“Tree has big boobs,” Kitty says.
“Are they real?” Margot asks as she pulls down my zipper.
I step out of the dress and hand it over to Kitty to hang. “I think so.”
“They’re real. I’ve seen her in a bikini, and hers spread when she’s lying down, and that’s how you know. The fake ones stay in place like scoops of ice cream.” Kitty picks up Margot’s phone again. “Also, I asked her.”
“If they were fake, I doubt she’d tell you that,” Margot says.
Kitty frowns at her. “Tree doesn’t lie to me.”
“I’m not saying she’d lie; I’m saying she might be private about plastic surgery! Which is her right!” Kitty just shrugs coolly.
I quickly put on the next dress to get off the subject of Ms. Rothschild’s boobs. “What do you guys think of this one?”
They both shake their heads and reach for the thumbs-down paddle at the same time. At least they are united in their dislike of my dress.
“Where’s my pick? Try mine on next.” Kitty’s pick is a skin-tight, white, off-the-shoulder bandage dress I would never in a million years wear, and she knows it. “I just want to see it on you.”
I try it on to appease her, and Kitty insists it’s the best dress of all the dresses, because she wants to have the winning pick. In the end, none of the dresses are my style, but I’m not bothered by it. Prom is still more than a month away, and I want to scour vintage shops before I commit to anything from a regular store. I like the idea of a lived-in dress, a dress that has gone places, seen things, a dress that a girl like Stormy might’ve worn to a dance.
When Margot leaves for Scotland the next morning, she makes me promise to send pictures of potential dresses so she can weigh in. She doesn’t say another word about Ms. Rothschild, but then, she wouldn’t, because that’s not her style.
13
LUCAS SAYS, “I THINK PROM is a lot like New Year’s Eve.” He and Chris and I are hanging out in the nurse’s office, because she is out to lunch, and she doesn’t care if we lie on her couch. Since we’re so far into senior year, all the teachers are in a pretty generous mood.
“New Year’s Eve is for basics,” Chris sneers, picking at her nails.
“Will you let me finish?” Lucas sighs and begins again. “As I was saying, prom buckles under the weight of all the expectations you put on it. One perfect high school night that every American teenager is supposed to have. You spend all this time and money and you feel obligated—no, owed an epic night. What can possibly live up to that amount of pressure?”
I think the perfect high school night will end up being some random little nothing moment that you didn’t plan or expect; it just happened. I think I’ve already had like twelve perfect high school nights, with Peter, so I don’t need prom to be epic. When I picture my prom night, I picture Peter in a tux, being polite to my dad, putting a corsage on Kitty. All of us taking a picture by the mantel. I make a mental note to ask Peter to get an extra little corsage for her.
“So does that mean you aren’t going?” I ask Lucas.
He sighs again. “I don’t know. There’s no one here I would even want to go with.”
“If I wasn’t going with Peter, I would ask you,” I say. Then I look from Lucas to Chris. “Hey, why don’t you guys go together?”
“I’m not going to prom,” Chris says. “I’ll probably go clubbing in DC with my Applebee’s people.”
“Chris, you can’t not go to prom. You can go clubbing with your Applebee’s friends anytime. We only get one senior prom.”
My birthday’s the day after prom and I’m a little hurt that Chris seems to have forgotten. If she goes clubbing in DC, she’ll probably stay all weekend and I won’t even see her on my actual birthday.
“Prom’s going to be lame. No offense. I mean, I’m sure you’ll have fun, Lara Jean; you’re going with the prom king. And what’s that girl’s name you’re friends with now? Tammy?”
“Pammy,” I say. “But it won’t be fun if you’re not there.”
She puts her arm around me. “Aww.”
“We always said we’d go to prom together and watch the sun rise over the elementary school playground!”
“You can watch it with Kavinsky.”
“That’s not the same!”
“Calm down,” Chris says. “You’re probably going to lose your V that night anyway, so I’ll be the last thing you’ll be thinking about.”
“I wasn’t planning on having sex on prom night!” I hiss. My eyes dart over at Lucas, who is looking at me, bug-eyed.
“Lara Jean . . . you and Kavinsky haven’t had sex yet?”
I look to make sure no one’s in the hallway listening. “No, but please don’t tell anybody. Not that I’m ashamed of it or anything. I just don’t want everyone knowing my business.”
“I get it, obviously, but wow,” he says, still sounding shocked. “That’s . . . wow.”
“Why is it so wow?” I ask him, and I can feel my cheeks warming.
“He’s so . . . hot.”
I laugh. “That’s true.”
“There’s a reason why having sex on prom night is a thing,” Chris says. “I mean, yes, it’s tradition, but also, everybody’s dressed up, you get to stay out all night . . . Most of these people will never look as good as they do on prom night, grooming-wise, and that’s sad. All these lemmings getting their manis and their pedis and their blowouts. So basic.”
“Don’t you get blowouts?” Lucas says.
Chris rolls her eyes. “Of course.”
I say, “Then why are you judging other people for—”
“Look, that’s not my point here. My point is . . .” She frowns. “Wait, what were we talking about?”
“Blowouts, manis, lemmings?” Lucas says.
“Before that.”
“Sex?” I suggest.
“Right! My point is, losing your virginity on prom night is a cliché, but clichés are clichés for a reason. There’s a practicality to it. You get to stay out all night, you look great, et cetera, et cetera. It just makes sense.”
“I’m not having sex for the first time because it’s convenient and my hair looks good, Chris.”
“Fair enough.”
I don’t know for sure, but I imagine my first time will probably be at college, in my own room, as an adult. It’s hard to imagine it happening now, at home, when I’m Lara Jean the sister and the daughter. At college, I’ll just be Lara Jean.
14