Something Borrowed and Something Black
"This is so totally, absolutely, completely frickin' unheard of!" Brenda Barrett hissed as she dragged her best friend down the hallway. "I swear, Beth, what the hell's wrong with you?"
"Hey! Ow!" Elizabeth dug her heels into the ground and struggled, trying to get loose but to no avail due to the vice-like grip Brenda had on her wrist. "Leggo! Damn it, woman, you're crazy!"
"No," Brenda clarified forcefully, shooting her a dark glare over her shoulder and pulling harder. "Crazy is fighting with your ass-clown of a boyfriend right before Prom, thus leaving the status of your actual presence at said Prom unverified, and then making up with said ass-clown boyfriend and deciding to go to Prom together three fricking days before the thing! That's crazy!"
"You're certifiably insane," Elizabeth huffed, latching onto one of the lockers that they passed and finally slowing Brenda's march. "I should have you committed – you'd look cute in that white jacket, I'm sure."
"White doesn't do a damn thing for my complexion and you know it," Brenda snipped without missing a beat, and the two brunettes struggled briefly as she pried Elizabeth's fingers from the locker.
"No! Damn it! Hey! Stop it! I don't want to go with you!"
"Well, you are, damn it!" Brenda yelled back, putting all her weight into tugging her stubborn friend down the hall. "You can't pull this kind of crap and expect to do it your own way. Now we are going to get a few things straight, Elizabeth Webber – we're going to get all the details ironed out and we're going to be damned if this doesn't go smoothly despite the little stunt you and Jason pulled."
"No! No, no! Leave me alone! I don't want to come with you! Heeeeelp!"
Sonny and Jason, who were standing in the doorway of the third floor computer lab, poked their heads out of the room to see Brenda dragging a kicking and screaming Elizabeth down the hall where a rather perturbed group of their female friends stood. When they reached the small bunch consisting of Carol, Lauren, Sydney, Emily, Jenny and Felicia, Elizabeth tried to make a break of it, thinking that Brenda's attention would be otherwise occupied. The petite brunette was sorely disappointed when instead of just her best friend's iron claws closing around her wrist, she found herself gripped by several of her other friends as well. Sonny smirked as the girls practically lifted her off the tiles and shoved her into the empty yearbook office. Brenda didn't notice the two of them as she swept a wary glance around the almost-empty hallway and closed the door firmly behind herself.
"I don't know about you," Sonny drawled, his gaze still fixed on the door behind which the girls had disappeared, "but I think that was damn hot."
Jason laughed, sobering up quickly when Mrs. Ardonowski frowned at them. "I feel kinda guilty, though – I got her into that mess with the peanut gallery over there."
Sonny cringed when loud yelling suddenly erupted from behind the closed doors, echoing in the silent hallway. "Yeah, you did. And knowing Beth, she'll give you hell for putting her through that."
His best friend rolled his eyes. "See, that's what I don't get – girls on one hand are such good friends, always laughing together and crying together and making brownies and giving out an infinite amount of hugs for no good reason; and then on the other hand, you have this – they're monsters, man."
"No," Sonny shook his head, stepping back into the lab as Jason followed suit. "They're girls. Subtle difference, I know, but a difference nonetheless."
"And do you have dinner reservations, Beth?"
"Uh…"
"What about a dress? Did you order yours?"
"Er…"
"And what about gloves? Shoes? A purse? Your garter?"
"Well…"
"Did you set up your hair appointment? Did you even go through a trial run?"
"About that..."
"And do you guys already have tickets for post-Prom?"
"What…"
"Did Jason get a tux?"
"He-"
"Shoes? Your corsage? Did you get his boutonnière?"
"Transportation! Do you have transportation, Beth?"
"A limo? A trolley? A horse-drawn carriage? An antique car? Hm?"
"Do you know what you're doing afterwards?"
"Stop," Elizabeth whimpered, covering her ears with her hands. "You're making my head hurt."
"I should make a lot more of you hurt," Brenda shot back, lifting one hand menacingly. "Honestly, Beth, what were you thinking!"
"Gee, I don't know," the brunette simpered sarcastically. "Maybe that I was tired of fighting with my boyfriend and that I wanted to be with him again."
"Trivialities," Carol huffed, waving her manicured fingers at Elizabeth. "Oh, God, I almost forgot – did you set up a nail appointment? No, you didn't, did you?"
