Valentina Karas

"What the fuck do we have here?"

I pinch myself to confirm I'm not hallucinating the ridiculously long line in front of the boutique. An assortment of predominantly teenage girl shoppers stand in front of us, waiting for the door to open. Some are joined by their moms while others look like they're shopping with a friend group. 

Where I live, dances are serious business. It makes students lose their marbles: guys have to worry about finding dates while girls search for the dress like a rare jewel. Every year, stores say they're ready to handle school dance season and the influx of stressed teenage girls who tirelessly search every store in town hits the workers like an unprovoked tornado. Even though guys rarely approach me, I manage to enjoy dancing with my friends. 

The line goes by fast. Before shoppers disperse into different corners of the quaint store, they receive a welcoming smile from an employee inside. Workers are distributed throughout, happily helping out customers and putting in their professional two cents. The boutique's claim to fame is its unique merchandise people have to take out a second mortgage to be able to buy. None of it would happen without its workers, known for being attentive and excited to help you.

I don't shop at Begonia's often but when I do, the customer service is hit or miss. No one's blatantly rude to me, but I don't hear them making snide comments about their thinner customers. Sometimes the workers forget they have to be nice to me and aren't slick about the glares they shoot my way. Their clothes are cute, but you have to be on Ozempic to fit into them. 

My small friends find three or four dresses they like right off the bat without having to double check the size. On the other hand, I get my feelings hurt when a dress that might be a contender doesn't run bigger than a medium. 

There's already a six person deep line for the fitting rooms as people excitedly show off their picks. Girls my age hold a stack of the drop dead gorgeous Homecoming dresses Begonia's is known for, but older customers opt for tops and other clothing since they are a few decades too old for high school dances.

Out of all of the racks of dresses, tops, and more, only a quarter of their merchandise fits me. Almost everything is a tight squeeze and I have to sacrifice breathing properly for something to wear. At a size fourteen, I wear the largest size they sell and can't imagine how alienated bigger women feel.

A flash of red wine colored fabric catches my eye. I immediately get curious; I always knew my senior prom dress would be the elegant and sultry color, so maybe it's a sign. Rather than regular spaghetti straps, the sleeves are ribbons tied like they're meant for Christmas presents. I can tell it hugs every part of the wearer's body. It's a little shorter than I'm comfortable with, but it's pretty. I search for one in my size, lucking out when a tag on one of them reads XL. 

My friends are in line for the fitting rooms with dresses of their own. They found several at the same time it took me to search for one I like that actually fits. I glance around the boutique, my impatience starting to get the best of me. The pressure to find the perfect dress is building, and I don't want to leave empty-handed.

"Everything ok, V?" Katelyn calls over, noticing my distress.

I shoot her a soft smile, praying my stress doesn't show on my face. Her perceptive expression lets me know I'm not hiding my nerves as well as I think I am, but she drops it and chats with Layla and Riley.

My eyes scan the racks for something as stunning as the red dress, but my luck only lasted for so long. Not finding anything my size slowly eats away at my patience. A few nearby workers stop what they're doing to not so subtly gawk at the big girl in their store. 

Their stares make my inner child cry. At the beginning of middle school, I was already a whopping 100 pounds. Being short for my age and having braces didn't help my case in the slightest. Unfortunately that means people's unprofessional sides come out. I've heard my fair share of nasty things said about me by women double or triple my age. 

My phone vibrates, distracting me from my less than pleasant memories. It's just Layla assuring me there's no rush. My perceptive friend always knows what to say, but it doesn't eradicate the stress coursing through me.

I'm close to throwing the towel in and explaining to my friends this isn't the store for me when an employee and I make eye contact. She sends a genuine smile my way, the opposite of the forced niceness I'm used to in stores like this.

"Do you need help?" She asks, eyeing the singular dress I'm carrying. I note the look in her eyes is more helpful than annoyed at my presence. 

"Uh..." I feel naked under the worker's gaze, not expecting her to offer her help. Like the rest of her colleagues, she can't be bigger than a size eight. "I think so."

She sniffs out my nerves and gives my forearm a gentle squeeze. "Don't worry, I don't bite." 

