Page 66 of Spite

Chapter Twenty-Four

Today was the day. Well, tonight was the night, technically, since the dance didn’t start until seven. Seven to eleven. Four hours of high school kids dancing, sweating, almost having sex on the dance floor while teachers and parent volunteers looked on. I was as ready as I would ever be for this.

Georgia was coming over to get ready. I’d already told Alec and Xander that I would meet them there. Christian was set to get here at six forty-five, which left some time for pictures, because apparently my dad and Diane wanted to commemorate the night.

Speaking of Diane, there was something I had to do before Georgia came over.

I found Diane in the kitchen with my dad, giggling at something he’d said. Giggling, like a girl. Like a smitten, love-struck girl. Had he stepped out on her like he did on Mom, or had he been faithful? Did he cheat on Mom solely because he’d realized he wanted Diane instead? At this point, I didn’t know, and I was tired of thinking about it. If she was pregnant, if they were going to have a new family together, I owed it to them both to be nice.

“Diane, can I talk to you?” I asked, glancing at my dad. He studied me, must’ve seen that I was not raring for a fight, and then left the room, giving us some semblance of privacy.

“What is it, Elle?” Her voice was strained. She wasn’t sure what this was about, if she should be on guard or not. I couldn’t blame her. I’d been a raging bitch to her most of the time, but starting today, I was going to change that.

I breathed in through my nose, heaving the greatest breath I could, stalling for as long as possible before I said, “I’m sorry. For everything. I’m sorry I’ve been bitchy and distant, and I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you.” God, this apology was harder to say aloud than I thought it would be, but that didn’t stop me. “You’ve been nothing but kind to me, and for the longest time, I didn’t want to look at you, let alone live under the same roof as you.”

“Elle, I—” Her azure stare fell to the floor, her yellow hair tucked neatly behind her ears. I didn’t let her continue, because I wasn’t done.

“I’m sorry I never came over, that I didn’t come to the wedding. There’s a long list of other things I’m sorry for, but if I go through it all, we’ll be here all night, and I have a dance to get ready for.” I watched Diane’s lips slowly curve into a smile before I added, “Oh, and—” Feeling a bit awkward, I reached for her, pulling her in for a gentle hug. “—thank you for the shoes. They’re beautiful.”

Diane hugged me hard, sniffing into my ear.

When I pulled back, I gave her a look. “Tell me the hormones aren’t affecting you already. Isn’t it a bit early for that?” She laughed, just as the doorbell rang, and I went to grab it.

Georgia stood, clutching her heels in one hand and the dress in the other, along with a small bag thrown over her shoulder, with her makeup and accessories. “Who’s ready for this thing?” she asked, stepping inside with a wide smile on her face. I almost didn’t recognize her, she was so giddy.

“You, apparently,” I laughed. “Come on.” I led her up the stairs.

We spent the next few hours laughing and doing our makeup and hair, curling it and using a shit ton of hairspray. I told her the plan, and she was down for it. She would be my perfect distraction.

I helped her get into her dress first. She’d chosen a knee-length pink dress, a soft hue against her pale, freckled skin. Most of her red hair was pinned up, but some ringlets fell on her right shoulder, creating an almost regal look. Her green eyes were done up with mascara and black eyeliner; she wasn’t a fan of heapings of eyeshadow, so I kept my pallets to myself.

She sat on my bed as she tugged on her shoes, two inch heels that showed her sparkly, silver-painted toes. When she stood, she did a little twirl. “How do I look?”

“You look amazing,” I said, telling her nothing but the truth. I’d never seen her so dolled up, and I couldn’t remember ever seeing her smile so much. “My turn.” I grabbed my dress and headed into the bathroom to change.

When I came back into my room, Georgia nearly tripped when she saw me. That, or she wasn’t used to walking in heels. “Holy crap,” she said. “I knew that dress was made for you.”

I’d agree with her on that one. Its satin fabric was a deep, luscious red, the color of wine. Strapless, it hugged my chest and my waist tightly, revealing my curves until its lengths tumbled down at my hips, a long gown that dragged on the floor a bit—but it wouldn’t once I put on Diane’s heels. Rhinestones were sewed into its tresses, adding a bit of sparkliness, a bit of flair.

I loved the dress. I looked like a model in it, especially with my makeup and hair curled. Glancing in the mirror, I could hardly recognize myself. No words could describe how confident I felt in this dress, even if that confidence was undeserved.

Once Diane’s shoes were on my feet and I slid what I needed to between my breasts, Georgia and I headed downstairs, where my dad and Diane were waiting. My dad asked, “Georgia, are you parents coming over to take pictures?”

“It’s just my dad,” she said with a shrug. “And I told him not to.”

“Okay, well, let’s get some pictures of you girls,” he went on, whipping out his phone. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as I handed him mine instead.

We did all the poses we could. Silly poses, serious poses, poses where we contemplated life itself for a few short moments before bursting out and laughing. My cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

It was Diane who said, “While you were upstairs getting ready, your father and I had a talk.” She glanced to my dad, who nodded. “We’re ending your punishment. You’re no longer grounded. If you want to go over Georgia’s house after the dance, or if there’s any after parties—” At that, my dad let out a groan, but Diane pretended not to hear him. “—you can go.”

All because I apologized to her? Well, if I would’ve known that, I would’ve apologized sooner.

Joking, mostly, because before tonight, I wasn’t ready to make up with her.

A car pulled in the driveway, and my dad peered out the window, watching as Christian walked to the front door. “Looks like your date is here.” My dad didn’t sound happy. Whether or not he knew Christian was one of the boys who’d bullied me back in junior high and elementary, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know if I ever told him.

My dad beat me to the door the moment Christian rang the bell, and as Christian said “Good to meet you, sir,” they shook hands.

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