7 – Dance With You

Stephanie sat very still on the lid of the toilet, hands gripping the seat as she tilted her head back as instructed, waiting to endure yet another overly aggressive swipe from the eyeshadow brush. Her sister's interest in helping her get ready for Prom had been unexpected. They'd never been close, a fact that had only been amplified since Valerie left for college. But she was home for the week and was apparently keen to make up for some lost sisterly bonding time. And because the offer had come during family dinner, Steph was left in the unfortunate position of not being able to refuse, lest she endure an eternity of disapproval from both Val and their mom for it, on top of all the other things she was already shouldering their disapproval for.

In a way, having Valerie help her get ready was a bit of a relief, because the alternative was for Helen Plum to be more directly involved. As it was, enduring her constant fluttering about as she provided snacks and drinks and just offering her opinion every twenty minutes was more than enough.

"Thanks for doing this," Steph murmured, squinching her eyes shut, listening to the make-up brush Valerie held tapping against the pallet in preparation of the next attack. "I'm not very good at make-up."

"Mmm," Valerie replied, using her free hand to gently tip Steph's head back a little further. "You're not that bad at it, you just haven't had enough practice. Don't flinch!"

"You're stabbing me in the eye!" Steph replied, releasing a hand to wave it in the direction of her own face. "It's impossible not to flinch!"

The brush pulled back, and Steph cracked an eye open to peer at her sister. Valerie was taking a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she very deliberately relaxed her shoulders. She met Steph's one eye after a moment and the calm expression she'd just mustered up changed into that same challenge Steph had come to dread growing up. "Would you prefer me to go get mom to finish off?" she asked pointedly. She clearly understood the family dynamic, and that while the two sisters hadn't always gotten along, Valerie was still the lesser of two evils when the other option was Helen Plum.

"No, thank you," Steph stated through gritted teeth. "But if you could just be a little gentler with the initial contact, that would be great."

Valerie smiled softly, indicating that Steph should closer her eyes once more. "I'll try," she mumbled, and Steph was relieved to find that connection of the brush to her eyelid was more tentative this time around. There was silence for a few moments while Valerie put the finishing touches on her eyeshadow followed by a pause of inactivity so long that Steph cracked her eyes open again, peering at her sister with curiosity that quickly became concern as she recognised the items she held in her hands: eyeliner and mascara.

"Uhhh," Steph said. "No offense, but I don't want you coming anywhere near my face with a sharp pencil in your hand and…"

"We can probably skip the eyeliner," Val agreed with a nod, dropping the eyeliner pencil back into the make-up bag on the bathroom counter. "And you're a mascara pro, so I'll let you handle that one." She handed over the wand and gestured for Steph to do her thing, stepping aside so she could stand and lean into the mirror over the sink for better accuracy.

Steph did two coats for good measure and turned to face her sister for approval. She had to admit, she'd done a good job. The foundation was blended down her neck seamlessly, the rouge on her cheeks was just a subtle hint of colour, making it look natural, and her eyes were a smoky, shimmery something-something that accentuated the vibrant colour of Steph's irises. The only thing left to add was lipstick, but Val had explained that they'd do that last, after she was dressed so that Steph didn't have a chance to eat it off before the mandatory photos.

"Perfect," Val smiled. She glanced at her watch, then back to the rollers that were currently attempting to force Steph's usually riotous curls into something more refined and elegant. "What time is Darren picking you up?"

Steph froze in the act of checking herself out in the mirror, her eyes cutting to the reflection of her older sister. She'd hoped to make it out of the house without having to broach the subject of her date with her family. The plan she and Carlos had agreed on was for them to meet there so that she didn't have to endure the whole 'you shouldn't be hanging out with the Mexican delinquent' lecture yet again, knowing that it would be a thousand times worse, because going to prom together was like announcing to the whole Burg that you were an item. Which wasn't true in their case, but there was no convincing the Burg once they got an idea in their collective hive mind.

She swallowed hard, averting her eyes to the array of make-up and applicators on the counter, fiddling with the fluffy brush Val had used for her blush. "He's, uh, not," she admitted quietly. And then, because she knew she needed to give more of an explanation to stave off the torrent of questions that would be flying her way any moment, she added, "We broke up last week."

The look of pity that immediately encompassed Valerie's expression was exactly one of the reasons she hadn't told her family about the situation with Darren before now. To her mom and sister, being in a relationship with a guy was the be all and end all. It was goals. Valerie's entire life plan consisted of finding a man to settle down with and pop out some grandbabies for Helen. It was a nauseating and infuriating concept for Steph to think about, because not only did she not want that life for herself, but she knew very well that her mom did want it for her. She gushed over her boyfriends, singing their praises, exclaiming over how they made the perfect couple, how beautiful their offspring would be. It made Steph gag just thinking about it.

