MAKEOVER TIME

The words echoed in my head over and over: I could go. I could go. I could go. I had offered to go to prom with Jessica. I just stared at the movie’s start menu, head empty.

"That's sweet of you," Jessica said sincerely.

My face was so flushed it was about to catch fire. Why did I say that?! I frantically thought. "Uh. Yeah. No problem," I squeaked an octave higher than I thought possible.

“Well, maybe I’ll take you up on that offer,” Jessica pondered.

I stiffly nodded. “L-Let’s start the movie.”

Jessica agreed, and I pressed play. It was impossibly hard to focus given the circumstances, and I scarcely remembered the film. I recall it feeling slightly slow but otherwise enjoyable.

Afterwards, Jessica’s mother—also a snake—asked if I’d like to stay for dinner. I politely declined, lying and telling them that my family was expecting me. It was simply too embarrassing to stay after I had so thoroughly humiliated myself.

It felt like such a natural gesture in the moment—nothing more than a friend offering to help another friend. It wasn’t that the implication of offering to go prom was non-obvious, but that I was as dense as lead.

I found myself drifting through the semester, as aimless as could be. Thankfully, nothing changed between Jessica and I, though she did mention that her parents were slightly disappointed I refused their goodwill.

I told no one what had transpired. Paul would have felt way too vindicated, Gabi would have been too enthusiastic, my father would have had terrible advice, my stepmother… eh, and my mother would have had literally nothing to say.

It slowly ate at me, and it took me a long time to understand why.

The first issue was simply that I had serious trouble imagining myself there. Wearing “nice” clothes always felt bizarre, but after the Change even moreso. Everything I had was loose fitting and ugly, and I liked it that way. It brought back a modicum of normalcy.

I also didn’t understand my relation to Jessica, or how it might have changed if we had attended prom. There were a few certainties: I enjoyed spending time with her, sometimes talking to her would brighten my mood, and sometimes she looked nice. But these were all things that I found true of everyone.

What really fucked with my mind was that I didn’t know which feelings were new and which were newly perceived. I had never felt a real connection to anyone, but I also never had real friends.

The end of the semester was quickly approaching, and so was prom.

And then, one boring Friday night, Jessica texted me. “Are you still willing to go to prom with me?”

My gut dropped when I read the message. There was some indescribable reason why I couldn’t go on the tip of my tongue, ready to jump off and waltz all over my phone’s keyboard. But it never did its dance, and instead I found myself typing, “Sure, I guess”

I dropped the phone and fell backwards onto my mattress. What did I just get myself into? I couldn’t tell if it was excitement or dread that I felt. It was probably both.

The problem was far too grand to tackle myself, though I scarcely wanted to admit it. I knew Gabi would get an insufferable amount of enjoyment from it, but she seemed like the best choice. At the very least I knew she wouldn’t hold it over my head like Paul.

I texted her.

You: Hej

Gabi: Hallo. What’s up?

You: So this is sorta a long story

You: Jessica was complaining that no one wanted to go to prom with her anymore after the change and I sorta offered to go with her

Gabi: Omg are you going to do it?

You: Yeah

Gabi: Eeeeeeeee cute

You: Yeah IDK what to do though, like how does it work and stuff

Gabi: Lol what part?

You: I don’t know all of it

You: Like, I don’t know what to wear, how to show up, all that stuff

You: And I don’t know what I think of Jessica, what if she thinks I’m serious?

Gabi: You mean what if she thinks you like her romantically?

You: Yeah I guess

Gabi: Do you???

You: I don’t know. I don’t know what that’s like. I feel something but I don’t know what it is

Gabi: Hm.

Gabi: Well I don’t know what you’re feeling. But I say you ask her what she feels, and then you can test the waters. That’s what I would do. Not like I’ve ever been in a relationship though.

I gave a sigh of relief. It was sensible advice, as hard as it would be to implement. Bringing up that subject would be extremely difficult, but worth it.

You: Thanks I’ll do that

Gabi: Yw. Is that it?

It was not. But the next part was even more difficult.

You: No

You: I don’t really know what to wear

Gabi: Omg MAKEOVER TIME

Gabi: Lol just kidding. Why don’t you wear a tuxedo?

You: I don’t have one

Gabi: You can rent one, not sure how much that would be

You: Would it even fit me?

Gabi: You can get it fitted

You: But what about the chest

My cheeks burned right after I typed it. I squinted and rubbed my forehead in displeasure.

Gabi: Oh uhm. How big are you?

I literally rapped my head on the wall beside my bed. Why do I keep doing this to myself? I begged the universe for an answer. I only stopped when I uncomfortably struck my horns. I deeply exhaled.

You: I don’t know does it matter

Gabi: Yeah it does. If you’re small then you don’t need to do anything. If you’re average then you might need a bra or something. IDK what to do if you’re way too big but you probably aren’t

I stared at the screen, blinking emotionlessly.

You: Ok

Gabi: If you want help picking something out I’d be happy to tag along!

You: Thanks

Gabi: Np!

I was too exhausted to continue the conversation. Gabi had good advice, but implementing it was going to be challenging. I’d more than likely have to ask my father for money. He would ask where it was going. And then I’d have to tell him. Ugh.

It took me a few days to build up the courage. I decided to tell him at a family dinner, since I knew that having Liz around would mellow out his reaction.

Ordinarily, when the question of “How was your day, Noel?” would come up I would give a generic placeholder answer. But that night I had something to say.

“I.. uh… I’m going to prom with a f-friend,” I said plainly, glancing down at my food and then at the rest of attendees.

My father and stepmother were pleasantly surprised. “Wow, honey, that sounds fun,” Liz replied first.

My father grinned.

“I need a suit… or a tux… or whatever…” I continued, trying to lower my voice.

My father put his hand to his chin. “I might be able to help you there.”

I morphed my lips into something resembling a smile, but my eyes refused to match. “Thanks.”

“I think I have an old thing that we can get fitted for you,” he said, nodding along.

I bit my lip. “Cool thanks.”

“How about we go tomorrow evening?”

I sighed. “Great.”