The night of the dance I was full of nerves.
A huge part of me wanted to call Simon and beg off, especially since he nixed the whole carpool idea from the get-go, but my mom had bought the dress and Dee had done an outstanding job making me look pretty.
My hair had been curled and twisted up, exposing my neck. A few strategically placed curls hung over my temples and rested on my bare shoulders. She even sprayed this vanilla-scented glittery stuff in my hair, so when I turned, my hair shimmered. My eyes were a warm brown due to the smoky outline she'd given them. I was also pretty sure she'd applied fake eyelashes, because my lashes had never been this long or thick. Her final touch before she rushed off to meet up with Lesa was the gloss she painted on my lips, turning them a perfect shade of ruby.
I inspected myself in the mirror before I went downstairs. It was like staring at a stranger, and I made a mental note to wear makeup more often.
Mom started crying the moment she saw me.
"Oh my God, honey, you look so beautiful." She went to hug me but stopped. "I don't want to ruin anything. Let me grab my camera." Even I wouldn't begrudge her this moment.
I waited until she returned and took a dozen pictures. Dressed in her nursing scrubs, she looked kind of funny snapping pictures.
"Now this Simon guy," she started, her forehead wrinkling. "You never talked about him."
Oh Lord. "We're friends. Nothing more, so you don't have a thing to worry about." She gave me a motherly look. "Whatever happened with the boy next door - Daemon?
You were hanging out with him a couple of times, right?"
I shrugged. That was a conversation I couldn't even begin to broach with my mom.
"Uh, we're frenemies."
"What?" Her brows puckered.
"Nothing," I sighed, glancing at my hand.
There wasn't a single mark on my fingers. There was a trace though, still lingering faintly, he said. "We're friends."
"Well, that's a shame." She reached out, smoothing down an errant curl. "He seemed like such a nice boy."
Daemon? Nice boy? Um, no. A loud engine from outside ended our conversation. I moved over to the window, peeking out. Good Lord.
Simon's truck was the size of a submarine.
"Why didn't you two go to dinner like Dee was talking about?" my mother asked, gearing up the camera for another round of shots.
Since Simon had nixed the carpool idea, I'd nixed the dinner. Simon was meeting me here, which I wasn't too thrilled about, but meeting at the dance seemed stupid. Not to mention he had the tickets.
I didn't answer as I went to the door and opened it. Simon stood there, dressed in a tux. I was sort of surprised they had ones that fit him.
His eyes, which seemed a little bleary, drifted down me in a way that turned my skin the color of my dress.
"You look hot," he said, thrusting out a corsage that went around my wrist.
I winced, hearing my mom clear her throat.
Taking the corsage, I stepped aside and let Simon in. "Mom, this is Simon." Simon stepped forward, shaking Mom's outstretched hand. "Now I see where Katy gets her looks from."
My mom arched a brow, turning into the Ice Queen. Simon had not made a fan. "Aren't you kind."
I slunk over to his side as I slipped my corsage on, grateful it was not one that had to be pinned on. Simon took having the epic amounts of pictures taken good-naturedly, wrapping his arm around my waist and smiling for the camera.
"Oh. I almost forgot." Mom disappeared into the living room, returning with a lacy black shawl. She draped it over my shoulders. "This will keep you warm."
"Thank you," I said, hugging it closer, more grateful for the coverage than she could ever imagine. The dress had seemed fine earlier, but now with Simon practically drooling on my cleavage I felt uncomfortable baring so much skin.
Mom pulled me aside while Simon waited outside. "Make sure you call me when you get home. If anything happens, call me. Okay? I'm working in Winchester tonight." She glanced out the door, frowning. "But I can leave if need be."
"Mom, I'll be fine." I leaned over, kissing her cheek. "I love you."
"Love you, too." She ushered me to the door. "You do look gorgeous."
Before the tears could fill her eyes again, I fled the house. Getting in the truck required strategic climbing. I was surprised that I didn't need a stepladder.
"Man, you do look hot." Simon popped a breath mint in his mouth before he backed out of the long driveway.
I hoped he wasn't planning to use those breath mints later. "Thanks. You look nice, too." That was the extent of our conversation.
Turns out Simon wasn't a witty conversationalist. Shocking. The ride to school was long and awkward, and I was gripping the edges of my shawl like there was no tomorrow.
Several times he glanced over, smiled, and popped another breath mint.
I couldn't wait to get to the dance.
When we arrived in the parking lot, I found out why he was popping so many breath mints.
Simon pulled a silver flask from the inside of his tux and took a long swig. He offered it to me next.
He was drinking. This was already starting off great. I declined the offer, already making plans to find another ride home. Drinking didn't bother me. Ending up with a drunk driver did.
Seeming not to care, he shoved it back in his jacket. "Hold on. I'll help you get down." Well, that was nice of him, because I was wondering how in the world I was supposed to get down. He opened the door and I smiled.
"Thank you."
"Did you want to keep your purse in here?" he asked.
Oh, hell no. I shook my head and let the tiny clutch dangle from my wrist. Simon took my hand and helped me down from the truck. He pulled a little too hard, and I stumbled against his thick chest.
"Are you okay?" he asked, smiling.
I nodded, trying to ignore the icky feeling building in my stomach.
Outside, I could hear the steady thump of music from the gymnasium. We stopped before the fogged-over doors, and Simon pulled me toward him in an awkward hug.
"I'm glad you wanted to go to the dance with me," he said, his breath minty and tinged with the harsh smell of liquor.
"Same here," I said, trying to mean it. I placed my hands on his burly chest and pushed back. "We should go in."
Smiling, he slid his arms away. One of his hands slipped down my back, over the curve of my hip. I stiffened and told myself it was an accident. It had to be. He surely didn't just cop a feel like that. We hadn't even danced yet.
The gymnasium had been converted over to an autumn-themed dance. Strings of fall foliage hung from the ceilings and covered the doors.
There were pumpkins and cornucopia horns full of leaves stacked in the corners and lining the stage.
As soon as we stepped inside, we were surrounded by Simon's friends. Some of them looked me over and gave Simon a not-so-discreet high five or clap on the back. It was like now they could tell I had boobs, I was suddenly cool. Boys could be so juvenile. While they passed around the flask Simon had brought in, I exchanged strained greetings with the other guys' dates. They were all cheerleaders. Yawn.
I scanned the crowd, spying Lesa with her date. "I'll be right back."
Before Simon could stop me, I darted off toward her. She turned when her date nodded in my direction. I smiled. "You look gorgeous." I had to yell to be heard over the music.
"So do you!" She gave me a quick hug and then pulled back. "Is he behaving himself?"
"So far. Do you mind?" I placed my shawl and clutch on their table when she shook her head. "They did a nice job on this." Lesa nodded. "Still a gym, though." She laughed. "It has that smell."
That was true. Carissa quickly joined us, tugging both of us out onto the dance floor minus the guys. I didn't mind. We danced with each other, giggling and being plain-out stupid.
Lesa danced like a double-jointed hooker, and I think Carissa did the running man at one point.
I caught a glimpse of Dee talking to Adam near the stage. Giving the girls a quick wave, I made my way over to them. "Dee!" She turned toward me, her eyes glistening under the dazzling lights. "Hey." I stopped short, my eyes bouncing between them. Adam gave me a tight smile before stalking off into the throng of dancers. "Is everything okay?" I took her hand, squeezing it.
"Have you been crying?"