The Fate of the Muse - By Derrolyn Anderson Page 0,1

that we’d eventually get there.

I wasn’t so sure where we would end up a month ago, when I’d returned from a disastrous spring break vacation to discover yet more unimaginable facts about myself. Ever since I’d learned that my mother was a mermaid, my life kept getting stranger and stranger. I began to have random visions of the future, and found that I had inherited the power to inspire excellence in others. I was, in fact, kind of a reluctant muse.

“There won’t be any puppies in my future if Cruz kills me for not doing my nails,” I said, looking down at my ragged cuticles. I had been chewing them nervously lately, and Cruz was anxious for me to look my very best when I debuted his latest creation.

“I’ll see you tonight,” said Ethan.

I smacked a kiss into the receiver, and heard one in return as I put down the phone.

So Ethan and I ended up attending the senior prom, and I was a little surprised to find myself enjoying it. I smiled warmly up at him, gently squeezing his hand. I was starting to feel lucky again, grateful that the school year was finally coming to the end, and relieved that nothing out of the ordinary had happened in a while. I was happy that we’d made it to this point.

So far, so good.

When my cousin presented me with the prom dress he’d designed and sewn I was touched. He’d poured his heart and soul into making the most amazing dress imaginable, and like so many of his other creations, it was truly a work of art. Cruz saw the dance as his last chance to show everyone at school how talented he really was; he planned to go out in a blaze of glory. I suppose it was his version of closure, an opportunity to put the final period on a traumatic chapter of his life. Like me, Cruz had always considered high school to be a form of slow torture.

I hadn’t wanted to leave the house for much of anything lately, but confronted with Cruz’s big brown eyes and relentless pleading, I’d softened and agreed to go. I simply couldn’t rain on his parade. After all, he had already made the dress.

He’d also crafted beautiful gowns for our friends Megan and Shayla, and had been bugging them about going to the prom for weeks. Shameless in his use of emotional blackmail, Cruz alternately whined and bullied until he finally ground down their resistance. They ultimately rolled their eyes at each other and decided to go as his double dates. After all, they had to admit, how could they complain about getting custom dresses made for them by a soon to be famous fashion designer?

We all stood, listening to a local band butcher some popular music, watching a bunch of overdressed teenagers dancing self-consciously to the beat. I stifled a yawn and leaned against Ethan, disoriented by the bright sparkling flashes reflecting from a mirrored ball. Light swirled and twirled all around the darkened ballroom, reminding me of fractured sunbeams filtering down into the depths of the dark sea. The crowd swayed like waving seaweed, and the only thing missing was a battalion of phosphorescent glowing mermaids.

Cruz the designer had outdone himself as usual, dressing and styling “his girls” down to the tiniest detail. I smoothed my skirt and admired his exquisite craftsmanship. In my opinion, I had on the most beautiful dress there; he’d made me an ethereal ballgown that it could have come right out of a fairy tale. It had a perfectly fitted strapless bodice that sparkled with tiny crystals sprinkled onto the palest lavender chiffon. The skirt was full and long, whispering when I moved with the rustling of crisp taffeta, a dozen or so layers of tulle netting contributing to the skirt’s lavish volume. It made me feel like a princess, but I drew the line at the tiara Cruz wanted, opting instead for a loose Gibson Girl style up-do that suited the romantic dress.

I enjoyed watching Cruz bask in all the attention we were attracting. It was exactly the sort of vindication he had imagined, and he reveled in it. He stood there holding court, Megan and Shayla on his arms, answering questions from the popular girls who wanted to know where our trio of unusually gorgeous dresses came from. I had to smile, knowing that one day they’d all be bragging to their friends about how they’d gone to school with