Sing Me To Sleep Part 9

"What gives? I thought your face was getting better."

Like I'm going to tell my mother what's on my mind right now. I'm sure she'd really appreciate a conversation about Scott's s.e.xy shoulders. "I'm just tired. Practice last night went late." And then I had to drive all the way home from Ann Arbor-didn't get back until one in the morning.

"Would you like to take this afternoon off school?"

"Yeah. That would be great."

"Good. Walk to the office and pa.s.s the phone off so I can get you excused. I've got an appointment for you, and then you can sleep all afternoon."

"An appointment? Not you, too."

"It won't take long. Meet me at home. I need to drive you."

It must be major. She's taking off work. "Mom . . . "

"Please, Beth. Humor me on this one." Her voice sounds excited-as bubbly as an accountant is ever going to get.

"What's going on?"

"I thought of something they haven't."

"I feel like Frankenstein."

"You mean his monster?"

"Yeah. You and Meadow's mom can fight over the mad-scientist part."

"You may not realize it yet, but what's happening to you is big. I'm going to be a part of it."

"Clapping in the audience isn't good enough anymore?"

"I'm not going to be in Switzerland like them."

"You're jealous of Meadow's mom?"

"She's done so much for you."

"How can you even compare yourself to her?" It's tough to say this into a stupid cell phone while standing outside the office. "You're everything, Mom." My voice breaks and I have to whisper. "Where would I be without you?"

She sniffs. "I know it hasn't been easy for you. The boys-you used to come home crying from grade school." Until third grade. I had Scott to share it with after that. It made such a difference. "You hide it from me, but I can tell how they hurt you."

If Mom knew about the near-nude boy chained to my locker, that mask, a whole hall of guys howling when I walk by, all the creative ways high school boys can remind a girl she's d.a.m.n ugly. Less than human. Worthless. The way the girls shun me, too. No one ever wants to get stuck with me. If Mom knew, it would destroy her. "I look fine now."

"What about your gla.s.ses?"

"I won't wear them when we perform."

"Not good enough."

"You find some s.p.a.ce-age contacts?"

"Better."

A huge billboard I've driven by hundreds of times on my way down to choir unfurls through my brain. "Oh, no. Not more lasers."

"This will be easier than fixing your face. It just takes a few seconds."

"No, Mom. Please. Burning off zit scars is one thing, but that thing in my eyes?"

Her voice gets firm. "Suck it up, girl. Just one more step toward your genetic independence."

The hair. The acne. My awful eyesight. All from him. Now I see what she wants. No more reminders. No more guilt. Her daughter released from every curse he left behind. She wins. No way can I argue that one.

Monday I go to school for the first time without gla.s.ses. It's like I'm invisible. No one notices. No one says anything. Not even a single bark. I'm nuts, but negative attention is still acknowledgment.

I don't see Scott until choir.

"You trying contacts again? Not a good idea, Beth. You'll end up blind or something."

"Nope." I try to smile. "This is something more permanent."

"Did they dye your eyes now? They're really blue today."

"Maybe it's the drops. I had laser eye surgery Friday. Cool, huh? It makes me dizzy, but the doctor says my brain will adjust, and I'll have almost perfect vision."

"Whoa. You don't need gla.s.ses at all?"

"Don't lecture me, okay. I'm kind of shaky. Probably should have stayed home."

"No, no, of course not." He puts his arm behind me for support, rests his hand in the middle of my back, guides me up the tiers to our tenor seats. "This actually makes sense. It'll change your life. I can't believe the Cosmo team came up with it."

I don't sit yet, lean back against his hand-it feels so good. "It wasn't them. My mom kind of insisted on it. Remember grade school?"

Scott's empathetic, "Yeah," floats into my ear.

Squirrel Face. Viper. Boys stealing my gla.s.ses every recess. Four pairs got broken. The lenses were so heavy-always popping out. Scott rescued one pair from the boys' bathroom and got beat up for his trouble. "It still haunts my mom."

"Not you?" His hand moves to my elbow, and he steadies me into my chair.

"It is me."

"Not anymore, Beth." He sits beside me.

"It's not so easy to not be that girl anymore. You know what I mean?"

He nods. He's been there, too. And, snot that I am, I a.s.sumed he could shrug it off and go act like Mr. Charming to snag a girlfriend. He's a guy. No feelings allowed. He's supposed to just want action.

"Let's turn over a new leaf together." His hand returns to my back, moves up and down, gently soothing. "What do you say?"

"Remember when we were going to run away? In fifth grade? I'll make the sandwiches again, and we can take my car. How much cash do you have?"

"I was thinking we should face it this time." His hand stops moving. "Let's go to prom."

