A Boy Named Pony - A Sequel to East West Sunset

Chapter Twenty-Six - Betty

He finally asked me to the winter formal on Monday, 5 days before the dance was set to take place. He had apologized, too, and of course, I decided to believe him again. Why? Because I figured his brothers had finally knocked some sense into him, and therefore the apology was genuine. I figured he could only lie so many times before he was worn down into only telling the truth. 

To be sure, something had irrevocably shifted between us. The honeymoon phase had well and truly ended, at least for me, but in a way I was glad. When he walked me to class, waited for me by my locker, waved goodbye from the sidewalk as my bus pulled away, I no longer felt that vague sense of awestruck worship, and accompanying shame, that used to swamp me whenever I looked at him. Instead, all of my emotions felt softer somehow, almost muted. I couldn't decide if I loved him any less or if I was just falling into a more comfortable, steady love. Either way, both prospects terrified me for some reason, and I tried to push my anxiety away for the most part. I threw myself into my schoolwork, acing my algebra test and cranking out two new pieces for my collage in one week, in order to distract myself into thinking that everything was fine.

On Friday, I flew home after school, an anxious mess. I wasn't expecting it to take very long for me to get ready, but for some reason now that the time had come I became convinced that I had not allotted nearly enough time. There was so much to do! Ponyboy had said he'd be around at six thirty to pick me up - that left a little over three hours for me to shower, get dressed, and do my hair and makeup. 

Never mind that all of those things usually took me no longer than an hour and a half combined, but I was focusing on the worst case scenario at the moment.

I had the house to myself, which was a relief. My father had said he'd be home from work early, at around six, so he could be there when Ponyboy arrived. "I just want to meet the kid, not beat him up or anything, I swear," he'd assured me, when I'd shot him a look laden with suspicion. I wasn't sure if I believed him, so that only added to my anxiety. 

I took fifteen minute shower, forcing myself to stand beneath the scalding water and relax just a little bit. I took extra care scrubbing each inch of skin with a clean cotton washcloth. When I was done, I felt like I'd walked through an automated car wash on foot, raw and uncomfortable, and not even a little bit relaxed.

The dress I'd chosen to wear was a pale yellow color with faint white polka dots. It was short, in the fashionable mod style, with a belt of plastic daisies right below the bust. The sleeves billowed out kind of like the sleeves on Cinderella's ball gown from the Disney movie. I had decided to pair it with a pair of white Mary Jane flats and lacy, ankle-high socks. 

A/N ~ (I found this dress in a Sears catalog from 1969 and I just had to include it somehow, it's so cute!)

Once my hair had been dried, I brushed through it again and again, tricking myself into thinking I saw gnarls and tangles where there really were none. I frowned at myself in the bathroom mirror. Would it be all right if I just let my hair down? Or was Pony expecting me to attempt some sort of updo? I had no idea, so I just brushed and brushed it until it gleamed in the harsh light from the sconce above the sink.