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When I eventually turned in, I found I was so wound up worrying about a nerd like myself escorting the school’s golden girl to the prom the next day that it took me forever to get to sleep. Then, when I woke up the next morning, I found I had overslept and missed my usual breakfast time. I felt sluggish and lethargic and decided to start the day with a run to invigorate myself and settle my nerves. I put on my running gear and tried to sneak out of the house but Mum intercepted me.
“Worried about the prom?” she asked.
I nodded.
“There’s a lot of responsibility on you because of your poor decision about a prom date,” she said.
Just what I didn’t need - more pressure. I didn’t respond. “I’m going for a quick run,” I told her.
“You missed breakfast and you won’t need any lunch. Would you like me to rustle up a cooked brunch for you?”
I wasn’t expecting that; it showed she cared about me despite her opinion on my prom situation.
“Thanks Mum.”
“It’ll be ready when you get back,” she said. “Thirty minutes. Any longer and it’ll be cold.”
I kissed her on the cheek then set off. I didn’t push the pace, going at a nice, steady lope. I avoided the park, sticking to the local streets. I found myself running past Maria D’Angelou’s place. I didn’t see anyone there but it made me wonder what Maria was thinking right now. Was she looking forward to her prom date with Dimitri or was she regretting it?
After fifteen minutes I turned round and headed back towards home. Rather than pass Maria’s place again and risk being considered a stalker, I ran alongside a busier road despite the traffic fumes. Passing a petrol station I noticed it sold bunches of flowers, and a bunch of lilies particularly caught my eye. Cayenne Proctor’s parents would have every right to hate me, the mercenary who was substituting for their daughter’s boyfriend, the school’s golden boy. A little bribe might go a long way towards soothing troubled waters. A couple of minutes and more dollars than I would have wished later and the lilies were mine, although it meant I had to walk the rest of the way home to avoid damaging them.
I missed Mum’s deadline by five minutes but she wasn’t upset. I got the interrogational eyebrow when she saw the lilies though.
“I expect Cayenne Proctor’s parents won’t be overjoyed at their daughter’s choice of prom escort,” I explained, “so I thought a modest peace offering might be in order.”
Mum smiled. “We might have turned out a decent human being after all,” she said, then she loaded my plate with food.
After eating enough to keep me sated for several hours, I went upstairs to get showered and changed. I was ready for the limo far too early and hid in my room so my parents would have less opportunity to question me about the shirt and tie. Finally, with the limo due in ten minutes time, I snuck downstairs to wait by the front door.
Mum was lying in wait for me.
“Don’t forget these,” she said, brandishing the bunch of lilies I had all but forgotten about.
“Thanks Mum, you’re a lifesaver.”
“Is that a new shirt? I don’t remember seeing it before.”
I felt a sudden chill gnaw at my bones. “I thought I’d better get something decent to go with the tuxedo.”
“Was it expensive?”
“Yes, but I could afford it after the money Dad gave me for doing the maintenance work.” I secretly crossed my fingers. I hadn’t exactly lied, just omitted to tell the truth.
“Funny,” she said, “the shirt goes really well with the tuxedo. It’s not your usual style at all.”
“I had help choosing it.”
I was saved from a further grilling by Dad arriving, armed with a camera. “Not so fast,” he said. “You’re not getting out of here without some embarrassing photographic evidence.”
I posed while Dad took half a dozen photos, watched by Terri who had also materialised from somewhere. “Who’s kidnapped my dorky brother and substituted this fine specimen in his place?” she joked.
I was saved from having to think of a suitable rejoinder by the doorbell sounding. I’d been hoping to intercept the chauffeur so he wouldn’t have to come to the door to inform us of his arrival, but Mum’s inquisition and Dad’s photos had distracted me.
I grabbed the lilies, kissed Mum and Terri on the cheek then went to open the door. Dad was in the way.
“It’s a tradition to spend prom night with your loved one,” he said conspiratorially, not loud enough for Mum to hear.
“Dad, that’s not going to happen,” I protested.
“If anything happens to change that, just text me and I’ll tell your mum you’re staying overnight with friends. Just be safe,” he warned.
No doubt he was referring to the bag of condoms, but there was no way I was taking them with me.
I wrenched open the door to find a besuited limo driver. He actually looked smarter than I did.
“Limousine for Mr Kafkasian,” he said.
“Actually there’s been a change of personnel. I’m Mr Randell, substituting for Mr Kafkasian.” I was mildly annoyed that Cayenne hadn’t warned the limo company when she’d given them my address.
“Do you have the prom package receipt?”
“No. My partner, Miss Proctor, has it.”
Fortunately the chauffeur took my word for it and didn’t kick up a fuss. He even opened the passenger door for me and waited until I was seated and belted before closing it.
The chauffeur pulled away and I was impressed with the limo’s smooth ride: I felt I could hold a full glass of water in the car while he was driving and not spill a drop. I wondered whether this was the sort of luxury the Kafkasians were accustomed to all the time.
When we pulled up outside Cayenne Proctor’s home, the chauffeur opened the partition between us and passed something to me. “This is for your prom date,” he said, “I am assured this will match your partner’s prom dress.” It was a wrist corsage, adorned by several brilliant blue flowers.
I took the corsage and thanked the chauffeur. I would never have thought to get one so I was grateful it came as part of the package.
The chauffeur opened the passenger door for me, and I emerged bearing the lilies and the corsage. “I’ll wait with the car,” he said. “There’s no hurry.”
As I made my way to the Proctors’ front door, I studied their property to try to assess their financial circumstances. Based on the size of the property and its condition, I estimated their circumstances were comparable to my own family’s - comfortable but not rich - which explained Cayenne’s modest choice of car, currently parked in the driveway.
When I rang the Proctors’ doorbell, the door was quickly opened by a woman I guessed was Cayenne’s mother.
“Hi,” I said, “I’m Kevin Randell, Cayenne’s escort for the prom.”
“Please come in,” she said. “Cayenne’s nearly ready.”
I entered the house and found Mr Proctor waiting in the foyer behind his wife. I handed Mrs Proctor the lilies. “These are for you.”
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