Prom Date Page 8

  “Has her hair fallen out?”

  “Felicia didn’t mention it.” Emma ran her fingers through her own short haircut, fluffing it up a little. Then she turned to face Cassidy. “Felicia said that Sofia’s going to need a bone marrow transplant. The Ruezes are encouraging everyone in their family to register to be donors.”

  “I wonder if we could register too,” Cassidy said.

  “I asked Felicia the same thing. She says you have to be eighteen.”

  “Oh . . .”

  “But she said we could get the word out.”

  “Maybe we could get something in the school paper, just to make kids aware, you know, in case their parents or other adults might be willing to register,” Cassidy suggested.

  “You’re a good writer,” Emma pointed out. “Maybe you could tackle that.”

  “Yeah, definitely.” Cass nodded. “I’ll ask Felicia for more information next week. Maybe it could even run in the local newspaper. And our church’s newsletter too.”

  “Good ideas.” Emma slid her feet into her shoes. “Ready!”

  As they drove to Emma’s grandmother’s house, Emma thanked Cassidy for enticing Devon to go to youth group last week. “She’d sounded so lost and desperate in her texts to me,” Emma told her. “I could tell it was her way of reaching out.”

  “I was actually pretty surprised that she agreed to go,” Cassidy admitted.

  “Devon tries to act like she’s got it all together, like she’s really tough. But underneath all that, I know she’s just a scared, lonely girl. And even though she drives me crazy sometimes, I really do care about her.”

  “Yeah. Me too.” Cassidy told Emma about the new youth leader. “At first I was a little suspicious—I mean, Sam is so pretty, I just thought she might end up being an airhead, you know?”

  “That’s kind of judgmental.”

  Cass laughed. “Tell me about it.”

  “But you like her?”

  “I really do. And I think Devon liked her too. Oh, she didn’t say anything to that effect, but I saw her watching Sam. And when we drove home, she didn’t say anything negative about her. That’s when I figured she probably did like her. Otherwise she would’ve dissed her.”

  Emma chuckled. “Good observation.”

  “See, I’ve been paying attention.” Cassidy pulled her car into Emma’s grandma’s driveway, giving a quick beep on her horn.

  “I’ll run in and get her,” Emma offered. “And say hi to my grandma.”

  Inside the house, Emma hugged her grandma then glanced around for Devon. “Is she in her room?”

  “Here I am.” Devon came into the kitchen.

  “Hey . . . ,” Emma said slowly, taking in Devon’s slightly unusual outfit—at least for Devon. She had on a baggy plaid flannel shirt, a holey pair of jeans, and a shabby pair of Converse canvas shoes. Not only that, but her makeup looked very natural and her thick auburn hair was pulled back in a ponytail. “Are you, uh, ready?”

  “Yep.” Devon grinned at Grandma. “See ya later.”

  Emma kissed Grandma’s cheek and, trying not to stare at Devon, headed out the door.

  As they walked to the car, Emma was tempted to question Devon about her appearance, but she knew that could turn out badly. Instead, she told Devon that she’d talked to Felicia this afternoon.

  “How’s she doing?” Devon asked after they were in the car.

  Emma filled her in, exchanging glances with Cassidy, who looked just as bewildered as Emma felt.

  “Looks like you were working in the garden today,” Cassidy said to Devon as she turned into the church parking lot.

  “Really?” Devon made a nervous-sounding giggle. “Well, I realized that your youth group was a pretty casual place. So why bother to fix up?”

  “Yeah . . . right . . .” Cassidy sounded a bit uncertain as she parked her car. “The most important thing is to show up.”

  “That’s right,” Emma agreed as they got out. “Besides, I think you look fabulous, Devon.”

  “Really?” Devon peered suspiciously at her.

  “Absolutely.” Emma flipped Devon’s ponytail. “It’s a nice look. Fresh and fun and down-to-earth.” And Emma was being totally honest. She actually preferred this over the way Devon usually looked—too much makeup, too-tight clothes, and just too flashy. Hopefully this was a sample of things to come.

