* BROKEN / CROWN!

      It’s funny. She can’t seem to form anymore words after she finally agrees to Steve’s proposal. They’re all just … GONE. Carrie just finds herself smiling at the ground like a total GOOF as the Harrington boy replies. She’s already mentally mapping out the best way to get out of the house without her mother noticing her only daughter’s absence. All Carrie can summon in reply to him is a hasty and eager nod. Be ready by 8. She could do that. It’d be tricky but she could do it. 

      She squeaks out another OKAY right before he leaves her standing in front of her locker. Her face is hot. A wide grin is now pulling at her lips tightly. Carrie can barely contain herself as she squeezes her bag to her chest, this time in an excited burst. Carrie looks behind her to peek in the direction where Steve had gone but soon, she’s making her way out the twin doors of the school. She’s still smiling even as she walks home (albeit still in a slight panic), heading right up to her room to complete her homework and to prepare herself for tonight.

       She’s a bundle of nervousness and excitement as Carrie tries to QUIETLY put on her finishing touches. Her blonde hair has been combed and brushed – freshly clean, too, as Momma insisted she take a bath before she went to bed. Gotta wash the dirt and the sins of the day away, you know. Momma had even watched her do her evening prayers, right down to the final AMEN. Margaret kissed her forehead, bid her daughter a good night and had closed Carrie’s door to retire to sewing for the remainder of the evening in the living room. All before SEVEN. On a FRIDAY , nonetheless. 

                     For the White Household, this is all rather routine. So, with Carrie’s complicit demeanor the whole late afternoon, everything was going without a hitch. Hopefully it stayed that way.

        Unbeknownst to her mother, Carrie had a small collection of teen magazines hidden beneath her mattress and those periodicals had been her main source of reference for getting ready for her date. ( It’s so exciting, isn’t it? Her! Going on a REAL DATE! ) She had used them to help select her clothes – a simple, home made, blue dress with white flowers donning it in pattern that reached riiiiiight at her knees was her main piece. It was paired with her grey Sunday flats. They were nicest shoes she owned ; the leather was unscuffed and clean. Shiny, even. Her cross necklace sat at her pale throat, still. The little silver crucifix was innocent enough. If she felt self conscious about it, the teen would resort to tucking it beneath her collar. And to finish her ensemble, Carrie had a darker hued blue cardigan. With all her hair off to the side in one braid and out of her face, Carrie felt almost … well … pretty. You could actually see her face. She was dressed nice. She even had a hint of blush aaaaaand a little bit of pink lip gloss at her lips. Those were some other things she had hidden in her room. If Momma knew she had makeup, Carrie couldn’t even imagine the punishment she would receive.

        Carrie has her little coin purse pushed in her cardigan’s pocket and her shoes in her hand as she gives herself one final look over in the small hand mirror that she had hung off the wall behind her bedroom door. She couldn’t see much but from what she COULD see, she was pleased with her handiwork. She looked normal. And, honestly, that was all Carrie could ask for. 

        Still stepping on tip toe, Carrie crosses her little bedroom to the window. Silently, she reaches toward the paint chipped base and CAREFULLY and SLOWLY pushes it up. The cool night air meets her face and causes her to pause. Last chance. She could back out. She could just crawl back into bed and not take this risk. It would be like it all never happened. It could still all be an awful, awful trick. But … there’s a voice in the back of her head, pushing her to take the leap. You’ll never know when you’ll get a chance like this again, it whispered. And that was all that senior needed as persuasion to make her crawl out of her window and climb down the drain pipe until she met coarse grass.

                         Now she just had to figure out where Steve and his car was …

      An upraised palm was curled around the steering wheel; fingers rhythmically tapped as Steve staved off a surge of reluctance to stick around. He looked around the darkness of the quietly empty street. Halos of light were being cast from the bungalow’s front porch, along with flickering lamps. It was late but the night had only begun really. Steve shifted in his seat, contemplating the choices that lead up to him spending his Friday parked outside the curb not too far from the White’s house, waiting to pick up Carrie herself. His thought process always looped back to the same conclusion --- he had no way of backing out. Not if he wanted Tommy to not rub it in his face when he went back to school on Monday.

      A few minutes passed. His eyes trailed along the house’s walls as Steve kept a lingering look out; that was when he FINALLY managed to catch a glimpse of the outline of a figure moving in the darkness. Steve craned his neck more, and sure enough, watched as the same mousy girl he drove all the way out here for dropped down onto the lawn below. From this far, Steve could see the outfit the teenaged girl was wearing, but he couldn’t make out any details. The shadows muted hues, but he still squinted. To his SURPRISE, she didn’t look to be wearing her usual frumpy, unflattering clothes.

       That got him wondering: what the hell did a girl like Carrie White wear out on an actual date? The only get-ups he had ever seen her in seemed more suitable to be worn by somebody’s ancient, overindulgent grandma. She did NOT dress for her age.

