Megan shook her head as she picked up her slice of pizza again.

  “Then what are you doing?” Belinda actually slapped her hand now.

  “What are—”

  “You’re self-sabotaging.” Belinda dropped the half-eaten piece of pizza onto the rest of the pizza, then picked the whole thing up, dumped it into the trash compactor, and turned it on.

  “What?” Megan growled along with the compactor.

  “Come on, Megan. You’ll thank me tomorrow.”

  “You don’t understand. I’ve changed my—”

  “I do understand.” Belinda folded her arms across her front like an army sergeant. “I talked to Arianna this afternoon. She told me you can’t fit into your prom dress.”

  Megan waved her hand. “So?”

  “So?” Belinda looked honestly shocked.

  “I’m going to get another one.”

  “Another one? That one was perfect.”

  “Perfect on the hanger. Not so perfect on me.”

  “But you were going to—”

  “Look, Belinda.” Megan stood, looking directly into her beautiful sister’s face. “Short of surgery, I was never going to fit into that dress. Okay?”

  “Okay.” Belinda rolled her eyes. “I get that.”

  “I can’t run my life or my campaign how you want me to. Like it or not, I just naturally have more, uh, curves than you do. And I plan to find a dress that fits my curves.”

  Belinda laughed. “How about a gunnysack?”

  “Thanks!” Megan turned away.

  “Hey, I’m sorry, Meggie.” Belinda put a hand on her shoulder. “That was a little harsh.”

  Megan just nodded. She didn’t want to give way to tears.

  “Tell you what. As soon as I get a bite to eat, we’ll go dress shopping together. Okay?”

  Megan brightened as she turned around. “Really?”

  “Sure. It’ll be fun.”

  “Great!”

  “You go change into something that’s easy for trying on dresses while I heat up some low-fat soup.”

  As Megan went to her room, she had to wonder: Where did Belinda get such amazing discipline? How was she able to toss yummy cheese pizza in the trash and then eat canned soup? It was like she was on a perpetual diet of sorts. Where was the fun in that?

  As Megan drove them to the mall with the best formal stores, she questioned Belinda. “Are you always on a diet?”

  “Huh?” Belinda put her iPhone down.

  “I mean, are you always watching your weight? It’s like you never eat anything that’s fattening or sweet or anything.”

  Belinda laughed. “Yeah.” She patted her thin midsection. “It works, doesn’t it?”

  “I guess.” Megan frowned. “But I read that girls who diet all the time can really mess up their metabolisms. You know, when they get older.”

  “Oh, that’s ridiculous.”

  “No. Someone did a study on it. Women who constantly dieted in their teens and early twenties tended to put on more weight later in life.”

  “Oh, well . . . that’s later in life.”

  “Don’t you care?”

  Belinda laughed. “All I really care about is looking my best right now. Why shouldn’t I?”

  “I don’t know.” Megan tried to wrap her head around this. “I just hope you’re not hurting your health.”

  Belinda laughed even louder. “Don’t worry about me, Megan. You’re the one who got caught snarfing down greasy pizza tonight. You should think about your own health.”

  Megan nodded. “Yeah . . . I guess so.”

  “And you should be thinking about what kind of dress we’re looking for. Lock it into your head so we don’t get distracted looking at the wrong ones. There is a science to good shopping.” She then began to describe the elements they would be searching for.

  “What if the dresses are too picked over?” Megan asked as they went inside the first store.

  “I’m sure they are picked over,” Belinda said.

  “Remember I’m on a tight budget,” Megan said suddenly. “I’ve already spent way too much on this campaign.”

  “Well, it’s not like you can scrimp on your dress, Megan. The dress is everything.”

  “There’s no chance I’m going to win,” Megan explained. “I’m just going through the paces to make my friends happy.”

  “Well, there’s no way my little sister is going to show up at prom looking lame,” Belinda told her. “Let’s get that clear.”