Elizabeth closed her eyes tightly, blocking out the seven harsh glares being directed at her, and fell to her side on the crimson couch in the yearbook office. "I wish I was dead."
"Damn!" Jenny was running her also-manicured nails through her auburn hair. "Damn it, Beth, do you see what you're giving us to work with here? Nada! Zip! Zilch! Goose egg!"
The brunette currently sprawled on the couch cracked open an eye. "Goose egg. You know, I've often wondered about the etymology of that particular phrase. It's rather peculiar, isn't it? I have a theory-"
"You are fucking kidding me!" Brenda hissed, bopping her over the head with a white pillow. "Focus, Webber, focus! Prom's in three damn days and we've got nothing!"
"We're going to have to work fast," Lexi Cassidine announced, grabbing a yellow legal pad off one of the desks. "First things first – we make a list."
"Good, good." Sydney was nodding, her hands clasped behind her back as she paced up and down the length of the narrow office. "Start with tickets – does he have them?"
There was no response from the little bundle on the couch – except a lot of whimpering.
Rolling her eyes, Brenda motioned for Carol to toss her the white pillow. Gripping the corner of it firmly in her tightly clenched palm, the brunette let her friend have a good whack upside the head. "Focus, damn you!"
Elizabeth whimpered some more, rubbing her head and trying to burrow into the couch even more. "I don't like any of you."
"Well, we love you tons, sweetums," Emily Bowen cooed, pulling herself up onto the desk where Lexi sat. "And that's why we're not going to let you crash and burn here – we'll get this whole Prom thing figured out somehow."
"No matter what the casualties," Brenda felt inclined to add, shooting Elizabeth a dangerously pointed glare.
"Tickets," Lexi spoke up loudly. "Does he have them?"
Elizabeth's sigh was heavy. "I don't think so. Maybe."
The girls all clucked with horror, but were silenced by a quick wave of Brenda's hand as she turned to dictate to Lexi. "Jot it down but put a little note next to it. Tickets won't be any problem – Sonny can pretty much get any amount he wants up until the dance. They'll have tickets – don't worry about that."
"Oh, to have connections," Carol snickered, perching nimbly on a stool and tossing Brenda a wink. "All hail the all-powerful Brenda B."
"At least the power hasn't gone to her head," Elizabeth griped as she pulled herself up into a sitting position only to have Sydney whack her with Brenda's abandoned pillow. "Ow! What was that for?"
"On sheer principle," Sydney retorted before turning to Lexi. "What's next?"
"Transportation," the slim younger brunette answered matter-of-factly, adjusting her silver glasses. "What are the specs?"
"Any more room in the limo?" Carol wanted to know, glancing at Brenda who was already pulling what had been dubbed "The Prom Book" out of her backpack.
"Lemme check," she mumbled, flipping to the middle of the notebook. "Restaurant…Post-Prom…Oh, here, the limo. Um…no."
"Are you sure?" Sydney asked, peering over her shoulder. "We can't fit in just two more people?"
Brenda was shaking her head sadly. "No, look – we're all filled up. It's for twelve – if we have to add more people, we have to spring for the next size, which is a twenty. And that means we all have to cough up thirty more bucks a piece."
"Damn, I'm broke as it is!" Carol exclaimed, slamming the heels of her hands on the edge of the tall stool she occupied. "Shit! This sucks."
"It's okay, guys," Elizabeth spoke up from her spot on the couch, glancing warily at Jenny to make sure she wasn't going to be whacked with a pillow again. "Jason and I can go in his car. It's no big deal. He won't care – neither do I."
"But we're supposed to go together," Emily sighed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. And indeed, to all the girls in the room, it was. "This is senior year, Beth, and it's our Prom – we have to go together."
"I know," Elizabeth agreed gently. "I know that, and I want to hang out with you guys all night, too – but not if everyone has to dig deeper into their pockets. It's only a thirty-minute drive to Windsor Manor – Jason and I will come in his car and we'll meet up with you as soon as we all arrive. You'll see, it'll be fine."
The girls were displeased, but had no choice but to accept. "Fine," Lexi griped, making a quick note on her pad in shorthand. "Transportation's a go."
