Penney
Prom night was supposed to be special. Everyone said so. Penney was hoping for special in a lights-and-fireworks kind of way, but it showed up different than that.
The evening started out great. It seemed like all the stars were aligning to give her the perfect night. At 4:15 p.m. precisely, she knocked on the alley door at the back of the mall’s Sephora.
The door creaked open. “Hey, babe,” said Janice, Penney’s mom’s best friend. “Come on in.”
Penney followed her into the storage room, which was filled with stacks of shipping boxes from all kinds of fancy makeup and skin care brands.
“We lucked out,” Janice said. “The manager had to go upstairs to meet with corporate. That always takes forever, which means we can go out front and do this proper.”
“Cool,” Penney said. She would have been happy to have a professional makeup job any way she could get it, but she got an extra little thrill at the idea of posing in front of mirrors and lights instead of crouching in the storeroom.
They came out behind the counter and nodded at the salesclerks they passed. Sephora was always busy and they had a million staffers roaming around making product recommendations and handing out adorable little baskets to the shoppers so that they could buy even more stuff. Penney could not shop here herself because everything was so expensive. She was more of a corner drugstore kind of girl when it came to everyday makeup, and she didn’t even wear all that much unless she was working. It was true that pretty waitresses got better tips, so all of Penney’s work clothes were carefully chosen for fit as well.
“Hop up here.” Janice patted a tall stool at the makeup demo counter. The mirrors were huge and lit by a frame of small bulbs. The surface of the table contained samples in every color of eye shadow and lip stain you could imagine.
Penney settled onto the padded stool, which looked awfully similar to the counter stools at the diner, yet somehow cushioned her butt in a fancier way. “This is amazing. Thanks.”
Janice’s hands worked swiftly, color-matching Penney’s foundation and accent color scheme. The dress she was going to wear was so fancy that it had come with a small swatch of fabric attached to the tag that you could carry around when you went shoe or accessory shopping. Penney pulled it out now. Janice nodded, using it to select a complementary gold sparkly eye shadow.
“Now, this foundation is going to do wonders for your complexion in the long run,” Janice said. “Coupled with that luscious primer, oh my god, I swear, you’ll never go back…” She chatted enthusiastically at Penney the whole time she worked, describing the products and their various benefits, like she was genuinely trying to make a sale. Penney played her part, oohing and aahing over the colors and marveling at the transformation. She didn’t have to work hard to marvel, honestly. Sitting here under the lights, she felt like a goddamn princess.
* * *
When Penney got home, her mom was waiting. Rhonda stood at the kitchen door, blowing smoke from her cigarette out the screen. She nodded as Penney approached. “Glad to see Janice did you right.”
Penney smiled at the rare compliment from her mom. Rhonda was a matter-of-fact person who never went out of her way to be flowery. Even this kind statement was delivered in an “it is what it is” tone of voice.
“Sit at the table,” Rhonda said. Penney did. The table was laid out with products and supplies borrowed from their hairstylist neighbor.
Rhonda stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray on the counter and got to work. She stuck a foam cylinder to the back of Penney’s head and swept her long dark-blond hair up around it in a swirl. She fluffed and arched Penney’s bangs to give them volume and shape.
Rhonda shook the aerosol hair spray can. “Close your eyes.”
Penney did.
The spraying sound seemed to go on forever. A cloud of mist settled on her neck and shoulders, causing a tiny shiver. When it was quiet again, Penney opened her eyes.
Rhonda surveyed her handiwork. “That’ll do.” She patted Penney’s back and stalked out of the room.
Penney had saved up several weeks of tips to buy a dress she loved. She’d cut the tag off and everything. This was a keeper. If she stayed on track and went to college like Colby was always encouraging her to, maybe she could wear it again to another formal. At the very least, she’d be the splashiest chick in the room at the next handful of weddings she went to.
The fabric was a sparkly gold. The saleswoman at the department store had called the style a “mermaid cut.” The dress was one-shoulder, fitted through the bodice and hips. The shape narrowed dramatically below the hips, clinging to her legs, but then the bottom few inches near the hem were made of gauzy gold tulle that flared out again. It flattered Penney’s tall and shapely but not-too-thin frame. Her strappy heeled sandals were a thrift store find. A little glitter and glue had perked them right up.