  Megan resisted the urge to laugh. She hadn’t even told Belinda the worst part of all this yet—that she had no date. Still, she just didn’t think she could handle the ridicule that would come with that confession.

  Maybe it was a night for humiliation, though, because it seemed that every dress Belinda was absolutely certain was one, perfect; two, a good deal; and three, going to fit . . . turned out to be all wrong.

  “You never should’ve given up on that diet,” Belinda said as she struggled to zip the back of a hot pink number.

  “I felt like I was dying.”

  “How do you feel now?” She gave a hard tug.

  Megan gasped.

  “It’s not going to fit.”

  “Duh.” Megan started peeling it off. “I told you that already.”

  “I just figured if we could zip it, we might be able to send it to alterations to get the seams let out.”

  “Let’s just pick one that fits to start with.” Megan pulled out a dress she’d selected earlier. It was kind of a plummy pink color, and although it wasn’t as stunning as the one in her closet at home, it seemed nice enough. More importantly, it fit—she could actually sit down in it. “How about this one?”

  “That looked like a gunnysack on you.”

  “But it was comfortable.” Megan fingered the stretchy fabric.

  “Do you need any help in here?” the salesgirl asked.

  “Not unless you have some tougher-than-steel undergarments that will trim around twenty pounds from my sister’s body.”

  “We do have some new shapewear—”

  “That’s okay,” Megan said sharply. “All I really want is a dress that fits to start with.”

  Belinda scowled.

  “I think we’ve tried every possibility here.” Megan pushed the dress onto its hanger. “Thanks!” She glared at Belinda now.

  “That’s it? You’re just going to give up?”

  Megan felt close to tears now. This was not how she’d wanted this to go, but it was like Belinda was determined to make her feel fat and ugly and like a loser. “You know what, Belinda?” she said suddenly. “I’m not you.”

  “I know that.”

  “You’ve always been pretty and popular.” Megan pulled on her jeans. “You were meant to be prom queen.”

  Belinda smiled slightly.

  “I was never meant for that stuff. I’ve figured that out. I wish I could drop out of the campaign, but my friends have worked so hard, and there are girls who want me to keep running, so I promised to see it through. But just for the record, I have to do it my way.” She pulled on her T-shirt, then looked at herself in the mirror. In clothing that fit, she didn’t look half bad. She fluffed her hair back into place with her fingers. “And even though I’m not you, I happen to like myself. In fact, I started to like myself a lot more when I realized how stupid I’d been to run for prom queen.” Megan actually told Belinda about how she’d turned the whole thing over to God. She smiled as she reached for her bag. “That really takes the pressure off. Because I no longer care about the outcome.”

  “Well . . . if that works for you.” Belinda opened the changing room door.

  “It does work for me. It’s helped me to focus on the stuff that really matters,” she confessed as they walked toward the front of the store. “Like my real friends. And my grades. And looking forward to college next year. I mean, it’s just a matter of time until this is all just a silly memory anyway. In fact, it’s a memory I’d just as soon forget.”

  “Maybe it’s like that for you . . .” Belinda looked unconvinced as they walked through the store.

  Megan stopped walking and put her hand on Belinda’s arm, looking straight into her sister’s eyes. “Honestly, Belinda, can you tell me that having been prom queen in high school makes your college experience any better? Or makes your life any better? I mean, seriously?”

  To Megan’s surprise, Belinda started to cry.

  “What’s the matter?” Megan held on to Belinda’s arm, guiding her outside of the store and into the parking lot. “Did I say something wrong?”

  Belinda continued to cry, wiping her tears with her hands as they got into the car.

  “What did I say?” Megan dug in the console for a fast-food napkin, then handed it to Belinda. “I’m sorry, Belinda. I think I just got tired of getting tweaked for my weight. Did I say—”

  “No.” Belinda wiped her eyes. “It’s just that it’s true.”

  “What’s true?”

  She blew her nose and took in a deep breath. “Being prom queen is one of my happiest memories.”

  “I know.” Megan nodded, trying to grasp what was happening. “I didn’t mean to suggest it wasn’t.”

