#GirlsShitToo

Prom Dress Code

Friday morning, talk of prom was everywhere: hallways, classrooms, bathrooms, and even the cafe we go to at lunch sometimes. Mr. Runsberger released the dress code for Prom on our school website and pasted it on the bulletin board at the front of the school.

Crystal Shore High School Prom Dress Code

Girls:

Dresses need to be formal, appropriately fitting, and modest.

Hems and slits must not be more than two inches above the knee.

Top of dress must not have any cuts below the traditional bra line. This includes necklines and backlines.

No visible midriffs.

Shoes must be formal (such as heels or slippers).

We won't permit hats, but other hair decor (such as flowers) are permitted.

Boys:

Suits OR tuxedos with dress pants need to be formal and appropriately sized.

Shoes must be formal and closed-toed. Wildly colored shoes aren't permitted.

Non-formal hats are not permitted.

I gagged when I saw it. First of all, the thing was totally lacking in parallel structure. Second, what was the deal with the hats? Third: "I can't wear brightly colored shoes?" asked Dylan. Fourth: "And what's this 'traditional bra line'? But really...what does that even mean?" asked Justine.

I walked away without responding to either of them, because I had my own concern. I walked straight to Runsberger's office and, seeing him alone, let myself in, not bothering to sit. Fifth: "Mr Runsberger, that dress code seems to imply that girls have to wear dresses to prom."

"That is correct, Ms. Delaney. Proms are formal occasions that call for formal wear."

"But I can still dress formally and not wear a dress..."

"I think that would look very unformal."

"You mean informal?" I criticized him, even though I wasn't above making up words. He looked a bit insulted, so I just went on. "Look—can I please wear a pantsuit?"

"Like your friend Eric? Bring me a note from your psychologist about how you identify with the male gender, and we'll talk."

"I identify with masculinity, but I don't identify as a male. There's a difference."

"It shouldn't be that complicated. Back in my day, girls were girls and boys were boys, and we followed conventions. Simple. If you want to come to prom, Mizz Delaney, then you'll need to dress for the occasion."

I shook my head and walked out, and said under my breath, "This is not over, Mr. Runsberger."

Maybe I should've been happy that Runsberger was being a prick; that could give me an excuse to not go to prom.

I never went to high school dances anyway. Did they play metal? No. They played rap and pop and electronic music. Did people mosh? No. They grinded up against each other whenever the teachers and chaperones weren't looking, and I imagined they probably twerked, too, even though I still hadn't figured out what twerking was (but I'd heard about it enough to know it was happening all around me). Why should I go to this high school dance, just because it was prom?

But I also knew it was a huge milestone, especially for us seniors, who were leaving high school for good in less than a month. One of the last occasions where the majority of us would be together, having fun. If I didn't go, then I would probably regret it.

I was thinking that maybe I should just go.

...with Dylan or Benny.

* * *

That night, Sharkbite and Alex and I went to Dylan's house so we could work on our term papers for econ. Originally, it was just me who was going, but when I told Sharkbite and Alex my plans, they wanted to come, too. I thought back to freshman year when my friends didn't like Dylan, as compared to now, and I smiled.

When we first got there, we noticed something odd in the front yard of Dylan's house: a fishing rod attached to a red balloon floating way up in the sky. There was a sign on the fishing rod that said, "Dylan! Reel Me In."

So Dylan, looking embarrassed, slowly reeled it in, while Sharkbite and Alex and I cheered him on. When the balloon was within reach, Alex, the tallest, grabbed it, and announced the obvious: "There's a piece of paper inside! Give me your knife!"

So Sharkbite gave Alex his pocketknife and Alex popped the balloon, and right then I said, "Dudes, this is for Dylan, you better let him read it."

Alex reluctantly handed the folded paper he had just procured from the insides to Dylan. Dylan slowly opened it, keeping it away from all of us, and read it, and within two seconds he was smiling ear to ear.

"What's it say?" asked Sharkbite.

"Nothing."

"C'mon Dyl! Don't keep us in the dark!" I said.

"Fine. 'Prom?' That's all it says."

"Who's it from?"

He flipped the paper in our direction so we could read it, and we could see that it said, "Prom? - Calvin L. from art."

So, naturally, Alex and Sharkbite and I started ooh-la-la-ing, congratulating Dylan on his prom date. Yeah, he wasn't going with his fantasy prom date Dakota, the questionably bi guy, but I knew who Calvin was, and he seemed like a totally nice guy, and he had an ear piercing and a Deftones shirt.

"How are you gonna respond to him?" I asked.

"I don't know. In art? I don't know. Let's just work on our econ papers."

So we went to Dylan's room, and spread ourselves out on the floor with our notes and laptops, except for Sharkbite, who didn't have a laptop, and so Dylan was letting him use his desktop computer.

Dylan was doing his paper as a case study on countries with free college, and he'd been using his research to help Benny with his senior paper, and Alex was lending his research on Finland to help him.

Alex's paper was a comparison between the health care systems in Finland and the U.S., and Mr. Harber almost hadn't let him do it because he'd thought he was just using the same project for both English and econ, which he told Alex was plagiarism. Ms. Brooks actually had to hold a meeting with him and Alex in which they convinced Mr. Harber that Alex was extending his research on Finland and and not doing the same project. It was all very taxing for Alex.

Sharkbite was doing his on the economic benefits of taxation of legal marijuana, to which I told him, "You're very brave. I feel like Mr. Harber won't like that topic. Way too progressive."

"Well, he approved it, right? What you doing?"

"I'm arguing against the taxation of menstrual products as luxury items. As inspired by Adree and her period talk."

"It seems like Harber really won't be down for that topic, even if you did already get his approval."

"Don't you remember how uncomfortable he got when Trish talked about her period? He just freaked out and told her she could have what she wanted. That's how it was when he approved my topic, too. If I talk enough about menstruation in this paper, then maybe he'll just freak out and give me an A. Maybe he'll give me an A without even reading it because it makes him so uncomfortable."

Sharkbite smiled. "You're a tricky one, Delaney."

"Are you tricky enough to get away with wearing a pantsuit to prom?" Dylan asked me.

"We'll see..." I said, suddenly realizing that with Dylan on his date, my backup plan to have him as my prom date was a no-go.

At least I still had Benny. He probably wouldn't work up the courage to ask Sydney in time, even if he had claimed he'd gotten "better at talking to girls" in his #HowFeminismChangedMyLife tweet.