(no subject)
It's the first Saturday in a long time she has a chance to sleep in; naturally, she's up at dawn. After a shower and shaving there's not anything to actually do for the next sixteen hours, though, except periodically open the fridge and check on the corsages (white roses, a red ribbon for her and a purple one for Laura), and check that her shoes still fit (her feet might have grown overnight!) and think about trying on her dress again and then decide (again) that it will get wrinkled.
She goes for a run before lunch and drops in on Helen, who gives her a garter designed for a clip-knife. She's not sure if it's supposed to be a joke. After lunch, she has her hair done; she's finally given up on extensions, but she's grown it out a little, and they sweep it up on her head in a way that has more to do with architecture than hairdressing. They convince her to let them do her make-up, too (dark lip, smoky eye, strong cheekbones) and she has to eat dinner in careful, tiny bites while her father snickers.
Light on the jewelry; the diamond chandeliers her uncle gave her for Christmas, and a stack of silver bangles her mother gives her just after dinner, with a very careful hug. She's into her dress fully two hours before her mom goes to get Laura, and spends a lot of time looking in the mirror; the dress is a deep, bloody red; it crosses over her right shoulder, where the scar is, but the left, with her tattoo, is bare. No real cleavage (scars there, too) but lots of thigh. Liberal quantities of double-sided tape.
She hasn't felt this... pretty, since she got shot. The shoes are silver, with a trellis of roses up the side and ankle strap.
Laura looks... amazing. Combat boots or no.
"You look so good! Um." She fastens the corsage to Laura's long gloves (so hot) slowly, so the other girl can see how it works. She expected Laura to do something a little more... functional, with the ribbon, but she's good at imitation.
"So..." Rose smooths her dress down, nervously. "Emmy hired a limo for some of us, but I wasn't sure if we'd be able to line up our schedules exactly, so we're going to take my car. We can come back in the limo, though, if we want--it's kind of traditional. I can always go pick my car up tomorrow. I don't know, I guess we can play it by ear, maybe you won't really be up for any kind of afterpartying, it's a lot of social time already and okay I'm talking a lot, aren't I? I feel like I'm talking a lot. And fast."
"Yes," Laura says solemnly. "Breathing is useful."
"Sorry. Um." She grabs her tiny silver clutch. "Shall we?"
Important step: do not crash the car on the way to the prom. Nerves! "I really like your dress."
"It does not make noise. And is easily modifiable should conditions warrant." Pause. "And it is purple. Thank you."
The financial crunch means this year's prom is being held at the school instead of the country club, but on the other hand most schools don't have their own ballroom. And the decorations and catering were donated by professional moms, and the DJ is a real DJ brought it from the city (the same as Emmy's party, in fact), and not a local radio jock or something.
Everyone looks fabulous; everyone (or that's how it feels) turns to look when Rose and Laura enter, and Rose convinces herself--or almost--that it's because they're the most fabulous of all. They're not the only same sex couple there, anyway--Devon and James and Dee and Beth and Alia and Kristen from the GSA wave. She sees Ms. Bauer, who's chaperoning, and gives her a wave as well; and Mr. Hairald, also chaperoning, and ducks him. (Laura takes the opportunity to scan the exits and perimeter, and to identify the local authorities, such as they are.)
Rose is good; she doesn't ask Laura to dance any of the spotlights or formals or slow dances. Mostly she sticks to the fast songs, dancing less frantically but just as absorbedly as at New Year's. She takes a couple of turns with Ben (watched with hooded eyes by Megan) and a couple with Kristen (ditto Alia) and one very awkward waltz with Evan. His townie girlfriend looks more overwhelmed by all the... everything... than jealous, in a dress from Claire's, and probably not pregnant.
She runs interference with Lucy Avon and her bitch-crew while Evan and his girlfriend slip out; it's wrong, she knows it's wrong, but knowing three different ways she could put Lucy on the floor crying for her mother in two seconds makes it a lot easier to absorb the barbs with a glittering Country Club Bitch smile. Odetta would approved.
She keeps Laura company on a lot of the slow ones, too, talking quietly about whatever; finals and vampires and the things going on in Laura's world. Sometimes guys ask them to dance and get shaken off; Rose doesn't make a big deal about them being at the dance together unless they get pushy. One of them starts to say something about how hot that is and gets stared into oblivion by Laura; he slinks away half-sunk into his cumberbund.
"Do you think I would've looked good in a tux?" she wonders idly.
"No," Laura says instantly. "You have hips."
She worries about Laura, a little, when she does dance, but she doesn't seem unhappy, just intent; standing with her head cocked, observing the other teenagers as if she should be taking notes. And some of the other kids, people who've met Laura before, stop by and make small talk; she even catches her stealing a dance with Derek. As far as she can tell, she's having a good time.
Emmy is the Prom Queen, naturally; Derek looks slightly embarassed and bright red, as his football buddies hoot at the plastic crown. She tries her best not to be jealous (of either of them). It goes okay.
***
Not the spotlight; that would be a little too weird. A little too much pressure. But later, as another slow dance begins, Rose finds herself alone, as the people bumping and grinding couple up, and looks around for Laura.
She finds her by the refreshment table, looking out of place despite her pretty dress. Like a bayonet in a silverware drawer. Rose knifes her own way through the press of teens, some with real dance lessons and some in the standard hands-on-hips-arms-around-neck traditional in these circumstances.
