Prom Kings and Drama Queens (15 page)

of brown pants and a pink top with brown trim that had a minimum of sparkles. “I think he’ll like this one.” Lily examined it and agreed. “You’ll be here when the captain comes?” she asked again.

I nodded. The Harringtons were driving to Lakeland for the big game, so I had agreed to come over before-hand. The captain would pick Lily up at four to catch the early bird special at the Sea View. I figured it would be a fitting end to my matchmaking career for the aged.

“Okay then,” Lily said. “You two run along.” I tried to contain my excitement as Brian and I almost raced to the Harrington family room. This time Brian skipped the formality of offering food and we went straight to the couch. He’d mentioned earlier that his parents had gone out for a quick dinner and they weren’t too happy about what they called my “do-it-yourself-dating-service”—which really did not have a nice ring to it. Part of me wanted to leave the Harrington house as fast as I could, but then there was that other part that wanted to feel the cool leather couch against my arms and legs and Brian’s hot lips against mine.

And because it was dark and I was dazed and I was obviously experiencing the pheromones present in Brian’s basketball sweat, I don’t think I can be blamed for what happened next.

As Brian’s lips moved closer to mine, between warm 147

breaths, he uttered the words, “Hey, do you want to go to the prom with me?”

I suddenly understood the phrase, “
in the heat of the
moment
.” Because in the heat of that moment, all I could think of was Brian’s lips nearing mine and wanting them to reach their destination and if I said no, those lips would stop being there and everything would be ruined. So I did it. I took a breath and said, “Yes.” Not long after that, the roar of the Harringtons’

Mercedes pulling into the garage jolted me back to reality. Brian quickly escorted me out the back way and kissed me at the gate.

Later, as I got ready for bed, I alternated between feeling a giddy delight that I might be dating Brian Harrington, and the horrible realization that I’d agreed to go to a prom that I was boycotting. What was I going to do?

I saw Brian for only a few minutes before the bus took off for state on Friday morning. Then Daniel and I kicked off the Support-the-Alternative-Prom campaign during lunch.

As Daniel and I sat in front of the cafeteria with a stack of tickets he’d printed on his computer, I heard Brandy Clausen’s voice. “I heard the reason she’s doing it is because her butt was too big to fit into any prom dresses.”

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My jaw tightened. I admit I once got stuck in one of those slinky, silvery gowns in the dressing room at Prom World. And it did take three other girls to get it off me and I was almost decapitated in the process. But the same thing happened to Lindsay right afterward and she’s an absolute stick. So I really resented that rumor. A lot.

It turned out Brandy’s voice was the first of many who did not share our enthusiasm for charitable events. Occasionally someone would stop and ask what the tickets were for. We got a lot of eye rolling and head shaking when we explained that for thirty dollars they’d be getting an alternative prom in my backyard and a

“good feeling” that they were supporting a prom for senior citizens.

Finally some guy I didn’t know picked up a ticket and reached into his pocket. Daniel and I looked at each other with anticipation. Our first sale.

The guy scribbled on the ticket and then flicked it back at us. He’d crossed out the word “support” and written “sucks” after “Alternative Prom.”

“Nice,” Daniel said, as the guy walked away.

“Real mature,” I yelled after him.

Later in the parking lot, when Lindsay asked how sales went, I admitted we hadn’t sold one ticket.

“But it’s only the first day,” I added quickly. “Maybe you can get some of your friends from the Crestview 149

Choir to come? Don’t they all want to be music majors in college? They may as well get used to not spending a lot of money.”

“I’ll try,” Lindsay said. “I’ll talk it up next week.” She was quiet for a second and then her face brightened.

“Hey, maybe you can get Brian and the whole basketball team to support the alternative prom. Then everyone would come.”

I looked down at the gravel. I’d never gotten the chance to tell Brian about the alternative prom. I tried to convince myself he wouldn’t care which prom he went to as long as it was with me. But I had no idea how he’d react when I told him.

