Fearless (The Swift Series) (5 page)

                I told myself that I wasn’t going to attend these
stupid events anymore after.

                Was Stephen really that special enough to me that I
was going to break my own personal promise?

                When school ended and I walked down the steps I
heard a car horn. I turned to be pleasantly surprised by a red beetle. I walked
to it and got in.

                “You look like hell,” I commented. “What are you
doing here? I thought you were sick?”

                “I am,” his voice was still noticeably stuffy. “But
I couldn’t let you walk home all by yourself.”

                “My house is only a few minutes away.”

                “Still.”

                “Have I told you that you look like hell?”

                “Yes,” he started driving in the direction of my
house. “So you dropped some soup off for me this morning.”

                “Yeah,” I nodded. “Did you eat any of it?”

                “Of course,” he answered. “How do you think I got
the strength to get up and pick you up? It was the most delicious thing I’d
ever tasted, it was like spinach to Popeye.”

                “Now you’re just being sarcastic.”

                “Oh, how you know me so.”

                “Okay, what’s the favour I know you’re about to ask
me?” I demanded.

                “Why do you assume-” I gave him a look. He sighed.
“Oh, how you know me so. What are you doing for homecoming?”

                My heart stopped. I was excited. He was actually
going to ask me! Okay, Taylor, play it cool.

                “I don’t know yet, why?”

                Good. Very good. Smooth. No emphasis. You got this
in the bag.

                “See, you remember Bobby?” he asked.

                I snapped my fingers several times, “That’s… The
youngest tattoo artist in the Montrose City Side. Yeah, I remember him ‘cause
he had no tattoos.” Then it hit me. I looked at Stephen suspiciously, “Why?”

                “Bobby…” he began. “Well, Bobby really liked you.”

                “Uh huh?”

                “And I had to call in this favour…”

                “Uh huh?”

                “So now he’s cashing in the payment by demanding that
he be your homecoming date and his sister be my homecoming date. AND I’m
supposed to be his sister’s homecoming date to the Moores Mill homecoming.”

                “Why did you have to bring me into this?” I asked
angrily.

                “Whoa,” he was surprised. “I thought you liked
Bobby.”

                “Not enough to go to homecoming just so he can go to
a fancy homecoming!”

                “What makes you think he’s going for that reason?”

                “Okay, then why would Bobby want to go to
homecoming?”

                “Marketing. He wants to advertise his services to a
wealthier clientele.”

                I rolled my eyes, “That sounds exactly like Bobby.”
I glared, “What was the favour you needed?”

                “Bobby has a car guy,” he explained. “And not just
any car guy, THE car guy. And my beetle was a lot worse off last year.”

                “Okay,” I took in a deep breath. “Tell me why I have
to suffer because of something I wasn’t even a part of…” My eyes widened. “Is
this the reason why you’ve take me home every day since we met?”

                “No!” he answered. “I bring you home because you’re
my friend and I want to and will you please, please PRETTY PLEASE do this for
me?”

                “Fine!” I crossed my arms.

                “Thanks so much, Doc,” he stopped the car right in
front of my house. “I owe you big time.”

                “No you don’t,” I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure you have
enough favours to fulfil.”

                “What makes you-”

                I gave him a look.

                “Oh, how you know me.” I opened the door and got
out. “You’re the best, Doc.”

                “Don’t you forget it,” Stephen managed an “I’ll see
you at school tomorrow” before I slammed the door.

                Great. Not only was I NOT going to homecoming with
Stephen. I was going with a stranger and he was going with a stranger’s sister…
TWICE.

“I’m not your princess; this ain’t a fairy tale…”

Homecoming night Abigail came by to help me get ready.

                “Would you stop crying?” Abigail groaned. “I’m
getting tired of reapplying your eyeliner and mascara. I really should’ve
brought waterproof…”

                “I can’t help it,” I sniffed.

                “It’s not like Stephen rejected you, he just needed to
repay a favour,” she comforted. “Sure the root was his being selfish but he’s a
pretty stand-up guy for keeping to his commitments.”