"Hey," she says. She's nervous; more nervous knowing Laura can tell she's nervous.
She goes for a run before lunch and drops in on Helen, who gives her a garter designed for a clip-knife. She's not sure if it's supposed to be a joke. After lunch, she has her hair done; she's finally given up on extensions, but she's grown it out a little, and they sweep it up on her head in a way that has more to do with architecture than hairdressing. They convince her to let them do her make-up, too (dark lip, smoky eye, strong cheekbones) and she has to eat dinner in careful, tiny bites while her father snickers.
Light on the jewelry; the diamond chandeliers her uncle gave her for Christmas, and a stack of silver bangles her mother gives her just after dinner, with a very careful hug. She's into her dress fully two hours before her mom goes to get Laura, and spends a lot of time looking in the mirror; the dress is a deep, bloody red; it crosses over her right shoulder, where the scar is, but the left, with her tattoo, is bare. No real cleavage (scars there, too) but lots of thigh. Liberal quantities of double-sided tape.
She hasn't felt this... pretty, since she got shot. The shoes are silver, with a trellis of roses up the side and ankle strap.
Laura looks... amazing. Combat boots or no.
"You look so good! Um." She fastens the corsage to Laura's long gloves (so hot) slowly, so the other girl can see how it works. She expected Laura to do something a little more... functional, with the ribbon, but she's good at imitation.
"So..." Rose smooths her dress down, nervously. "Emmy hired a limo for some of us, but I wasn't sure if we'd be able to line up our schedules exactly, so we're going to take my car. We can come back in the limo, though, if we want--it's kind of traditional. I can always go pick my car up tomorrow. I don't know, I guess we can play it by ear, maybe you won't really be up for any kind of afterpartying, it's a lot of social time already and okay I'm talking a lot, aren't I? I feel like I'm talking a lot. And fast."
"Yes," Laura says solemnly. "Breathing is useful."
"Sorry. Um." She grabs her tiny silver clutch. "Shall we?"
Important step: do not crash the car on the way to the prom. Nerves! "I really like your dress."
"It does not make noise. And is easily modifiable should conditions warrant." Pause. "And it is purple. Thank you."
The financial crunch means this year's prom is being held at the school instead of the country club, but on the other hand most schools don't have their own ballroom. And the decorations and catering were donated by professional moms, and the DJ is a real DJ brought it from the city (the same as Emmy's party, in fact), and not a local radio jock or something.
Everyone looks fabulous; everyone (or that's how it feels) turns to look when Rose and Laura enter, and Rose convinces herself--or almost--that it's because they're the most fabulous of all. They're not the only same sex couple there, anyway--Devon and James and Dee and Beth and Alia and Kristen from the GSA wave. She sees Ms. Bauer, who's chaperoning, and gives her a wave as well; and Mr. Hairald, also chaperoning, and ducks him. (Laura takes the opportunity to scan the exits and perimeter, and to identify the local authorities, such as they are.)
Rose is good; she doesn't ask Laura to dance any of the spotlights or formals or slow dances. Mostly she sticks to the fast songs, dancing less frantically but just as absorbedly as at New Year's. She takes a couple of turns with Ben (watched with hooded eyes by Megan) and a couple with Kristen (ditto Alia) and one very awkward waltz with Evan. His townie girlfriend looks more overwhelmed by all the... everything... than jealous, in a dress from Claire's, and probably not pregnant.
She runs interference with Lucy Avon and her bitch-crew while Evan and his girlfriend slip out; it's wrong, she knows it's wrong, but knowing three different ways she could put Lucy on the floor crying for her mother in two seconds makes it a lot easier to absorb the barbs with a glittering Country Club Bitch smile. Odetta would approved.
She keeps Laura company on a lot of the slow ones, too, talking quietly about whatever; finals and vampires and the things going on in Laura's world. Sometimes guys ask them to dance and get shaken off; Rose doesn't make a big deal about them being at the dance together unless they get pushy. One of them starts to say something about how hot that is and gets stared into oblivion by Laura; he slinks away half-sunk into his cumberbund.
"Do you think I would've looked good in a tux?" she wonders idly.
"No," Laura says instantly. "You have hips."
She worries about Laura, a little, when she does dance, but she doesn't seem unhappy, just intent; standing with her head cocked, observing the other teenagers as if she should be taking notes. And some of the other kids, people who've met Laura before, stop by and make small talk; she even catches her stealing a dance with Derek. As far as she can tell, she's having a good time.
Emmy is the Prom Queen, naturally; Derek looks slightly embarassed and bright red, as his football buddies hoot at the plastic crown. She tries her best not to be jealous (of either of them). It goes okay.
***
Not the spotlight; that would be a little too weird. A little too much pressure. But later, as another slow dance begins, Rose finds herself alone, as the people bumping and grinding couple up, and looks around for Laura.
She finds her by the refreshment table, looking out of place despite her pretty dress. Like a bayonet in a silverware drawer. Rose knifes her own way through the press of teens, some with real dance lessons and some in the standard hands-on-hips-arms-around-neck traditional in these circumstances.
"Hey," she says. She's nervous; more nervous knowing Laura can tell she's nervous.