“I haven’t exactly told Brian about the alternative prom, yet,” I ventured.

“What?” Lindsay cried.

“Well . . .” I hesitated. “It gets worse. Last night, he asked me to the
regular
prom, and I couldn’t think straight. I just said yes.”

“So,” Lindsay said, “let me get this right: Brian thinks you’re going to the regular prom with him and Daniel thinks you’re going to the alternative prom with him.”

“What? I’m not going to the alternative prom with Daniel. Is that what he thinks?”

“I don’t know,” Lindsay said. “It’s just that, you know, it’s your project together and . . .” She fiddled 150

with her backpack zipper.

I grabbed her arm. “If you know something that you’re not telling me . . .”

She hesitated. “I’ve been looking at his blog and . . .”

“You read his blog?”

“It’s pretty funny,” Lindsay continued. “But recently he’s been kind of serious. He put up this link to a site about male/female relationships.”

“What does it say?”

“Something about how girls never fall for the guys they’re friends with; they only like guys that are incon-siderate, that are into themselves, what he calls ‘prom king types.’ ”

“That is so not true!”

“Well, it seems Daniel is a proponent of the theory and I don’t know why he’d care except—”

“Except what?”

“If he’s really talking about you,” Lindsay said.

“You’re crazy,” I shouted. Then I looked around and lowered my voice. “There is no way Daniel Cummings likes me that way. And no way I like him that way. He has no redeeming qualities at all.” I thought for a minute. “The only good thing I can say about him is that he wears nice cologne—it smells kind of woodsy.

But that’s it.”

Lindsay shook her head. “Guys are weird. Once at arts camp I had a duet partner who criticized my playing 151

all the time and later I found out from this girl who played the bassoon that he really liked me.”

“Well, I don’t know what Daniel’s thinking, but I’m going to the alternative prom with Brian and that’s final.”

Lindsay frowned at me.

“Um, that is, as soon as I tell him about it.” I admired Lily’s blouse as she spun around, getting ready for her date with Captain Miguel.

“You know,” Lily said. “I feel like I did on my first date with my husband, years ago.”

“How did you meet him?”

“I was working as a dancer in New York City and I had lots of men trying to meet me. They would come to the back of the theater to get a glimpse of us dancers.

We called them Stage-Door Johnnies. Lots of the girls went out with them because they were exciting. They wore expensive suits and drove fancy cars.” She paused. “But there was this one man who was different.

He came three nights in a row and brought me pink roses every time. And then he disappeared. I didn’t see him anymore.”

“What happened to him?”

Lily took a deep breath. “One day, I was walking down the street and I spotted him. I told him I’d missed him and we agreed to meet later at the coffee shop next 152

to theater. When I showed up, there was a vase with a dozen pink roses sitting right in the middle of a table.”

“But where had he been for all those months?” I said.

“That’s the craziest thing,” Lily said. “He felt he couldn’t compete with all the men with their fancy cars and suits. But I told him I’d had enough of those men with their big egos.”

“So did you get married soon after that first date?” I said.

Lily shook her head. “We became friends first and we got married a year later.” She looked out the front window. “But that was a long time ago,” she whispered.

When she turned around, her eyes were watery.

“Are you okay?” I said.

Lily wrung her hands. “I’m just a little nervous.” Then the doorbell rang. As Lily went to get it, I suddenly felt very protective of her. What was that line in
The Little Prince
? “You are responsible for what you tame?” Weren’t you also responsible for what you set free? Lily had been cooped up for so long in the cottage behind the Harrington house. Sure, she danced for the boats, but was that enough?

Lily returned from the door with Captain Miguel by her side. She held a bouquet of flowers—no roses but a bunch of beautiful purple flowers. She winked as she passed me to get a vase from the kitchen. “Emily, could you help me?”

