A while back I started a YA story on my blog called GOING GREEN. I figured it might be time to revisit it. To catch up on the story, Click here! Thanks!
It was the day of the prom and I didn’t have a date. I didn’t have any friends either. Instead I had a father-approved green dress and a free ticket to any loser that would take me. Right. Like I’d show my face there now.
Conner had called me a slut. Becker drove away nearly crushing my foot. And everyone at school was gossiping about how I was trying to steal Trish’s boyfriend. Reality check! When he’s kissing me, he’s not her boyfriend! But I wouldn’t dwell. Dwelling only left me lonely and with a headache.
“Stella?” my father called, knocking at my locked bedroom door.
“Not in the mood, old man.”
“I have a surprise for you though.”
Hm. He sounded suspiciously kind. I eased off my bed, glancing once at the green prom dress hanging on the back of my closet. It made my stomach turn, thinking about what that dress could’ve symbolized. A fresh start. A new boyfriend. Now it just symbolized my extremely bad judgment.
I opened my bedroom door and gasped. “Dad?”
My father stood there, completely proud of himself, in a tuxedo. With a bow tie. “I was wondering if you needed an escort to prom.”
My mouth hung open. “Father,” I began like he'd just suffered some serious head trauma. “You’re creeping me out in unspeakable ways, and if you rented that tux because you thought I was pathetic enough to—”
“Relax, Stella,” he laughed. “They asked me to be a chaperone. I have my own date.”
My face froze. He hadn’t been divorced from my mother all that long. “You do?”
He nodded. “I’m meeting her there. You remember your Math teacher, Miss Roundtree?”
“Yeah, my girlfriend looks nothing like your teacher. I just wanted to freak you out.” He chuckled. My father was acting especially evil tonight, mostly because he knew it cheered me up. I had to smile.
“Can’t believe my dad has a date to prom and I don’t.”
My father pressed his lips together and looked at me seriously for the first time. When he did, I felt my eyes well up.
“I’m sorry things didn’t work out so well, kid," he said quietly.
I sniffled. “Me too.”
We stood there for a minute until finally he reached over to mess up my hair. “Go get dressed, Stella,” he ordered in his best dad voice. “You’re going to prom.”
I laughed. “Am not.”
“If you don’t, I’ll tell everyone you’re sitting home crying and then make them come over to the house to cheer you up.”
He grinned. He so would. Realizing that the world knowing I was pathetic was worse that actually being pathetic motivated me.
“Fine, old man,” I said. “But we’ll talk about this later.” Then I slammed my door and turned to stare at my prom dress.