“Yeah.”
A smile spread across her normally moody face. “Then I think it’s even more awesome that you were nominated. You deserve some fun--way more than that backstabber.”
“Fun? More like terror. Christina may peel my eyes out if she doesn’t win.” I hold up my hands. “Not that I think I’m going to win.”
“Don’t underestimate yourself, Starlee.”
Easier said than done.
The door opens behind us and Katie sticks her head out on the porch. “Starlee, you have got to see this dress.”
Claire raises an eyebrow. “Dress?”
“Something my mother owned. Apparently, she was on the court when she was in high school, too.”
“Then it’s fate,” she says, encouraging me to stand.
“Come check it out,” Katie says. “Bring your friend. She’s obviously got good style.”
“Want to come?” I ask.
“Sure. Sounds fun.”
I follow them in and lean against the closed door. What they don’t know (but I’m hyper aware of) is that this isthe first time I’ve invited a friend—non-Wayward Son-related--into my house in years. Today may be scary, terrifying, and a little confusing, but it’s filled with firsts. Things I came out here for—things I risked my relationship with my mother for.
I take a deep breath and realize that I need to do this.
For me.
34
Starlee
The next twenty-four hours are a blur and not much is accomplished during the school day. There’s a charged feeling in the air—or at least, I feel it—and when we fill out the ballots for king and queen in homeroom, I feel the strangest sense of calm.
Overnight I’ve gone from the “new girl” to “girl on the court.” The guys have eased into their roles, even Dexter and Charlie, the most hesitant for any attention. The best part though is it gives us the opportunity to be a little more intimate with one another. We share something beyond just friendship as far as the rest of the school can see. Joking around, innocent touches…it’s easier to get away with.
The most unexpected part of it all is my intense desire to call my mom and tell her everything that’s going on. I want her to know that I got nominated and that Leelee saved her dress and that it fits me perfectly. It’s weird knowing that after all that has transpired between us, the distance, the drama, our paths are converging. I want her to know that but our last call was so weird, I’m hesitant to reach out.
“That dress is perfect,” Katie says as she helps me get dressed before the game. Tom and Leelee are going to drive me down and go to the game—together. Katie came over to help me with my hair and makeup, weaving little braids that link at the back of my head.
The dress itself is vintage—boho-style, w
ith different fabrics making up the bodice, long skirt, and sheer sleeves. The top has a scoop collar and is made of embroidered red and gold—the long skirt is patterned in navy and cream. The sleeves are wide and wispy—landing at mid-forearm. The colors are a little faded from time, but overall, it’s in very good condition.
Leelee had even unearthed a pair of leather platform sandals, with criss-crossing straps over the toes in dark, earthy red. I felt like a mixture of a hippie and a fairy princess in the outfit.
“All set,” Katie says, running her fingers through my hair one last time. “You look amazing.”
“Are you sure it’s not too weird?” I run my hands over the top of the long skirt.
“You’re in northern California, Starlee, there is no ’too weird’.”
I take her word for it and right before I get in the car with my grandmother and her “friend,” I slip back in my room and pick up the phone. The phone rings eight times and she never answers, but the voicemail picks up.
“Hi Mom, it’s me…I just hadn’t talked to you in a while and some wild stuff has been going on. I’ve been nominated for the homecoming court, crazy, right? I thought maybe it was a joke, but now I don’t think so. Leelee unearthed your homecoming dress. It fits. There was a small tear in the seam but she stitched it up. I’ll make sure she takes a picture. Uh, well, I guess I need to go…”
I pause, knowing this is where I tell her I miss her. That I love her. That I’m sorry, but the words are lodged in my throat. “Bye.”