"Oh, Steph," Valerie sighed. "I didn't know! I'm so sorry! And so close to Prom! How terrible to have to go alone."

Steph cringed. "I'm not going alone," she stated firmly, rather than address the fact that she was not at all upset about the break-up. She'd been pissed-off to find Darren cheating on her with the captain of the basketball team, but she found that she couldn't stay angry at him once she actually sat down to end their relationship. He'd been apologetic and remorseful, and as he explained the situation of not feeling able to come out of the closet due to the pressure of his parents and those around him to be the perfect guy's guy, she'd immediately understood. It was a different set of details, but the underlying story wasn't that different to her own. He was just another outcast trying not to upset the apple cart too much until he could escape to college.

Darren had begged her not to break up with him, to go along with the façade as a cover so that no one was suspicious of his sexuality, but while Steph understood the way he felt, it didn't stop the hurt of finding her boyfriend locked in a make-out session with another guy. She couldn't pretend everything was all right between them. And she certainly couldn't deny the fact that now that Carlos had suggested they go to prom together as friends, it held way more appeal than going with a guy who was just using her as a scapegoat.

"Mary Lou and Lenny are letting me tag along with them," she explained, packing the make-up items away while Valerie continued to give her that crestfallen look. "I'm okay with being the third wheel." At least until they got to the gym and then she could break off and hang with Carlos like they'd planned.

"Third wheel?" her mother's voice penetrated the little bubble that had formed around the bathroom since her last interruption. "Why are you the third wheel? What happened to Darren? He's such a nice boy. Perfect for you. Is he unwell? Should I call his parents to wish him a speedy recovery? Maybe I should make some sou-"

"Mom," Valerie intoned, her eyes wide and intense, her lips pursed, trying to get her mother to understand without having to say anything. It clearly wasn't a successful mission, though, because only a moment later, she said quietly, "They broke up."

"He broke up with you?" Helen exclaimed, crossing her arms over her chest and sending a frown at her youngest daughter where their eyes met in the mirror. "Stephanie, what did you do?"

And just like that, her mother had turned the situation she knew literally nothing about in Steph's fault. Again. This was why she hadn't said anything. It was so much easier to just let her mother think she was still happily dating the 'nice boy' rather than put up with the constant lectures as she was automatically blamed.

There was no way that Steph was going to betray Darren and reveal his secrets just to get out of her own hell, so she just shrugged, lowered her gaze to the makeup pallet that her hand had landed on and sighed, "We weren't a good fit."

Helen let out a long-suffering sigh, releasing her arms from their crossed position like an explosion as the frustration with her daughter became too much to bear once again. "Stephanie, you can't just give up on things like this. Relationships require work. If things aren't working out, you need to talk about them and resolve the issues. You need to communicate with open honesty. You're never going to be marriage material if you can't learn to compromise."

Stephanie pressed her lips together as the onslaught continued. It was funny how her mother seemed to have such good advice on how to make a relationship work when she was lecturing her daughter, but any time Steph had tried to talk openly and honestly to Helen in the past, trying to work on the parts of their own mother-daughter relationship that clearly weren't working, she'd only received the callous words of a dictator who was unwilling to compromise on the image they needed to project to the community they lived in. Helen Plum made no efforts to understand her daughter, or to work with the peculiarities she'd developed. Instead, she treated Steph as a disease that needed to be stamped out, beaten into submission by aggressive antibiotics.

Dropping the last of the make-up into the bag, Steph zipped it up and slid it back under the counter where it usually lived. She ignored her mother's gaze, tuning out the continuing lecture she'd heard a thousand times before, and stepped toward the doorway where she and Valerie both stood. Val, having seen this kind of scene play out more times than she could count, wisely stepped out of the way, allowing her sister to slip out into the hall. She knew that forcing Steph to remain in the same space as their mom was a recipe for disaster. A guaranteed screaming match that would end in tears – from both of them. And dammit, Val had worked too hard on Steph's make up to have it ruined like that.

"Where are you going?!" Helen demanded, pivoting on the spot as Steph stalked off down the hall toward the stairs. "Were you even listening to me?"

"I'm going to get a coke," Steph replied flatly. "I need a break from the bathroom before we finish off my hair." She purposefully did not address her mother's words about Darren, or not listening. Today was supposed to be one of the best days of her senior year, and she wasn't going to let her mother ruin it. "We can talk about may short comings as a daughter and a girlfriend tomorrow," she added. "But I'd like to be able to enjoy my prom if it's not too much to ask."

