everything perfect. I wish I could, but I can only do the best I can. And I--" He took a deep,
shuddering breath. "I'll always be your home. And you'll always be mine. And I hope that
someday this will feel like your home, too."
I knew if I tried to say something, I'd start bawling.
"So here's the deal, kiddo." He dug a handkerchief
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out of his pocket and blew his nose. "I'm going to be home for another week. Then I'm going
back to San Francisco for two more weeks. And after that, if I can't work on things from the New
York office, I told them they're going to have to finish up without me." He squeezed my
shoulders. "What do you say to that?"
I opened my mouth to answer him, and a really loud sob came out. I put my hand on my mouth
and shook my head.
"Is that a 'No' head shake or an 'Okay' head shake?" I shook my head again. "No?" said my dad. I shook my head again.
"Okay," he said. I could tell from his voice that he was smiling.
I nodded, and he handed me his handkerchief. "It's a bit worse for wear," he said.
I blew my nose, loud, and took a deep breath. Then we sat there, not saying anything, just
looking at the painting together.
Finally I wiped my eyes on my sleeve. "I guess I should get going," I said.
"I guess so," he said.
Just as I stood up, there was a pounding above our heads. Seconds later, Emma and Amy came
tumbling down the stairs. "We want to see Lucy in her dress. We want to see Lucy in her dress!"
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They stopped short when they saw me. "What are you wearing?" they demanded. "Where's your
dress?"
I pointed at the garment bag. "It's over there. I'm getting dressed at Madison's."
"What?" They looked at me like I'd just announced my intention to eat one of them for dinner.
"But you can't! You have to get dressed here!"
"Lucy, you have to let us help you."
"I don't really need help getting dressed."
Emma circled around the bed. "You know what we mean."
"I'd love to see you in the dress," said my dad. "Unless that would ruin your plans."
"Yeah, Lucy," said Emma. "You put it on now."
"Yeah," echoed Amy. "Put it on."
Emma, sensing my resolve was weakening, took advantage of her opportunity. "Okay, we're
going to go upstairs, and then we'll come back in five minutes, and you have the dress on." She
started herding everyone upstairs in front of her. "Come on" she said when my dad hesitated.
"Move it." Once she'd gotten everyone onto the staircase, Emma turned back to me. "Five
minutes," she said.
I listened to the door shut behind the three of them, and then I walked over to the dress. I took a
long time removing my jeans and my T-shirt, folding them perfectly and putting them "away"
onto their respective piles on
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the floor. Then I slipped out of my bra and slid the garment bag off the hanger, removing the
pins that, since there were no straps, were holding the dress in place. I'd barely had time to step
into it and reach around to zip the bottom half of the zipper before the door to the basement flew
open.
"We're coming down, Lucy," yelled Amy.
"Yeah, ready or not, here we come," yelled Emma. And in a second, they were standing next to
me. My dad and Mara followed more slowly, Mara coming all the way into the basement, my
dad sitting on the bottom step.
"Ooooh," said Emma.
"Mmmmm," said Amy.
"It's sooo pretty," said Emma. "I love it," said Amy.
They circled around me, evaluating the dress from different angles.
"It's really beautiful, Lucy," said my dad.
Mara walked over to me and put her hand on my back. "May I?"
"Sure," I said, letting go of the fabric so she could zip the zipper. For a second it felt like it was going to be too tight, but she coaxed it up until it closed all the way.
"It's lovely," she said, stepping back and surveying me.
"What shoes are you wearing?" asked Emma. "Yeah, what shoes?" asked Amy.
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"Those." I pointed at my bag. The toe of one of my black pumps was sticking out the top.
"What?" shrieked Amy. "Are you crazy?" This from Emma. "Girls!" said my dad sharply.
"Sorry," said Emma. "Yeah, sorry," said Amy.
"I don't have anything else," I explained. "Sorry."
Emma started jumping up and down, practically bursting with frustration. "You have to wear
strappy shoes," she said.
"You have to wear gold strappy shoes," said Amy, jumping up and down with her.
Emma stopped jumping and made a face of disgust at Amy. "She's not wearing gold shoes," she
said. "Do you live in a trailer or something? Silver. She has to wear silver sandals."
Before Amy could respond, I stepped in. "Well, guess what, ladies, I hate to break it to you, but
she's not wearing gold or silver. It's black pumps or barefoot." I found myself looking over at my dad for confirmation of my decision.
He shrugged. "Those shoes look nice to me." If my dad hadn't once paired a plaid sports jacket
with striped pants, his assessment of my footwear would have been much more comforting.
And then suddenly, out of nowhere, just as I was wondering if maybe going barefoot wasn't the
solution
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to my whole problem, Mara said, "Did you want silver shoes to wear?"
"Yes!" Emma and Amy shouted.
I shrugged. "Why, do you have a magic wand?"
"Not exactly," she said. "But I do have a pair of silver shoes in my closet."
By the time we arrived at Madison's, her driveway was filled with cars, and cars lined the street
in front of the house. I tried just saying good-bye to my dad, Mara, Emma, and Amy, but once
Emma and Amy figured out that other people's families were staying for cocktails, they refused
to leave.
The party was being held in the backyard. I saw Connor across the lawn standing with Matt and
Dave. He looked really handsome in his tuxedo, so much so that I couldn't believe my mental
picture of prom had produced Sam instead of him. When he saw me, he gestured that I was to
stay where I was and then went into the house. A minute later he came over to where I was
standing.
"Yo, baby!" he said, taking in my dress and hair. "You're looking mighty fine." He slid a corsage of white gardenias over my wrist. "Here you go, Red," he said. The flowers smelled rich and
thick, and I put them up to my nose and inhaled deeply.
"Thanks," I said.
I'd planned on wearing a pearl necklace of my mom's, but Emma and Amy had convinced me it
was too
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Town and Country, so I had on a long necklace of crystal beads that wrapped tightly around my
neck like a choker, then fell halfway down my back.
"Look," Amy had said when I was finally outfitted to her satisfaction, "something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue."
"That's a wedding, you freak," said Emma. "Not a prom."
Amy shrugged. "Whatev."
Emma and Amy had worked on my hair, helping me put it up in a high, complicated bun. They
wanted me to look just like a photo they'd seen in TeenVogue of the Princess of Liechtenstein