                “My eyes are really sensitive to mascara,” I blinked
continuously.

                “Oh,” she stopped and twisted to her side. She was
looking for something. “Well, I can remove it, but it’ll look a little weird.”

                “Why do I even have to wear makeup?”

                “It’s homecoming!”

                “So?”

                “You just have to!”

                “Can’t you just let me wash my face and-”

                “And ruin all my hard work?”

                “Are you going to remove the mascara or what?”

                Abigail shrugged. “Your eyes will adjust.” She
started packing up her things. “So, you’re not upset that Stephen is taking
another girl to homecoming?”

                “No.”

                “So you are upset?”

                “No! I meant ‘no, I am not upset’,” I rolled my
eyes. “I mean, I did want to go with him, but it’s fine, really.”

                “If you’re sure,” Abigail stood up and stretched.
“How do I look?”

                “You just did my makeup and you’re asking me how you
look?” I laughed.

                “Just tell me how I look,” she demanded.

                I looked her over. Her flaming locks were in big
curls today. She had on a green, strapless, above knee length dress that had a
glittery silver belt. The entire top half was shiny while the skirt flared out
and had specs scattered in a studied randomness. She had silver heels. Her lips
were a fantastic red and her eye shadow was done to match her dress with a sort
of gradient effect.

                “You look nice,” I remarked in all honesty. Abigail
looked fantastic.

                She beamed at me. “Take a look,” she gestured to the
mirror.

                I turned to see myself. My blonde hair was curled
the way Taylor Swift used to sport her hair all the time. My lips and cheeks
were a wonderfully rosy pink. I don’t know how Abigail managed this, but I
looked thinner. She’d done away with eye shadow and simply did something with
her eyeliner. Lots of smudging, I think. It was simple but I liked it.

                “Thank you,” I turned back to face her. “Really.”

                “Yeah? Do you love it?”

                “Yeah,” I nodded.

                Abigail gave me a once over, “Your mom would have
made for a really good fashion designer.”

                I wore the same dress I wore last year. Its fabric
was a deep blue chiffon that had a weaved belt (almost like a basket) to define
my waist. The skirt had an asymmetrical hem; the right side reached just above
my knee, then the hem slanted down going to the left until it reached just
above my ankle. I wore a pair of black, strappy heels that were only an inch
tall.

               “Yeah,” I agreed solemnly. My mom wanted both my
sister and I to be the most beautifully-dressed at every dance. My sister was
popular enough so she won homecoming queen all the time. My mom was really
proud of that. It made her happy. I didn’t attend prom last year. But if my mom
were alive at the time and had designed me a dress and forced me to go, I’m
sure I would’ve won “best dressed” despite my being unpopular.

                “Oh my gosh!” Abigail squealed. “Taylor, you look SO
pretty!”

                “Thanks,” I smiled. “Now, if only if I could go stag
like you.”

                “I’m sure your tattoo artist friend is nice,” she
comforted.

                Bobby arrived at my house at about seven. We didn’t
leave until about eight because for the first fifteen minutes Bobby insisted on
putting a Henna on my face to help with his advertising and Abigail refused to
allow him to change anything. So then Bobby left and decided to absolve Stephen
of half of the debt (he still had to be his sister’s date). Then for the next
twenty minutes Abigail didn’t want to stop complaining about Bobby’s behaviour
until we realized that we didn’t have a ride. Then we spent about ten minutes
arguing about whether or not we should call Stephen to pick us up. We decided
not to. So we had to walk. The only reason it took so long was because Abigail
wasn’t use to walking for long distance in heels and I wasn’t used to them at
all.

                By the time we got to the gym we were both so tired
we decided to sit and have dinner. Abigail was complaining the whole time but
by then I’d sort of tuned her out. I was busy trying to spot Stephen. I’ll
admit I was feeling a little jealous. I only vaguely remembered Bobby’s sister.
But I remembered finding her pretty; and that was when I didn’t consider her a
threat.