She sensed her mother building a full head of steam at having been spoken to in such a way by her own disappointing daughter, but all Steph heard as she stomped down the stairs was Val's quiet but urgent murmuring. She wasn't sure when her older sister had decided to be a supportive human being, and step into the ring to defend her against their mother, but she was grateful for it anyway.

When she swung into the kitchen a moment later, she found her father leaning against the counter, a beer in one hand and a coke in the other. He held the latter out silently to his daughter, a soft expression on his face as she approached. "What's she yelling about this time, Pumpkin?" he asked once Steph had taken the can from him and taken her first swig, leaning against the counter beside him.

Steph rolled her eyes. "Darren and I broke up," she stated. "She doesn't know even the tiniest detail of how or why it happened, but she's blaming me anyway."

"Is Valerie-"

She shook her head. "She's actually sticking up for me for once."

"Good. I'm glad."

There was silence in the kitchen as father and daughter continued to sip on their beverages. It was the kind of quiet company they'd always enjoyed. A calm in the storm that was the Plum household. It was just what Steph needed, and somehow, her Dad had always seemed to know just when she needed it. After the cans were in the trash and the sound of Helen's footsteps were sounding on the stairs, Steph touched the rollers in her hair and sighed. "I should probably go finish getting ready," she said. "Mare will be here in an hour."

Her father made a non-comital sound in the back of his throat, wrapping an arm briefly around she shoulders and squeezing before releasing her as his wife reached the kitchen. Steph and Helen gave each other a wide berth as their paths crossed, and then Steph was in the bathroom with Val again, seated on a tiny stool that had been wedged between the tub and the vanity so that Val had better access to all sides of her head. The mood was decidedly more subdued than it had been earlier. The surprisingly easy atmosphere between the sisters having been spoiled by their mother's interruption.

"Done," Val finally stated, stepping back and holding her hands up where Steph could see them, like she was in a pie eating contest and the adjudicator had just called time. "What do you think?" she asked, meeting Steph's gaze in the mirror.

Steph, who had been focusing on anything but her own reflection throughout the process, took a moment to examine the work her sister had done. "It looks weird," she said slowly, not really meaning to say the words out loud, but unable to contain them. "But I think that's because it's neat, and structured, and elegant. I'm not used to my hair doing that."

Val smiled. "I'll take that as a compliment, I guess. Now go get your dress on. We need photos before Mary Lou gets here."

Twenty minutes later, Steph was still stuck on the internal staircase of her parent's house, her cheeks hurting from forcing a smile as her entire family gathered below her, taking photos. She'd changed positions a few times, posed with her father, her mother, both her parents together, as well as her sister. There was tension running down her spine from pretending everything was hunky dory when deep down inside she was not only still annoyed at her mother, but nervous about the night ahead of her. She'd hung out with Carlos almost every day for the past year and a half, and had always been insanely comfortable in his presence, regardless of who was around to judge, but the thought of attending the dance with him had her stomach in knots. It was a big thing. A massive thing. People would make assumptions. And not only that, Carlos had never seen her dressed anything like how she was right then. He was used to her worn out jeans and comfortable t-shirts. What if he took one look at her and laughed?!

"Are you okay, Stephanie?" her mom called from the bottom of the stairs, her face obscured by the camera she'd been using to snap still more pictures. "You look like you're in pain."

"I guess I'm not used to the shoes," Steph replied wanly, "Can I take them off for a minute until Mare arrives?"

But at that moment, the doorbell rang and all three cameras dropped to their respective sides.

"I'll get it," Helen announced, bustling the eight feet to the front door and opening it wide with a flourish. The gallant smile that had been plastered on her face in anticipation of seeing either Mary Lou or her date Lenny at the door fell like a rock in a kiddie pool. Stephanie almost heard the thunk as it hit the bottom. "What are you doing here?" she seethed.

Steph's stomach tightened painfully. There was only one person she could think of who could bring out her mother's worst side so swiftly. From her lofty vantage point, she could only see from the chest down of the tux that stood on the porch, but she knew from the build that it couldn't be Lenny.

"Good evening, Mrs. Plum," Carlos's smooth baritone washed into the house. "Is Stephanie ready to go?"

"Yes, she is," Helen said primly, crossing her arms over her chest as she stood more solidly in the middle of the doorway, blocking much of Steph's already limited view. "But her friends haven't arrived yet. She's going to the prom with Mary Lou and Lenny."

