Through the Break in Her Hair

Chapter 29

My mother may have lost the fashion war the last time I went out with Lindsey, but she wasn't going to let that happen again. Not when I'd be attending an actual formal occasion. Formal for our town anyway.

I sat in our car, fidgeting with the stiff noose around my neck. "John, get your hands off that tie or so help me God..." she warned.

"Yes, ma'am." My hands thumped down onto my lap, knocking into the family heirlooms. I winced and held back the accompanying "oh" of agony. That wasn't something I wanted to admit to my mom, or have her worrying about for the rest of the night. Doctoral ball inspection from a guy who had been practicing since the early 1900's, no thank you. No turn and cough for me.

Mom nudged me with her shoulder and it took everything in me not to puke. "Well, go on then." I smiled through the pain, relieved to see that she was genuinely happy for me this time. "Why are you smiling like that?" she asked quizzically.

Crap! Cover that up, I urged, dropping my face down into neutral. "Like what?" A hint of perspiration moistened the underarms and collar of my shirt. But she wouldn't be able to see that, not in the dark.

"Nevermind, well," she sighed happily. "Have fun!"

As I was climbing out of the car, I threaded my eyesight into hers. But seeing my backside and the sidewalk before me was kind of jolting, like being near sighted in one eye and far sighted in the other. My foot got caught on the door frame, and I stumbled out onto the pavement, catching myself before my black, polyester pants hit the gravel. "You all right, honey?" Mom's voice echoed, reverberating from behind me and from within my brain at the same time.

"Mm, hmm," I hummed, nodding. Maybe I should just stick to listening for now, I thought, untangling my line of eyesight from mom's. Leave the big stuff for later...

Once the image of my bent over back faded from my mind, I climbed out of the car and shut the door behind me. I heard the engine shift into gear, the sound of pebbles crunching, and knew that she was pulling away.

I arrived thirty minutes early for no other reason than to hang out with my girlfriend, but the world hated my plans, despised my reasons. It used other people to prove that point, people like Mrs.McNeely.

Mrs.McNeely was known for being an uptight, no-nonsense kind of woman, so I'm not sure what else I expected. I mean, for cripe's sake, she was just living up to her own self-imposed reputation! But three minutes? Totally unfair.

Three minutes was all I had to clumsily give Lindsey the flowers my mother picked out at the grocery store and remark on her appearance. "That's a really nice headband you've got there." Woah, slickster. Way to impress a girl...

It was all my brain could come up with. Not that Lindsey didn't look spectacular, because she did...she always did. But the sleek black dress clung to her body. Bare skin peeked out of sleeves that capped her shoulders, and the black headband pulled all of her hair out of her beautiful little face. It dazzled me. Or maybe it frazzled my brain cells, maybe it did both. It frazz-dazzled me.

"Um, thanks?" she blushed—It must have come off as compliment then. Good.

Lindsey then excused herself, saying that she wanted to put the flowers in the band room, and I went to find a seat. Ha, find a seat. I found about fifty of them, all empty. At least I'd be able to fulfill my promise to Lindsey. Front row, here I come.

Mrs.McNeely opened the concert at five after eight, greeting all the "family and guests" as warmly as a slug emerging from hibernation. Hey, she was a band director, not an MC. Of course, she started the show with some of their best pieces—some symphony number this, in key random letter plus a major or minor. It was probably a good thing that Mrs.McNeely didn't pick me for the fall concert. She would have been horrified to know much I just butchered her precious concertos.