Free Top Ten Uses for an Unworn Prom Dress by Tina Ferraro Page B

Jared.
    “He thinks she's afraid Rascal will be suspended from the game, and then they won't be able to go to the dance, either, disqualifying them from being named king and queen. And since they're seniors, of course, it's now or never.”
    “Sure,” I said, thinking aloud. “What do you bet she's already written her acceptance speech and purchased her royal gown?”
    “Or was shopping for it when Cherry and Natalia saw us?”
    I hummed in agreement. “All she needs is her tiara.”
    “And her king to stay out of trouble.”
    “Tell Jared he's a regular Sherlock Holmes.”
    She was silent for a beat. “Better I don't. It was just a passing comment. And he already thinks you have some kind of an obsession about dances and dresses.”
    I felt blood rush to my face.
    Well, of course he would, having spent so much time driving me from store to store. Hearing what was wrong with the first gazillion dresses I'd tried on, and so
right
about my one-of-a-kind vintage find. I'd probably babbled like an idiot.
    My gaze flew to the back of my door, to the garment bag encasing the loveliest, softest, sweetest dress ever.
    Aaaahhhh.
    Okay, so maybe I
did
have a bit of an obsession going on. But The Dress was incredible—whether or not I got to wear it outside my room. Besides, there were other uses for it. Plenty of uses.

Drope it over your bed, for while you may never be prom queen, at least you'll sleep in princesslike spelndor (and avoid mosquito bites) .
    I shook my head as if to rid myself of my ridiculousness and kept listening to Alison, who was now asking how Mom's open house had gone. Another subject I didn't want to discuss. But these things were apparently out of my control. I shifted gears and gave her the scoop, including how I'd owned up to paying the mortgage.
    “Did she ask a million questions, guess where the money came from, and throw things?”
    “No, no, just the opposite. She totally believed it was from my bank account and acted like I was the best daughter in the world.”
    “Ouch.”
    “Totally.” I exhaled, my gaze drifting to the Lakers sweatshirt in the open closet. “So I figure I'd better spend tomorrow passing out the flyers. Secretly, you know, to help her get more business, but without her going all crazy about how totally wonderful I am.”
    “Yeah,” she said, and made a noise like she agreed. “I wish I could help, but my mother's on a rampage about my room. She's ‘made time’ tomorrow to help me with a complete overhaul. It's going to be one
long
day.”
    “Well, when we're college roommates, we can have competitions to see whose side of the room can be the messiest.”
    “Seriously.”
    A knuckled rap sounded on my door. “Dinner, honey. And I made hot fudge to pour over ice cream for dessert.”
    God, she knew how to hurt a person.
    “I gotta go,” I told Alison.
    “Wait.” She stopped me. “One last thing. Did you hear from Mitch?”
    “Mitch?”
    “Yeah, about Spanish, or whatever.”
    “No.” I had totally forgotten about that. “And I don't want to,” I added. “But hey, if you like him, I could maybe call him and set something up where you're there, too?”
    “No thanks,” she said, and seemed to laugh.
    After I hung up I stood there for a second and took a deep breath, readying myself for my mom. Realizingthat asking Jared for the ride and Dad for the money might actually have been the easy part. What might kill me was this—pretending to be worthy of Mom's hot-fudge adoration.
    •
    I was relieved to wake up the next morning to a note saying a prospective client had called and asked Mom to show him some properties. Not only did it mean the possibility of an eventual paycheck, but it made my day easier. I wouldn't have to smuggle the flyers outside or lie about where I was going.
    But for some odd reason, the best part of the morning was when I opened the front door to see my best friend's brother on the step, jangling his car keys.
    “I hear you've got a