Steph looked from the door to her father and sister, both of whom were frozen in place, twin expressions of surprise and shock on their faces. Probably, she thought, her own face looked the same as she tripped down the stairs. She had to do something to diffuse the situation before it became too charged.

"That was the original plan, yes," Carlos was saying as Steph reached the even floor of the entry way and her best friend's face came into view, serene and unperturbed by her mother's opposition. "But Mary Lou and I agreed that it would be a shame for Stephanie to miss out on the proper Prom Date experience, so I'm here to escort her." He kept his attention on Helen Plum even as Steph attempted to give him a signal to just stop and leave. This wasn't how the evening was supposed to go.

"No."

Carlos raised a single eyebrow at Helen's single word reply. It was firm, and she was already attempting to close the door on him, but he easily stopped her from doing so by pressing his hand to it. "No?" he questioned. "I wasn't asking for your permission, Mrs. Plum. I don't believe a seventeen-year-old woman should need permission to attend a dance with her best friend. You have already given Stephanie permission to attend prom, as is evidenced by the fact that she's dressed and ready to go. And I would assume that once we were at Prom, we would have spent much of the evening together anyway, so the only change to the plan is who she will be arriving with. Namely, me. I understand you don't like me, and I won't insult myself by trying to convince you to change your mind, but the fact is, your daughter is my best friend, and I would hate it if she missed out on this rite of passage purely because you have a problem with me."

"Let him in, Helen" Frank said quietly.

"Let him-!?" Helen's face had gone an unattractive shade of red as her anger and indignation at having been overruled skyrocketed. "Frank, this boy is-"

"This young man is my daughter's best friend," Frank said calmly. "He's not here to start a riot, he just wants to make sure Stephanie has a good time at Prom."

"What will the neighbours think?" Helen protested, still not moving from the doorway, keeping Carlos trapped on the porch.

Frank let out a sigh and grabbed his wife by the shoulders, dragging her out of the way. "The neighbours will get over themselves," he said. "And so will you. Go on and enjoy your night, Pumpkin," he added, sending a smile his daughter's way as he nodded toward the door.

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Steph picked up her wrap and clutch and hurried out the door as fast as her four-inch pumps would take her. She met Carlos's gaze with a wide-eyed, I-can't-believe-this-is-happening expression and he'd just slid his hand into hers, turning to lead her down the front steps when Valerie emerged from the house, closing the door behind her.

"Steph, Carlos, wait," she called, holding up the camera she'd been using to take photos inside. "We need a photo."

"Really?" Steph asked, confused as to why her sister, who'd always been very clear that she sided with their mother on the Carlos issue, would want to capture the moment she left to go to Prom with the guy. Shouldn't she be attempting to stop him? This seemed an awful lot like encouragement.

Val nodded, holding her gaze for a long moment. "Really."

Steph mimicked her nod, shocked anew at the quiet support her sister was providing. What the heck had happened to her?

Carlos and Steph posed on the top step of the porch, much the way Steph had been caught frozen on the stair inside, for a few minutes while Val took several photos. When she was satisfied that the moment had been captured, Val stepped aside so that Carlos could help Steph down the stairs, but as they started down the path toward the car Steph recognsised as belonging to Carlos's aunt, Val laid a hand on his arm, stopping their progress.

"You have your license?" she questioned, flicking her eyes toward the car at the curb.

"Yes, ma'am," he assured her, sliding his wallet out of his back pocket and flipping it open to show her his card.

Val screwed up her nose. "Don't call me ma'am, I'm only two years older than you," she admonished. "You're going to drive the speed limit. You're going to be a perfect gentleman to my sister. And you're going to have her home by midnight, or my father will show you his favourite gun. Understood?"

Steph couldn't believe that there was amusement in Carlos's eyes as he nodded. "Crystal clear," he assured her.

Val nodded again and reached into her bra, pulling out a twenty and pressing it into his hand. "Get her some donuts on the way," she instructed. "Mom's been a nightmare today."

Carlos didn't have a chance to protest, or hand the money back, because as soon as Valerie was finished talking, she turned on her heels and in three strides and a hop up the stairs was sliding back inside. As the door opened, the sound of raised parental voices drifted out to them, breaking whatever spell Val's sudden fierce protectiveness had cast over them.

"We should go," Steph announced, grabbing Carlos's hand and dragging him toward the car. "Before Mom breaks free and chases us down."

"Good plan," Carlos agreed, swiftly taking the lead and opening the door for her so that she could slide into the passenger seat. "First stop, Tasty Pastry for donuts. And then on to Prom."

