Prom Anonymous by Blake Nelson

Author:Blake Nelson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group

32

“I feel like it’s too late,” Chloe told Brian Haggert on Tuesday, as they drove downtown. “Won’t the good prom dresses be gone?”

“Not where we’re going,” he said.

They parked outside a small vintage shop Chloe had never seen before. They went inside. It was not like the Salvation Army she went to. The clothes were fancy and expensive and the owner, a short round woman with a thick gray streak in her hair, smoked constantly. Chloe waved at the air as Brian explained the situation to her. The woman nodded and then led them deeper into the long, narrow store. Clothes were piled to the ceiling, and things slipped off the top shelves as Chloe followed. It was like being in a slowly collapsing mineshaft.

Brian did the talking. They wanted something interesting, cool, different. The round woman listened to him carefully and then began digging through the racks of dresses. Chloe tried several on. They all looked good to Chloe, though as soon as each dress was on her, Brian and the woman began pulling and poking at her. They began to talk as if Chloe weren’t there, discussing her bust, her face, her shoulders—but doing so with such attention and seriousness that Chloe was secretly thrilled.

“It’s her first prom,” said Brian.

“What’s the date look like?” said the round woman, biting a lit cigarette as she arranged the hem of the sixth dress Chloe had tried on.

“Don’t know,” said Brian. “Tall. We don’t know anything else.”

“A blind prom date,” said the woman. “You’re a brave girl.”

“How about something darker?” said Brian.

“Possibly,” said the woman. “And something fuller. What will she do with her hair?”

Brian nudged Chloe.

“Nothing?” said Chloe tentatively.

“Maybe up?” asked the woman. “Or this way?”

The two of them played with Chloe’s hair.

“What about this?” said the woman, touching Chloe’s red barrette.

“It’s her trademark,” said Brian.

“Hmmm.”

“She’s a big fan of Sylvia Plath.”

“Yes, I can see that,” said the woman.

“Do you have something darker?” asked Brian.

“I do have a wonderful cocktail dress. It’s a little more Audrey Hepburn. . . .”

“Audrey Hepburn?” gulped Chloe. Audrey Hepburn was her second favorite historical figure.

“Let’s try it.”

The Audrey Hepburn dress was brought out. It was the simplest of the dresses. It was black with a black velvet belt. Chloe put it on. At first, as she wiggled into it, it felt too small. Then for a moment, it seemed too big in the shoulders. And then, as Brian gawked, and the round woman stepped back, it fell over her body and seemed to melt into place.

“Oh. My. God,” whispered Brian.

“That’s the one,” said the little round woman, taking a drag from her cigarette and poking Chloe in the breast. “Maybe bring this in a touch.”

When Chloe saw herself in the mirror she almost fell over. It was not a different person, as sometimes happened with good clothes. No, it was still Chloe. But it was the best Chloe. The most precise, composed, indomitable Chloe. The Chloe she would have to be, to survive what was coming.

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