Her voice was partially drowned out by the bell signaling the end of the period, and all eyes flew to the clock in the room. "Oh, darn," Elizabeth sighed with exaggerated dismay. "There goes the bell. Time for class, gals. This was fun, let's do it again-"
"Sit down again before I go for the pillow, Webber," Brenda warned, lightly pushing her best friend back down. "We're not going anywhere. Girls?"
"Please," Carol huffed. "I've got gym. I'm ditching."
"Achieve," Lexi agreed, naming her seminar class for that period. "I don't have to go."
"Independent Study for newspaper," Jenny tossed in.
"I actually have to go." Emily was already grabbing her books. "I have a quiz in Euro. See you guys – and try to shake some sense into Beth while I'm gone."
"Will do," Sydney agreed, waving to her friend as Emily left. "We're not going anywhere, Beth, and neither are you, so wipe that hopeful smirk off your face."
Brenda cocked a perfectly formed eyebrow as her best friend pouted on the couch like a three-year-old. "Oh, the things we do for you, Beth."
"Jason! Psst, Jason! Damn it, Sonny, move your fat head!"
Looking a little wounded, Sonny scooted back in his seat so that Elizabeth could lean close enough to grab Jason's attention. "Jason!"
"What?" he asked, leaning closer as well. "Why are we whispering?"
His girlfriend didn't waste any words. "Taggert's going to create a distraction and when he does, we run. Put your stuff away."
His confused eyes didn't leave her as Elizabeth shoved her calculator in her purse. At the board, Mr. Alcazar was still blathering on about some proof he claimed would enable them to "dazzle and amaze" their friends at parties – as if they actually sat around at their parties trying to prove that the square root of two was not a fraction. "What are you talking about?"
"We," she bit out, pointing at him and then herself, "are going to make a break for it when Taggert gives the okay."
"But-"
"Damn it, Morgan, just do what I say!"
"Okay, okay," he replied, slowly obliging by shoving his own calculator and pencil into one of the deep pockets of his cargo shorts. "What are we waiting for, exactly?"
"Hey, Czar!" Taggert's booming voice gave Jason the answer he needed, and he turned to see the tall basketball player rise from his seat, shooting Elizabeth a quick wink. In his seat, Luke was smirking at the brunette. Mr. Alcazar turned around, confused, to see Marcus join him at the board. "Isn't that supposed to be the other way around? Like this?"
Sonny snickered when Taggert grabbed the eraser and erased the second half of the third step in the proof, replacing it with well-formed gibberish. Mr. Alcazar stared at it pensively for a moment, and Elizabeth slowly slipped out of her seat, motioning for Jason to do the same.
"Yeah," Lisa agreed, quickly rising from her seat and joining the two men at the board to keep up the diversion. "That looks like it makes sense to me. And then the next line would have to be this…"
Sonny didn't know what was funnier – Elizabeth forcing Jason to sneak out with her or Lisa and Taggert systematically destroying the Czar's painstakingly constructed proof. Their teacher was huffing at the board and his students with frustration and displeasure, not too happy about having to erase their gibberish and reconstruct the proof.
"No, it has to be this way because we know that 2b has to be a multiple of 2, just like a2…" was all Elizabeth heard as she pulled Jason out into the hall and quietly shut the door behind them. Thanks to Taggert, they'd still have a good five minutes before Czar noticed that the two of them were missing – and by that time, it would be "that time again", and he would have lost control of the entire class anyway.
"Come on, let's go," she instructed, twining his fingers with hers and pulling them toward the stairwell. "Hurry, Jason."
"Elizabeth, what's going on?"
Her boyfriend's voice held more patience than the situation deserved, and Elizabeth nibbled on her lip as she glanced warily around the empty halls. "We have to get out of the building. Come on."
As soon as they stepped out onto the pavement, Jason's eyes were on her again, and Elizabeth began to explain. "Sorry about dragging you out like that, but if I wanted to live, I had to do it."
"What are you talking about?"
She rolled her eyes, huffing as they half-ran to his car. "Carol and Brenda are going to hunt me down as soon as the period is over – it was hard enough to convince them that I really couldn't ditch Calc, and they said they'd grab me as soon as it was out. They've been absolutely insane since yesterday, when they pulled me into the yearbook office and chewed my head off. Suffice it to say that I'm not looking forward to that all-girl pow-wow again."
