Sisters [book one]

Chapter Seventeen

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Chapter Seventeen

With the SATs finally over and prom next month, the hallways of Garfield High School are littered with extravagant promposals that make me want to both barf and hide. Dresses and dates are all the girls can talk about so, having not hung-out in a while, Michele picks me up from school on a Friday and we go dress shopping. And Michele is even more excited than I am.

"It has to be perfect!" she squeals, jumping out of the car like a crazed bird.

As much as I'm excited about prom, the thought of spending the whole day flicking through racks and racks of dresses in search of one that doesn't make me look stupid, fat or ugly sounds like a huge ordeal for only one night. Some girls buy their prom dresses months in advance, making sure everything is perfect for the big day, including getting a date that's not only photogenic but makes all the other girls jealous. Bridgit and Jake have, of course, been nominated for prom king and queen and there have been posters up around the school for weeks. So why am I not excited like everyone else?

The first shop we enter already has their summer stock out. We glide passed the cute shorts and neon-coloured tank tops to the dresses at the back of the shop.

"You look on that rack, I'll look on this one," Michele orders, pointing accordingly. "And don't even think about looking on the Sale rack."

Most of them are summer dresses that are too flowery and float-y for something as prestigious as a junior prom. I watch Michele's expression for a moment; a creased frown quickly turns into a grimace as a banana-coloured dress pops up. I can't help but smile as I walk over to my own rack. Flicking through, I realise I'm not sure what kind of dress I'm looking for. Do I want one that reaches the floor, or barely covers my bum? Do I want it in a dark colour, or a light one? Do I want it to blow all the other girls' dresses out of the water or do I want it to be cute and sweet?

"How about this one?"

I hold up a dress. Michele's head snaps up and she quickly shakes her head. "No," she says, crinkling her nose.

With a shrug, I put it back. It's purple, with thin straps over the shoulders and it falls just below the knee. I hastily shove it back, realising that the dress looks like it should be for a twelve year-old disco, not for prom.

After a few minutes, we find nothing. And the next two shops are exactly the same. The fourth shop - which resembles our Grandma's house - Michele finds a dress and swears it'll look better on.

"I'm being serious, Michele, I look like a duvet."

"Come out," Michele say. "I'm sure you're just overreacting."

"Oh no, I don't think I am. I don't think I'm going to leave this-"

Michele yanks the dressing room curtain across, eyebrows raised.

"You know I could've been butt naked-" I start to say but Michele interrupts me with her snorts of laughter. "Don't laugh!" I say, "I told you I looked like a duvet."

"Okay, okay, okay," Michele says, covering her mouth. "I believe you. Take it off." She steps out again and pulls back the curtain.

"Thank you," I huff, already pulling down the zip. I wiggle out of the dress and pull up my jeans.

We exit the shop and Michele says, "Where to next?"

My stomach rumbles and I glance at the clock on my phone. It's already half-twelve.

"Lunch?" I say.

"What's the time?"

"Lunch o'clock."