  As they went into the youth group room, Emma’s eyes scanned the crowd until she spotted Isaac. Then, as she’d been doing lately, she quickly looked the other way—acting nonchalant and as if she hadn’t seen him. Oh, she knew it was a bit childish, but this recent debate over the prom had hurt her feelings slightly. It wasn’t anything she planned to admit to anyone, but it was a fact.

  Emma’s friendship with Isaac had been moving forward nicely—ever since their first date last fall. She never would’ve gone so far as to call him her boyfriend. Not out loud, anyway. But she felt like they had an understanding. And, unless she’d imagined it, he had hinted about taking her to prom this year.

  But then he’d jumped on the guys’ anti-prom bandwagon and that’s when Emma had taken a step back. For the past few days, she had been acting fairly chilly toward him. And, as much as she liked him, she was aggravated at him too.

  Emma spotted Jarrod coming in through a back door with his guitar in hand. “I’ll go tell Jarrod our little idea,” she whispered to Cass. “For Devon.”

  Cass’s eyes lit up. “Oh, yeah.”

  Emma popped up to the front area and quickly relayed to Jarrod about Devon’s upcoming birthday. “She’s not a regular youth group girl,” she explained. “But she was here last week—and came again tonight.”

  “Cool.” He nodded with a twinkle in his eye. “We’ll be sure to make her feel welcome tonight.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Hey, how was the big red carpet?” he asked suddenly. “The kids were showing me some photos last week. Was it a blast?”

  “Yeah. It was amazing.” As she was filling him in on some of the celebs she’d spotted, Isaac joined them. Probably because of Isaac’s presence, Emma proceeded to color the red carpet a little more brightly.

  “Very cool.” Jarrod waved across the room. “Hey, if you two will excuse me, there’s a guy I need to talk to.”

  And suddenly it was just Isaac and Emma, standing by themselves up front. Emma folded her arms across her midsection, gazing evenly at Isaac—and wishing he didn’t look so doggone cute with his shaggy sandy hair and clear blue eyes. She vaguely wondered if she was a good enough artist to do a decent portrait of him, then mentally slapped herself. Stop it!

  “So Em, how’s it going?” he said a bit cautiously.

  “Just great.” She gave him an overly bright smile.

  “I haven’t seen much of you since your LA trip. I got to thinking that maybe you’ve turned into something of a celebrity yourself—too good to talk to the common people.” He made a lopsided smile.

  “Seriously?” She glared at him. “You thought that?”

  “Well, not seriously.” His smile faded slightly. “But you sure seem standoffish lately. Did I do something to offend you?”

  She felt herself bristling as she shrugged.

  “Come on, Em. I thought we were . . . uh . . . friends.”

  “Yeah, I thought so too.” She forced another smile.

  “Then why are you freezing me out?”

  She considered her words. She wanted to be honest with him, and yet . . . “Okay, here’s the deal, Isaac. When you got behind the whole anti-prom thing, well, it felt kinda like a slap in the face. Ya know?”

  He rubbed his chin like he was thinking hard. “So going to prom means that much to you?”

  She tilted her head to one side. “To be honest, I didn’t think that it did . . . I mean, before. But maybe it’s just feeling like you don’t like me well enough to ask me.” She shrugged uneasily. “Well, that kinda hurts.”

  Isaac looked genuinely sorry. “That’s not how
I feel at all.”

  “Really?”

  And now he opened his arms and enveloped her in a big, warm hug. “I really like you, Emma,” he said quietly.

  When they stepped away, she felt slightly embarrassed, but happy too. “I guess I shouldn’t be taking it so seriously,” she admitted. “But Felicia is a very good friend, and we really do want to make money to help her sister. I guess that’s made prom seem even more important.”

  “Yeah . . . I get that. And I can’t speak for all the guys, but I care about Felicia’s sister too. I want to do whatever we can to help her.”

  “You do?”

  “Absolutely. Maybe it’s time we all got on the same page. Don’t you think?”

  Before she could respond, Jarrod and the other musicians were starting to play, and everyone was starting to take their seats.

  “Can I sit with you?” Isaac asked.