Jason snickered and pulled the door open for her before getting in through his own door and starting the car. "Still psycho about prom?"
"Yeah," Elizabeth sighed. "And they're right…kinda."
"How do you figure?"
Elizabeth frowned at the cross-country track as they passed it on their way off campus. "Well, I don't have a dress, I don't have your boutonnière, I don't know what shoes I'm going to wear, my nail appointment is still iffy, I'm going to have to let Brenda do my hair, and just watch – with my luck, I'll probably run into a million roadblocks and end up looking like the bride of Frankenstein at Prom."
"Elizabeth," Jason clucked, shaking his head as he pressed down on the accelerator and headed toward one of their favorite sandwich joints. "You won't look like the bride of Frankenstein. Your hair isn't big enough."
The corner of her mouth hooked up. "I'll look scary anyway – just mark my words. I'm probably going to have to let Bren do my makeup, too, since I don't know the first thing about it. Oh, boy."
"You don't need all that gunk on your face to look pretty," Jason reminded her, his eyes trained on the road but softening. "You're beautiful without. You could go to Prom in that dress you wore last week and with no makeup at all and you'd still be gorgeous."
"Aw, Jason," Elizabeth couldn't help but sigh, her eyes sparkling at his words. "Thank you – that's so sweet. You're so sweet." She shook her head once, her eyes reflecting mock pity when he glanced at her. "And sadly, still such a clueless boy."
"I hate my life."
Carol crossed her arms over her ample bosom, glaring at Beth as the petite brunette sank down on one of the mannequin pedestals, letting her forehead fall to her knees and covering her head with her arms. "Yeah, well, I'd hate my life, too, if it was Friday afternoon and I still didn't have a Prom dress."
"Bite me, Carol."
"Careful," the blonde remarked, waving one perfectly manicured finger at her friend. "People have said that to me and I have done it – don't underestimate me, Beth."
Elizabeth muttered something unclear but certainly caustic under her breath, but fortunately for her own physical well-being, Carol didn't hear her. Instead, the blonde's eyes were averted to a nearby door that a very flushed and flustered Brenda Barrett had just come barreling through.
"OK, I'm here, I'm here!" she panted, removing her hair from where it stuck to her glossed lips and fixing the waist of her low-rise denim cut-offs. "I love how empty the Wyndham's parking lot is-Beth, why are you sitting! Is this any time to sit? Prom's in twenty-four hours and you still don't have a dress! Oh, God, only a miracle could save us now. Come on, get your butt off the stand and let's get to work."
"Jawohl, mein Fuhrer," Elizabeth mumbled, fishing around blindly for her hemp purse and pulling herself up with Carol's help.
"What was that?"
"Nothing, ma'am."
"Beth, come out of the dressing room."
"No!"
"Beth…"
"NO!"
"Elizabeth Imogene Webber, don't make me-"
"I SAID NO!"
"Dude, your middle name's Imogene?" Carol couldn't help but ask with a smirk. "Seriously? Like, for real?"
Even though Elizabeth was out of sight, waves of anger radiated through the flimsy door of her stall. "It's my gramma's name, okay? Stuff it, Carol Jean Roberts!"
"Hey! That's my mom's name!"
"Whatever!" Brenda was massaging her temples, wishing she had taken four Extra Strength Advils instead of two. "Get out of the stall before I come in there and drag you out!"
"No!"
"Why not, Beth?" she huffed impatiently, both hands on her fist as Carol plopped down on one of the sofa chairs in defeat. "Give me one good reason."
"Because…I look fat."
Carol couldn't help it – she burst out laughing. "What! You look fat!"
"Oh, sure, announce it to everyone and God, why don't you?" Elizabeth exclaimed, and the waves of anger promptly became waves of humiliation. "You need to come with Volume Control. Specifically – Mute."
Despite her best attempts, Brenda couldn't keep the laughter out of her voice. "Beth, trust me, honey, I'm positive that you can't look fat in that dress."
"You're not seein' what I'm seein'."
"Beth, come on!" Carol burst out, stamping her Steve Madden's on the carpet. "You're about as fat all around as one of my thighs. Get your anorexic ass out here, Thumbelina. There's no way you look fat."
"You're not seein' what I'm seein'."
