?” Mom asks, looking in my eyes.
“I just can’t believe how nice and supportive everyone is being. Especially after how judgmental and stupid I’ve been. I might actually be able to pull this off.” I wipe under my eyes with the back of a knuckle.
“Don’t turn into a girl on me now,” Mom says. I notice a twinkle in her eye. “We just did your face.” Then she takes me by the hands and pulls me to standing. I slip out of my clothes and Mom and another cheerleader hold the dress up for me to step into. They’re both shorter than me, however, so I have to bend my knees quite a bit in order to get my hands through the arm holes. I’m sure my squatting position looks hilarious from the outside, but they do a perfect job in getting the dress on my body without mussing my hair.
After Mom zips me up, she takes my hands and steps back to take in the whole picture.
“You look absolutely stunning,” she says.
I glance down at the layered, peach colored chiffon. It’s flowy and elegant and fits like a dream. It’s a dress I never would have picked out for myself. Yet it looks like it was made for me. Mom pulls my gaze up into her eyes.
“Prom Queens never look down. Look up. Be confident in the beautiful, intelligent, kind woman that you are. You’ve got this, Emma. I know you can do it.”
I give Mom a big hug. A real hug. Not just one I simply tolerate from her. The hug is healing and when Mom steps back, I can see she has tears in her eyes, too.
The intercom buzzes into the gym. “Mrs. Carpenter, your cheerleaders are needed in the auditorium.”
Mom glances up at the speaker. “You better go, the assembly is about to start!”
“Wait!” One of the other cheerleaders steps forward. I can’t remember her name, but I know she’s one of Kylie’s best friends. I hesitate. Is she about to rip up my dress, like an ugly stepsister scene from Cinderella? But nope. I’m wrong again.
“Here,” she says. She walks over and pins two beautiful, sparkly clips into my hair. “There,” she says, stepping back. “Now you look perfect.”
Chapter Sixteen
I hold up the bottom of my dress and stumble down the hall as I try and run in heels. I approach the doors, when Mrs. Graidy yells my name. I turn around and see her waving me over.
“You can’t go in those doors; the auditorium is already full. Everyone will see you enter. You need to come in back here, backstage.” Mrs. Graidy pauses and looks me up and down. “Wow, Emma, I am very impressed! You look…stunning! I don’t know how you did it so fast.”
“My mom and an army of cheerleaders,” I say, laughing.
Mrs. Graidy smiles. Then she jumps as though she just remembered we were late. “Well, let’s get in there. Go! Go!”
For such a large woman, she sure can move fast. She pulls me until I’m out of breath, bringing me to where the other contestants are standing. The other girls stare at me wide-eyed as we approach. Taylor and Kylie’s mouths are hanging open, like baby birds waiting to be fed. Mrs. Graidy then places me directly beside a tall baseball player, named Dean. I recognize him as Taylor’s make out buddy.
Taylor turns around and stares daggers in my direction. If looks could kill, I’d be six feet under.
She shoots her hand into the air. “I don’t understand why Dean can’t escort me onstage instead,” she whines. “He’smyprom date. It doesn’t even make sense why he’s with Emma.”
“He is the right height to be Emma’s escort. They are a perfect match. Now if you please, turn around and let’s get this show on the road.”
Taylor huffs and turns back to her own escort.
Kylie looks over at me and her eyes grow large.
“Where did you get those hair clips?” she asks, reaching up and touching one. Her voice sounds like venom.
“One of my mom’s cheerleaders gave them to me to borrow.”
“Those are Jessica’s. I gave them to her for her birthday.” Her lips form a thin, straight line. “You need to give those back,” she says, her voice trembling. Kylie holds out a shaking hand. I take a step back and defensively put my palms up.
