Whitney’s mom knocks on the door and then pushes her head inside.
“Honey, the boys have been waiting for a while now. Are you ready?”
I slip on the shoes. They aren’t glass, but it’s just as much a fairy tale. I take one final look in the mirror and my mouth goes dry. The deep blue of the dress sets off my dark hair, making it look darker and shinier. I can see the shape of my waist. I’m not a blob of blubber anymore.
“You’re still the fattest girl in the room,” Skinny whispers, ever so softly.
We descend each step carefully. I feel a little wobbly, but I’m not sure if it’s the new shoes or just my nerves. Whitney’s dad stands below, snapping pictures. Jackson is there waiting, corsage in hand. He’s wearing a dark blue pinstriped suit with a crisp white shirt and a red striped tie. He looks older and even more gorgeous, if that’s possible. The sight of him makes me more nervous than ever.
“Wow.” Jackson’s mouth falls open in shock when he sees me for the first time. The look on his face is just as I’ve imagined it. Only now it’s real. “You look amazing,” he says.
My hand is shaking as he slides the small spray of tiny white roses onto my wrist.
“You’re happy, right?” he asks, looking up from my hand to my face. His forehead is creased with concern.
I nod, still not able to speak.
“Pictures!” Whitney crows. “Dad, get a shot of Ever by herself. I need one for my portfolio.”
I think she’s kidding, but she’s not. I feel exposed. The camera is my nemesis. Right up there with mirrors. I smile uncomfortably and try to blend back into the background.
After about a hundred shots, we finally shut the limo door and head to the dance. Jackson slides in next to me, puts his arm around my bare shoulders, and pulls me in closer.
“You don’t need to sit so far away,” he laughs.
It feels strange to be near someone, touching them, and not have them revolted by me. It’s even weirder that Skinny has been strangely quiet. She never would have missed such a perfect opportunity in the past, but lately there’s been missed moments where her voice is oddly absent. Maybe she’s leaving for good, but there’s still an uncomfortable beat of silence where her voice should be. The new-and-Whitney-improved me hopes even the nervous pause will go away with time.
Whitney is kissing Matt, her arms wrapped around his neck. She’s almost sitting in his lap. Awkward. I glance away, but I’m not sure where I’m supposed to look. Rat thinks Matt is a jerk because he cheated on his chemistry labs. Rat. Stop thinking about Rat. He hasn’t talked to me since we went to the community center, so it’s obvious he’s stopped thinking about me. I’ve seen him and he nods, but he just keeps going. I hear he’s working on the Science Olympiad competition. Very busy. Too busy, evidently, for me.
“Can you believe how great she looks?” Whitney says to Jackson and Matt, when she finally surfaces for air. Now the focus is all on me. “The dress is Ralph Lauren. I found it at Nordstrom. It had to be altered, of course, but I still think it looks fab on her.”
“Yeah, pretty unbelievable,” Matt says. He studies me like I’m some kind of alien. “I remember just last year you were in my math class, and you were huge.”
“Thanks, I think,” I say, and Jackson pats my leg like he totally understands.
The dance is at the school. They’ve tried to spice up the gym >with projections of fall leaves on the walls. The line out the door is long and full of unsteady girls on too-high heels and boys looking uncomfortably overdressed. We join the procession. I notice some of the people turning, whispering, and pointing. At me.
“I know,” says Whitney to one girl standing directly in front of us. “She looks totally different, doesn’t she?”
I endure the attention like some kind of doll on display.
“Wow, Whitney,” says the girl. “Who would have dreamed you could do that?”
“Hey, what about me?” I finally say. They both look at me like the doll shouldn’t speak.
Inside the double doors, the line snakes toward a leaf-covered arch and a waiting photographer. This is what’s causing the backup. Everyone is posing for a picture. I watch the flash of smiling faces and feel a familiar tension start to rise. Photographs are going to be impossible to avoid. I wait for her comment, but Skinny stays silent. It’s unsettling. My constant companion is gone. It’s different now. I’m different now. I have to keep reminding myself that until I believe it.
It’s our turn for the picture. Jackson and I step under the arch. He wraps an arm around my waist and draws me in.