Golden Age, Episode 9, Part 4

The Correspondent

People always talk about where they were when they first heard about The Correspondent. She came out of nowhere and tried to make a difference. Some saw her as a beacon of hope, others as a sign of how far down the slope we had come. I never paid attention to all of that. I was too busy. Too busy working to pay my bills, too busy trying to figure out life. I was seventeen when it started. I was The Correspondent. This is my story.

I was nervous for prom night. Shelby had promised not to make a big deal about it, but I didn’t trust him. Mom and I had gone shopping for a prom dress and had a pretty good time. The dress I wanted was blue and white, but my mom reminded me that I should try not to have everything I own be in the Correspondent’s colors.

After what felt like trying on every dress in the state, I settled on a bright pink poofy princess dress. Wearing it I did feel like a princess and I was excited to be seen in it. I didn’t often feel that I was pretty so this was a nice change for me.

Getting ready for the dance was strangely like getting geared up as the Correspondent. I had an outfit and an overall look. There was a color scheme and accessories. The more I thought about it the more I realized that I liked being in costume, whatever it was for. My mom did my hair and make-up, taking a little to much enjoyment out of her little girl acting like a girl for once.

When I was ready I went out into the living room where Shelby was waiting. He had been sitting for thirty minutes, dealing with my dad giving him the third degree. Shelby took it all in stride. As I walked into the room, I saw Shelby’s eyes widen. Apparently my dress made me look good.

Shelby was wearing a shiny silver tuxedo with a pink tie. I sensed some collusion between him and my mom, since his tie matched my dress perfectly. He had brought a corsage, which he nervously tried to pin on. My mom took pity on him, taking the flower from him and pinning it to my dress.

It took us another thirty minutes to get out of my parents house, my mom wanted to take so many pictures. For dinner we were going to a steak restaurant. Shelby had insisted on driving, which was good because I don’t know how motorcycle friendly my dress was, and we held hands all the way to the restaurant.

I ate too much at the restaurant and regretted the lack of elastic panels on my dress. Finishing off with a large piece of chocolate cake was probably a bad choice but I wasn’t about to not have dessert on my prom.

Prom was being held at the university center, in one of the huge ballrooms. Shelby seemed nervous now that dinner was over and we were headed to the dance. I chalked it up to nerves about dancing in front of our classmates. Boy was I wrong.

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The story of The Correspondent will continue weekly. If you enjoyed this story, please scroll down and recommend it. Follow me on Medium or on Twitter. I also have Patreon.

Dylan Reed has always been interested in a good story. Raised without a TV he spent a lot of time with books and loves reading. Dylan has been a professional entertainer, studied commercial diving, and loves random trivia. He brings all of this and more together in his stories.