Prom Blues

I walked along the street with my head down, watching raindrops fall onto my pale pink gown, darkening the color and ruining the glitter, along with destroying the shoes I had borrowed from my sister. Normally, I would have been devastated to see my perfect prom outfit damaged, but now it didn’t matter.

I had been stood up, dumped, forgotten. I had tried to find a way to make it sound less embarrassing, but it was impossible. George had just pulled into my driveway, told me he had changed his mind and drove off.

And now here I was, sulking around the neighborhood. Maybe it was crazy. Okay, it was a little crazy, but walking around in the rain seemed better than just sitting at home by myself, crying my eyes out. Cold rain seemed like perfect company on such an awful night.

“Hey, Stacey!” a deep voice hollered suddenly. “The carriage leave without Cinderella?”

I groaned as I looked up to see my neighbor, Mike, standing in his doorway, laughing at me. We’ve lived across the street from each other all of our lives and he has witnessed all of the embarrassing events that have happened in my life. When I was learning to roller-skate and skated straight into a muddy ditch, when I climbed a tree and got stuck and he even saw my first car wreck when I ran into the mailbox. It was only appropriate that he witness my first prom disaster.

“Not exactly,” I grumbled back.

“I thought George was taking you to the prom?”

I shrugged limply, feeling the damp satin material rise and cling to my shoulders. “He ditched me and took someone else in my carriage.”

“What?” Mike gasped, raising an eyebrow. “He stood you up?”

“Yes, and I really don’t feel like being laughed at. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to keep walking and sulk in privacy.”

I tried to walk away quickly when I felt tears sting my eyes, which was quite a struggle as my high heels slipped around on the wet pavement. I had been trying my best not to break down over the whole prom thing, simply trying to pout in the rain instead of crying for hours and hours.

But inside, I was heartbroken and completely embarrassed. I couldn’t handle being ridiculed by a childhood friend, too.

“Now, wait a minute, just because he was a jerk doesn’t mean you should get pneumonia or be walking around on your own when it's getting dark. Come inside, I had just started making dinner. I’m flying solo tonight, too. Isn’t your family out with mine at some golf club dinner?”

"Yeah."

Mike’s offer really was tempting. Within one night I had been dumped, left alone to mope and now I looked like a drenched Easter Egg. There really wasn’t any reason to be hungry on top of it. “I accept,” I told him, feeling water swish in my shoes as I climbed up his driveway.

“Man, you sure are a mess,” Mike whistled as I stepped inside.

I grimaced when I caught a glimpse of myself in a tiny, oval-shaped mirror in the living room. My long strawberry blonde hair that had been curled into perfect ringlets was now lying straight and damp at my shoulders, the makeup I had applied to hide my freckles had been washed away and mascara was dripping down my cheeks.

“You want out of those soggy threads? My clothes will be big on you, but they’re warm and dry.”

I followed him into his bedroom. “Sounds good. No reason to keep these on anyway."

“You know, I don’t know why people spend so much money on these things. Proms are totally over-rated, Stace.”

“This coming from the guy who could have gone with any girl he wanted and not get stood up,” I replied bitterly. “I can’t believe you didn’t want to go, Mike. You know you’re one of the most popular guys in the class.”

It really was true. Mike was totally gorgeous. Dark eyes, black hair, perfect olive complexion and full lips that were complimented by his tall, lean frame. Even in his plain white T-shirt and faded blue jeans he looked better than any guy in the junior class would in a tux.

“So what? That doesn’t mean I want to spend lots of money on a tux, watch girls sob when they don’t win Prom Queen and see kids get totally drunk at after parties.”

“Well, maybe you were right. After all, look how my night turned out. I would’ve been better off curling up with a tub of popcorn and a chick flick.”

“Well, I can’t offer popcorn and a chick flick,” Mike said, tossing me a pair of sweats.

“Would you be willing to settle for a pizza and cartoons?”

“Sounds great,” I chuckled. “But I thought you said you were making dinner?”

“I had to call to tell the restaurant to deliver the pizza,” Mike replied, giving me a lop-sided grin. “That counts.”

“You're such a goofball. Now, give a lady some privacy so I can leave behind this drenched mess of pink glitter and all the bad memories that ended up coming along with it.”

I glanced around Mike’s room as I changed, looking at the framed pictures on his wall. I grinned to myself as I looked at a photo of him with most of the cheerleading squad.

Even if my prom night hadn’t gone as planned, it would be kind of nice to tell everyone that I, plain, old, ordinary Stacey had spent my prom night eating pizza with the quarterback of the football team.

I squinted as I tugged his sweatshirt over my head, surprised to find my recent school picture framed and set up along with the photos of the prettiest girls in school. I had always thought Mike had just asked me for one to be polite or because his mother made him. It was nice to know that he was willing to put my picture up with the rest.

I hurried changing when I heard a car pull into the driveway and Mike answering the door, knowing I wouldn’t get a single piece of pizza if I didn’t get back before he started digging in.

“Hey,” I shouted through the door as I gathered up my ruined prom accessories, “do you have any place I could hang these before I get your floor wet?”

“Sure, we’ll put them in the bathroom,” Mike offered.

“Thanks,” I said as I opened the door, “I’d hate to get the carpet-” I paused suddenly, surprised to find the lights in the living room had been turned off and replaced with candlelight and a slow ballad was playing on the radio. “What’s all this?”

“Welcome to your prom, Stace,” Mike announced, as he plopped the pizza down on the table. “I know it’s not nearly as fancy, but it’s the best I could do on short notice.”

“It’s wonderful,” I whispered, smiling widely. “Why did you do this? You just said proms were over-rated.”

“They are,” he persisted, taking my dress into the bathroom, “when you have to go with the wrong person.”

“I don’t get it, Mike. How could you go with the wrong person? You never asked anybody.”

“That’s because someone else beat me to it,” he explained when he returned. “I wanted to go with you, Stacey, but George had already asked you. If I couldn’t go with my best friend in the whole world and the prettiest girl at school, why bother?”

“Yeah, right,” I sighed, staring down at the floor. “Come on, Mike, you’ve been nice enough to try to make an awful night better. You don’t have to lie to me.”

“You know I don’t lie, I mean it. I wanted to go with you, only you. Now, I was wondering if I could have a dance with you?”

“Yes,” I answered immediately.

Mike gently placed his hands to my waist and I wrapped my arms around his neck as we swayed back and forth to the music, finding our own special groove. I may have been wearing baggy clothes, had wet hair and been dancing to an old 70’s ballad in a living room with the smell of pizza lacing the air, but when the song ended and Mike kissed me, I knew my prom could have never been better.