Authors: Laurie Halse Anderson
Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Girls & Women, #Social Issues, #Adolescence
Prom (11 page)
79.
We hit seventeen stores and scored a big fat nothing.
Getting turned down makes you hungry. I bought us a soft pretzel and a Diet Coke to split, and we sat on a curb. A group of girls were playing double Dutch in the parking lot across the street.
Nat licked the salt off her half of the pretzel. “This is harder than I thought.”
I spread mustard on my half. “Maybe we could decorate the gym with toilet paper.”
“You can make lots of things out of toilet paper,” she said. “I’ve read articles.”
“You’re scaring me, Shulmensky.”
The double-Dutch girls twirled their ropes and sang, “Down, down, baby, down by the roller coaster, sweet, sweet baby, I’m never let you go. . . .”
Nat put a grain of salt on her tongue. “What if Monica was right? What if we can’t pull it off?”
One of the jumpers got tangled in the ropes, and they all burst out in giggles.
“Hmm.” If we couldn’t pull it off, I’d dance in the street. Couldn’t say that, though.
Nat sipped the Coke. “I mean, look at us. We’re begging for paper napkins and getting squat.”
The girls across the street untangled their ropes and started again. “Down, down, baby, down by the roller coaster . . .”
I swallowed. “Maybe we’re doing this bass-ackwards, starting with these little stores.”
“Like we have a choice.”
“You want money, you gonna ask a poor person? Hell, no. You ask a rich person.”
“Do you know any rich people?”
“Of course not. But I know where they shop.”
“What, you want us to go to King of Prussia or something?”
King of Prussia was this mega-mother-blinging mall, the Disneyland of shopping for the rich people who live around Philly. You could fit our whole house in one of the elevators. The floors are made out of marble, the ceilings have stained glass, and the escalators are polished three times a day. Even the bathrooms smell good, like the people who shop there never do anything smelly, if you know what I mean.
I licked the mustard off my fingers. “Exactly. We could go tomorrow.”
Before she could say anything else, Nat’s cell rang. “Hello? This is Natalia. Yes. Yes, sir.”
I took the last bite of my pretzel. Across the street, the shortest girl did a cartwheel and bounced up perfectly between the swinging ropes.
“I’m on my way. Thank you for calling.” Nat closed her phone, stood up, and brushed the salt off her legs.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“My grandmother is in a church down at Broad and Logan.”
“So? Grandma Hannigan spends half her life in a church.”
“My grandmother is
Jewish
.”
Jewish
.”
“Oh. And she’s not at a Jewish church, is she?”
“It’s called a synagogue, dumbass. And no, she’s not there. She’s at Holy Hands A.M.E.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“It sounds like she’s in their dunk tank.”
“They have a dunk tank?”
“It’s a special pool, the minister said.”
“For baptizing?”
“Whatever. It’s a Christian thing. All you guys do it.”
“Catholics don’t dunk. We dab. But wait, your grandma went swimming in the baptismal pool?”
“Wrong. She is
still
swimming in the baptismal pool. She won’t get out.”
80.still
swimming in the baptismal pool. She won’t get out.”
It took us twenty minutes to find the church, and another five to find a parking place and walk back to the church. Reverend Pinkney was waiting for us at the door.
I don’t know what Nat said to her grandmother, but it did not sound polite. Grandma muttered, but she finally took Nat’s hand and climbed out of the little pool and dried off.
Reverend Pinkney offered to pray for us. Nat told him that was very kind and helped Grandma down the steps. I pulled him aside and gave him my list. We needed prayers for Nat’s grandmother (obviously), for our prom, for me graduating, and for my parents, who needed all the help they could get.
“Is that everything?” Reverend Pinkney asked.
“Why don’t you throw in an extra one for me, just general-like. You know, to make sure all the bases are covered. I’m stressing a little these days. Thanks.”
81.I made bologna sandwiches at the Shulmenskys’ while Nat took Grandma upstairs to change. I set the table nice and laid the sandwiches on plates with potato chips and homemade pickles I found in the fridge.
Grandma came downstairs wearing a long red skirt I never saw before. Nat led her to the table, and she sat down without any fuss. I wolfed down my sandwich. Nat tore her crust into little pieces. Grandma nodded and jabbered at me; then she started singing.
