Three Girls and a Dance

So…this is something I wrote one day when I was really bored because all my friends had gone to camp two days before I left for Hawaii. So I sat around, watched TV in my pajamas, ate ice cream, and wrote this. Dedicated to my 2 best friends. Originally posted 09/04/07, revised and re-posted 09/29/09.

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“Come on, Jackie, dresses won’t kill you.”

“Yes they will! I’ll be dead before I wear one of those ridiculous creations that pass for clothes!”

Kelly and Paige were forced to physically drag their best friend through the mall (though Paige was doing most of the work), earning themselves many odd stares from complete strangers. “You’re acting like a two year old,” Kelly said, extremely irritated at this point.

“Does the fact that you’re going to the dance with Josh Ashford penetrate your pathetically fashion-challenged mind at all?” Paige said as she stuck out a foot to trip her friend, thus foiling Escape Attempt Number 7.

“He’s never seen me in a dress, why start now?” Jackie was nearly wailing at this point.

“It’s a formal dance, genius. ‘Formal’ means dresses. You included.”

“Pants can be formal!”

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5 hours, 11 minutes, and 23 seconds later (according to Jackie)

“Three thousand, six hundred, forty-three bottles of beer on the wall. Take one down; pass it around, three thousand, six hundred, forty-two bottles of beer on the wall.”

“Ooh, I like that one.”

Kelly twirled, making the full gold skirt flare out. “Really? What about the blue one?”

“Which blue one?”

“Maybe the one that looks exactly like the other ten million you’ve tried on today? Where was I? Oh yeah—three thousand, six hundred, forty-two bottles of beer on the wall. Take one down; pass it around, three thousand, six hundred, forty-one bottles of beer on the wall. Three thousand, six hund—”

“What about you, Paige?”

“I was thinking the purple sparkly one, the dark blue halter, or the maroon one with the full skirt.”

“Ooh, that’s tough.”

“Three thousand, six hundred, thirty nine bottles of beer on the wall. Take one down pass it around, three thousand, six hundred, thirty eight bottles of beer on the wall.”

“How much have you narrowed it down?”

Jackie stopped singing (or attempting to). “Translation: How many dresses out of the forty bajillion you’ve seen have you liked?”

“Umm…”

She sighed. “How many dresses have you tried on?”

“Well there were fourteen in Macy’s, eight in JC Penny’s, sixteen in that cute little store by the shoe store, thirteen in that place with the snobby lady, and ten in that store with the creeper.”

“Okay, so how many is that?”

“Ooh! There were also those two in the tiny little store in the corner of the mall. So that makes sixty-three and the three I’ve tried on here so that makes sixty-six.”

“You’ve put on sixty-six dresses today?”

“Actually, if you count the one I actually put on this morning, it makes sixty-seven.”

“I don’t know you.”

“That beige one didn’t compliment your skin at all,” Paige said. “And the cut on the purple-and-gold one made your butt look big, and the silver one had that stain. So, that’s only sixty –three.”

“And there was that striped one—”

“I’m still trying to figure out what possessed you to even consider that.”

“—and the ruffly black one was itchy. I can put up with tight, pokey, and pinchy, but no way am I going to wear something itchy. That’s gross.”

“So that’s sixty-one.”

Jackie groaned. “Three thousand, six hundred thirty-eight bottles of beer on the wall, take one down, pass it around, three thousand, six hundred thirty-seven bottles of beer on the wall.”

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“Aah!”

“Haiyah!”

“Oof!”

“Kelly! Get out of there and help me!”

“Alright! Don’t get your panties in a twist!” she said from the bathroom. The door opened and a huge cloud of steam escaped. Out of the mist came Kelly, wearing a fuzzy pink bathrobe, her hair wrapped in an equally fluffy pink towel. She stopped when she saw Paige sitting on a struggling Jackie’s lower back, but the latter wasn’t on both the track and soccer teams for nothing. With a heroic leap, the blonde landed beside her friend before calmly taking out her nail buffer.

“Argh!”

“Jacqueline Carwin,” she said, filing her nails while Paige dried off her thick brown hair. “If you think for one second that you are going to escape without any makeup, you are sadly mistaken.”

“Why should I care how I look?”

“Two words. Date. Football. Captain.”

“Actually, Kelly, that’s three words,” Paige said absently while trying to straighten a lock of stubbornly curly hair.

“Well, in my vocabulary, the last two are really just one word. Now, for you, my poor fashioanably-deprived friend, I was thinking silvers and touches of black on the eyes and pink on the lips.”

“I am not wearing any pink whatsoever!”

“That’s nice.”

“What are you going to do? Your dress is that deep red, but your eyes are green.”

