Purity (21 page)

I inhale before reading Dad’s answer, remembering my own response to the question about him. I wonder if he had as hard a time coming up with an answer.

It wasn’t just me who loved her. I read on—there’s another line, written in pencil like it was tacked on afterward.

I smile.

A question mark? What was unclear about that question? I mean, I know he isn’t likely to flex his computer-programming muscles to keep me from making out with some guy, but surely he’s willing to help me in some regard, right?

There are heavy pen marks over one sentence, his crossed-out original answer:

But under that he’s written:

Promise One: Love and listen to my father.
This whole time I’ve been obeying his every word, following all the rules, saying all the right things. But I never did what he really wanted all along.

Because I was never really listening.

My phone rings at 9:03 the day of the Princess Ball.

“Shelby? I’m coming over, okay?” It’s Ruby.

“Huh? Uh, sure. It’s early….”

“I have to be at the Biscuit by ten thirty, so it had to be early. Sorry. You can stay in bed—the spare is still under that green flowerpot, right?”

Unfortunately, the fifteen minutes it takes Ruby feels only like a few seconds. Before I know it, Ruby is bursting into my room. She gives me the once-over, then shrugs and sits down on the edge of my bed. I scoot over to give her more room as she twirls her fingers around the loose threads of my comforter.

“Hi,” she says after I don’t speak.

I nod at her and rub my eyes.

“So… is everything okay?” Ruby asks.

“Yeah, why?”

“I just… well, I talked to Jeffery… and he said you guys did have sex, but then you didn’t call me, so I wondered if you regretted it and got pissed at me for suggesting it or…”

“Oh,” I say. “No. I don’t regret having sex. I was just
thinking about it last night, that’s all. And… I kinda think I had it all wrong. Everything.”

“Explain,” Ruby says, spinning around so she’s lying down next to me. She touches her pointer fingers to her chin in a mock psychiatrist way and I smile.

“I forgot,” I say. “I forgot about Promise Two because I was so busy finding ways to keep One and Three. And I’m starting to think that I got Promise One wrong—it was love and listen to my father, but I’ve been treating him like a stranger, just blindly following orders. That’s not really loving or listening.”

Ruby doesn’t say anything, so I go on.

“So that leaves Promise Three… but…” I drift off as my mind swirls. “How am I living without restraint if I’m letting the Promises force me into having sex with someone I don’t really care about? The Promises themselves restrain me.”

“But doesn’t that mean that Promise Three negates the other Promises?” Ruby says.

“Maybe,” I say. “I thought obeying them would make me closer to Mom, would bring her back in a weird way. Maybe make me okay with her death. But the truth is, I don’t think Mom wanted me to treat her Promises like strict rules. I think she just wanted me to be happy. And Dad to be happy. And both of us to remember her and love her and find love in everyone else.”

“You sound heartbeats away from writing a truly brilliant pop song,” Ruby says with a grin. “If only ‘All You Need Is Love’ wasn’t taken.”

“Damn the Beatles.”

“So are you glad you did it, then?” Ruby finally asks.

“I think I had to. I had to do it to start to understand everything else. And I’m not sure I totally do yet…. It’s like all these tiny pieces of my life are beginning to make sense.”

Ruby nods. “When you sort it all out, let me know. I’d love for it all to make sense by the time I have sex.”

I widen my eyes and look at her. “By the time?”

Ruby shrugs. “I’m still a virgin.”

“What?” For a moment, I’m almost angry, but it fades to surprise quickly. “But you knew all that stuff! You gave me the panties!”

Ruby blushes—something I’ve rarely seen her do. “I’m not saying I’m an innocent schoolgirl, Shel, but knowledge isn’t the same thing as experience. I guess I do sort of act the part, though. I should’ve told you. I’m sorry I suck so bad. But think about it, isn’t it going to be hilariously weird, me coming to you for sex tips in the future?”

We laugh together, then lie in silence for a second.

“So, to totally jump subjects in the least disrespectful way possible,” Ruby says, “want to see my photos? I finished them.”

“Which ones?” I ask.

“From the park. A few weeks ago?”

“Oh yeah!” From before the LOVIN plan, from before I had sex and planned a ball. It feels like ages ago. She leans over me and pulls her purse up. Inside is a piece of cardboard from a Flying Biscuit to-go box. It’s folded in half and held
shut by a scrap of ribbon, protecting a thick stack of photos. Ruby unties the ribbon and the photos spill out onto my bedspread like fallen leaves.

I’m only a silhouette, the sun brilliant behind me and scattered tree limbs. My hair flies out behind me as I fall through the air—you can’t see the fountain—into the arms of a waiting boy. Jonas, reaching toward me.

“So, I heard you and Jonas got in a fight,” Ruby says.

I sigh. “Yeah. He slept with Anna Clemens.”

“And that’s a problem?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” She asks the question like she knows the answer, a sly grin on her face.

I bite my lip, unsure if I want to say it aloud. It’ll change everything. But I take a deep breath and speak anyway. “It’s a problem because I… have feelings for him. I just didn’t realize it.”

“What about the fact that Jonas ‘has feelings’ for
you
?” she says, using quote-hands and rolling her eyes.

Hearing Ruby say that makes me feel very girly and fluttery and
happy
.

“See how good I am at this puppet master thing? I totally called this years ago,” Ruby teases. “Call him, Shelby. Call him and make up and be best friends and then go kiss and let it be awkward and great.”

I flush. “You’re assuming he’s going to not be mad that I slept with Jeffery. Not to mention, last time we spoke, we were fighting.”

