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Hi, my name is Dinah
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 | Another Bad Love Story [1] |
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 5 with 5 vote(s)
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| Created: 2008-06-01 17:28:24 |
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To El because she hurts my feelings.. on a daily basis. See, that's what you call a dedication. A crappy one. Like this story.
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“Prom?”
It was a rhetorical question. And a sentence fragment. I don't even believe I had asked it right.
“Prom.”
She said it calmly and slowly, as if the monosyllable was too much for me to handle.
“Prom?” I repeated, this time questioning her sanity.
“Yes, prom. Ya, know? Dancing, music, spiked punch and messy breakups, random hookups, and just fun in the general definition of fun, previously known as a huge no go in the era of Kasey.” She threw her plastic covered dress in front of her body and spun around. It would look nice on her. Everything looked nice on her.
“You are a pitiful meat creature, Dinah. There's no way I'd ever be caught dead at a school function, much less one that everyone will remember as the night they lost nearly a grand. The guys all want to get in someone's pants and the girls are all fighting over a plastic tiara. So childish and trivial.”
“Prom isn't that expensive,” she sighed draping her dress onto the edge of her bed and not bothering to argue any of the other points. She crossed her arms over her chest before staring coldly at me.
“Ok,” I continued pretending to agree, “But before you go out and buy a high horse, tell me – how much did that dress, those shoes and that puffy French poodle hairdo that makes your head look big cost?”
She narrowed her gray eyes before pushing her way past me. Sighing at my lack of tact, I grabbed her arm and pulled her back onto the bed. Dinah slid further away and shook lose my grip.
“Why do you have to be so mean about everything? If you didn't want to go, then just say so. I only asked because-”
“No one asked you?” I interrupted.
She didn't take it for a full insult but managed to wear a look of self-pity too easily. I had hurt her feelings, again. She would never let me forget it. But I couldn't help it if her hair was pulled upwards and held with too many bobby pins. The smell of hair spray was making me dizzy being in such close proximity to her. If I turned her down, she would probably stay home and spend three hours washing her hair and scrubbing the dark red polish off her nails.
“Do I have to wear a tux?” I managed to say in a choked voice.
Her eyes looked up at me before she squealed in excitement. She wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me down, on top of her.
“What happens if someone walks in?” I murmured in the crook of her neck.
Dinah pushed me back and took a quick glance at the situation.
All too smart-alecky, she replied “They'd think you were raping me, only with our clothes on and I would supposedly be into it since I'm not screaming obscenities and fighting back.”
“You were screaming,” I pointed out, not bugging from the spot she had put me in.
She stayed quiet while she thought about that. Then, gently, she pushed me away and stood up.
“Enough stalling,” Dinah began, letting her bossy side get the better of her, “Prom is in less than eight hours. We have to find you a tux.”
Mentally I screamed and cursed myself. Why had I let her steal my soul so easily? |
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© 2008 The Doll Palace. All rights reserved.
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