"Oh, that's it, I'm crawling under the door!" Brenda announced, shrugging her purse off. "Carol – hold this for me."
"No!" Elizabeth shrieked, her panic-filled voice catching the attention of a nearby clerk at the Customer Service desk. "Ok, fine, I'll come out."
"Atta girl," Carol encouraged, sitting back comfortably in her seat. "Show us the goods, sweets."
Mumbling something dark and unpleasant, a perturbed Elizabeth slinked out from a crack in the door of the stall, looking less than thrilled in the floor-length silver gown she wore. She stood uneasily, fidgeting like a nervous filly, waiting for criticism and at the same time dreading it. Brenda and Carol remained silent, both perusing her carefully from different angles, and eventually, Elizabeth was unable to take any more.
"Hello? Siskel and Ebert? You guys care to part with your opinions sometime this century?"
"That's not it," Carol replied bluntly. "Try another dress on."
"I knew it!" Elizabeth threw her hands in the air with dismay. "I look fat."
Brenda, smirking, skipped over to her best friend and firmly put her hands on her shoulders. "Beth, you do not look fat. It's just that silver is so not your color – it washes you out. Try out the purple one."
"I hate purple," Elizabeth pouted. "And it has silver sparkles on it. It should have died with disco."
"Bite your tongue," Brenda gasped, horrified at her friend's negative attitude toward disco music. "Go try the blue one instead."
"Beth, get out here."
"No."
"Beth, I swear to God-"
"NO!"
"What's the problem this time, Tubby? There's no way you look fat – get your ass out here!"
"I SAID NO!"
"Oh, for the love of God, what the hell could you be bitching about now?"
A whoosh of air whipped through Brenda's hair as Elizabeth flung the door of her stall open and stalked out in front of her two friends who had now become three. Not even sparing Sydney a glance, she stared down her best friend and quietly bit out, "I'm too short."
Brenda glanced down at the floor, and sure enough, inches of fabric were pooled on the carpet, hiding Elizabeth's feet from view. "Hmm…"
"Wow….dude, you're tiny," Carol felt the need to add, not seeing how Sydney rolled her eyes. "I mean, I always knew you were small, but I never realized…wow. What's your height? Are you legally a midget?"
"Oh, will you stuff it, Carol?" Brenda exclaimed, whirling on the blonde with quirked brows. "You're not helping at all!"
"Do you think it would be okay with heels?" Sydney asked. "I'm sure we could find matching ones."
"It's too long," Elizabeth explained helplessly, lifting the fabric high up on her milk-white calves. "The highest I can go in terms of heels is four inches – I'll be sure to fall over if I exceed that. And trust me, this dress…no."
"Okay, try on another one," Brenda sighed. "We'll be right here."
"Beth, are you done yet?"
"No."
"You're lying, aren't you?"
"No."
"Yes, you are! You get out here!"
"NO!"
"Holy hell, Beth, what's the problem now? This dress was perfect! It's blue – you like blue! It's the perfect length – you're tiny! It doesn't have any of the sparkles that you hate because you're weird. What's the problem now?"
Silence.
"Beth?"
Still nothing.
"DAMN IT, WEBBER-"
Again, a whoosh of air met Brenda's face as Elizabeth stormed out to face her, her nostrils flaring and her hands clutching the fabric of her dress. "Look! Look at me! Look at how ridiculous I look!"
"You look fine," Carol answered slowly, raking a gaze up and down her friend but still not seeing any problem. "Where's the bad?"
"The bad," Elizabeth replied, removing her hands from the top of the gown but holding it in place by clamping her arms down tightly at her side, "is that I have nothing to hold this dress up."
Sydney squinted at her, uncomprehending. "Dude, that's what your boobs are for."
Carol smirked, but Elizabeth wasn't nearly as amused. "Boobs? Yeah, sure – or lack thereof."
Brenda rolled her eyes, snapping her Trident loudly. "Beth, please – you have boobs."
"Nuh-uh," Elizabeth replied. "Not enough for this Anna-Nicole-Smith-number here. You need endowments as big as Harvard's to look decent in this. The only person here who could probably pull this off is Carol."
"What?" The blonde was certain she had heard wrong. "No way – Syd's way bigger than I am!"
"Wait – what?" Now it was Sydney who was having a hard time believing her ears. "Are you freaking joking? Are you kidding me? Yours are so totally bigger than mine."