                “Taylor,” I jumped a little when Abigail was
snapping her fingers in front of my face. “Are you listening?”

                “No,” I stared blankly into the crowd.

                “Since when?”

                “Since I realized you were just complaining about
the same things over and over and over again,” I swayed to the left and then to
the right.

                “Who are you looking for?”

                “Who do you think I’m looking for?”

                “Stephen?”

                “No, I’m looking for Waldo and Carmen San Diego.”

                “Well, if it makes you feel any better I don’t see
him anywhere, either.”

                “How would that make me feel better?” I finally
faced her to see that she was teary-eyed. “Hey,” I put my arm around her,
“what’s wrong?”

                “It’s nothing,” she sniffed.

                “Are you sure?” I asked. “Do you want to talk about
it?”

                She took in a shaky breath. “It’s just that it’s my
last year here and… I don’t really have anything to show for it.”

                “You’re class president,” I pointed out.

                “Yeah, but nobody likes me. No guy has liked me and
you’re the only person I can call my friend… Stephen is the closest thing I
have to a guy best friend and we hate each other,” she sniffed some more.

                I laughed once to myself, not really sure what to
do. I felt really bad that Abigail was feeling bad, but I didn’t understand
what, exactly, she was feeling bad about.

                “Abigail…” I began. “Do you like any of the people
here?”

                “No…”

                “Then why does it matter that you’re not friends
with anyone here?” I looked at her. “Most of these people are assholes and if
you guys can’t get along it probably means you’re a nice person. You’ll do
fine. We’ll get out of here as soon as we can by being together on that,” I
held her hand.

                She sniffed and then smiled. “Thanks, Tay. You’re a
really good friend.” She hugged me, and I wanted to laugh because I found the
moment very strange and ridiculous. But I controlled myself. “Is my eyeliner
running?”

                I looked at her, “Yeah, a little.” I stood up, “I’ll
go to the bathroom and get some tissue.”

                “No, no,” she shook her head. “You go look for Stephen.
I’ll be right here dancing when you get back,” she winked.

                So Abigail disappeared into the dance floor and
between circling the perimeter of the dance floor and going straight in I chose
to make my way through the chaos in the hopes that I might see Stephen. It was
a task much more difficult than I thought it would be. Who knew how much space
people took up while they were dancing? It was difficult to keep to my system
since the movement of the people also influenced mine.

                I didn’t turn when I felt a tap on the shoulder
because I assumed it would be one of those nasty girls wanting to throw punch
at me or something and there was no way I was letting my mom’s dress get
ruined. You could imagine my surprise when the person took me by the hand spun
me around and then had his arms around me. I smiled.

                “Hey,” I looked up to see that it was… not Stephen.

                “Hey,” the boy smiled asymmetrically, charming. He
had dark hair, dark eyes and skin that was so white you’d think he was scared
of something. He had a tall, lean, muscular build that I was definitely not
familiar with. This boy didn’t go to this school. “I don’t know you.”

                “That’s probably because you don’t go to this
school,” I agreed.

                “But I do go to this school,” he said.

                I raised an eyebrow,” I do, too.”

                “Good, we have something in common,” he smiled. He
let go of me and then held out his hand, “My name is John Maddox.”

                “Taylor Doctor,” I shook his hand.

                “So, are you here with anyone?” he asked. “Are you
looking for someone?”

                My eyes widened. “Actually, yeah. Please excuse me.”

                I pushed my way through the dance floor and I didn’t
see an inch of Stephen in there, so I took my search to the halls. It occurred
to me that perhaps Stephen decided not to go after all and that maybe Bobby
called off the whole thing when he dumped me. I was about to turn around back
to the gym when I heard singing.

                The voice led me to the music room, and there I
spotted Stephen serenading Bobby’s sister. The suit suited him well. The unfamiliar
song suited him well. Bobby’s sister had her dark hair up
in a beautiful up-do and she wore a beautiful purple gown…

                And I wore embarrassment well on my face.

 
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