Chapter Forty-Five: Carpe Diem

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Don’t forget to nominate this story for Catchiest Story Title! :D Instructions on how can be found at the beginning of Chapter 43 or, more inconveniently, my message board.

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It took about twenty minutes for my mom to drive like a bat out of hell across town to the local country club where prom was being held, a drive that both terrified and inspired me. I rushed through the front door, shoving my ticket at the teacher I didn’t recognize collecting them, smiling nervously at them when they cleared me entrance. I scurried through the elaborately decorated entrance hall, filled with white and pink crisscrossed streamers strategically hanging from the ceiling, following the pristine red carpet to a set of closed doors up ahead. Tyler was leaning against the wall next to the doors, looking bored with his arms crossed over his chest, the sound of music making the door vibrate on their hinges. He looked up as I approached, and his eyes went wide.

“Lena,” he said slowly, getting my name right. “Whoa.”

“Thanks, Tyler,” I laughed, rolling my eyes. “I can just go right on in, right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, his gaze moving once again to the ceiling. “They’re playing some horrible music in there, little dudette. Watch your ear drums.”

“Can do,” I replied, grinning when he spaced out, not even seeming to remember I was there. I looked back at the doors, large and elaborate with gold trim on the white wood, and I took a long, deep breath through my nose. I let it out heavily and closed my eyes, listening to the beat of my own heart to calm myself down.

Alright, Mallory. Get in there—the hottest boy in this entire town is waiting for you.

Go!

So I got.

I threw the door open. I just didn’t expect the door to open so loudly, or for it to happen the moment when a song ended. The door creaked and groaned loudly the moment the room went almost completely silent, the sound of the door cutting through all of the conversation that was going on, and suddenly all eyes turned to me, standing there with what must have been a dumb look on my face, looking down a small set of stairs into a large room filled with my peers, and all of them were looking at me.

The music started again—Even Angels Fall by Jessica Riddle, a song from 10 Things I Hate About You and one of the most-played tunes on my iTunes library—but no one turned away at first. They all just looked at me, looking like they couldn’t believe a thing that they were seeing.

I couldn’t either.

Because Quinton was leaning against the back wall, his arms crossed as he gazed around at the crowd, obviously bored. Alone. Waiting for me, just like he assured me time and time again that he would be.

When the door opened, he had looked at me like everyone else, but he was one of the few that didn’t look away.

I bit my lip unsurely, but I smiled slightly at him, not knowing what else to do. He looked dumbstruck, but the moment I smiled at him he started to smile back, a big goofy smile that took up all of his face. I felt myself blush and I glanced down, looking at the ten or so stairs in between me and the dance floor, in between me and Quinton and our happily ever after, and I took a deep breath.

I reached down, and I pulled my dress up, just enough to free my feet.

I knew the moment that Quinton saw the combat boots because his smile got even wider, and a light returned to his eyes.

As I started to descend the stairs, I began to wonder if I would ever understand why everyone was staring.

My mother’s hair style was a waterfall braid, casual enough, but the hair underneath of it was curled carefully, my hair falling in little ringlets a third of the way to my elbows. My eye shadow matched the color of my dress and my hastily done but pretty manicure did as well. My lipstick was the red I only dared to wear when I was already dressing too crazy to think anyone would notice anyway and my breath smelled like oranges because I knocked back an entire package of Tick Tacks on the car ride over. I smoothed down my skirt as I carefully watched my steps, hoping I wouldn’t fall on my face.

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