Prom Date (18 page)

Bryn went over more details, assigning more housekeeping tasks and fielding more questions. By the time the meeting broke up, she felt reassured that she had a good team. Everyone seemed to care about making prom a success. She knew the whole promposal thing had a lot to do with that. For some reason the silly antics of people making public promposals had really bolstered school spirit and morale. Everyone felt certain that was why so many kids wanted to go to prom. That and the fact that they'd opened it up to the sophomore and freshman classes.

On Wednesday morning, Bryn visited Northwood Academy's eighth grade class to make an appeal to the kids there. She used the poster with Sofia's photograph as her visual aid,
first telling them about the young girl's battle against leukemia and her need for good but expensive treatment. Then she explained how the prom proceeds would all go to help Sofia Ruez, and how every dollar made would be matched. Finally she reminded the eighth graders that next year they would be students at high school and prom would eventually be their responsibility. And to her relief, about thirty kids signed up to help. Probably more than they needed, but it would be better to have too many than too few.

“You'll need to wear black pants and white shirts.” She explained the rest of the details as she handed out the permission releases for their parents to sign. “And you'll report an hour early for a quick training session.” She smiled. “We really appreciate it!”

As Bryn drove back to the high school, she felt a real sense of accomplishment. It was no small feat organizing an event like this. The experience she'd gotten during the school year working on similar events had proved to be good training for this one. She knew this role would look good on her college résumé. And who knew, maybe someday she'd want to work full time as an events planner. That is, if her future in the fashion industry didn't pan out.

W
ith the help of the decorations committee and a few other volunteers, Emma spent more than six hours getting the decorations set up over at Le Chateau. The cordoned-off red carpet was laid out, complete with large golden stars that glistened in the white lights stretched between the little brass posts. The big gold-and-silver heart-shaped balloon sculpture with more little white lights twisted through was all set and ready for photos. Everywhere you looked in the ballroom, as well as the banquet room, was a glittering display of gold stars, white lights, sparkle, and splash—all the touches of glitz and glamour that represented Hollywood. Very elegant and inviting. All that was missing was girls in gowns and guys in tuxes . . . and that was only a few hours away.

“Thanks for helping,” Emma told Devon and Cassidy as they walked through the hotel lobby. Her friends had rushed
to her aid a couple hours ago when she'd put out the call for help. “I'd probably still be wearing my jeans right now if you guys hadn't come to my rescue.”

“Poor Cinderella,” Cassidy teased, “you wouldn't be able to attend the ball.”

Devon paused by the front door, pointing to the area that the hotel had let the school use to display the promposal prize. The shiny red bike and backpack and camping gear, along with a prominent sign from the sporting goods store, were all neatly arranged. “Bryn and I set it up this morning,” Devon explained. “It was my idea to add all the helium balloons. And the way I tied them to the bike would make it really hard for someone to steal it.”

“Hopefully no one would do that,” Cass said.

“It's a great prize and it looks really good,” Emma told Devon. “Makes me wish I'd tried to win it myself.”

Devon reached under the cordon to straighten the backpack against the wheel of the bike, making it stand up better. “There.”

“So who do you think will win it?” Cassidy asked as they went out to get her car.

“Not Isaac.” Emma laughed to remember the mocha cup with the word
P
ROM
?
penned onto the side. The slightly worn cup now held a place of honor on her bedroom dresser.

“Probably not Lane either,” Cassidy said. “Although his song is still going through my head.”

“Probably because you look at the video every night before you go to bed,” Devon teased.

Cass laughed. “Yeah, as a matter of fact.”

“Well, I've spent a fair amount of time looking at the promposal site myself,” Devon admitted. “There are some
really good entries. I'm not feeling as optimistic as I did before.”

“Well, if there was an early bird prize, you would've won it,” Emma assured her.

“Yeah, and it was nice that you sort of got the ball rolling,” Cassidy said as they got into the car. “And no offense, Devon, but I voted for Darrell.”

“Me too,” Emma confessed. “And the truth is I've actually watched that flash dance about ten times. It's so awesome!”

“I know,” Cass said. “But I still felt a tiny bit guilty. I mean, maybe I should've voted for Lane. Especially considering that sweet song he did for me. But I was just trying to be fair . . . voting for the best.”

