Mom said, “This must be why Hank suggested you and Marcie go dress shopping together. I told him I’d be very surprised if you had any desire to go to homecoming, but he must have known what Marcie was planning. Of course, you’re under no obligation to go anywhere with Marcie,” she corrected in a rush. “I think it would be very big of you, but clearly Hank doesn’t know how you feel about Marcie. I think he dreams of seeing our families get along.” She gave a miserable little laugh.
Under the circumstances, I couldn’t bring myself to join her. I didn’t know how much of what she said was from the heart, and how much was dictated by Hank’s mind-tricks. But it was very clear that if she was thinking marriage, Patch and I needed to work faster.
“Marcie cornered me after school and told me—yes, told me—we’re going dress shopping tonight. Like I had absolutely no say in the matter whatsoever. But it’s all good. Vee and I have a plan. I texted Marcie and told her I couldn’t go shopping because I’m out of money. Then I told her how sorry I was, because I was really looking forward to her input. She texted back and said Hank gave her his credit card and she was paying.”
Mom groaned in disapproval, but her eyes crinkled with amusement. “Please tell me I raised you better than this.”
“I already picked out the dress I want,” I said cheerfully. “I’ll get Marcie to pay for it, and then Vee will just happen to bump into us as we’re leaving the store. I’ll take the dress, ditch Marcie, and go out for doughnuts with Vee.”
“What does the dress look like?”
“Vee and I found it at Silk Garden. It’s an above-the-knee party dress.”
“What color?”
“You’ll have to wait and see.” I smiled devilishly. “It’s one hundred and fifty dollars.” Mom waved this off. “I’d be surprised if Hank even notices. You should see how he burns through cash.”
I settled higher in my chair, pleased with myself. “Then I don’t suppose he’ll mind buying my shoes, too.”
I was supposed to meet Marcie at Silk Garden at seven. Silk Garden was a boutique dress shop on the corner of Asher and Tenth. From the outside it resembled a château, with an oak-and-iron door and a cobblestone walk. The trees were wrapped in blue decorative lights. In the front windows, mannequins modeled dresses beautiful enough to eat. When I was little, my dreams of grandeur included becoming a princess and claiming Silk Garden as my castle.
At twenty past seven, I paced the parking lot, scouting for Marcie’s car. Marcie drove a red Toyota 4Runner, fully loaded. Somehow I got the feeling her shifter never popped out of its socket. I doubted she’d ever had to smack her dashboard for ten minutes straight before the engine caught. And I was willing to bet her ride never broke down halfway to school. I cast a gloomy look in the direction of the Volkswagen and sighed.
A red 4Runner swerved into the parking lot, and Marcie jumped out. “Sorry I’m late,” she said, throwing her handbag up her shoulder. “My dog didn’t want me to leave.”
“Your dog?”
“Boomer. Dogs are people too, you know.”
I saw my chance. “No worries. I already looked around inside. Picked out my dress, too. We can make this real quick, and you can get back to Boomer.”
Her face fell. “What about my input? You said you valued my opinion.” I pretty much just value your dad’s credit card. “Yeah, about that. I had every intention of waiting for you, but then I saw the dress. It spoke to me.”
“Really?”
“Yes, Marcie. The heavens opened and angels sang ‘Hall elujah.’” In my mind, I smacked my head against a wall.
“Show me the dress,” she directed. “You realize you have a warm skin tone, right? The wrong color is going to wash you out.”
Inside, I walked Marcie over to the dress. It was a party dress with an all-over green-and-navy tartan print and a ruched skirt. The saleslady had said it made my legs stand out. Vee said it made me look like I actually had a chest.
“Ew,” Marcie said. “Tartan? Too schoolgirl.”
“Well, it’s the one I want.”
She flipped through the rack, grabbing one in my size. “Maybe it will look better on. But I don’t think I’ll change my mind.”
I carted the dress back to the fitting room with a bounce in my step. This was the dress. Marcie could huff all night; she wasn’t going to change my mind. I shucked off my jeans and shimmied into the dress. I couldn’t get the zipper up. I twisted the dress around and looked at the tag. Size four.
Maybe an honest mistake, maybe not. To give Marcie the finger, I stuffed the fat at my midsection into the dress. For a minute, it looked like it might work. Then reality set in.
“Marcie?” I called through the drape.
“Mmm?”
I passed the dress out to her. “Wrong size.”
“Too big?” Her voice was laced with an overkil of naïveté.
I blew hair off my face to keep from saying something cynical. “A size six will do, thank you very much.”
“Oh. Too small.”
It was a good thing I was in my underwear, or I’d have been tempted to march out and slug her.
A minute later Marcie pushed a size six through the drapes. On its heels, she passed in a floor-length red number. “Not to sway the vote, but I think red is the way to go. More glam.” I hung the red dress on the hook, stuck my tongue out at it, and zipped myself into the tartan party dress. I twirled in front of the mirror and mouthed a silent squeal. I imagined myself descending the farmhouse stairs on homecoming night while Scott looked on from below. All of a sudden I wasn’t picturing Scott. Patch leaned on the banister, dressed in a tailored black suit and silver tie.
I gave him a flirty smile. He held out his arm and escorted me to the door. He smelled warm and earthy, like sun-baked sand.
Unable to control myself, I grabbed his jacket lapels and hauled him into a kiss.