Revenge and Prom

This is another piece from Shadow Keeper. It was writtin around the same time as the first but is a later plot piece. I'm including it here to give you some detail about how I plan to make my main charater... but recently she has gooten some much needed attention and revisoin. (Thank you College Creative Writing class). Anyway... here it is.
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Today had been better than my week had been. I was being avoided by pretty much everyone. I was pleased with how news of my outing the night before had spread. Everyone had heard that ___ claimed I was in her room with a pack of ferocious wolves that tried to eat her… (HA! As if they would eat her!) Though no one really believed I was in her room. I mean she sleeps on the second story of her house, so me going in the window would be impossible, right?
Well anyway everyone was sure I hadn’t really been in her room but almost everyone believed I had some how caused her to hallucinate because she had insulted me. Then there were the select few who did believe that I had been in her room and that making eye contact with me would bring my deadly wrath upon them. I applaud their imagination.
So as I proceeded to my locker I was unusually happy. I had a half smile on my face because every time I got near somebody they would quickly put their head down and turn and walk as fast as they could in the opposite direction. I reached my locker and pulled my books from my bag as I spun the combo on my lock. As I pushed my books into place and took the things I would need in my next classes I noticed a piece of paper flutter to the ground. The paper was folded neatly into fourths and was strangely yellow and stiff. I picked it up and unfolded it with an anxious feeling turning in my stomach. The paper reminded me of the kind used by things or people involved in the shadow world.
The paper contained thirteen type-like words.
‘Cira, go to prom with me? Place your answer in locker number 735.’
No signature, no date, nothing to tell me who had placed it in my locker. Using my wolf senses I placed the paper close to my nose and immediately started to cough. Either a really preppy girl was playing a trick on me, which I doubted given how people felt about ___, or someone was hiding their sent on the paper. It smelled so strongly of flowered body spray that it clogged my nose, throat, and made my eyes water.
Regaining composure I looked back to the note, studying it from a safe distance. There was no way I would be able to tell who it was from unless I played along. I quickly dug for a pen and scribbled my answer.
‘Why would you want me? If you can give a good answer to that, then my answer will be yes.’
I passed locker 735 on my way to my next class and I forced the note through the small slits in the center of the door. The spring had left my step and a smile no longer pulled at my lips. I needed to know who was toying with me and what they knew about me.
My next two classes seemed to drag on forever and there was no hope of reaching my locker on the other side of campus to see if the note had returned. The bell to lunch rang and I was first out the door and sprinting down the halls and around corners. I reached the door to the old section of school and forced them open as fast as they would go and came face to chest with Mr.___. I looked up at him, frozen dead in my tracks like a deer in headlights.
His voice was deep and strong when he spoke. “Slow down young lady. I don’t want to see you in my office again for injuring someone. You need some good behavior points if I’m going to revoke part of your detention.” He winked at me and my muscles loosened. This guy genially seemed to like me. I nodded and tried to look as apologetic as I could, then hurried around him.
I wrenched my locker open to find the note laying on top of my books. I unfolded it as quickly as I could with out ripping it and let out a shocked breath.
******rest of day******
All of us had cleared our plates so I stood up from the dinner tabled and started to take plates into the kitchen. Mom followed and started to wash the dishes. I took the job of drying.
“Anything interesting happen at school today?”
“Well if you think getting asked to prom is interesting then…”
She cut me off. “Someone asked you to prom? Did you say yes?”
“Ya.”
She threw her arms around my neck, sending soapy water all over the kitchen. Drawing back and returning to the dishes she asked, “Who asked you?”
“Well, that’s the interesting part. I don’t really know who.”
Looking sideways at me, warning crept into Mom’s voice. “I’m happy for you, just be careful.”
I had to smile at her. “I will. Promise.”
******days*****
My locker swung open and I saw it. Another note. Not able to keep my hands from trembling I took the note and read the strange writing.
‘Have you picked out a dress yet? If so what color is it?’
Again thirteen words. As it so happened I had picked out a dress. ***dress description***
***days***
Prom night came. I was nervous, but not because of how my work may be involved, but about who was taking me. I guess I was feeling like a normal teenager would feel and that made me feel even more nervous. My hair was pulled up into a lose bun and random pieces were left out and curled in long ringlet chunks.
My dress was hanging against my closet door and I was rapped up in my robe. As I glanced over at the dress my vision tunnel and I felt as though I was being pulled away or as if I was suddenly looking through the wrong side of a telescope. But as quickly as my vision had changed it returned to normal and I was left feeling confused.
I quickly walked over to my dress and slipped it off the hanger. My robe fell to the floor and I quickly slipped the dress up. Zipping up the back, I quickly walked away from the closet door. My shoes were on the floor on the other side of my room so I walked over there and slid them over my feet. They had ribbon straps that tied tightly around my ankles.
I was done dressing so I walked out into the hall and looked down over the railing into the second floor. Dad was sitting on a barstool. He was leaning back with his elbows on the counter watching mom. Forehead creasing, he looked as though he was deep in thought about a column in the morning newspaper.
Mom was another story. Dad was sitting, calm and silent while mom was walking from one end of the kitchen to the other.