Page 52 of The Ugly Stepsister Strikes Back

He noticed us and gave us a small smile. Ella had filled him in on the situation, so he made a point of looking everywhere else in the room except at us. He came over to a piece of paper near me and signed his name.

"What's that?" I couldn't help but ask under my breath.

"Jennifer's auctioning off one of her pieces." He put the pen down as he quietly answered. "She thought no one would buy it. And she doesn't care whether or not it sells. She creates just to create."

I could hear the amazement in his voice. He'd had too many competitive relationships. But my dad never cared about the money or the fame, even though everybody else did. He wouldn't care if he never sold another piece, either. He also created just to create.

He looked over at Mrs. Putnam and I recognized the look on my dad's face. He felt about her the way I felt about Jake. Only it looked like he didn't have all the drama and what-ifs.

I glanced down at the paper and nearly choked when I saw he had personally driven the price up to twenty thousand dollars.

I realized that Ella was right. He must really care about her. I made a silent promise to back off and to stop giving him a hard time. He could sing all the boy band songs he wanted. If he had another wedding, I would be a bridesmaid again and smile in the pictures and do my best to welcome her into our family. Maybe the seventh time really would be the charm.

Dad went back to Mrs. Putnam and I discovered that Ella had slipped away.

I wandered around the tables, looking at the prizes being offered, glancing at the names of the people bidding. But I didn't care about the sailboat or dream vacations to Europe or the luxury spa packages for Ella's save-the-whatevers cause. I was just trying to delay the inevitable.

I decided to woman up and head over to the ball. I turned in my ticket to the students working the door. They stamped my hand and waved me inside.

A rush of hot air and music slammed into me as I opened the double doors. The dance was in an enormous room, filled with ornate crystal chandeliers and red and gold carpeting. The wall had gold and dark wood paneling, and the red chairs with gold print matched the tables. A large place had been cleared for a dance floor, which was full of my classmates. The thumping bassline from an Usher and Justin Bieber song shook the walls. It felt like a sign, like Justin was cosmically telling me to go for it; to find somebody to love. Yes, I was grasping at straws, but give me a break. This was hard.

The theme of the dance apparently was, "We have a lot of money." The centerpieces and decorations made the room look like the inside of a French castle.

Ella and her committee had outdone themselves.

I scanned the room for Jake. I wanted to find him while I still felt courageous. Jake was the only one who could make me feel so off kilter. In most of the other areas of my life I said what I thought and did what I wanted and didn't worry about the consequences. But it was different with him. Because now I had something major to lose. It was different when he didn't know I was alive. I could live in my little fantasy world and never worry about losing him because I didn't have him. But now I could possibly have him and it made all the stakes seem so very high.

I reminded myself of what Ella had said. I couldn't preventatively worry about losing Jake.

Out on the dance floor, most of the boys had taken off their jackets to dance and everyone moved in a giant, pulsating group. I saw Ella and Trent on the dance floor and did a double take. Not only had she got him to come to a dance, she had him dancing to pop music. Oh, the mocking would be merciless and endless. I found it lifted my spirits. If Trent could dance to The Biebs, I could talk to Jake.

The lights were low and every guy looked alike. Black masks with tuxes or suits. Having failed to spot him among the dancers, I opted to check out the tables. I tried to stay in the shadows as I looked over each one.

I kept expecting someone to recognize me. To point me out so that I could be mocked. People looked at me, but no one said anything.

I walked toward the back, near the bar. They always had bars at these fundraising events. The alumni and parents seemed to give more money the more liquored up they got. They always carefully monitored the students to make certain that no one drank at the dance. Which never seemed to work given that most of them would just leave and go get smashed somewhere else.

Then I saw him.

Actually, I saw the back of his head. Which, as I have mentioned, I would know anywhere.

I willed him to turn around.

He did and my ankles wobbled dangerously.

He leaned against the bar in a very expensive tuxedo. He had on a plain black mask, like Zorro or the Lone Ranger. He looked like a younger and better-looking James Bond. My lungs constricted and my pulse pounded and the fan girl in me wanted to hold a poster above my head screaming how much I loved him. This would be so much easier if he were uglier.

I had been so caught up in Ella's scheme that I never really stopped to question its validity. In what universe would this plan actually work? It was like a bad sitcom or a cartoon. People didn't do things like this in real life. I mean, Bugs Bunny did things like this. But, to his credit, it always worked out for Bugs when he dressed up as a woman because he managed to trick everyone. Unfortunately for me though, Jake was no Elmer Fudd.

A hysterical panic welled up inside me. I couldn't do this! Jake would see right through this mask. Ella had forgotten to plan out for me what I should say when I found him. Probably because she only had to wiggle her little finger and boys came running. She didn't understand that I needed something to say or do. Some sort of game plan. My heels shook underneath me again. I needed to regroup. I just needed a chance to collect myself before I went over there and possibly made a total fool of myself.

I left the ballroom and found the girls' bathroom. There were several girls in there gossiping and putting on more makeup. Another girl sat in a stall sobbing while two of her friends comforted her, saying, "He's not even good enough for you." I sat down on the large couch and lay my head along the back. I closed my eyes. I took a couple of breaths. I could do this. I could.

One by one, the girls filed out, including the one with the crappy boyfriend. I was alone.

I stood up and went over to the sink. I untied my mask and used some tissue paper to dab underneath my eyes. Some of my eye makeup had started to run. I pulled out my clutch to put on more lipstick. Hopefully I wouldn't get it on my face or teeth.

A toilet flushed behind me and before I could react, Mercedes Bentley walked out of the stall. She came over to the sink next to me and started washing her hands.

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