“She’s happy because she got to go swimming,” Nat explained.
“Can’t blame her for that,” I said.
The kitchen door opened, and Nat’s father came in. Mr. Shulmensky always reminded me of a bald snowman with glasses—round head, round belly, big round butt, and a friendly smile that always made me feel better. He put his newspaper on the counter. “Well, hello, Ashley. Good to see you at our table. How are your parents? Baby come yet?”
Nat cut in and told her dad about the dunk tank. He stopped smiling and switched into Russian. Grandma took her pickle into the living room. Nat and Mr. Shulmensky followed her. The Russian got loud.
I cleared the dirty dishes off the table and loaded them into the dishwasher. When Nat started to cry, I went home.
82.I knew our kitchen would still be a wreck. Dad’s projects took months, sometimes years. We’d be living with torn-out walls, tools on the floor, and dust for months. Ma would spend the next six months complaining, and Dad would finish the job in time to call it her Christmas present.
That’s why I was so confused when I opened the back door.
The walls were done . . . perfectly finished and painted margarine yellow. The floor was mopped, the counters wiped down, and there weren’t any tools in sight. The chairs stood neatly around the table. There was a vase of daffodils—real flowers—in the middle of the table.
I reached for the door. I was in the wrong house.
“Is that you, princess?”
Dad walked in, toweling his hair dry. He was wearing clean jeans and a shirt with buttons down the front. He had trimmed his beard and was grinning like a pirate. “Looks pretty good, don’t it?”
I had to sit down. “What happened?”
He threw the towel down the steps to the basement and combed his fingers through his hair. “What do you mean? We finished. Not a big deal, is it?”
“You’re going to hurt yourself, you keep smiling like that.”
“You should have seen your mother’s face.” He shook his head and chuckled. “Priceless.”
“No offense, Dad, but how did you do it? I mean, it took you a month to put up the shelf in the bathroom.”
He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. “Truth? It was TJ.”
“TJ? My TJ?”
“Yep. He got his cousins from Jersey to help. They do a lot of construction around Cherry Hill. You shoulda seen them, Ash. Those guys just flew.”
“My TJ?”
“Yeah, maybe you should have been nicer to him. I’m telling you, Ash, he really came through for us. And he has a big night planned for you two tomorrow. Said he’d pick you up around six.”
“My TJ helped with this?”
“Couldn’t have done it without him. He left that card for you on the table. A real romantic, isn’t he?”
I ripped open the envelope. It was a mushy card, with a picture of two little kids holding hands on the front. Inside, TJ had drawn a heart with our initials in it: “TJB + AMH 4eva.”
I could feel the mad in me leaking out like water between my fingers.
Damn.
Damn.
Dad chuckled again. “I’m out of here, kiddo. Got a hot date with your mother.”
“Do I have to babysit the boys?”
“Nope, they’re staying at Linny’s again. You going out?”
“I’m going to sleep. I’m beat. This prom stuff is wiping me out.”
He winked. “We’ll try not to wake you when we get home. Gonna be a great night!”
“Ew, don’t say that. Parents should not have sex. You two are disgusting perverts.”
“Yeah, I know. Ain’t it great?”
83.The next morning, I woke up to the smell of perfume and the sound of a flock of crows. I rolled over. Perfume and crows, must be a nightmare.
Perfume. Crows. Ma was home.
A woman giggled. It sounded like a poodle with hiccups.
Ma was home and she had Aunt Linny with her.
Another laugh. This one sounded like a live chicken being shoved in a blender.
Aunt Joan.
And then a laugh that turned into a hacking cough.
Aunt Sharon.
I groaned and pulled the pillow over my head. They were all here.
A herd of screaming buffalo pounded up the stairs and burst into my room. Billy jumped on my bed. “Wake up, wake up!”
Steven followed him. “Ma says you have to get dressed.”
Billy climbed on my rear and bounced. “Get up, big butt.”
“TJ’s called three times already,” Steven said. “You have to go out with him tonight.”
“Get up, big butt. The aunts brought—”
Steven covered Billy’s mouth with his hand. “There’s a surprise for you downstairs. You better hurry before Ma explodes.”