Steph shook her head as he settled behind the wheel. "I can't believe you did that," she told him. "We agreed to meet there so that we could avoid that fiasco!"

Carlos didn't take his eyes off the road as he steered them in the direction of the bakery. "Like I told your mom, I didn't want you to miss out on the proper Prom experience. These kinds of memories are important, Babe."

Steph sighed. "I don't need a big production, Carlos," she said. "I would have much rather miss out on the whole prom date experience than put you through that confrontation with my mom."

"It was nothing," he said, glancing over at her then. "I'd go toe to toe with Helen every day if I had to just so that you could live the life you're meant to live."

"That's… wow." Steph couldn't find the words to articulate just how profound his words were as a comforting warmth gathered low in her belly. She didn't deserve Carlos, she realised. He was the first to point out that he was damaged goods, not worth his weight in salt, but Steph knew that it was the exact opposite. Without him, her life would have been so much bleaker. He was her shining star. Literally her knight in shining armour, rescuing her from the tower her mother was trying to lock her away in.

They stopped for donuts, Steph ate her Boston crème leaning over the trash can with an apron of napkins tucked around the front of her dress, so it didn't get ruined, and then Carlos drove to school and parked in the student lot closest to the gym. He handed her her purse from the back seat and swiped a bit of chocolate from the corner of her mouth with his thumb, immediately sticking it into his mouth to lick clean. "Do you need to touch up your make up before we go inside?" he asked as Steph continued to stare open mouthed at his lips.

"Uh…" she uttered, trying to reboot her brain. Something had come dislodged, and she didn't seem capable of thought right at that moment. All she wanted was to take Carlos's thumb into her own mouth. Wait, what!? Blinking rapidly and shaking her head, she focused back on Carlos's eyes – were they darker than usual? – and tried to recall the question he'd just asked. "Do you think I need to touch up my lipstick?" she asked.

His smile was soft. "Babe," he said. "You're a complete knock-out with or without it."

She rolled her eyes at that, knowing that it was a complete lie. She was average at best. Besides, Carlos was her best friend, it was his job to hype her up. "Let me fix my lipstick and then we can go inside," she told him, snapping open the clutch and pulling out the tube and a small mirror. When she was done, Carlos was at her door, helping her out of the vehicle once more and stepping back to admire the view exactly the same way he had when they'd stopped at the Tasty Pastry.

"Damn, Babe," he said with a grin. His eyes swept over the pale blue gown with appreciation. "You scrub up nice."

Steph blushed and averted her gaze, taking in the way his tux seemed to hug him in just the right places. "You don't look too bad, yourself," she replied quietly.

"You should have brought your baton," Carlos informed her, taking her hand and tugging her toward the entrance. "We're gonna be beating guys off you all night."

As it turned out, though, that wasn't the case. In fact, it was quite the opposite. With the exception of Lenny, Carl and Eddie, no guys came anywhere near her. And if they did, Carlos sent them a glare that could melt the skin off a goat. She was sure that people were talking about them. It was the way things always went. She couldn't blow her nose in this town without the Burg grapevine hearing about it. But for some reason, as Carlos ushered her back out onto the dancefloor, bumping and jumping in time with the heavy bass that filled the gym, she couldn't muster up enough fucks to care what they thought. She just wanted to dance with her best friend.

Until, that is, the song ended and the next one started.

"Time to slow it down for the lovers," the DJ announced.

Steph tried to make her way back over to the table Carl and Eddie were seated at, but before she'd made it three teetering steps, Carlos had his arms wrapped around her waist, drawing her close.

"Carlos!" she protested. "It's a slow song. People are gonna thing we're dating."

He just shrugged, guiding her arms up to twine together behind his neck. "So what?" he asked. "What they think doesn't matter, remember? I told your mom I wanted to give you the proper Prom experience, and slow dancing is one of them. "

"But-"

He silenced her with a shake of his head. "Two people swaying slowly, Babe," he explained. "Nothing more, nothing less. If that scares the Burgers, that's their fault, now ours."

She stared at him a moment longer, body stiff as she felt eyes on her from all sides. But when he suddenly spun her away from him before reeling her back in, she couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled up her throat. She let herself relax and melt into his chest, ignoring the rest of the world. This was part of being seventeen, she reminded herself. She'd told Carlos to just be seventeen, and he was obviously taking her instructions very seriously. There, in his arms, it didn't matter what the Burg thought, or what her mother would say to her tomorrow. All there was was Carlos, Steph and the song.