Shirts: Leaving For the Dance

"Monsieur Gerald will love this, I assure you," the chef said to Sarah, with a very noticeable French accent. "It is a dessert made in heaven." Sarah nodded and took the tray from the older man, not even realizing that the man used to be her father Richard McMillan, but was now Pierre, master chef from Marseille, France. Her former mother Susan McMillan was nowhere to be seen. But that was because she wasn't anything like herself anymore. She was, in fact, Consuela's baby. ------ "Zoe, are you done yet?" Jordan asked from the hall. *And she complains about **me** taking too long,* she thought. The bedroom door opened and Zoe stepped out, wearing her dress. "Oh, honey," Jordan said, softening. "You look ..." "Don't say anything. I mean it," Zoe said, still in a sour mood. "Let's just get this over with," she said, heading to the stairs. Jordan shook her head. Why did Zoe always have to be in such a bad mood? The dress she was wearing looked great on her. A whole lot better than all that icky gothic stuff. She just never understood why Zoe wanted to live like that. Look at Linda. *She* knew how to be a normal teenage girl. "Come on, Mom! What the hell are you waiting for?" Zoe called up to her. "I'm coming," Jordan said, walking down the hall and then down the stairs. Just like Steph, she was already dressed to go out that night. Once she dropped off her daughters at their respective school dances, she planned to head straight to Heather's house to meet up with the rest of the Cougar Crew. It was gonna be one hell of a night!