It was already six in the evening, and six in the evening usually marks the beginning of pleasant evening activities for the good people of New Hope Town. Dinner would come first, followed by a series of quaint questions like “how was school today?” and “did you like the food?”, then leading to playing board games or watching family game shows. But tonight was a little bit different. Phones were ringing all around town, and streets were still busy due to last minute shopping sprees. Girls were rushing here and there, fitting their prom dresses and matching accessories. The air was filled with the smell of expensive perfumes and nail polish. The typical evening routine was practically ruined by the entire female population of prom attendees. The men were also busy doing their own stuff. They sat on their couches and watched football as they waited for their watches to strike seven (nobody wanted to be on time for a school event. Ever.)
Meanwhile, I was busy being one of the guys.
“OOH MY GOOSH,” I crescendo-ed after Mike Tyler of our school’s football team kicked the team’s way to the championships. Popcorn flew everywhere in the living room as I unintentionally flipped the bowl into the air in genuine astonishment in realizing that our team actually played well in their games (I thought we were suckers). Dad walked in the living room with a curious smile on his face. Despite the huge mess I had made, he seemed conveniently oblivious about it.
“Hi, Dad,” I casually said, hoping that his oblivion would go on.
He adjusted his glasses and squinted at the telly. “Isn’t this a replay?”
I shrugged, honestly wishing I knew the answer to that.
Maybe if I had followed the football seasons, I would have had the school spirit I never had. Sigh.
“Wendy, it’s already six, and you haven’t even bathed yet.”
I raised my index finger and sucked through my teeth knowing that my acts of bumming around would have soon caught up with me. Dad smiled at me again.
“Ohgoshohgoshohgoshohgosh,” I mumbled as I ran to the bathroom. I took the quickest bath that I had ever taken in my sixteen years of life (six minutes! But that doesn’t make me any less hygienic) then sped off to my room. Bathing was a piece of (cheese <3) cake; anyone can bathe. The real challenge was getting the dress on. The bodice and the skirt looked like a bunch of rose petals tied together with one big red ribbon at the back. It was strapless, backless, and knee-length; never was I about to wear anything so bare under my standards, save trying on Steph’s gown (I might as well become a nun). I hadn’t worn dresses in years, and the given situation definitely didn’t come with the time to figure it out. After struggling for a few minutes, I finally got to untangle myself and donned my look with an accessory that anyone can wear—a smile.
. . . . .
Half past six. I had just finished tying my hair into a bun when our doorbell rang. After putting on my personalized rose choker, I applied a tad bit of lip-gloss and finally left my room. I slipped into my only pair of red pumps on the way downstairs and went to meet Dad and Peter. I caught Dad’s attention as I approached the living room.
“There’s my girl,” he said as he and Peter stood up. Dad opened his arms and pulled me into a big bear hug. “You look wonderful.”
I squeezed Dad to show him my appreciation. “By the looks of Peter gaping, I’m pretty sure I look more than wonderful,” I joked. Then again, jokes are half meant.
Peter manually closed his hanging mouth and put on a smug look. “You look . . . impressive.” Dad laughed at his remark, and he immediately blushed.
“Alright, alright,” Dad said raising his hands. “You too enjoy yourselves, but don’t party too hard.” I gave Dad another hug and headed out. Peter was just about to follow me out when Dad called him again. I waited at the front porch wondering what it was they were talking about. Dad looked serious, and Peter looked equally as stony-faced. I didn’t want to be rude, staring and all, so I turned my attention to Nana, my nanny dog.
Nana has been having fewer screen times.
“Hullo, Nana,” I kneeled beside her and rubbed behind her ears. She seemed quite pleased with the gesture. After years of being Dad’s helping hand and my mother figure, all she would ever ask for is a smile and a good rub. “You’re an old girl now, aren’t you?” It’s completely ridiculous that people say dogs can smile (because they honestly can’t), but for that moment I thought that Nana smiled at me. You’re a big girl now, and I’m so proud of you, she was probably trying to say.
Just then, Peter dropped himself beside me. “Hey, is that Nana?”
“How’d you—“
“Her collar says so,” he smirked. I rolled my eyes at my own stupidity.
Nana moved to Peter, which was very surprising. She would usually growl at strangers, but she even let Peter rub her. “You’re an old girl now, aren’t you?” I glanced at Peter, wondering how he knew that (aside from Nana’s naturally droopy eyes). Nana licked Peter as if to greet an old friend. She tackled him and let Peter hug her. “Alright. Let’s go,” Peter finally said, his hair all tousled up. Nana barked in acknowledgment and wagged her tail at us. She looked at Peter for a few seconds and returned to her kennel. It felt like she and Peter had an unspoken connection.
“Nana likes you,” I said, dumbfounded.
“Yes, she does,” Peter said through a smile. He waved at my dad and led me out of the porch.
“Nana may even crush on you,” I mumbled as we walked out. Peter raised an eyebrow. “Not likely.”
As he opened the door of his double-parked car for me, Dad called out from the front porch, “Take care of her!”
“I will!” Peter hollered back. He entered the car and drove off on a speed that led me to think of all the things I haven’t done yet.