Downstairs, Aunt Linny giggled.
84.My mother and her three sisters were waiting for me in the living room, like something out of a sick fairy tale. Ma was plopped in the middle of the couch with a box of chocolate doughnuts on her belly. Aunt Linny was on her left, and Aunt Sharon was on her right, closest to the door. Aunt Joan filled the recliner.
The four of them screamed when they saw me. Aunt Sharon jumped up and gave me a hug, rocking side to side. “We are so excited!” Rock, rock, rock. “This is gonna be great!” Rock, rock, rock.
Ma waved a doughnut at us. “Let her go, Shar. You’ll make her seasick.”
Aunt Sharon turned me loose, and I stumbled over a pile of dress shoes. That was weird. We never had dress shoes in the living room before. I blinked and looked around the room. The coffee table was hidden under a huge heap of dresses, and the entertainment center was covered by hanging garment bags.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“My baby is going to the prom,” Ma said.
She knew.
Aunt Linny pulled a hideous green dress off the table. “The prom,” she sighed. “Oh, Ashley . . .” She petted the dress. “The prom is everything.” She bit her lip and blinked hard. “Just everything.”
“No waterworks,” Aunt Sharon warned. “You promised.”
If I walked over to Bonventura, I could join the army. Better yet, if I called the recruiter and invited him over to meet my family, I bet he’d give me a signing bonus because he’d feel so bad for me.
Aunt Sharon leaned forward to put out her cigarette. “This is going to be the best night of your life, Ash, swear to God. I can remember every minute of my prom.”
No, I shouldn’t walk. I should run screaming all the way to the recruiting office and beg the army to take me.
Aunt Joan lit two cigarettes and handed one to Aunt Sharon. “You’re going with TJ, right? This is going to be so freaking romantic. Is he going to wear a tux? He should get one of them tall hats, you know?”
Of course, with my luck, I’d get assigned to something like sweeping minefields. But I’d take it. I’d volunteer, even.
“You should have seen your mother’s face when she found out,” Aunt Sharon said. “She didn’t know if she should be pissed off or overjoyed.”
That comment hit a nerve. “How did you find out? Wait a minute. . . . ” I whirled around. “Steven!”
A voice answered from the kitchen. “It wasn’t me!”
“Relax, peanut,” Ma said. “It wasn’t your brothers. Your father told me the news. Last night.”
“Bless his heart,” said Aunt Joan.
“Bless his heart,” echoed Aunt Sharon.
“You shoulda heard her,” added Aunt Linny. “As soon as she finds out: ‘Ash needs a dress. Omigod, Ash needs a dress. Thank you, Jesus, she needs a dress.’”
“Linny called us right away,” Aunt Joan said. “We rounded up all the prom dresses we could.”
“Bridesmaid dresses, too,” added Aunt Sharon. “And shoes. And my friend Carmen has a closet of purses, oh my God, you should see it.”
“Where is Dad?” I asked. “I need to kill him.”
Aunt Linny petted the green dress again. “The hardware store. He’s on a roll, he said. Wants to finish the basement for you. When he’s not being an asshole, your father is a truly wonderful human being.”
Aunt Joan reached for another doughnut. “He told my Joe that he’s got your ride all lined up. Slick, he said.”
“Enough yakking,” Ma said. “Sharon, pull the blinds. Ashley, try these on. You can change in the dining room.”
“But Maaa,” I whined.
Four sets of steely blue eyes pinned me up against the wall.
85.Somewhere in America there was a girl who had nobody. No mother getting buzzed on chocolate doughnuts and secondhand smoke. No aunts who kept their prom dresses twenty years too long. No relatives or friends of relatives or neighbors of relatives who heard that the girl was going to a prom and had a sister whose daughter went last year and I’m sure we could borrow the gown, because you never know, it could fit.
I hoped that girl knew how lucky she was.
86.The first dress I was handed came from somebody named Stacey Wiggans, whose mother worked with Aunt Joan. I never met Stacey Wiggans, but I’ll know her if I see her on the street. She has boobs the size of Alaska.
I zipped it up and stepped into the living room. Ma took one look and said, “I can see all the way to your belly button. Take it off.”
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