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“Why didn’t you tell me the captain was so handsome?” she whispered. “And so young?” I didn’t think Captain Miguel was either of those things, but I wasn’t going to tell Lily that. “I knew that wouldn’t matter to you,” I said.

Lily placed the flowers in the vase and set them on the counter. She gave me a hug and whispered, “Thank you, Emily.”

I hugged her back. “Do you have a dime for a phone call?” I teased and we both laughed. “Now go,” I said.

“Your date is waiting.”

154

SEVENTEEN

Emily on Collision Course?

The Crestview hallways buzzed with excitement Monday morning after the big weekend win. The few Support-the-Alternative-Prom posters that Daniel and I had put up had been torn down to make room for Cougars-Take-State-by-Storm banners.

It reminded me of my junior year goals—I was so close to going to the prom with Brian and to the editor in chief position, too. But it seemed the two goals had suddenly become incompatible. Walking down the hall with Lindsay, I was deep in thought when I was suddenly swooped off my feet.

“We won!” Brian shouted as he spun me around in the air.

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After two 360-degree spins, he placed me back on the ground. “I heard,” I said, trying to regain my equi-librium. That whole spinning-in-the-air thing looked a lot better in commercials than it actually felt.

“My dad’s getting me a new car ’cause we won,” Brian said, smiling. “And that’s not all; the parents got together after the game and decided they’d pay for a Hummer limo and a weekend on the beach after the prom. It’s gonna be tight.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Tight,” which was exactly the description of the grip Lindsay suddenly had on my arm. “But about the prom—”

Suddenly, a couple of basketball players pushed Brian from behind. He spun around, did some kind of weird handshake, and took off with them. As an after-thought, he yelled back, “Hey, I’ll see you later.” Was the whole team attached at the hips?

“You know,” Lindsay said, “it’s like a teen sitcom where the girl tells two different boys she’ll go to the prom with them and then she doesn’t know what to do.

But this is different. Your other date’s a—”

“A whole other prom,” I said, finishing her sentence.

“It’s like a bad sci-fi film—
When Proms Collide
. I can fulfill my dream of going with Brian. Or I can keep my promise to support the alternative prom.” Why hadn’t I just agreed with Daniel’s
Prom
nivores idea?

Lindsay stopped in front of the staircase by her 156

homeroom. “Maybe Brian will want to go with you to the alternative prom?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Who knows?”

“In the meantime,” Lindsay said, “you’d better figure out how to tell him, because you’re supposed to sell tickets at lunch today.”

“So tell me about this alternative prom,” a guy named Richard from my Latin class said as he picked up a ticket.

“We’re protesting the materialism of the junior prom,” Daniel said. “Buy a ticket to our less-expensive prom and not only will we guarantee a good time but you’ll be supporting a worthy cause.” I was getting really tired of hearing Daniel’s spiel.

And I was beginning to doubt that whole “good time” part of the speech, too.

“What cause is that?” Richard asked.

“We’re using the leftover money so the residents of Mount Saint Mary’s Nursing Home can have a prom,” I explained.

“Cool,” he said, nodding his head.

Really? Did he say cool? Up until then, Daniel and I had sold exactly four tickets—to ourselves, Lindsay, and Natalia Dash, who was up for anything with the prefix anti-. She was antimeat, antipoultry. Why not antiprom?

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“Some friends and I were going to have our own prom,” Richard said. “To protest . . . you know, other traditions.” Then he added, “It’s not just a hetero thing is it?”

“Nope,” Daniel answered. “Anyone’s welcome. How many tickets do you want?”

Richard thought for a minute. “Put me down for seven—for the whole gay-straight alliance.”

“We have a gay-straight alliance at Crestview?” I said. “Why haven’t I ever heard of it?” Richard laughed. “It’s sort of low-key—mostly a bunch of friends getting together for dinner and hanging out. You’re welcome to join us.” Daniel added Richard’s name to our list and put a big seven next to it.