Storytime! The First Dance.
Apr. 28th, 2004 04:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bloodsong1"Remind me again why I'm doing this?"
"Because you didn't go to Prom? Either year?"
"Geez, Candace. That was high school for gods' sake. We're in college now. You know what these parties are like. Lots of booze, bad food and groping hands."
"Look, Sher, you agreed to go. So you're going."
"I agreed under extreme duress. You had me in a headlock."
"Which you could've broken easily and you didn't. Now hold still. I want to get this curled."
I growl under my breath and hold still. Candace grins at me in her vanity mirror. How she managed to squeeze this thing into our dorm room is something the physics students would have a ball with. She rolls a lock of hair around a curling iron. I glare at my reflection. She's right. I did agree to go to this dance. "Why" is still bouncing around my head, demanding an answer. I'm not the dancing type. Especially this so called "formal" dance. Formal dances are for old people and rich snobs. I avoided Prom on principle. That and no one asked me. No way was I going to show up at one of those snob-fests without a date. I didn't need the headache then or now. And what kind of club sponsers a formal dance anyway? Cotillion? The Skulls?
"All done!" I blink and stare. Candace is grinning like a Chesire cat. My hair looks...good. She put it up in a high ponytail and then curled the tail into a cluster of loose ringlets. I can barely see the sparkly scrunchie she used.
"Wow. I'm impressed, Candy."
"Go put your dress on, Sher. Remember to step into it."
"Yeah, yeah." I stand and walk to our closet. Candy plunks down and stars working on her hair. I grin in spite of myself. Candy loves to play dress up, even now. I don't know how many times she talked me into being a Barbie for her. Although I can't complain. Her skill at second-hand shopping has resulted in a lot of good costumes.
"Because you didn't go to Prom? Either year?"
"Geez, Candace. That was high school for gods' sake. We're in college now. You know what these parties are like. Lots of booze, bad food and groping hands."
"Look, Sher, you agreed to go. So you're going."
"I agreed under extreme duress. You had me in a headlock."
"Which you could've broken easily and you didn't. Now hold still. I want to get this curled."
I growl under my breath and hold still. Candace grins at me in her vanity mirror. How she managed to squeeze this thing into our dorm room is something the physics students would have a ball with. She rolls a lock of hair around a curling iron. I glare at my reflection. She's right. I did agree to go to this dance. "Why" is still bouncing around my head, demanding an answer. I'm not the dancing type. Especially this so called "formal" dance. Formal dances are for old people and rich snobs. I avoided Prom on principle. That and no one asked me. No way was I going to show up at one of those snob-fests without a date. I didn't need the headache then or now. And what kind of club sponsers a formal dance anyway? Cotillion? The Skulls?
"All done!" I blink and stare. Candace is grinning like a Chesire cat. My hair looks...good. She put it up in a high ponytail and then curled the tail into a cluster of loose ringlets. I can barely see the sparkly scrunchie she used.
"Wow. I'm impressed, Candy."
"Go put your dress on, Sher. Remember to step into it."
"Yeah, yeah." I stand and walk to our closet. Candy plunks down and stars working on her hair. I grin in spite of myself. Candy loves to play dress up, even now. I don't know how many times she talked me into being a Barbie for her. Although I can't complain. Her skill at second-hand shopping has resulted in a lot of good costumes.
