How I Found the Perfect Dress (12 page)

At least Sarah was still speaking to me, which was good. But how could I explain to her that I couldn't go shopping for a prom dress today because I'd be too busy scouring the University of Connecticut campus for leprechaun tracks?

The p.s. about Mike I had no choice but to ignore. Realistically speaking, how much fun could I expect to have at prom? I'd be afraid to even talk to anybody at this point, for fear of starting an epidemic of exhaustion and weird dreams among the cute boys of the junior class. Mono Morgan, they'd call me.

I wrote back to Sarah quickly—
Wish I could come, have to go to UConn today, not sure when I'll get back
—

“Morgan!” Tammy ran into my room and started jumping on the bed. She was wearing a poofy pink princess skirt over her grass-stained soccer uniform. “Get dressed and come outside. I want to practice my new soccer moves!”

“Stop jumping, please; it's making me dizzy.” I pressed Send on my e-mail to Sarah and turned around. “What's with the skirt?”

“I like it. It's pretty.” She fluffed it to maximum poofiness. “Will you practice with me?”

“I would, Tam, but I have to go someplace this morning. Can't you ask Dad?”

“No.” She scowled. “He's busy. He said it's the Day of the Gnomes.”

“But it's still March.”

“It's warm today.” Tammy shrugged. “He said the Day of the Gnomes came early because of a ‘girl bull warning.' But I don't believe that. There are no girl bulls. Bulls are boy versions of cows.”

I had to think for a minute to decode that one. “Global warming, Tam. That's what he meant.”

“Bulls don't glow either.” She looked somber and lowered her voice. “I think he's trying to make Mommy mad.”

Smart kid,
I thought. “Ask Mom to practice with you, then.”

“Mommy doesn't play soccer.” Tammy pouted. “She doesn't like to get dirty.”

“Tell her you'll take off your princess skirt if she plays soccer with you,” I suggested. “Trust me, that'll work.”

So Tammy went off to push Mom's buttons, and I cleaned out my bag to make room for Colin's binder. On impulse, I grabbed the book Colin had given me last summer and put it in there too, to read on the bus.

The Magical Tales of Ireland
. I needed to brush up on my leprechaun facts. I was on the hunt, and the more I knew about my prey, the better.

 

 

t
he robotics lab Was housed in a large, modern building on the far side of the campus, across a grassy quad and down a tree-lined path past the library and administrative offices. The door was locked and you needed to swipe a student ID card for entry, which I didn't have, so I called Colin on his cell.

“I'm right downstairs,” I said.

“Brilliant. Be down in a sec.”

I scanned my surroundings as I waited. Where oh where, in this sprawling collection of buildings, was I going to find a leprechaun?
The Magical Tales of Ireland
offered some information, but most of it you'd know by reading the Lucky Charms cereal box: Leprechauns were pint-sized magical shoemakers who smoked pipes and hoarded pots of gold, which they hid at the ends of rainbows. They wore green coats and buckled shoes and funny-looking hats. Sometimes their presence was revealed by the
tap-tap-tapping
sound of their shoemakers' hammers.

The book also said this:

 

Or, in my own CliffsNotes version: Leprechauns are either impossible to find or don't exist at all. Not very encouraging.

“Hey,” said Colin, flinging open the door to the lab building and almost knocking me off the steps. “Thanks for comin', Mor. Seems I've done nothing but lay trouble on yer doorstep since I set foot in Connecticut.”

I handed him the binder and had to restrain myself from commenting on how cute he'd looked in his pajamas the night before. “How are you feeling today?” I asked.

“Woke up exhausted, with the most disgusting veggie taste in me mouth. I'm startin' to understand why they use sleep deprivation to torture prisoners.” Then he reached into his pocket. “I found another note this morning. No free coffee this time.”

He took out the same piece of paper I'd watched him write on last night, at the faery pajama party. It now read:

 

“The handwriting could be a coincidence, I suppose. But this isn't any kind of marketing campaign, is it?” Colin was looking at me with an expression I'd never seen on his face before. Not anger. Suspicion, maybe.

“Doesn't seem to be,” I said cautiously.

“What is it, then?”

Should I tell him the truth?
He'd never believe it, and it would just mess with his head even more while he was trying to concentrate on school. Not to mention he'd think I was insane.

I handed the note back. “Why do you ask me that?”

“I don't know.” His bright blue eyes, bloodshot and dimmed by fatigue, searched my hazel ones and came up empty. He turned away from me, antsy with frustration. “Sorry, Mor. I'm just sick of it, is all.”

“Things will be better soon,” I said. “I promise.”

“Yer a mysterious girl,” he said, shaking his head. “It's part of yer charm for sure.” His weariness showed in his face, but I have to say the rest of him seemed to be in top form. Colin's nightly dance workout was paying off big time in the buns department.

Stop it,
I scolded myself.
How can you “unhalo” him of the glimmer of your desire if you keep checking out his butt?

“Hey,” I said, trying to lighten things up, “can I see this robot you're building? And what do my dad's gnomes have to do with it?”

Colin chewed his lip. “I don't think ye ought to come up, actually. Alice will tolerate no distractions. I have to admit, if we win, it'll largely be her doing.”

“She's the brains, you're the brawn?” I joked, fighting back my jealousy.

“No, I've got the looks
and
the talent,” he said, forcing a smile. “But she's tough as nails, won't quit and she'd rather eat worms than lose. That's what gets the job done, in the end.”

He left me with a wink but no kiss, not even on the cheek, and disappeared back inside the building.

