“Promposals have gotten way more sophisticated than in your day, Gogo,” I say. I’m playing along, teasing her so she can feel normal again after the bomb Daddy just dropped.
“My day? I’m only two years ahead of you.” She tries to sound light, but I can hear the strain in her voice.
“Two years is like dog years when it comes to high school. Isn’t that right, Kitty?” I pull her toward me and hug her tight to my chest. She squirms away.
“Yeah, both of you guys are ancient beings,” Kitty says. “Can I be a part of the proposal too, Daddy?”
“Of course. I can’t get married without you guys.” He looks teary. “We’re a team, aren’t we?”
Kitty is hopping up and down like a little kid. “Yeah!” she cheers. She’s over the moon, and Margot sees it too, how important this is to her.
“When are you going to propose?” Margot asks.
“Tonight!” Kitty pipes up.
I glare at her. “No! That’s not enough time to think up the perfect way. We need a week at least. Plus you don’t even have a ring. Wait a minute, do you?”
Daddy takes off his glasses and wipes his eyes. “Of course not. I wanted to wait and talk to you girls first. I want all three of you to be here for the proposal, so I’ll do it when you come back for the summer, Margot.”
“That’s too far away,” Kitty objects.
“Yes, don’t wait that long, Daddy,” Margot says.
“Well, you’ll have to help me pick out the ring at least,” Daddy says.
“Lara Jean has a better eye for that kind of thing,” Margot says serenely. “Besides, I barely know Ms. Rothschild. I haven’t a clue what kind of ring she’d like.”
A shadow crosses over Daddy’s face. It’s the I barely know Ms. Rothschild that put it there.
I rush to put on my best Hermione voice. “You ‘haven’t a clue’?” I tease. “P.S., did you know you’re still American, Gogo? We don’t talk as classy as that in America.”
She laughs; we all do. Then, because I think she saw that brief shadow too, she says, “Make sure to take tons of pictures so I can see.”
Gratefully Daddy says, “We will. We’ll videotape it, whatever it is. God, I hope she says yes!”
“She’ll say yes, of course she’ll say yes,” we all chorus.
*
Margot and I are wrapping slices of pizza in plastic and then double wrapping in foil. “I told you guys two pizzas would be too much,” she says.
“Kitty will eat it for her after-school snack,” I say. “So will Peter.” I glance toward the living room, where Kitty and Daddy are snuggled up on the couch, watching TV. Then I whisper, “So how do you really feel about Daddy asking Ms. Rothschild to marry him?”
“I think it’s completely bonkers,” she whispers back. “She lives across the street, for pity’s sake. They can just date like two grown-ups. What’s the point of getting married?”
“Maybe they just want it to be official. Or maybe it’s for Kitty.”
“They haven’t even been dating that long! How long has it been, six months?”
“A little longer than that. But Gogo, they’ve known each other for years.”
She stacks up the slices of foiled pizza and says, “Can you imagine how weird it’ll be to have her living here?”
Her question gives me pause. Ms. Rothschild is at the house a lot, but that’s not the same as living here. She has her own ways of doing things, and so do we. Like, she wears shoes at her house, but we don’t wear them here, so she takes them off when she comes over. And, now that I think about it, she’s never slept over here before; she always goes back home at the end of the night. So that might feel a little weird. Also, she stores bread in the refrigerator, which I hate, and to be quite honest, her dog Simone sheds a lot and has been known to pee on the carpet. But the thing is, since I’m not going to UVA, I won’t be around much longer—I’ll be away at college. “Neither of us will be living here full-time though,” I say at last. “Just Kitty, and Kitty’s thrilled to death.”
Margot doesn’t respond right away. “Yes, they do seem really close.” She goes to the freezer and makes space for the pizza, and with her back facing me she says, “Don’t forget, we have to go prom-dress shopping before I leave.”
“Ooh, okay!” It feels like two seconds ago that we were shopping for Margot’s prom dress, and now it’s my turn.
Daddy, who I didn’t realize had walked into the kitchen, pipes up with, “Hey, maybe Trina could go too?” He casts a hopeful look my way. I’m not the one he should be looking at. I already love Ms. Rothschild. It’s Margot she has to win over.
I look over at Margot, who is giving me wide panic eyes. “Um . . . ,” I say. “I think it should just be a Song girls thing this time.”
Daddy nods like he understands. “Ah. Got it.” Then he says to Margot, “Can the two of us spend a little daughter-dad time together before you leave? Maybe take our bikes on a trail?”
“Sounds good,” she says.
When his back is turned, Margot mouths, Thank you. I feel disloyal to Ms. Rothschild, but Margot is my sister. I have to be on her side.
*
I think maybe Margot’s feeling guilty about cutting Ms. Rothschild out of the dress shopping expedition, because she keeps trying to make it more of a thing. When we go to the mall the next day after school, she announces that we’ll each pick two dresses, and I have to try all of them on no matter what, and then we’ll rate them. She even printed out thumbs-up and thumbs-down emojis and made paddles for us to use.
It’s cramped in the dressing room, and there are dresses everywhere. Margot gives Kitty the job of rehanging and organizing, but Kitty’s already given it up in favor of playing Candy Crush on Margot’s phone.
Margot hands me one of her picks first—it’s a flowy black dress with fluttery cap sleeves. “You could do your hair up for this one.”
Without looking up, Kitty says, “I would go with beachy waves.”
Margot makes a face at her in the mirror.
“Is black really me, though?” I wonder.
“You should try wearing black more often,” Margot says. “It really suits you.”
Kitty picks at a scab on her leg. “When I go to prom, I’m going to wear a tight leather dress,” she says.
“It can get hot in Virginia in May,” I say, as Margot zips me up. “You could wear a leather dress to homecoming though, since it’s in October.”
We study my reflection in the mirror. The dress is too big in the bodice, and the black makes me look like a witch, but a witch in an ill-fitting dress.
“I think you need bigger boobs for that dress,” Kitty says. She holds up the thumbs-down paddle.
I frown at her in the mirror. She’s right, though. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”
“Did Mommy have big boobs?” Kitty asks suddenly.
“Hmm. I think they were on the small side,” Margot says. “Like an A?”
“What size do you wear?” she asks.
“A B.”
Eyeing me, Kitty says, “And Lara Jean’s small like Mommy.”
“Hey, I’m practically a B!” I protest. “I’m a large A. An almost B. Somebody unzip me.”