  She nodded with a happy grin. Of course, as she sat with Isaac up in the front row, she could tell that Cassidy and Devon were watching. And judging by Cassidy’s frown, she probably thought Emma had crossed enemy lines. But, really, the guys weren’t their enemies just because they didn’t agree. Isaac was right. It was about time for everyone to get on the same page.

  10

  You were a really good sport tonight,” Cassidy told Devon as she drove them home from youth group. “I thought you were about to throw a hissy fit when Jarrod put that goofy birthday crown on your head.”

  “Me too,” Emma confessed. “And I figured you’d probably tear into me since I was the one who told him about your birthday.”

  “Yeah, I was getting ready to kill someone . . . at first anyway.” Devon chuckled in the backseat. “But once everyone started singing that crazy birthday song, well, it wasn’t too bad.”

  “And you looked very cute up there,” Emma assured her.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I got a couple of photos to prove it.”

  “Cool. Send them.”

  “What did you guys think of Jarrod’s talk tonight?” Cassidy asked the question with caution. “I mean, it gave me something to think about, you know?” It wasn’t that she wanted to put them on the spot, but she was curious to hear Devon’s response—especially since it was her second time in a row to come to youth group. Was it possible that Devon was giving these messages some serious consideration? But as the car got quiet Cassidy felt uneasy. Maybe she shouldn’t have asked. Was she being intrusive, too pushy?

  “I thought it was a good challenge for everyone,” Emma eventually said. “It’s sort of easy to misjudge people. I know I should probably work on that.”

  “Yeah,” Cassidy agreed. “Me too. You guys know how judgmental I can be sometimes. It’s so easy to assume the worst about someone—especially when you don’t really know them.”

  “Or if you find them particularly irritating,” Emma added.

  “Or just plain don’t like them.” Cassidy stopped at the light.

  “I really liked what Jarrod said about how the people who are hurting the worst are usually the ones to do the worst hurting,” Emma continued. “To be honest, that’s not something I normally think about when someone hurts my feelings.”

  “Yeah,” Cassidy agreed. “And I don’t usually think about what it feels like to be in someone else’s shoes—especially if I don’t like how they’re treating me.”

  The car got quiet and Cassidy considered pressing Devon for her opinion, but then decided not to. Better to just pray for her. Patience wasn’t Cassidy’s strong suit, but she was learning.

  “Well, Jarrod’s talk did give me some things to think about too,” Devon quietly told them. “I guess that’s a good thing.”

  “Yeah.” Cassidy nodded eagerly. “That is good.”

  “Now, not to change the subject,” Devon said suddenly, “but I have to tell you guys about what Bryn and I did today.” Without missing a beat, she launched into the story of how she and Bryn went around soliciting donations from businesses. “At first I was like, no way am I going to do this—I mean, just walk into a store and ask the manager to hand over some merchandise—for free? But I watched how Bryn handled it, and finally when she said it was my turn, I just imitated her—kinda like I was playing a dramatic role. And it was actually pretty fun.”

  “Interesting,” Emma said. “I wish I could’ve seen that.”

  Devon told them about how they might get an expensive bike donated for the promposal prize. “The manager dude promised to let us know soon.”

  “Awesome,” Cassidy said.

  “Too bad girls can’t do promposals,” Emma said with a longing tone. “I’d love to win a new bike.”

  “Who said girls can’t?” Cassidy asked.

  “Really?” Emma sounded doubtful.

  “Why not?”

  “But the promposal contest is supposed to get guys interested,” Devon protested. “You know, to get prom attendance up.”

  “So . . . ?” Cassidy turned onto Devon’s street.

  “So . . . what if girls enter the contest and come up with great promposals, but the guys refuse to go?” Devon challenged.

  “Good point,” Emma conceded. “I guess the contest should be only for guys.”

  “That seems sexist to me,” Cassidy told them. “Discriminatory.”

  “I gotta agree,” Emma said. “And not just because I’d love to win a bike.”

  “But it could ruin everything,” Devon argued. “I mean, think about it. What if Emma did this fabulous promposal, but then Isaac said no thanks? Where would we be?”