Colby would be here in less than twenty minutes. He was always on time, sometimes early. Penney went to the bathroom for a final time before donning the dress. She slipped into the lacy matching bra and panties she’d chosen for the occasion. They had cost almost as much as the dress, for crying out loud, but she and Colby had a private after-prom party planned and she wanted it to be special.
* * *
When Penney returned to the kitchen, she found her mother had dug out their camera and brushed the dust off.
“Can’t let you leave looking so nice without a picture, now can I?”
Wow, she was two for two on compliments today.
“Thanks, Mom.”
Rhonda brushed it off. “It’s prom. If we’re doing it, we’re doing it, right?”
Penney grinned. “Right.”
Rhonda raised the camera and clicked.
Colby arrived a few minutes later. Rhonda opened the door for him, and he made it about three steps inside before his jaw dropped and his eyes nearly bugged out of his head.
“Wow,” he managed finally. “I mean, you … wow … wow.”
Penney burst forward and kissed him. “Thanks,” she said. His reaction was above and beyond what she’d been hoping for. The glow that had come over her under the makeup lights intensified.
Rhonda snapped a few pictures of the couple. “The light is better out front,” she said. So they went onto the porch and took a few pictures next to the bush beside the driveway. It had pretty purple flowers that were just budding this time of year.
In the driveway, Colby surprised her with a corsage of flowers. He’d asked her dress color, and so the flowers were delicate white and pale yellow with one red blossom in the center. It didn’t quite match her dress, honestly, but the thought was what mattered. It was going to look just fine.
“Thanks,” Penney said. “I wasn’t expecting flowers, you know. They’re so expensive.”
“They’re from my neighbor’s yard.” Colby laughed self-deprecatingly. “She has a lot of flowers and she said it was all right.”
“You made this yourself?” Penney was genuinely surprised. When she looked closely, she could see the stems were wrapped with what appeared to be a shoelace. “In that case, it’s super impressive.”
He’d made a boutonniere for himself to match, and so they pinned them on each other ceremoniously.
Like Penney, Colby didn’t have a lot of cash to spare. He worked part-time at a farm outside of town, and his Ghanaian parents wished he wouldn’t even do that so he could focus on his studies. But he was at the top of his class and had already been admitted to Purdue’s school of engineering with a full academic merit scholarship. He was going to build something that would change the world, Penney was sure of it.
“No one’s going to recognize us,” Colby commented as he helped her into the cab of his Chevy Silverado.
Penney laughed. “You’re a regular Superman.”
Colby grinned and mock-loosened his bow tie, as though to transform.
“Does that make me Lois Lane?”
“You write well enough.” Colby leaned in and kissed her. “Your op-ed on the economic inequities of prom culture was really great.”
“Stop.” Penney blushed. “It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. I was just mad that they made the tickets so expensive. You’re the only one who liked the article even a little bit.”
“I bet that’s not true,” Colby said, climbing into the cab. “The people who liked it can’t tell you they liked it for exactly the reason you talk about in the article. It’s embarrassing to admit what you can’t afford.”
“Yeah, I guess. But all I’ve been hearing all week is a lot of ‘why can’t you shut up and enjoy the dance?’ from the pretty people.” She sighed.
“Anyway, we got it done, didn’t we? Come hell or high water.”
“Damn straight.” They high-fived across the Silverado cab, and Colby pulled out of the driveway.
Fuck all the haters. It was their prom too.
Mina
“Close your eyes,” the makeup artist said.
Mina did. A light spritz of mist settled over her face.
“Can you believe prom is finally here?” Taylor asked, from alongside her. “It feels like we’ve been preparing for a hundred years.”
“Totally,” Mina said. Taylor had a tendency to exaggerate, but in this case, she definitely agreed. They’d been pointed toward prom like the North Star for over a month now.
“Okay, open,” the makeup artist said. “All done.”
“Thanks.” Mina studied her appearance in the mirror. She didn’t look like herself. The makeup was nice, if a little more dramatic than she usually went for. It was the straightened hair swept into its updo that felt awkward. The hairstylist had been surprised to encounter Black hair among the group of four friends who’d booked her for prom prep.
