the series of r/nosleep | volume one: the {smile} series

{Q}ueen

The thing they get wrong in, like, every movie is that montage where the dorky girl gets her hair done, slaps on some makeup, slips into the absolute perfect dress, and then, BOOM, she's the homecoming queen and everyone wants to be her friend. What they don't show is the hours of her convincing her dad to not buy the dress that's on clearance because, Christ, it's on sale because no one wants it anymore. Or, when she finally gets to try on a dress she actually likes her dad's all, "No Tara, it's too short," or, "You can't show that much boobies." Boobies? I'm seventeen. That's practically old enough to, like, vote and smoke and shoot guns. I thought this was America! Then, when I finally get a dress that's a compromise between Sixteen Candles and Shrek 2 he takes me to the counter at some discount mall department store to an old grandma who wants to give me a facial, but I can't stop laughing because she constantly says the word facial. And then the movies want you believe that the girl sits in her huuuge walk-in closet surrounded by candles and friends as she waits for her date to ring the doorbell with roses, but in reality I'm constantly running from a little terror and his paintball gun until I'm covered in sweat and then have to sit in the backseat with my brother and my date in my dad's cop car as he drives under the speed limit to the school where he's going to chaperone! Gah!

But, I mean, that wasn't the worst thing that happened, right? It's not like the night turned into some cheesy Carrie rip-off. No pig's blood, not telekinesis; although that would've been pretty awesome when Derek and Steven decided to go at it. No, it was, I don't know, it was just... sad.

Chad showed up three minutes early. I could see him out my front window checking his teeth in the rearview mirror and smelling his breath. It was cute. I had been with him at the hospital after the game, so the crutches didn't surprise me, but there was a huge red welt that stretched from under his jaw and up to his chin. I knew he wouldn't tell me what happened, and he knew I wouldn't ask. After that day at the cabin we both agreed to just ignore it the best we could.

He teetered on one leg, rang my doorbell, and was promptly shot in the ass with a blue paintball.

"Tyler!" my dad yelled. "Not in the house!"

"But he's outside," my little brother protested behind a mask he probably wouldn't fit into for another 3 years.

"He's, um, got a point, sir," Chad said rubbing one cheek and extending a blue hand to my father.

My dad just looked at him and then shouted up the stairs, "Tara! Your friend's here!"

"I'm right here, dad," I said from behind the front room curtain. "Jeez." I tried to look elegant and sexy as I walked into the foyer but failed at both as I tripped over an errant boot and crashed into Chad's chest. We toppled over, laughed, and then immediately blushed as we realized there was now a huge blue handprint on my right boob.

"Car. Now," my dad barked. I'm pretty sure his hand went to his hip. If his gun were there I might have been going stag that night.

We sat in the backseat the entire way to school listening to my dad's radio chirp codes and numbers and whispers of all the fun or trouble the rest of the town was getting into. Tyler sat between us doing his best Darth Vader impression and every once in awhile I'd catch Chad checking me out just to see him be caught by my dad in the rearview mirror. He'd turn bright red and stare out the window like somehow this shitty town was interesting again.

We got to the dance and had to wait until officer dad opened the back doors for us. "For your protection," he said as he kissed my cheek. It's weird how someone can be so overprotective yet so... I don't know... heart-melty at the same time. It's like he's some PI out of a Scorsese movie and the perfect family dad out of an overly-colorized Disney cartoon. It's impossible to be mad at him.