  “Why would Isaac say no?” Emma asked.

  “Because you hurt his male pride?” Devon offered.

  “Hmm.” Emma sounded stumped.

  “I know what we do,” Cassidy declared. “One of the conditions to enter the promposal contest will be that the promposal must result in a couple attending prom. Otherwise, the promposal is ineligible.”

  “Yes,” Emma agreed. “That makes sense.”

  “I don’t know . . . but I guess it could work.” Devon sounded a bit reluctant.

  “It seems more fair.” Cassidy stopped to let Devon out. “I mean, think about it, a bunch of girls went to prom last year—without guys. The contest shouldn’t exclude them just because they’re girls. Whoever wants to support prom should be able to enter the promposal contest.”

  “I agree,” Emma declared.

  “Well, it’s a good thing you guys are both on prom committee.” Devon got out of the car. “Good luck working out all these details with Bryn and the others.” She laughed, then politely thanked Cassidy for the ride and ran up to the house.

  “I think something’s going on with Devon,” Emma said quietly as Cassidy backed out of the driveway.

  “Something good?”

  “I hope so.” Emma sighed. “I mean, she seems different. In a positive way.”

  “You said her birthday’s on Wednesday?” Cassidy drove toward Emma’s house.

  “Yeah. That reminds me, I better send her the photos I took tonight. She really was a good sport, wasn’t she?”

  “I think she likes the attention.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s nothing new.” Emma finished sending the pics, then put her phone away. “And if you think about her family and stuff—and combine that with what Jarrod said tonight—it all sort of makes sense.”

  “I know what you mean.” Cassidy nodded. “Hey, what if we did something special for her birthday? She’s had a pretty rough year. All that stuff with her mom . . . then moving in with your grandma. Do you think Devon would like a little surprise party? Maybe just invite the DG?”

  “That’s a great idea. Devon loves attention. And I doubt her mom will do anything for her. But I’m sure I could get my grandma to throw a cake together. She loves to bake.”

  By the time Cassidy dropped Emma off, they’d managed to put together a surprise party plan. If anyone had told Cassidy last fall that she’d be into something like this now, she wou
ld’ve thought they were crazy. Especially considering how she used to really dislike Devon. Funny how people could change . . . if you gave them time.

  Cassidy and Emma had already heard the good news, but everyone else on the prom committee got to hear it on Tuesday after school. Bryn called the meeting to order and immediately made the announcement.

  “Not only has Richardson’s Sporting Goods donated a very cool mountain bike, they’ve thrown in some other items too.” Bryn held up the letter the store had faxed to the school this morning. “Including a backpack, sleeping bag, and some other cool-looking camp stuff.”

  “It will make a really enticing prize,” Cassidy told them. “If we got some photos of the bike and these items, we could probably put together a fairly cool poster.” She pointed at Emma. “You’re a good photographer. Maybe you should make a stab at it.”

  “I could probably do it for my graphic design project,” Emma said.

  “Great idea,” Bryn told her. “I appoint Emma to handle that.” She went over the other prom donations that they’d managed to solicit from other businesses—all sorts of things, from ten pounds of mixed nuts to a fake tree. “But we still need more.” Bryn handed a printout to the committee members. “I’ve made a list of stuff we can still use. We’ll break down this list between us. And then I want everyone to start scouting more donations.”

  “Why does everything have to be donated?” Amanda Norton asked with what sounded like irritation. Amanda had just joined prom committee and Cassidy wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Sometimes Amanda seemed genuinely helpful. But sometimes she just made things more difficult. And Abby felt certain that Amanda’s motives had more to do with being crowned prom queen than wanting to help. However, Cassidy was trying to keep Jarrod’s recent sermon in mind. Don’t judge . . . walk in their shoes . . . be ruled by love.

  “Because every dollar we save goes directly to Sofia Ruez,” Bryn explained to Amanda. “Every item that’s donated—not purchased—means more profits, and whatever we end up with gets doubled when the Hartford Foundation gifts their matching funds.”

  “Oh . . .” Amanda just nodded. “Okay, I get that.”