  “But you’re right—it hasn’t helped me with college. Not one bit.”

  “Huh?”

  Belinda sighed. “I’m flunking out, Megan.”

  Megan blinked. “Seriously?”

  She nodded.

  “Oh . . . wow . . . I’m sorry.”

  “I haven’t told Mom yet.”

  Megan knew exactly how much Belinda’s tuition and housing cost, and she knew Belinda hadn’t secured any scholarship money during high school. Belinda had never worked summer jobs like Megan either. Of course, Megan knew that her silly pursuit of prom queen had depleted her savings a bit, but at least she still had some, and she had scholarships lined up too. That is, if she managed to salvage her grades after the past several weeks, and she was seriously working on it.

  “What are you going to do?” Megan asked quietly.

  “Quit.” Belinda sighed. “Even if I aced my finals, which isn’t even possible, I’d barely make passing grades. And combined with all the other cruddy grades, well, the truth is, this whole year’s been a total wash.”

  Megan sighed. So much for Mom’s self-sufficiency plan. After the divorce, she’d told the girls that their grades were their responsibility from there on out. She’d read a book that said kids needed to own their academic successes and failures and be accountable for them. Not the parents. Still, Megan knew that Mom would be furious about this. Really, why shouldn’t she be? What a waste. Even so, Megan knew that Belinda was hurting . . . and ashamed.

  “I’m sorry,” Megan quietly told her sister. “I’m sure it must be really hard to admit this.”

  Belinda just blew her nose again.

  “I’m sure you’ll figure something else out, Belinda. You’re so good at things like fashion and hair and makeup. Maybe there’s some kind of career for you in that.”

  Belinda barely nodded. “Maybe . . .”

  Megan wondered what kinds of careers other ex–prom queens usually pursued. Not that all prom queens were like Belinda. Megan knew that Amanda was fairly strong academically.

  Belinda sat up straighter now. “I can’t believe I told you that,” she said a little sheepishly. “You won’t tell Mom, will you?”

  “I think that’s your job.”

  “Yeah, I know. I guess I’m putting it off as long as possible.”

  Megan couldn’t blame her for that.

  “It’s pretty humiliating.”

  Now Megan suspected that might even have been the reason Belinda had been so brutal to her over her weight and the prom queen campaign. That made it easier to forgive her. “Thanks for telling me that,” she told Belinda as she started the car.

  “So now you can gloat over me,” Belinda said sadly.

  “I don’t want to gloat.” Megan waited to put the car into gear.

  “Well, I was acting like I was so together . . . putting you down.” Belinda shook her head. “The truth is, I’m a total mess.”

  Megan chuckled. “Well, I’m a mess too. I mean, how many girls running for prom queen still don’t have a dress just one week from the big day?”

  “You’ll find a dress.”

  “Well . . . there’s another thing,” Megan admitted as she put the car into drive.

  “What’s that?” Belinda sounded only mildly interested.

  “I don’t have a date either.”

  “What?” Belinda turned and stared at Megan. “You gotta be kidding!”

  “Nope.” Without going into more detail, Megan just shook her head, but as she drove away from the mall, Belinda burst out into laughter.

  “I can’t believe you’re running for prom queen with no date and no dress.”

  Well, at least Megan had cheered her sister up. That was something.

  19

  The next day, Belinda attempted to be helpful in locating the perfect prom dress. She even made Megan try on all the old dresses, thinking there might be a way to save some money by transforming one of them into something worthwhile. No chance.

  “Well, at least you might be able to use a pair of my shoes,” Belinda said as she opened her bedroom closet for Megan to peruse that afternoon. “After all, our feet are the same size.” She pulled a black pair of high-heeled sandals out. Strappy with glittering rhinestones on the buckle, they were actually quite pretty. “These go with just about anything that’s not pastel.”

  Megan thanked her. “I’ll keep them in mind after I figure out my dress.”

  “You’re sure you don’t want to go dress shopping again tonight?”