"No – yours are!"
"No way!"
Brenda rolled her eyes for the millionth time in the span of two hours, drowning out the sounds of Sydney and Carol arguing over their mammary glands and focusing on her best friend. "Personally, I think you look just fine in that dress, but if you feel even the teensiest bit uncomfortable, then there's no point. Wanna try on something else?"
"I'm all done," Elizabeth replied sadly, shrugging in the general direction of the overflowing dressing room. "There aren't any more dresses to try. And I just want to go home."
Taking in the dejected and disappointed set of her friend's shoulders, Brenda nodded slowly. "Okay, let's go. We'll find something, Beth – don't worry."
"I don't see how," the brunette mumbled, already walking back to her stall to get rid of the offensive clothing. At this rate, she'd probably end up going to the prom in jeans.
"I don't know what to do, Gram," Elizabeth sighed, poking at her brownie. "For the longest time, I was so set on going to Prom, and then Jason got hurt and it…it just didn't seem important anymore. And then there was a chance I wouldn't get to go after all and I kinda accepted that, and now that I actually can go…I have nothing."
"Nothing, darling?"
The brunette shook her head sadly, her two loosely formed buns swaying with the movement. "Nope. I don't have shoes or a purse or a boutonnière, my nail appointment is non-existent, I'm on my own when it comes to hair and makeup and I don't even have a dress."
"Oh, dear." Audrey frowned to herself, sipping her hot cocoa. It was ten o'clock at the Webber house and both women were seated at the kitchen table where Audrey had pulled out the brownies and cocoa in hopes that it would cheer her granddaughter up. "That is quite a problem. And what about Jason?"
Elizabeth snorted. "See, that's the unfair part – guys don't have to do anything for Prom, Gram. He's got his tux – apparently he owns one; do you believe that? I thought Sonny was the only dork with his own tuxedo – and he's got his shoes and his tie and his dumb cummerbund although I'll bet you my piano that he won't wear it. Or the tie. In fact, I'm lucky if he puts on the jacket. Anyway, he's got the outfit, he's going to wear his hair like he does every single dumb day, he has his car, and he has the tickets. Stupid Jason."
Audrey smiled tenderly. "And meanwhile, you…"
"Have nothing."
"Well, now, let's not make rash statements," her Gram guided gently. "You do have tickets, after all, and plans for afterwards, am I correct?"
Elizabeth nodded begrudgingly. "We're all sleeping over at Brenda's after the dance and going to the city all weekend. That's the plan so far."
"And as for nails, well, darling, to be honest, I never saw the value in going out and getting them done. To me, they look horribly artificial. And after all, you have such pretty fingers…"
The brunette laughed as her grandmother lovingly stroked her hand. "Oh, Gram."
"You do, darling," the old woman insisted. "And there are several solutions – what if you decide to wear opera gloves? Then it won't matter if your nails are done or not. The only time you'll take the gloves off would be at dinner, and I should imagine that it would be much easier to handle your silverware, dear, if you didn't have three inch hunks of plastic synthetically appended to each, well, appendage."
Elizabeth laughed to herself, her mind turning over the first idea her grandmother had mentioned. "Gloves? Opera gloves? You think…you think I could do that?"
"Why, of course, darling," Audrey assured her. "Opera gloves do look remarkably classy, after all."
"And old-fashioned, too," Elizabeth sighed dreamily. "Like old Hollywood in its golden age. Wow."
"Yes, I suppose so. An Audrey-Hepburn style, almost, don't you think?"
"Yeah! Oh, but…darn. They have to match my dress. My non-existent dress."
"I thought you went shopping with the girls today," Audrey pointed out, lightly blowing on her hot chocolate. "And yesterday afternoon as well, for that matter."
"I did," Elizabeth sighed wearily. "I found absolutely nothing. All the good dresses are already taken, and I have the hardest time finding my size anyway. And each dress was either too long or too low or just too ugly. You know, I remember being a sophomore and watching all the senior girls get ready for Prom and stuff, and I'd think about how I wanted my Prom to be – I wanted to have the perfect dress, Gram. I didn't care about anything else – I just knew I wanted the perfect dress. The dress that just screamed 'me', you know?"
"And what kind of dress would that be, darling?" Audrey asked lightly, watching her granddaughter carefully over the rim of her black mug.
