How I Found the Perfect Dress

thanks to the sportshoe shop and a dip into mЧ saved allowance, I had a nice new pair of Converse high tops to trade Colin for his old Nikes.

But when to make the swap? Saturday was the day of the robot competition, and Sunday—too soon!—Colin was heading back to Ireland. Friday after school I had to bring the gnome sisters for a trial double date with Jolly Dan and the elf. I planned to deliver Colin’s old sneakers to Jolly Dan then too, assuming, of course, that the date worked out and Jolly Dan held up his end of the bargain. Leprechauns were known to be tricky about stuff like that.

So today, Thursday, was not only the best but the only day to nab Colin’s shoes. Mom was working as usual, and since my dad finally had a job interview, I was stuck babysit-ting Tammy after school.

“Here,” I said to her, as I dialed his number. “Tell him you need an emergency soccer coaching for your big game tomorrow.”

Tammy had all her second-grade homework worksheets scattered on the couch around her, to conceal the fact that her eyes were glued to the television. “I don’t feel like playing soccer,” she said, staring at the cartoon. “I feel like watching SpongeBob.”

I stood directly in front of the TV, blocking her view. “Get him over here. Cry if you have to,” I said, handing her the phone. “You can do it, Tam. You know how to whine and beg and get what you want better than anyone I know.”

“Wow, thank you, Morgan!” Tammy was so pleased by the compliment she didn’t even protest about missing her show. “You’re good at stuff too!”

She put the phone to her ear and waited for him to answer. “Hello, Colin!” she said, in her most adorable little girl voice. “This is your friend Tammy Rawlinson speaking. . . .”

Colin showed Up an hour later, frazzled and pale, but putty in the hands of a cute, manipulative kid. Just as I’d hoped, he kicked off his Nikes and put on his soccer cleats before heading out into the yard. Reluctantly Tammy changed into her soccer clothes too and went outside, where she promptly starting chasing imaginary fireflies.

I could tell this soccer practice was not going to last long, so I didn’t waste any time. As soon as Colin was distracted I made the switch, putting out the new Cons I’d bought and hiding his Nikes in the back of my closet. Note to self, I thought. Buy Febreze and spray closet liberally.

“What’s up with Baby Beckham?” Colin wheezed, after ten minutes of trying to get Tammy to play. “I thought she was keen to learn how to blast through the goalkeeper’s defenses.”

He shrugged and turned back to Tammy, now digging for worms in a garden bed. “Rawlinson,” he said sternly, the soccer ball tucked under his arm, “this is yer coach speakin’. I’ve got to get back to HQ, there’s a half-painted thingamabub in the lab, waiting for its final conversion into the bionic supergnome that’ll win fame and fortune for yours truly. So let’s play some football and call it a night, eh?”

“Oh, you know,” Tammy said dreamily. She dropped the stick and started to skip in circles on the grass. “It’s just a game.”

Meanwhile, I occupied myself by looking in on the gnomes. The card-playing gnomes were still playing, and the ale-swilling gnomes were still swilling, though I could swear the mugs were only half as full as the last time I’d checked.

Then I took a peek at Tux and Taffy, beneath the raspberry bush. Taffy was facing the shrub, with her back turned toward Tux.

“Try to be friendly, now,” I said, turning her around. She didn’t answer, which was a good thing because just then Colin came running up to me. He looked very unhappy.

“Morgan,” he said slowly. “The motherly gesture is much appreciated, but those are me lucky trainers, and between now and Sunday I need all the luck I can get. If I win this competition it’ll partly make up for all the—well, whatever it is that’s going on with me. So if I could just have me old shoes back? Please?”

As if to assist me in my fib, a Town of East Norwich sanitation truck drove down the street, hungrily munching its contents into pulp.

Colin looked ready to punch something, or cry, but instead he walked over to where Tammy had left the soccer ball and gave it a furious kick. It sailed into the neighbor’s yard.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I’m so tired I can’t think straight. I’d better get back to school, then.” He wiped his forehead with the hem of his T-shirt. “Luck being no substitute for effort, as me grandpap would say.”

“Half bollocks. I did have math homework. I’m sorry about that too.” Now I was the one who was ready to cry. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“I’m sick of surprises, and that’s the bloody truth.” He took a small square envelope out of his pocket and held it out to me. “Here’s the latest, by the way. I’m not opening them anymore.”