 

 

searching the UConn Campus for leprechauns Was going to take a while. I tried to be methodical. If leprechauns stayed close to their pots of gold, then where would I find pots of gold? I visited every ATM machine on campus, plus the student credit union and the financial aid office. Nothing.

Tapping sounds? I chased woodpeckers all over the quad, and even barged in on some poor guy trying to build book-cases in his dorm room.

I did so many rainbow checks I gave myself a stiff neck from looking up, but it was a beautiful sunny day, with a cloudless blue sky overhead. No sign of rain, no sign of rainbows. There was one false alarm when I saw a flyer posted for a meeting of the Rainbow Student Coalition. I raced over to the Student Center in time to crash the meeting, but it was a bust. Despite the big multicultural buildup on the flyer, the meeting was only for humans.

After a couple of hours of this I'd pretty much convinced myself that there were no leprechauns on campus. Plus I was hot, tired, hungry and incredibly frustrated.
Some half-goddess I am,
I thought bitterly, collapsing flat on my back on the newly green grass of the quad.
Colin is wasting away with exhaustion, and I just want to go home and watch TV.

Then I remembered what Colin had said about Alice:
She's tough as nails, won't quit and she'd rather eat worms than lose. . . .

“Fine!” I shouted it to the rainbowless sky. “If Alice can be that focused on a stupid school project, then I can stay focused on saving Colin.”

That's when my phone rang. It was Sarah.

“Where
are
you? We're here to pick you up!”

“Didn't you get my e-mail?” I said, flustered. “Sorry, I'm not home; I'm at UConn.”

“Excellent! So am I!” She giggled. “We're in the parking lot by the library. Wave, maybe I can see you!”

“But I said I couldn't go shopping today.”

“Yes, and I am so ignoring that! You have to get your dress today, dumdum. What if it needs to be altered or something?”

“Sarah, no,” I pleaded. “I'm in no mood.”

“Shut up,” she said cheerfully. “It'll be in all the papers. ‘Teenage girl kidnapped and forced to shop for own prom dress.'”

I was too miserable to argue, and my head was starting to ache from the sun. “Trust me,” I said, shielding my eyes, “I can't get into
why
right now, but me shopping for a prom dress is kind of a waste of—”

“What? I can't hear you.” There was static, and then a beep on the line.

“Fek. Wait, I'm getting another call.”

Annoyed, I clicked to the incoming call, half-hoping it was Colin saying,
Never mind about Alice; come up and see my robot and then we'll snog for a bit
, but also just wanting to go home and wallow in defeat.

It wasn't Colin. It was one of those hyperenthused, prerecorded voices, like the kind that yell at you to “Call
now
! For your
free
Disneyworld vacation!”

“Here's a gentle reminder from Wee Folk Custom Tailors and Alterations!” the voice said. “Don't forget to pick up your dress! The management cannot be responsible for items left over thirty days.”

I sat up, took a breath and clicked back to Sarah.

“Sorry about that,” I said. “Wrong number. Listen, I changed my mind. I will totally go dress shopping with you.”

S
hopping With Чour
bf
, as anЧone Who's ever gone shopping with her BF knows, is not just about buying stuff. Shopping is about catching up on gossip, and making fun of the ugly clothes, and telling each other how great you look as you try on things you'd never buy in a million years.

Shopping with Sarah in our true BFF days had always been a blast, and I was secretly glad that my leprechaun-seeking mission was taking a detour to the mall. I would have enjoyed the whole outing even more, except for the fact that the main topic of Sarah's gossip was me.

“Two words, Morgan: Mike. Fitch.” Sarah was working her way methodically through the racks of dresses in the eveningwear department of Strohman's Designer Discounts, where her sister had dropped us off. “Prom. Date.”

“That's four words,” I said, touching the silky fabric of a slinky black dress with a plunging halter neckline and a slit skirt. “What about this?”

“No,” she said decisively. “Too Slutty McSlutface.”

“Too ‘welcome to my lap dance,'” I agreed. Somewhat reluctantly I put it back.

“Mike likes you,” Sarah announced. “Dylan says Mike thinks you are intriguing and original and mad pretty. Oh my God, look at this one! It's like, ‘I was a toddler beauty pageant queen.'”

“Who grew up to be an Elvis impersonator,” I said absently. “Mike seems like a nice guy. I hardly know him.”

“You sort of went on a date with him.”

“I thought you said it wasn't a date.”

“It kind of was, though.”

“I wouldn't have gone if you'd said it was a date.”

“Morgan! I am not the ruler of the universe! I invited you, I invited him. You, him, girl, boy, birds, bees. I can't prevent nature from taking its course.” She paused and fell into deep contemplation of another dress.

“But I left, remember? I walked out on him. No!” I shrieked, when I saw what she was looking at. “Navy blue? With
white piping
? At prom? No, no, no, no.”

“But it's my favorite color.”

“Two words for
you
, Sarah,” I said. “Shore leave.”

Sarah hid the offending dress at the back of the rack where I couldn't mock it any further. “Anyway, why would Mike Fitch even want to talk to me after I ditched everybody at Toxins?” I asked, holding up a strapless magenta number with a ruffled skirt.

“I hope that comes with castanets,” Sarah commented. I put the dress back. “Because,” she went on, “you are the only girl in North, South, West or East Norwich who doesn't faint in his presence.” Sarah turned away from the dresses and put her hands on her hips. “This is all about Colin, Colin, Colin, I know! But Colin won't be here for prom. He's going back to Ireland soon, right?”

“Next week.”

“And you're too stuck on him to even
consider
going to prom with Mike?”