"Good," I chuckle, feeling a little more at ease. "This is kinda embarrassing, but where are your extra large Homecoming dresses?"

The worker points to three racks situated in the middle of the store. "You should have the most luck in that section, but they're spread throughout the store. Come with me." 

I follow her to the middle of the store and start browsing the racks. As I decide what I like, her curious voice startles me. "So, what's your dream dress?"

I turn to her and observe the Sierra name tag pinned to her Hawaii sweatshirt. "That's a good question. I just want to feel pretty for a night."

Sierra nods. "Valid." Gesturing towards the dress I'm already trying on, she adds, "I think that one will look stunning on you, but we can certainly look."

Thanks to Sierra's guidance, we find six or seven, the majority of them nothing I'd pick on my own. Regardless of my comfort zone, they're all gorgeous and I might find a winner among them.

I thank Sierra for her help and get in the slow moving line. My friends are still in the same place in line, so I join them.

"Hey, V. As you can tell, the line's moving pretty fast," Riley deadpans, gesturing towards the people in front of us who mirror my friends' impatience. It looks like she's trying on so many dresses she needs both hands to carry them. Despite having at least nine or ten picked, two thirds of them are black.

Katelyn rolls her eyes, holding her own stack. "You can say that again, Ry." Unlike the redhead, there's more variety in my newly cuffed best friend's picks. Katelyn has everything from gold and silver sequined gowns that will no doubt look stunning on her bronzed skin to a few simple pastel dresses. Either way, I have no doubt Sawyer won't be able to take his eyes off of his gorgeous girlfriend. 

Even Layla, the most gentle and patient out of the friend group, doesn't look like a fan of the line we found ourselves in. This girl could spend all day waiting for a ride at Disney World without lashing out or making some passive aggressive remark. Like Riley, it looks like she has specific colors in mind. Layla holds a variety of white and sage green dresses.

The line dwindles quickly and we soon disperse into separate changing rooms. I lock the door behind me and appreciate the tight but well decorated space I'm in. White LED lights frame the full length mirror and there are gold hooks for clothes, blue flowers adorning the off-white wallpaper. There are also sticky notes on the mirror that read uplifting things like you look so good and have a good day. 

In theory, they're supposed to assuage my traumatic shopping experiences of the past. They do nothing to make me feel better when I strip down to my underwear. My reflection reminds me I look nothing like my friends nor most of the girls at school. I guess I have curves, but that doesn't matter because I have arms like a lunch lady and my stomach is far from flat. At some point, I went from hating my body to merely accepting the way I was made. 

I want to like the first dress, strapless and lavender, but my body ruins it. Rather than feeling remotely beautiful in it, I look and feel like an NFL linebacker. 

Dress number two was underwhelming, the way it appeared on the hanger a far cry from how it looks on me. The following one isn't much better, making my back fat the star of the show.

Okay, so the first three options sucked. I don't have high hopes about the rest of them that hang from the gold hook on the floral wall. The red dress I initially fell in love with is the only one I'm not freaked out about trying on, so I put it on next.

I underestimated this one. The red wine fabric marries my skin, evidently the perfect match for each other. It fits me like a glove, hugging my hips and making my boobs look a little perkier without emphasizing the crescent moon of my stomach too much. In terms of length, it's a little bit on the scandalous side. 

"V?" Riley's voice interrupts my thoughts. "Can I see you?" 

"Uh...sure." I unlock my door and strike an awkward pose for the redhead only for her to barely contain her laughter. "Is something wrong?"

"Why do you look so stiff?" The teasing look on her face coupled with the black, one-shoulder dress she has on reminds me of Maleficent in the best way possible. 

Before I can defend my awkward pose, she cuts me off. "All jokes aside, you look hot." The mask of seriousness lifts from the redhead's face, a genuine smile replacing it. "I'd stop trying them on now, but it's up to you."

"We're here." Layla and Katelyn appear behind the redhead, their eyes widening in unison when they see me. 

"Oh my god, V, that dress is amazing!" Katelyn exclaims, her eyes sparkling with approval. She wears a strapless sky blue dress with a white stripe on its neckline hugs every curve of her toned body and makes her Dominican Republic tan pop.

