The Improbability of Forever (Kismet #2) ✓

21. A Disaster in the Making

Twenty-One

A Disaster in the Making

Sure enough, Providence Prep proms were decked out.  There was a velvet red carpet stretching through the lobby, taking Andrew and I to where Ms. Smith was checking tickets.  When Andrew handed her ours, she smiled and surveyed us.

"Beautiful dress, Quinn," she said, handing back our tickets.  Andrew put them in the pocket of his tux.  "Take the stairs up to the second floor and have fun!"

We stepped out of line, letting the couple behind us take our spot.  When I walked, the sound of my heels on the floor stabbed at my temples.

The sight when we got up to the second floor was no less impressive—the room was decorated in mysterious shades of blue and green, and the lighting was dim.  When I looked around, I saw people mingling in fancy dresses and tuxes, experimenting with holding their masks up to their faces.

"This is crazy," I said as we were handed two programs and two masks.  Sure enough, a casino in the other room was advertised along with a dessert bar and the announcement of prom king and queen.  "I've never been to anything this fancy."

I stopped to look at our masks, admiring the intricate detail in each one.  Mine was aqua blue with silver designs that glittered in the lights, and Andrew's was black and gold.  When I turned to hand it to him, I saw that he was gone.

He was already at the drink station, where he filled two cups with water and handed one of them to me.  "It's a lot more elaborate than last year.  Look, they even have ice sculptures in the shape of masks."

I reached out and ran my finger along on of them, then wiped it on my skirt.  I wondered how long it would be before they melted.

"There's not a lot of people on the dance floor yet," Andrew commented, sipping on his water.  "Want to get it started?"

"Sure!"  One of my favorite songs was streaming over the speakers.  Tugging at Andrew's hand, I pulled him to the center of the dance floor and promptly began jamming out.  A few juniors and seniors were already sprinkled around us—one couple seemed to think the song was appropriate for a romantic slow dance.

One of the other couples enveloped Andrew into their circle, and he took me with him.  It was fun for a few seconds, to feel included in this upperclassmen-only group, but then I began to feel completely out of place.  I couldn't remember either of the students' names—I was actually positive I'd never seen the guy in my life—and they were dancing in some mocking interpretation of a teacher I'd never had.

Still, I bobbed my head for a few seconds in time to the beat before one of Andrew's girl friends grabbed him and they began dancing.  Biting my lip, I cut out of the group and went back for a water refill.

My feet were already killing me, so I kicked them off against the wall and kept walking.  In the few minutes I'd been on the dance floor, a cake had been set out next to the water, and I gratefully cut myself a piece.

I was standing along the side of the dance floor when a junior I barely recognized walked up to me, her eyebrows furrowed together.

"Quinn, right?" she asked.  When I nodded, she said, "I'm Danielle.  You're Andrew's date?"

I nodded again, feeling like a puppet required to nod every time this girl spoke.

"Well then why aren't you on the dance floor with him?"

I stuffed another bite of cake in my mouth.  "My feet hurt," I said, "so I took off my shoes.  Then I saw the cake."  As with everything else at the prom, the cake was extravagant—it was marble cake with elaborate designs, and I'd felt awful cutting the first slice until I tasted it and realized how delicious it was.