“He slept with Anna. You both had to get some action elsewhere to realize how much you wanted each other. And it was just a fight. It happens. So anyway, back to my plan—call him, be best friends, awkward kissing. You know how much I love awkward kissing, Shelby. Have you
seen
my collection of quirky romantic comedies?”

I sigh and shake my head. “I will, I will, I just… this ball, and then last night with Jeffery and… I need to finish things with the Princess Ball before I can tell him. It’s tonight and I don’t even have all my stuff together—damn, I’m supposed to find something to read….” I remember, frowning.

“Ugh. Fine. Awkward kissing postponed,” she says, making a face. She reaches down again and pulls up a beaten Macy’s bag. Inside I see bits and pieces of Ocean Fiesta. “So this dress… there’s not a lot a girl can do with a Hello Kitty sewing machine and a million yards of chiffon, but it’s
wearable
.”

“Thanks, Ruby,” I say graciously, sitting up. “Want me to try it on?”

“Nope, ’cause if it doesn’t fit I’ll feel terrible. And I won’t be able to fix it anyway, ’cause that thing took, like, twelve hours to finish.”

“But… if it doesn’t fit, what will I wear to the ball?”

“I’m pretty sure only Cinderella is authorized to say things like that. But it doesn’t matter—it’ll fit. I kind of just want you to be surprised, to be honest. Oh, and I put some extra makeup in that bag—you need to wear more blush and some sparkly powder. Sparkly powder was made for balls, even creepy virgin ones.”

“Right,” I say, nodding. “I owe you big.”

“Yep. You’re gonna need to order copious amounts of food next time you swing by the Biscuit. And maybe tip thirty, forty percent,” she grins. I can feel hints of tears welling up—I’m happy about the dress, somehow excited about working the whole love thing out. Ruby looks perplexed for a minute, then leans forward to hug me.

“Christ, Shelby. You get laid and suddenly you’re all emotional,” she teases.

“No, it’s not like that,” I say. “I think I’m just… I’m just ready to go and get it over with. Which is almost exactly what I said about getting laid, oddly enough.”

Ruby grins as she rises to leave, then calls back over her shoulder. “Just remember this, Shel—you got laid. But that doesn’t mean you won’t ever make love.”

A few hours later I throw on what little makeup I have. It isn’t much, but Ruby’s blush does seem to light up my cheeks, and the sparkly powder makes my skin look smoother than it really is. I straighten my hair, then wrap a towel around myself and dash back to the bedroom for the gown.

It spills from the bag with far less fabric than before. When I hold it up, I realize that half the poofiness is gone. Ruby cut off the spaghetti straps and sliced away a few layers of crinoline. There’s slick blue satin across the bodice, and some sort of old-fashioned lace and beadwork around the neck.

I’m not so sure about this. I drop the towel and step into the dress nervously. It’ll fit, she promised. And besides, there’s no going back now unless I wear that lime-sherbet monstrosity from the winter formal. I slip my hands into the new straps, which are gathered satin and sit on the edge of my shoulders. I feel like they should slide off, but they stay put as I open my closet door to see myself in the mirror on the other side.

I inhale.

It’s beautiful. There’s not another way to put it, really. The frothy Ocean Fiesta now looks part ball gown, part sari. Tiny pearlescent beads flicker inside the lace, and the satin that slants down the front of the skirt gives way to only a few layers of flattened, graceful chiffon that moves like water around me when I spin to the side.

Ruby was right. I
do
owe her.

I grab a book, then frantically flip through it—I think I’ve finally figured out a passage to read aloud. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner, really. It’s short, and I’m not sure it’ll make sense to the rest of the Princess Ball goers but… I’m also not sure I care about that. I find a pen and scribble down the lines, shut the book, and walk down the hallway to the staircase. The dress fabric rustles behind me.

Dad is downstairs watching television, slouched so that I’m sure his dress shirt will be wrinkled when he stands up. He turns around as he hears me hit the bottom step.

“Shelby,” he says, raising his eyebrows. “That dress is beautiful.”

“Thanks,” I say, resisting the urge to twirl around in circles and make the skirt flow out. “Ruby… fixed it.”

“I was about to say,” Dad says, nodding. “That isn’t exactly Kaycee’s style.”

We stare at each other.

“Well… ready to do this?” Dad says, his voice a little worried.

“We’ve come this far,” I say. He grabs his coat and holds open the front door, and we’re off.

*   *   *   *

It doesn’t look like a church gym. The sidewalk is lined in Christmas lights and there’s a banner hung over the gym sign that reads
31st Annual Princess Ball
in swirly writing. Two men are standing at the door in tuxedos, welcoming people inside.

“Doug!” one of them calls out. Dad waves. “I’ve got to tell you,” the guy says as we draw closer. “You’ve done an amazing job. The place looks beautiful.”

“Ah, well, the decorating committee did that,” Dad says.

“With the decorations you ordered! You know how to get the job done, Doug, that’s for sure,” the other man says. “And little Shelby Crewe! You look lovely.” I force a smile as they wave us inside.

The ceiling lights in the gym are turned off; instead the room has a pinkish hue on account of dozens of tall floor lamps, candles on every table, and a spotlight that illuminates a stage built in the back. A long table decked out in pink tablecloths stretches down one wall, and the floor is covered in silver heart-shaped confetti. On the opposite side is a long table of goodie bags, baskets full of white roses, and the elegant white envelopes that contain the vows the fathers and daughters will recite later.

Pastor Ryan watches from a table near the front, a quiet, mousy woman I assume is his wife sitting beside him. Gentle piano music drifts out over the speakers and mingles with the sound of girls giggling, laughing, dancing with one another while their fathers watch proudly.