Keeley was not an artistic person. Whoever put her name on the volunteer list to make and put up the decorations for the dance was going to suffer.
It would be held in a banquet hall at a fancy hotel downtown—this was a private school; they had standards—but the volunteers worked on making them in one of the art classrooms after school for a week prior.
One of the socialites only there to get volunteer hours for college admissions complained, "Isn't this a little underwhelming? It would be so much easier to just buy everything and it would look better too. A kindergartener could have made this."
She eyed Keeley's masterpiece made from two balloons taped together in the shape of a heart and plastered with paper mache with distaste.
It would look better once the balloons were removed and it was painted. She hoped. At least nobody else's looked much better.