“At the moment, all I want is an explanation. And me lucky trainers back. And a good night’s sleep.” Colin looked away. “And to go home, frankly.”

By home, of course, he meant Ireland, a wide ocean away from me, my crazy family, my unwelcome gifts and my annoying half-truths.

I shoved the envelope in my pocket, too upset to even care what it said. Just wait, I wanted to call after him as he strode off in the direction of the bus stop. Those old sneakers are about to bring you the best luck you’ve ever had. But he was already gone.

“Look at this,” my mom said, the letter from the block association clutched in her hand. “It says if you don’t get rid of those things we are going to be fined, and that’s the last thing we need right now.”

“The interview went well.” It was after dinner. Dad had removed his tie but he was still wearing his dress shirt and suit trousers. I guess he was so glad to have an excuse to put on work clothes he didn’t want to take them off. “Stop worrying about money! I’ll have a new job before you know it.”

“That has nothing to do with this, Daniel,” Mom said, waving the letter around. “This is about you and your weird collection of eyesores—”

“You are overstressed,” my dad announced, “because you’re working too much. That’s why you’re overreacting.”

“Exactly four months,” she went on, “and then you dare criticize me for working too much? Are you jealous? Is that what this is about? Are you trying to sabotage the business that I’ve built up so diligently, which by the way is the only thing paying our bills at the moment?”

“I’m a professional declutterer!” Mom wailed in a way that was positively Tammy-like. “I get rid of people’s junk and organize what’s left! What does it do to my credibility to have these horrible, horrible tchotchkes all over my own lawn?”

it took me a long time to Convince tammЧ that Dad wasn’t having an affair with a Miss Tchotchkes, though the idea of such a person—I imagined a busty secretary whose desk was buried in Precious Moments figurines and plastic souvenir snow globes—would have been pretty funny on a happier day. My parents, without even asking if I would babysit for the evening after I’d already watched Tammy all afternoon, had grabbed their coats, climbed into Dad’s car and driven off. Whether it was to an all-night lawyer’s office to file for divorce or a roadside motel to kiss and make up, I had no idea.

For once, Tammy didn’t freak out under stress—I guess she figured Mom and Dad had that covered—so I spent the rest of the evening listening to her jabber about the stunt Marcus pulled during independent reading while the teacher wasn’t looking (it involved boogers, naturally) and some silly Saint Patrick’s Day project her class would be doing over the weekend.

“I tried to tell Miss Wallace that leprechauns are controversial,” Tammy said, as I tucked her in bed. “But she doesn’t listen to me.”

“She’ll figure it out someday. Sweet dreams, brat.” Tammy stuck out her tongue at me and waggled it, just like Gene Simmons from Kiss, and promptly rolled over to sleep.

With Tammy in bed and my parents in parts unknown, I finally worked up the nerve to open the envelope Colin had given me. My hands were shaking as I tore the flap—not because I was worried about what was inside; I knew it was probably just more faery mischief—but at the memory of how truly pissed off at me Colin had been. I wondered if things could ever be the way they used to be between us. At the moment, I doubted it.

Inside the envelope was a printed invitation, which I quickly scanned. The first words I saw were “East Norwich Country Club.”

It felt like my heart was trying to twist itself into a pretzel. Had I been a complete idiot? Had Colin planned to ask me to the junior prom all along? Had he changed his return ticket to Ireland, just to surprise me? And then I’d stupidly blown it by stealing his shoes and not telling him the truth about what was really going on, until now he hated me forever?

I calmed myself down and looked more closely at the invitation. I knew that the real junior prom tickets were black ink on thin cardboard, in keeping with Mrs. Blainsvoort’s tightfisted budget. But this was a foil-stamped invitation in gold ink on heavy green card stock, and the edges were trimmed with matching velvet ribbon. It read:

YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED TO

The Spring Faery Ball

Incredibly festive attire, please!

Thursday, March 20th,
Beginning at seven o’clock
and ending maybe never!
at
the East Norwich Country Club
On that big road with all the cars
(enter by the lobby fountain)

Thursday night at the East Norwich Country Club? That was the same time, same place as the East Norwich High School junior prom.

Good thing I bought a dress, I thought. Because if everything works out with Jolly Dan, I’ll be dancing with Colin on prom night after all.