“I voted for Darrell too,” Devon told them.

“Wouldn't that be awesome if he won?” Emma said. “Kind of like we won too.”

“Only he'd get the bike,” Devon pointed out. “And even though we did most of the work for the dance, Darrell was such a good sport.”

“And the way he looked in that cool vintage tux, and his attitude . . . ,” Emma added. “Darrell made it what it is. He deserves it.”

“Besides that, I doubt that Darrell's high school days have been exactly memorable—I mean, in a good way,” Cassidy said.

“But taking Bryn to prom,” Emma said, “that should be a pretty good memory. At least I hope it is.”

“So . . . who did you guys vote for—I mean, for prom queen?” Devon asked as Cassidy parked in front of Bryn's house.

No one said a word. But Emma, remembering how Devon
could sometimes get a little full of herself, got worried. Surely Devon wouldn't think she had a chance to win the prom queen title. Besides this being her first year at Northwood, Devon had managed to make almost as many enemies as friends at this school.

“Okay, fine,” Devon said as they got out of the car and started gathering up their prom stuff. “I probably shouldn't be so nosy. But I might as well tell you that I voted for Bryn. I mean, think about it—if she hadn't done all that she's done on prom committee and getting the whole promposal thing going, well, prom might not have even happened this year.”

Emma gave Devon a relieved smile. “I voted for Bryn too.”

“Me too.” Cassidy chuckled. “But let's not tell her, okay?”

“Yeah,” Emma agreed. “Let's not get her hopes up. Especially since Amanda Norton was really going for it.”

“You'd think if she was really going for it, she'd have tried to be more helpful on prom committee,” Cass said. “Mostly she's had excuses.”

“Well, I know that Jason's been campaigning hard for Amanda,” Emma told them. “Isaac said he's been pressuring all the guys.”

“Probably because he wants to dance with the prom queen,” Devon pointed out.

“Chances are, he will. And Amanda's a senior,” Cassidy reminded them. “That's an advantage.”

“Too bad they don't do prom princess for second place,” Emma said wistfully. “I'll bet Bryn could've won that for sure.”

As they lugged their bags and things up to the house, they changed the subject from prom queen to transportation. “I can't believe we're going to prom in a stretch limo,” Devon said. “What's up with that?”

“Yeah, that's what Lane told me too.” Cassidy set a bag down on the porch. “But what about saving money?”

“I thought the same thing,” Emma replied. “But Felicia told me that Marcus got the limo for free since his uncle owns the company. He only has to pay for gas.”

“Speaking of Marcus, is Felicia coming?” Devon asked.

“Yeah.” Emma rang the doorbell. “But not until later. Her mom wants her to get dressed at home so they can take pictures and stuff there.”

“But Bryn said all the parents were welcome to come here.”

“I know. But Felicia's mom has to get back to the cancer center for Sofia and—”

“Welcome!” Bryn exclaimed as she opened the door wide. “Come on in. Abby's already here.” She led them down to the basement where everything was set up for facials and manicures. After everyone had enjoyed those, they helped each other with hair and makeup. They were just finishing up when Felicia arrived.

“You look gorgeous,” Bryn exclaimed as Felicia glided down the stairs in her festive-looking gown.

“Who did your hair?” Devon asked as she checked out Felicia's sleek updo.

“My aunt,” Felicia said. “Do you think it makes me look too old? That's what Dad said.”

“No, you look beautiful,” Emma assured her.

“But where are your gowns?” Felicia frowned at their casual attire. “It's almost time for the boys to get here.”

“We were just about to get dressed.” Cassidy removed the plastic bag from her dark-blue gown.

After taking a few minutes for everyone to get into their prom dresses, they marched upstairs to take photos. They
took some shots in the house and some out in Bryn's pretty backyard. Before long, the stretch limo with six dapper guys bearing wrist corsages arrived, followed by a number of parents who wanted to sneak a peek at the prom-goers and snag some pictures.

Bryn's mom had put out a nice spread of appetizers and beverages, which were rapidly diminished once the guys got over seeing their dates. And there was no denying that every girl in the DG looked fabulous. No wardrobe malfunctions. No hairdo don'ts. No makeup mistakes. Even the colors of their gowns seemed to complement each other. And for the first time in the short history of the DG dates, everyone was getting along nicely. Even the guys were being friendly to each other. That was greatly appreciated considering that Darrell and Leonard weren't regulars with the other guys.