“I’ve got a few ideas. Here, let me help,” Kelly said, reaching for the straightener.

“I heard that Rachel bought a five hundred dollar dress with a neckline to her perfect little abs.”

“If that’s true, I would be completely unsurprised.”

“Kelly?”

“Yeah?”

“Why have we moved about five feet from where we were two minutes ago?”

Both girls looked at each other before spotting Jackie, who was getting to her hands and knees by the door.

“SHE’S GETTING AWAY!”

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Jackie’s Log (4 hours, 51 minutes, 33 seconds later)

Am alive. Am painted like a Japanese doll. 23 failed escape attempts. Back is killing me. Gee, I wonder why? It’s not like I was sat on or anything. Back really, really hurts. But I will survive! Oh no. Miniature toilet brush with black goop attacking eyelashes! AAAAHHH!!!
End Log

Countless clouds of hairspray, 256 dollars worth of makeup, and an entire roll of duct tape later, Kelly and Paige had succeeded in as close to perfection as anyone could get with the three of them. Jackie’s two best friends (with whom she was now thoroughly pissed) circled her like hawks, their eyes scrutinizing every inch of her. Jackie stood tensely, the muscles in her back knotted and her legs slightly bent, ready to run the second her tormentors released her.

(A/N: If you don’t care what Jackie’s wearing, then skim to the second paragraph here.)

Her spaghetti strap dress was a sparkly black that glittered every time she moved, and the neckline had layers on material gracefully draped across her chest. The skirt was just a few inches off the ground, revealing a pair of dainty black flats. Kelly had tried to put her in a pair of shoes that had heels of barely two inches, but she had pointed out quite loudly that falling flat on her face every other step would probably not be considered attractive. Jackie’s eye makeup had been quite the project, but they had finally gotten the result they wanted with extra-hold waterproof mascara, an eyelash curler, a touch of black eyeliner, and layers upon layers of five different shades of silvery eyeshadow. A clear gloss filled out her lips. They had tried to put on some of Paige’s pink lipstick, but she had screeched. After nearly an hour’s worth of attempts, they had given up on trying to create the soft curls that they had envisioned (“My hair and I have come to an agreement. I let it do what it wants and it lets me do what I want!”), and instead had created a elegant but simple updo with a few tendrils hanging down to frame her face.

The second Kelly nodded, she flew out of the room as if she was running the state finals. Paige shook her head in disbelief and Kelly muttered something about having no taste.

(A/N: If you want to know what I Paige looks like, that’s this paragraph.)

Approximately half of the last several hours had been spent straightening Paige’s incredibly curly hair. The result, however, was well worth their efforts. Her brunette hair fell in a silky curtain nearly to her waist. Her halter dress was royal blue with a neckline that was low enough to show off the barest hint of her impressive cleavage. She had ended up wearing the shoes that Jackie had refused to, which brought the dress’s hem off the ground just enough to see the toe of them. An entire tube of brown mascara had been emptied before both girls had been happy, and her eyeliner and eyeshadow was a perfectly blended artwork of brown, gold and light blue. She had borrowed Kelly’s tube of ruby lip gloss with sparkles to deepen the color of her lips, and a delicate gold necklace with a small gold rose hung around her neck.

“We should probably go find her before it occurs to her that the bathroom is down the hall, and that’s where the makeup remover is,” Paige said.

“Yeah.” Kelly picked up her silvery purse and headed towards the door.

“How do you walk in those shoes?” Paige was still amazed that her blonde friend hadn’t fallen yet. The heels on her shoes were at least four inches.

“Easy. Haven’t you ever heard the saying ‘A woman who wears the highest of heels can handle pressure, because all of the weight is centered on her feet’?”

(A/N: All that’s here is Kelly’s dress description.)

“Figures that the only serious quote you know has to do with clothes.” She watched Kelly walk out of the room and shook her head. Her dress was a bright red one-shoulder creation with virtually no back, purposefully designed to torture the male species. The material had black roses in it that wound their way down her body and to the highest point of the asymmetrical hem. Her shoes were silver and the heel was so thin that Paige feared it would snap, but Kelly seemed to walk with ease. Half of her wavy blonde hair had been pinned up, the rest hanging down her back in fluffy curls, and pale pink lip gloss was on her lips. Her green eyes had been done so meticulously with a very light pink and silver eyeshadows, black eyeliner and mascara until they seemed much bigger than they actually were. A delicate silver necklace and matching earrings (borrowed from her mother) had tiny diamonds set in it, so small that they were only visible when she moved and they caught the light.

After nearly five hours of preparation, the three girls were ready for the dance. Kelly and Paige walked out of the room to go find their friend before she ruined all their hard work.

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