Love & Monsters

& DRUGS

Wren has brought over - I shit you not - twenty dresses. Luckily she remembered to keep the tags on. She taped her receipt on my mirror so she wouldn't lose it in the junkyard she calls her purse. 

Dressing up for prom is a whole thing. Everyone resorts to the shopping mall (because ordering online poses way too much of a risk), which means you see the same dress at prom three or four times. Wren figured she'd snag everything in her size and decide from there. 

She twirls around in an emerald green dress lined with silver studs on the collarbone. I shake my head. It's too dark. It swallows her. She wriggles out of it and tosses it in the rejected pile. 

She squeezes into a short maroon dress that puffs out at the bottom, motioning for me to zip her up. We scrutinize her reflection in the mirror as she does an array of poses. 

"Seven." I finally say. She lets out a noise of frustration and flings it off. 

"I need to be an eleven!" She rummages through the others, picking out a long black dress. "I want him to get an insta-boner when he sees me." Wren shoots me a grin and I laugh. 

Forty minutes later, we've found the one. I zip up the black and gold dress and she spins. It clings to her body in all the right places. The push up bra she's wearing is just enough pop for the low cut. A cluster of fake diamonds litter her left breast, forming the shape of a flower. And the dress hits her right below the knees. Wren hates knees. She says they look like old, wrinkled man faces. 

"Winning!" She hugs herself, beaming. "You'd better be ready for me, Kyle Flannigan." She kicks the reject pile into her bag. "Has anyone asked you yet, babe?"

"No." 

She gives my shoulder a squeeze. "I'm sure someone will soon, duh. What about that Nex guy?" 

"I don't know." I shrug. 

"Well, maybe if tomorrow goes well, he'll ask you." 

"Maybe." 

"How did he get your number anyway?" Wren asks, frowning. "And what kind of name is Nex?"

"Probably a gamertag," I laugh. "Or maybe his parents are scientists." 

Wren slinks out of her prom dress and slips it on a hanger. She slides it onto the nook of her doorway and bites her lip. "I... I watched a simulation video." 

I don't know what to say. 

"It was so fucking creepy," she says, avoiding my eyes. "I could barely handle five minutes of it and I knew I was watching a video. I'm... I'm so sorry man." She lets out a shaky breath. The beginnings of tears pool at the bottom of her eyes. 

I hug her. "It's okay, Wren. Seriously." 

"Your Mom invited me to a group tomorrow."

"What?! Oh my god, Mom and her groups. I'm sorry, ignore her."

"No, I thought it was cool. I wanna go." 

"Ugh, no, Wren, no." 

"Why?"  

I look away. The thought of Wren at some group with Mom and Alex is just... weird. Them all standing in a circle, talking about me (my illness) when I'm not there. Wren doesn't push the topic. She switches gears, perking up. "Oh my god, you know I'm not a total gossip or anything, but did you hear about Kelly?" 

"Who? Moore?"

"No, no. Williams. The cheerleader. Apparently she's had some like, undercover lover for a year."