          Oh, man, he just really couldn’t believe this was happening. If Steve wasn’t actually disappointed, he would probably have found her climbing down the drainpipe to be kind of impressive on her part. But all he could think about was how he would much he rather be doing absolutely anything else than spending his free time like this.

      Slowly, the door of her locker is closed behind her with a metallic click as he speaks. Carrie’s all nerves, now – Not that she was much of anything else before. She’s not … anti-social, per say. But she’s most certainly AFRAID of personal interaction. No one has been kind – especially at this school. Whether it be Chris Hargensen or that Tommy that Steve hung around, all of those people were the same. Cruel. Awful. And this boy was right in the middle of them. He was one of them, wasn’t he? How could she trust him?

      He gets closer and Carrie’s eye grow wider. She’s frozen in abject terror, clutching her bag up to her chest and her feet are getting ready to carry her out of the doors of the school as fast as she is able. He didn’t understand. Momma WOULD be hurt. Momma WOULD be angry. And Carrie would be in the most infinitesimal amounts of trouble if Margaret were to find out that her daughter was out. That’s not even factoring in WHO she’d be out with. Every cell in her body is telling her this is a BAD idea. But it’s his next statement that he makes that catches her off guard and stops her from making her desirable exit.

                       YOU DON’T THINK WE’D HAVE FUN TOGETHER?

          ❛   You … ❜   Carrietta’s brow steeples, tenting in doubt. Still, she’s intrigued. Why was he trying so hard? Was it entirely possible that … Steve was being genuine? Steadily, the fear and skepticism she feels so deeply inside begins to ebb. Not entirely. But … a little. He’s breaking her down. Slowly, sure. But it’s working. Her eyes still hold a sense of fear but there’s something else there, glimmering just under the surface. Hope. A small sliver of an inkling of it. Her posture slackens, tenseness falling from her shoulders and she hazards a peek up at Steve with her wide doe eyes.

          ❛   You really think you’d– …. WE’D … have fun? ❜  

          To say she trusts him would be an assumptive and silly idea. But … to say that she WANTS to believe and trust him? Well, that’s all too accurate. This is the dream, isn’t it? This is what NORMAL girls her age do, right? Dates. Sneaking out with cute boys. They’re all aspects of something that she has desperately wanted for so very long. And, for once, it is all within arms reach. It’s all RIGHT THERE in front of her!

           A thick swallow follows and she peers down at her feet. If one looks close enough, you can see the edgings of a small smile curling at her thin lips. She’s made a decision.  ❛   Okay, ❜   the White girl murmurs with an insistent nod. One hand frees itself to push some messy blonde hair behind an ear. Pink dusts her cheeks in a flush. She can’t believe she’s agreeing to this!

               ❛   Do … Do you need my address or… or anything? ❜  

       She was moving, locker door falling shut, concealing the personalized interior from his view. He wouldn’t have been surprised to see her inching further away or even hightailing it toward the exit --- but she DIDN’T. Carrie surprised Steve by staying put, and for all his hard work he even earned a quick, upward glance cast from those big blue eyes of hers. His immediate response was to smoothly reassure, " Yeah. ” Steve's sole salvation was the subtle blush tinting her cheeks, her mannerisms shy but any EARLIER trace of hesitancy dissolved. Steve decided to say something else that would make even more of an impact, managing in a suave voice, “ Why else do you think I’m asking you out? ”

      He didn’t give her a chance to answer that; any shield she had up before was lowered, and he swooped in to take advantage, regaining momentum and cool, “ Well, then, it’s settled. ” Steve’s expression lightened, and since the popular playboy exterior allowed it, her acquiescence was registered. Hey, he was pleased! For a second there he thought she actually might not want anything to do with him. But then he decided not to ponder that tidbit further, and Steve casually told Carrie, “ No, I know it... ” Such knowledge was easy enough to grasp when a house like hers was practically INFAMOUS; still, in the midst of their conversation, he was slowly withdrawing. Steve was attractive, he knew, and had tons of charm to pull from his arsenal; but he stepped away, drawing their interaction out with enviable ease. “ Just be READY when I get there. I’ll be around, say, 8:00? ”

       Carrie had taken him up on his offer, and when he left her there to mull over their exchange, he turned around the corner and proceeded down the hallway, only to be confronted by the likes of Tommy himself shortly thereafter: “Oh, shit. You actually did it! ” was the exclamation to be blurted out amidst hysterical hyena-like chortles. Steve felt an almost UNUSUAL flash of irritation sweep over him at the other teenager’s amusement at his expense, but endured it for the time being. He was already in the process of mentally preparing himself for the night ahead of him. Steve was determined to see this through, if nothing else, so he could get Tommy off his back and to shut the hell up.

       Hours later, his car pulled up near but not quite the front of her house. The windows were rolled up, music that had been put on blast before lowered in volume. There was no sound, no motion, as the driver behind the wheel idled. Once parked, the street appeared mostly deserted, and he took a moment in the vehicle to reset his resolve.