Layla nods in agreement. "You look gorgeous." Her dress is emerald green with thin straps and looks like it's made of satin. It's a little bit shorter than my dress, showcasing her long legs. 

"This one's probably my favorite so far," I explain, smoothing out the soft material. "You guys look good too."

A few older shoppers shoot my group a dirty look, so we return to our respective changing rooms. I lock the door behind me and unzip the zipper. The changing rooms have three hooks each. Since the absolutely not dresses are on the left, I place my first option on the right hanger. 

Dress number five is coral pink and satin and around the same length as the previous one. It's stunning on me and the orangey-pink is my color, but it feels a bit copy and paste. I saw a lot of girls at my school's Homecoming in satin dresses and I don't feel like copying everyone else. I feel beautiful in the last two, one white with long sleeves and the other a pastel yellow made from a stretchy material with ruffles on the bottom.

With three gorgeous dresses to choose from, I consult my friends for a second opinion. Their hyping me up is appreciated, but pretty damn unhelpful when you only need one dress. 

I hold the three finalists up one by one, my heart fluttering with excitement and nerves. Each dress has something unique, something that makes it stand out and makes me feel beautiful. The decision feels impossible. As I step out of the fitting room, my friends are waiting with eager eyes, ready to help me make the final choice.

"Okay, girls," I say, holding up the dresses. "I need your help."

Riley, Layla, and Katelyn gather around, their eyes wide with admiration. "You've really outdone yourself," Riley says, giving me a reassuring smile. "Any of these would be perfect."

I roll my eyes and let an involuntary smile grace my lips. "Be more brutally honest than that, Ry. I need to figure this out ASAP."

"The white was stunning on you," Layla offers. 

Katelyn narrows her eyes at Layla and puts a hand on my shoulder. "The yellow brought out your natural glow, V."

Riley shakes her head at the other two. "If you wear the first one, Asher's gonna take it off of you by the end of the night." My friends find my face turning redder than a horrible sunburn at Riley's insinuation hilarious and can't stop laughing. 

Once she stops laughing at my expense, Katelyn steps closer, studying the dresses thoughtfully. "You can't go wrong with any of them, but which one makes you feel the best?"

I take a deep breath, looking at myself in the mirror. Each dress has its own charm, its own way of making me feel special. The red wine dress is confident and seductive, the white with long sleeves is elegant and simple, and the pastel yellow is fresh and unique.

"I think I know which one," I say softly, my mind made up. 

~

Unsurprisingly, the checkout line wraps around more than half of the store. It's predominantly the older crowd who aren't having a quarter life crisis over what they're wearing to a school dance they might not even get to attend. 

I consider the fate of my dress if Asher doesn't ask me soon. Returning it is an option, but I imagine holding onto it for Winter Formal in January, hoping my life will have calmed down by then. The thought of the dress hanging in my closet, waiting for a moment that might never come, is oddly comforting and disheartening at the same time.

It's probably not a surprise the checkout line inches along, the two cashiers finding it impossible to handle all of the traffic. In a mere span of an hour after opening, they're already stressed out and aren't looking forward to further slowness later in the day. Not even their perfectly applied eye makeup hides the silent tears in their eyes.

Katelyn looks oddly excited to be in a line moving along at a snails pace. "One more week, bitches." To be honest, I can't blame my best friend for her good mood. She can officially call the strange but hilarious blonde guy she's been losing sleep over her boyfriend and she's on an impenetrable cloud nine. 

"We're going to look so good," Riley squeals, my best friend's enthusiasm rubbing off on her and making her forget she ever complained about the checkout line. 

Must be nice to actually be certain you can go to private school Homecoming. I don't have much to contribute to the conversation other than silently taking pleasure in my friends' excitement. Just because the situation back at my house is less than ideal doesn't mean they deserve to be dragged into the constant tension and uncertainty. 

While I was in my head about Asher and my brother's welfare, Katelyn struck up a conversation with the girls behind us. Her beauty makes other girls envious and fear her, but she is so easygoing and caring that it's impossible not to fall in love with her. 