All in all, Emma thought this prom had the potential to be the best date of the year—just like they all had hoped it would be. And although everyone kept saying there was no hurry to rush off to Le Chateau since their dinner reservation wasn't until seven, it was obvious that they were all somewhat eager to go. Not just to get out on the dance floor, but probably to find out who'd won the promposal contest.

Of course, there was good-natured rivalry in the limo. Everyone was acting like they should win the promposal prize. Well, everyone except Darrell. He seemed content to just listen.

“So you're saying my coffee cup won't cut it?” Isaac was teasing Devon.

“I'm saying my Juliet beats out your coffee cup by miles,” she tossed back.

“I liked it,” Leonard chimed in. “Although I was pretty shocked at the time.”

“Well, I happen to like my coffee cup invite,” Emma told Isaac. “Understated, but to the point.”

“What about my pizza?” Kent asked Abby. “It might not have been all splashy and flashy, but it sure hit the spot.”

“That's right,” Abby agreed. “I would've much rather had a pizza than a flash dance. We'd had a hard practice that day.”

Cassidy smiled at Lane. “Well, I hate to say it, but I don't think you have much of a chance to win the bike—but I still think your song was awesome.”

“Hey, did you ever get those words off your chest?” Felicia asked Marcus.

He laughed. “You can still see traces of it. Man, I can't believe I trusted my kid sister. She swore it was water-based ink before she penned it onto me.”

They all laughed.

Because of the unprecedented ticket sales for prom and the somewhat limited seating space in the banquet hall, prom-goers had to make reservations for dinner between 6:30 and 8:30. And since the winners of the promposal contest as well as prom queen would be announced at eight, everyone in the DG group had opted to eat at seven. That would give them plenty of time to enjoy dinner before the big announcement.

As the meal progressed, Abby noticed that Bryn was being relatively quiet. But not in a sulky way. In fact, she seemed refreshingly pleasant. And whenever she did contribute something it seemed to be more thoughtful than usual . . . or maybe less self-centered. Abby wasn't even exactly sure what the difference was, but something about her best friend did seem different. In a good way.

“So all the food was donated from businesses?” Kent asked Bryn.

“Everything in the main course,” she explained. “The appetizers and desserts were made by Northwood parents.”

Darrell held up his fork. “Well, my compliments to the chef. This prime rib is delicious.”

“And so is the fish,” Lane added.

“What do you guys think of our young servers?” Bryn asked. “Don't they look cute in their black pants and white shirts?”

“They look great,” Abby told her. “Where'd you get all the black ties?”

“My grandma made them by sewing strips of fabric,” Bryn explained.

“Nice touch,” Darrell told Bryn.

“Well, for a frugal prom, this is looking pretty good,” Lane said.

It was about 7:45 when they finished their desserts and, seeing that there were other kids waiting to eat, Abby suggested that they vacate their table.

“Good idea,” Bryn agreed. “Gives us time to visit the little girls' room before they announce the promposal winner.” She held crossed fingers up to Darrell. “Not that I'm holding my breath.” She giggled.

The ladies' room was already crowded with girls, including Amanda Norton and her entourage of friends, who were monopolizing the largest portion of mirror space in the waiting room section of the restroom. These girls were dressed to the nines and, although Abby would never reveal this to anyone, she knew for a fact that none of those girls had participated in her Prom Budget Challenge. She was guessing, by their appearance as well as their conversation, that these
girls had shelled out some serious money on their gowns and accessories.

The DG girls went past them into the main part of the bathroom, where they managed to secure a sink and a corner of the mirror, taking turns to freshen up, reapply lip gloss, and check their teeth for food. But as Abby went into the other section of the bathroom in search of a tissue to blot her lip gloss, which was starting to bleed, she couldn't help but overhear Amanda and her friends.

“Don't worry,” Sienna was quietly reassuring Amanda. “You're
going
to win. Everyone says so.”

Amanda smoothed her glossy blonde hair, then shrugged with an air of nonchalance. “Well, that's what Jason says too, but you never know.”

“We know,” another one of her friends said.