The rhinestone pendant rests below my collarbone, catching the light beautifully.
Standing, I turn to the mirror, smoothing my dress over my hips, and adjust the straps one last time. My reflection stares back at me, not the girl I was an hour ago. I’m more confident. Not excited to be attending the dance solo, but confident all the same.
“You’ve got this,” I whisper as a reminder. “It isjusta dance. You’ve done harder things.”
Like live with two parents who aren’t getting along. Who ignore each other. Who fight. Also: AP English.
Still, my stomach flutters, and for a show of solidarity I grab my phone from the desk and open the chat with Macy.
My thumbs hover for a moment before I type:
Me:Almost ready. Feeling kind of nervous—like I might vomit. But I’m doing it. No backing out because of fear.
I hit send and wait for a response. It comes almost immediately:
Macy:EFF FEAR! How does your dress look, do you still love it?!
Me:I love it MORE than the day I bought it. Still fits, ha ha. How about you? Send me a selfie.
Waiting for Macy’s selfie to pop up takes forever, so I distract myself by smoothing out the skirt of my dress, running my palms over the delicate fabric. The color really does look perfect on me—soft, shimmery, exactly the shade to make me feel empowered.
“Pink power.”
My phone vibrates, and Macy’s selfie fills the screen. She’s grinning, her makeup perfectly applied, her dress a light lavender. It hugs her figure in a flattering way, a contrast to my full skirt.
Me:WOW WOW WOW. Marcus’s jaw is gonna be on the floor!
Macy:It better be, bwahahaha. I feel like a goddess. Am I allowed to say that?
Me:Obviously.
Me:I’m so happy for you! You look stunninggg! I cannot wait to see you!!!
Macy:You are literally my hype queen. I’ll take the compliments—keep them coming.
Me:Gorgeous. Glowing. Sexpot.
Macy:LOL thank you. SAME. Also: Promise me a dance.
Me:YES! You better text me as soon as you walk in. Don’t leave me standing in the corner by myself.
Macy:You won’t be there by yourself—you’ll be with the rest of the crew. And you know there’s still time to eat with us…
I would rather not—for obvious reasons. Marcus is friends with Easton, so chances are Easton will be there with his date. And I do not want to eat with them.
Is he already with Maddie? Are they laughing and flirting while he drives her to dinner and I get ready to attend the dance alone? The thought stings like never before, so I look down at my phone again, determined to drive them away.
I swallow, fingers hovering over the screen.
Do I confess to my best friend that I have a swirling mix of excitement and dread building inside my chest—despite pep-talking myself only moments ago?
Ugh! I am a mess!
Me:No, I’m okay—my dad made me a cute dinner. Confession: I feel like I’m holding myself together with duct tape and good vibes. Is this normal?
The three dots appear as she types her reply.
Macy:Duh, it’s prom. It’s a whole THING. But you’re gonna crush it, I swear. You’re the moment tonight.