  Megan reminded her she had youth group.

  “But this is important,” Belinda insisted.

  “Youth group’s important too,” Megan told her.

  “But I have to go back to school in the morning. It’s my last chance to help you before prom.”

  “I promised to give a friend a ride tonight.” Megan almost pointed out the futility of Belinda returning to college if she was really dropping out. But she knew it wasn’t her business.

  To Megan’s relief, no one at youth group—well, except for Janelle, and that was just Janelle—mentioned her recent absence. They welcomed Zoë just as casually as if she were a regular too. Megan could tell Zoë appreciated it.

  When it was time for prayer and share, Megan knew she had to speak out. It would be one more form of humiliation, but she felt it was something she needed to do. So she raised her hand. Then, feeling Zoë’s curious eyes on her, she stood and cleared her throat. “I have an embarrassing confession to make to everyone,” she began slowly. “Some of you might remember how I made this spiritual-sounding announcement several weeks ago . . . about believing God told me to run for prom queen.” She waited, watching as many of them nodded.

  “Anyway . . . I have to admit that I was all wet about that. God wasn’t the one who told me to run for prom queen. It was my own silly pride. As it turned out, I made a real mess of it. And I wasn’t a very good friend.” She explained about how Chelsea, Lishia, and Janelle had handled the fundraiser, giving her the credit, as well as a number of other things. Then she told them about her aha moment with God and how she’d recommitted everything to him. “I hoped that meant I could quit the campaign for prom queen,” she said sadly. “But my friends aren’t letting me off that easily.” Now she actually laughed. “Although I’m sure I’ll look totally ridiculous next week. Not only do I still not have a dress—I don’t have a date either. So if you guys want a good laugh, I encourage you to come. Tickets are still on sale.” Fortunately, this made them laugh now. She held up her hands in a hopeless gesture, then sat down.

  “That took guts,” Zoë whispered to her.

  Megan just shrugged.

  But as she drove Zoë home, she realized that Zoë was opening up to her more than ever. Not only had Zoë listened to the message tonight, but she seemed to be actually thinking about it. When Megan offered her a ride again next week, Zoë seemed glad to accept it.

  “By the way,” Zoë said as she was getting out of the car. “I’m still voting for you for prom queen, and I know a lot of others who are doing the same. You probably should try to find a dress.” She grinned.

  “Thanks.” Megan frowned. “I think.”

  Megan couldn’t believe how much more fun it was being in her skin on Monday. Even if she was the school joke—since thanks to some mouths from youth group, everyone knew that she was both dateless and dressless—she realized she didn’t care. “God will take care of it,” she assured her friends at lunch.

  “God might expect you to help a little,” Janelle pointed out.

  “I’ll do what I can.” Megan shrugged. “I’ve actually been toying with the idea of asking Howard to be my escort.”

  Lishia groaned. “Okay, it’s possible you’re taking this humility thing a little too far.”

  “What does it matter? It’s just a one-night deal. People make way too much of it.” Megan considered telling them about Belinda’s confession.

  “That’s true,” Janelle agreed. “But since we’re all trying to look nice, you could at least attempt to find a decent dress.”

  “And a date,” Lishia added. “If that’s not too much trouble.”

  “We were hoping to all go together,” Chelsea reminded her. “The guys are arranging for a limo.”

  “I have an idea,” Megan said suddenly. “Instead of going out to eat, what if I host a dinner at my house? I remember Belinda did that one year, and it seemed like they had a good time.”

  “It would save money,” Chelsea said eagerly. “Nicholas was kind of complaining about how expensive everything was getting. I mean, in a nice way.”

  “It is expensive,” Janelle agreed. “I like the idea of doing a dinner.”

  “We can all help,” Lishia suggested.

  “That’s okay,” Megan told them. “I’d actually like to take care of it myself.” She smiled at them. “Kind of as a thank-you for you guys and the fundraiser. I still feel like I need to make that up to you.”

  Janelle nodded. “Hey, I’m good with that.”