I laugh at that. "Like I could ever get a date."

He leans in closer. "I just asked you, stupid."

I stare at him. "You want to go with me?" My head shakes back and forth at how impossible that is. "I'm too tall."

"And I'm too short." He grins.

c.r.a.p, this is for real. "Will you make me dance?"

"Can you?" His hand, with arm attached, moves to my far shoulder.

"I doubt it."

He squeezes a hug into a split second. "I can teach you if you want." Scott dances? "I've been to loads of family weddings."

"Isn't there someone else you'd like to take?"

"You're kidding, right?"

"You're sweet, Scott, but maybe this isn't a good idea." My head won't stop slowly shaking no way. "I don't want to muck up our friends.h.i.+p."

His arm drops, hangs casually between us. He frowns. "Why can't friends go to prom together?"

"It won't creep you out?" I can't look at his face. "Going with me?"

"Hardly."

"Guess I need a dress." I stick my tongue out at him. "Meadow will be thrilled."

Scott sits up as tall as he can. "This I gotta see."

chapter 8.

PROM.

Prom ends up being the same night as our concert. Such a pain. Scott comes to the concert in his black tux, looking way too good to be my old grade school bud. We're leaving right after. Port High has a tradition of having its proms at a country club. We're going to be way late, but that's good. The party will be hopping, and we can lurk quietly in the back for a few songs and then leave.

Meadow peeks through the side door of the sanctuary before the concert starts and spots Scott in the audience. She takes him for an Amabile spy, searches the crowd wildly for Derek.

"No, that's my friend, Scott."

"Your prom date?"

"Yeah. We've been friends forever."

"He's way hot," Sarah chimes in. "Introduce me after."

Not on your life. I'd never sic Sarah on my poor, defenseless Scott.

Terri walks in from the side and takes a bow. She's in a gorgeous black outfit. Guess Meadow's mom got to her, too. She welcomes the crowd, says a spiel about golden Olympic dreams in Lausanne, and then we're singing. The numbers whirl by. Each one gets a lot of applause. The audience is our family and friends. They'll applaud anything.

Our finale is "Take Me Home." I nail my solo. The hall goes nuts when it's over. They are on their feet, pounding their hands together while we take a bow. Terri bows. The pianist bows. I have to step forward and bow by myself. Then we all bow together. The audience still claps. They won't shut up until we sing it again.

I'm surrounded when it's all over. Mom pushes her way through and gives me a big hug. "You're beautiful. And not just the outside." It's her gift that s.h.i.+nes through me. That is the only really stunning thing I have. She squeezes again. "I'm so proud of you."

Scott's waiting in the background. He does look nice in that tux. It accentuates his shoulders. Dang, those shoulders. Why do they get to me? He was going to get his hair cut for tonight, but I told him I wouldn't go if he did. He so liked that. I hope I can control myself this evening. I don't want to do something stupid and freak him out. He's being so nice to take me.

I finally shake the last hand, hug another old lady, and break away to change.

My prom dress is cream-colored silky stuff, almost the same style as our gowns, except the skirt hits me a few inches above my knee and the scoop neck shows more than my clavicle. Meadow insisted. I'm glad the acne all over my chest is history. This outfit definitely wouldn't have worked. I used a whole bottle of self-tanning lotion to get my legs tan. They turned out okay. My dress makes them look excessively long.

My mom's waiting around with Scott when I come out of the dressing room. She gets all teary and tells Scott we better be in by one.

One? Like we're going to be out that late.

"Sure."

"And what are you driving?" She stands close enough to whiff his breath.

I turn as crimson as our choir gowns. "Mom. It's Scott. Give it a rest."

He laughs. "My dad's BMW. Don't worry. I'll be careful."

We get out of there, and I can relax into the firm bucket seat. The leather smells good. Something else does, too. I think it's Scott. Aftershave? It's kind of intoxicating. I reek like hairspray-or worse. That concert was hard work. But it's not like Scott's even aware I'm in the car. He's way into driving. Guys are so easy to please. A powerful car at his fingertips, and Scott is in heaven.

"Hey"-he adjusts his grip on the steering wheel-"grab that cooler from the back."

I'm disappointed. I didn't expect Scott to bring booze. He's so not like that. He knows I'm not. "I can't believe you-"

"Open it."

I lift the cooler out of the back, put it on the floor between my feet, and flip up the lid. There's a large, pink cloth napkin on the top.

"My mom made me put that in-for your dress."

I peek under the napkin. There's a bottle of sparkling cider, plastic wine gla.s.ses, a couple of bulging wraps encased in plastic, and six big fat brownies. "What is this?"