Elizabeth stared contemplatively at the colored-glass mini-chandelier in the kitchen. "I don't know – something…unusual. Like, unique – that no other girl has. I don't want ruffles and silk and all that stuff – I want something plain and simple and sleek and elegant. I don't care if it's strapless or collared or anything…I don't want any weird prints or sparkles or doo-dads on it. I don't want it to be too long or too short, and I definitely don't want any ridiculously long slits. And I kinda always pictured it as being sleeveless…I don't know." She shrugged helplessly, quirking a half-smile at her Gram before sipping her cocoa. "I guess I need a miracle to find a dress like that on the night before Prom."
Audrey's pale blue eyes sparkled. "Perhaps. Or maybe…all you need is a Gram."
"Beth? Beth! I'm here!" Brenda Barrett let herself in through Elizabeth's front door, earning a displeased glance from her father who sat in the adjacent living room trying to catch up on the paper. "Oh, hi, Mr. Webber. How 'bout them Yanks?"
Without even waiting for an answer, she quickly shed her light summer jacket and shoes and sprinted up the stairs, leaving Jeff to mumble something about crazed teenage daughters and go back to his reading. She flew to Elizabeth's bedroom but finding it empty – and irritatingly tidy – she called out once more. "Beth?"
"Bren? Is that you?"
"Yeah," she replied, still standing in Elizabeth's room and trying to hear her friend's voice. "Dude, where are you?"
"Gram's room! Get over here!"
"Coming!" She raced out of the room but only made it two paces down the hall before she sprinted back and scattered Elizabeth's neatly stacked papers and books all over her desk. After dropping a feather boa and a random stuffed chicken on her nightstand and throwing some dress-up hats on Elizabeth's chair, Brenda ran out to join her friend. A little clutter wouldn't possibly hurt Elizabeth – after all, messiness was the mother of discovery. And besides, it was shown that people with messy rooms fell victim to far fewer allergies – she was willing to bet her Dr. Pepper chap stick that Little Miss Statistics didn't know that one.
She saw Audrey before she saw Elizabeth, and the old woman was kneeling on the floor with a few pins sticking out of her mouth. "Gram Web! Hi!"
"Omm, Brnda drlng," Audrey managed to get out around the pins she held. "Cmmn nn."
Giggling, Brenda flounced in on her toes, ready to find out what all the excitement was about. "Dude, Beth, here I am! What's going on? You called me and said to get over- Oh, my God." All thought immediately flew from her head as soon as Brenda laid eyes on her best friend, standing in front of her grandmother's full-length mirror in the most elegant black dress Brenda had seen – and she'd seen lots of black dresses, too, what with it being her signature color and all. "Oh, my God."
Elizabeth's grin was brighter than the two-hundred-watt bulb in Audrey's floor lamp. "I know! Don't you love it?"
"Beth!" Brenda couldn't help but squeal and jump up and down. "Oh, my God, that dress – it's PERFECT! Where did you get it? Holy cow!"
"It's Gram's," Elizabeth announced, beaming with pride as Audrey adjusted the lower portions of the dress around her narrow waist. "She made it back before I was born – can you believe it?"
"Oooh, Gram Web," Brenda breathed silently, circling her best friend like a very appreciative vulture. "It's gorgeous."
"Why, thank you, dear," Audrey smiled, finally removing the pins from her mouth. "I was listening to Elizabeth bemoan her dress troubles, and I immediately thought of this dress. And the best part is that I don't even have to adjust it too much. It should be done by tomorrow without any problem."
"So this is it, huh?" Brenda grinned, perching herself on the edge of Audrey's bed. "This is the dress?"
"This is the dress," Elizabeth grinned proudly back. "Oh, it's perfect, isn't it?"
"Definitely."
"And Gram has these awesome white opera gloves that she said I could wear with this – ooh, Bren, I'm so excited!"
"Me too!" Brenda yipped, swinging her bare feet from the bed. "And hey – you don't even have to do your nails if you don't want."
"I'm not going to," Elizabeth agreed. "Just another hassle. I'll have to worry about making sure not to mess them up and stuff and I don't have the patience for that."
"Am I still doing your hair?"
"Do you still want to?"