Mina touched the twin tendrils that framed her face. They’d been straightened, re-curled, and sprayed to within an inch of their life. They hung there like icicles.
Thirty minutes ago, the hairstylist had frowned and fretted as she lifted Mina’s shoulder-length curls. “It could be so pretty,” she’d cooed, “but I really don’t have time to straighten it all out.”
No one asked you to, Mina thought. She was biracial. Curly hair was kind of a given, and she wore her hair natural despite its challenges because her mother had always insisted. She had come pre-washed and moisturized. Even on their own, her curls were popping. She’d figured the stylist would pin them up in some cool way to show off their texture.
Instead, the stylist had gathered the center mass of Mina’s curls into a bun-like coil at the back of her head, then straightened the outer layers of hair and swept them in and up to cover the rest. She felt like a bride out of a 1990s magazine. It was pretty, it just wasn’t her. Maybe she should have stopped it at the start, but she’d been too awkward or embarrassed to ask for something different. Going with the flow was just easier.
“Squee!” Taylor clapped her hands as the stylist held the hand mirror up so she could see the finished hairdo, which was nearly identical. It was definitely a style made for hair like Taylor’s, not hair like Mina’s.
Avery hopped up off the bed and nudged Mina out of the chair. “My turn,” she said. Joan switched places with Taylor, and the second half of the styling session began.
Between the four of them, it had been affordable to hire a stylist and makeup artist to come to the house instead of going to the salon. They were at Taylor’s, because she had the biggest bedroom. Their tailored dresses hung neatly in the closet, ready and waiting. They’d spent the morning getting mani-pedis in the perfect colors and the early afternoon finalizing their jewelry choices.
“This is the best day ever,” Joan gushed as the hairstylist brandished the curling iron over her like a magic wand. “I still can’t believe that I’m going with Troy.” She practically squealed his name, in a mix of panic and excitement.
“Please.” Avery rolled her eyes. “Who else was he going to ask?”
Ouch. Mina’s eyes widened. Joan was the perpetually single one in their friend group, and Troy was her single parallel from the guys’ side, because he grew up besties with Avery’s boyfriend. But Joan had had a crush on him forever.
“Avery,” Taylor scolded. “Oh, my god.”
Avery laughed. “I meant it as, you know, who else would he realistically like? It’s logical for him to be into you,” she said reassuringly.
Joan blinked toward the mirror. “I know he might have just asked me as a friend, okay?” she said softly. “But it’s still technically a date, and I’m still going to enjoy it.”
Mina admired her for saying that out loud. “He’s always been shy,” she added, hoping to help. “Maybe he needed the pressure of prom to find the courage to ask you out. Stay positive.”
“I will.” Joan smiled at her in the mirror. “I only wish I was less shy myself, and I could just walk up to him and declare how I feel, like you did with Chip. Boom! Instant boyfriend.”
Mina stopped herself from blurting Chip isn’t my boyfriend. Because of course, he technically was. They spent weekends together. They had sex. She went to his football games and let him drape his sweaty arm around her when she congratulated him afterward. But it was mostly those things, between them. Low-key hangouts, someone to do stuff with who you can also kiss. It had been a year and it was still somehow nothing serious. They had fun together, no question, but she also didn’t have any of the gut-churning eagerness she read on Joan’s face right now. It wasn’t the deep, vulnerable love connection that Joan was suggesting it to be.
Mina shifted uncomfortably as these thoughts flashed through her. “Well, remember, all I really did was ask if he wanted to go to a movie,” she reminded Joan now. “You could do that too. End of the night, when he drops you off, just toss it out there.”
“Hey, would you want to go to a movie sometime?” Joan practiced. She did a little wave of her hand that was both sexy and casual.
“Exactly.” Mina smiled. “See? You’re a natural.”
“And do the hand thing, exactly like that,” Avery suggested. “That was hot.”
Joan blushed. They all laughed.
Their dates would arrive in an hour. They’d stand on Taylor’s deck, overlooking the perfectly manicured lawn and garden, and take group and couple pictures. They had dinner reservations for a party of eight at the steak house. Everything was shaping up to be as perfect as they’d planned.
Copyright © 2024 by Kekla Magoon
Interior art copyright © 2024 by Tori-Jay Mordey