Finally, we reach the front of the line, and I step up to the counter with my dress. The cashier offers a tired but genuine smile as she scans the tag and folds the fabric carefully. The boutique thinks it's Gucci's rival so the dress' price made me clutch my pearls, but the confidence it brings me makes it worth every penny. As the cashier scans the dress' tag, it hits me I'm counting my chickens before they hatch and hurting my own feelings in the process.

So far, we've been snapping back and forth with the occasional check ins a few times a day. It's refreshing to meet someone hot and rich but doesn't use it as an excuse to be stuck up. My friends are urging me to make something happen but there's no telling if he likes me or just feels bad and wants to help in any capacity he can. Part of me hopes inviting me to his basketball games and his words of encouragement are something more than being a polite new friend.

I leave my trepidation behind and join my carefree friends, trying to match their energy but still not feeling too great about the entire situation.

~

"So guys," Katelyn says in the middle of lunch, "Sawyer just reminded me about the after party. Did y'all's dates mention it at all?"

We're seated inside of Guac N' Roll, a Mexican restaurant loved by big families, college students, and late night bargoers in need of a hangover cure alike. It started as a hole in the wall started by three brothers from California who learned how to cook a variety of dishes about thirty or so years ago. Its popularity and out of this world food give the restaurant bragging rights, but you're guaranteed great service and its waiters don't believe they're better than everyone. Tennessee may not have the beaches California brags, but that doesn't discourage the restaurant's surf shop inspired decor including mesh hammocks and photos of famous surfers everywhere who are tanner than anyone I know here in Tennessee.

Layla and Riley nod, but there's no surprise I know nothing about Mountain View's Homecoming festivities. From my best friend's explanation, it's at a different house than the one we went to a few weeks ago and the theme is all black. 

 The party is pretty trivial in itself, but I can't help but feel a twinge of envy towards my friends' social life. Katelyn, with her effortless charm and new relationship, is glowing with happiness. Riley's excitement is the one contagious disease I wouldn't mind contracting, and Layla's calm presence is reassuring and puts everything into perspective like a knowledgeable therapist. Their energy should rub off on me, but the looming uncertainty in my life keeps me grounded in reality.

"I love whoever came up with the dress code." Having just purchased a stunning black dress for Homecoming, Riley looks delighted she doesn't have to figure out a separate outfit to be on theme for the party. She'll blend right in just as easily as she was the life of the last party without knowing anyone.

I force a smile, trying to match their enthusiasm, but my thoughts are elsewhere. The after party sounds fun, but I'm still caught up in the whirlwind of everything happening at home. It's hard to fully immerse myself in the excitement when Ronan's health and my parents' strained relationship weigh heavily on my mind.

As if sensing my unease, Layla gives my hand a reassuring squeeze and brings me back to reality. "Hey, V, you should come. It'll be a good distraction, you know?"

Katelyn's eyes light up with a mischievous sparkle. "I'll bet twenty dollars something will finally happen between you and Asher."

Her comment catches me off guard, and I can feel my cheeks heat up. "I can't do that," I mutter, avoiding eye contact. If I don't have a connection to anyone at Mountain View, imagine how stupid I'll look at a random person who doesn't know I exist's house. Despite my doubts, the thought of seeing Asher at the party sends a flutter of excitement through me. 

Riley, the fearless and spontaneous opposite of me, frowns. "Suit yourself, but you only get one last hurrah before you go to Vanderbilt."

Layla shakes her head. "Just do what you're comfortable with, okay? We want you to be happy but we get life sucks too." 

"I'll think about it," I lie, knowing I'll do nothing to get ready and overthink myself into insanity. It feels like letting down a bunch of five year old kids by telling them Santa isn't real, only to have them counter with every reason why he does.

As they passionately defend their beliefs, I can't help but hope there's some truth to what they're saying. 

~

hello everyone. I swear I don't want to go back to school lol.

what a chapter...any guesses on what dress she went with? i'd appreciate your guesses haha. may or may not reveal it later on.

in the next chapter asher come to his senses so stay tuned