"Sure!" Brenda tapped her chin thoughtfully, tipping her head to the side. "I'm trying to think of what would look best. Do you think it should be down or up?"
"I'm inclined to say up, dear," Audrey spoke up, adjusting the hem of the skirt. "It would show off her jewelry nicely – Elizabeth, your mother has a lovely black opal set that I'm sure she'd lend you. It would look simply charming."
"Up it is," Brenda announced. "I'm thinking we can curl it, kinda, and put it up in one of those wispy buns that look like it took forever to get just right."
"Sounds good," Elizabeth agreed. "Maybe a comb or flower or something?"
Brenda was nodding until something occurred to her, and she stopped, an excited gleam in her eyes. "Or…a tiara."
Elizabeth blinked. "What? A tiara?"
"Yeah!" The slim brunette perched on the bed was clapping her hands with excitement. "A silver tiara! Oh, I saw the perfect one at Wyndham's – we'll pick it up tomorrow; I have to get some pantyhose anyway. It'll look so cute!"
Audrey was laughing to herself, and Elizabeth glanced down curiously at her. "Gram? What's so funny?"
"Nothing, darling," her Gram replied, her blue eyes twinkling. "It's just that you really will be looking like Audrey Hepburn."
"Morgan."
"Hey."
Jason leaned back against the pillows, suddenly a little less aggravated about being pulled out of a deep sleep. "Hey, yourself. What's going on?"
"Guess what?"
"I don't guess, Elizabeth. I'm no good at guessing games."
"Jason! Fine – I'll just tell you." There was a brief pause and he could almost hear her excitement in the silence. "I found the perfect dress."
"Oh." He nodded once. "That's good."
"Jason! 'That's good'! That's all you're going to say? This is a freaking miracle, Morgan! The Prom gods like me again! I must offer sacrifices tomorrow at the alter of the lace garters and pantyhose, and pour the sacrificial wine and-"
"OK, OK, it's…more than good?"
"You bet it is! I'm going to look like Audrey Hepburn. That's what Gram said."
"Who?"
"Audrey Hepburn."
"Um…"
"Jason! Don't tell me you don't know who Audrey Hepburn is!"
"Um…"
"Oh, Jason. You rip me to shreds for not having seen the Godfather, and yet you have no idea who Audrey Hepburn is? You have got to get your movie-watching priorities in order, Mister!"
He laughed, running a hand through his hair and settling back more comfortably. "Okay, okay, I'll figure out who Audrey Hepburn is. Are you happy?"
There was no missing the contentment in her voice. "Very." A brief pause met his ears before her voice did. "Jason?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm glad we're going together."
He grinned into the phone. "Yeah. Me, too." Well, it was only half the truth – he wasn't too keen on going to Prom, but he was glad to be able to share it with Elizabeth regardless. If she wanted to go, that was more than reason enough for him to go and do his best not to ruin the night.
"I was so worried there for a while. I mean, I wasn't, but then the girls all ganged up on me and it felt like everything was speeding by me. There were so many different things I needed to decide that I needed to have decided two months ago, you know? I felt like I was being pulled in a million directions at once, and to be honest, I kinda forgot to just enjoy the process. You only get to do this once."
Now was not the time for him to insert a snippy comment about how dumb the whole "process" was, so Jason just nodded agreeably even though Elizabeth couldn't see him. "Well, see, that's the thing – everything worked out fine, didn't it? Sometimes, you just gotta live through things slow if you're going to make it. If you stay in the moment and keep a clear head, nothing's too difficult to get through."
"Ah, another precious gem from Captain Aphorism."
The laughter in her voice was contagious and he grinned into the receiver of his cell phone even as he tried to sound hurt. "You woke me up at a quarter to one to abuse me?"
"Hey! I'm serious! I like that – live through it slow. That's what I want to do. I want to live through everything slow. If life's supposed to be one big learning experience, then you really shouldn't let anything pass you by. Live through it slow. I like that."
"I thought you might."
There was a comfortable silence before Elizabeth broke it. "Jason?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry I woke you up when you were so obviously in bed."
He smirked wickedly. "Elizabeth, feel free – no, feel encouraged – to wake me up when I'm in bed any time."
She blushed a pretty pink, as Jason knew she would, and stammered out a goodbye. "I'll – uh – see you tomorrow, Jason."
"See you tomorrow, Elizabeth."
