My mother looks teary eyed as she stands at the bottom of the staircase. "You look so beautiful! Look at our little girl, Ben," She frantically taps my father's shoulder, trying to get his attention off my brother and sister fighting over the T.V. remote.
When Dad finally looks up, his hard exterior breaks. Just a little. "Oh, honey! Your mother's right. . . I don't know about that black dress though-"
He's cut off by Mom swatting him on the arm. "Leave her alone. It's beautiful! It's a beautiful dress, sweetheart. Tell her it's beautiful."
I laugh, looking down at the black silk and tulle party dress that my father doesn't approve of. It stops right above the knee, and of course doesn't cover my shoulders except for the thin, beaded spaghetti straps.
This was the dress I selected during my melancholy, my revelation about Axl. Inside, I was crying and wanted nothing more than to be home, watching romantic movies and wallowing in my own problems. Outside, I was in the middle of the Junior's section of the department store, being forced by my mother to "just pick a darn dress already!"
Sure, it's a little goth for prom, but it's fitting.
"Fine, fine," My father sighs deeply. "It's very pretty. I just don't know why it has to be so dark, that's all." His accent places a stress on the word dark, and it makes my mother roll her eyes.
"Look at your sister!" My mother snaps her fingers at Shawn and Layla, who are still bickering with one another.
Shawn makes a face. "You look like you're going to a funeral."
I roll my eyes now as I finish making it down the stairs, careful to hold onto the wooden railing and watch my footing in these heels. "Thanks. That's really nice!"
Layla tries to make up for our brother. "A fun funeral!"
My dad finds that to be hilarious, but not my mother. Pretty soon, they're all yelling about what is and isn't appropriate. Shawn only angers them more by repeating it all over again.
"Hey! I have to go, remember?"
Michelle is waiting for me, no doubt.
"Right! C'mon, take your pictures, Silvia. Let's not hold her up," My father claps, calling attention.
The flash of the camera makes my eyes water as my mother uses up about a whole roll of film. She makes me take pictures alone, ones with my brother and sister together, with my dad. As many as she can possibly take, really.
I conpletely mess up one when I see the front door open, and Michelle walks into the house.
"Chasity, we need to go!"
It's hard for me to contain my excitement as I look at her. The long, slinky silver gown and matching heels she picked out both look perfect on her, especially with her blonde hair. She looks ready for prom, and I look like I'm going to a funeral.
Michelle hugs me tight. "Ah! I can't believe it's PROM! I'm so excited."
"Me too," I lie. Just a little. I pull away from her arms to get a better look at her up close. Her makeup is similar to mine, blush and glossy lips and lots of mascara. "You look so pretty!"
"So do you! I'm actually glad you picked this one!" Michelle's hand touches the bottom of my skirt, her fingers running along the layer of delicate black shiny beads on the tulle.
That day in the Junior's section, she couldn't believe I wanted a black dress. Kind of like my family now.
"Picture! Look this way," My mother already has her eye up to the viewfinder when Michelle and I smile, the flash making Michelle curse under her breath like I did.
