Prom Queen, The (Life at Kingston High Book #3) (16 page)

M
egan was feeling pretty good by the time she reached the auditorium, although her high spirits sunk considerably when she realized that once again, she was late. Mr. Valotti went through his usual diatribe about being a team player and respecting the others by being on time. Although Megan apologized, she could tell that he and some of the cast were getting fed up.

It didn’t help matters that she was stumbling over her lines again. When she’d blown the same scene for the third time and several less than kind remarks were made, she was fed up with them and herself. Still, she knew she needed to handle this graciously. She waited until break time and then approached Mr. Valotti. “Can we speak in private?” she asked quietly.

He nodded, leading her down to the seats in the auditorium.

“I think I should do everyone a big favor and just quit
the musical,” she told him. “It’s obvious that I’m bringing everyone down.”

“You do seem to have some torn allegiances,” he said solemnly.

She nodded. “I’m overcommitted. And I know it.”

“Well, I respect your willingness to admit this.”

Suddenly she felt torn. A part of her wanted to be in the musical more than she wanted to run for prom queen. In fact, she realized, it was no contest. Yet how could she be that selfish to the cast? “I would so love to be in
Fiddler
,” she said weakly, “but I know it’s not fair to the others.” She blinked back tears. “So I’ll quit. Clarisa can have my role.”

He reached out and firmly shook her hand. “Thank you for making this decision, Megan, before we got any further along.”

“Thanks for understanding,” she said in a gruff voice. No one else was around to see her just now, and more than anything, she did not want to break down and start blubbering in front of all of them. She knew she should find Jack and explain to him. But how could she do it without tears? She would have to call and apologize later. Right now, she just wanted to get out of there.

Megan cried all the way to her car. But once she was inside, she rolled down the windows to cool it off and then called Jack’s cell phone and, knowing he’d still have it turned off for practice, she left a message.

“I know I should’ve told you face-to-face,” she explained, “and you’ve probably heard the news by now. But I quit the play. It was just too much. I realized I needed to focus on my campaign. I was spreading myself too thin.” Then she closed her phone and drove home, trying not to cry.

As soon as she pulled into the driveway, she noticed a box on the front steps. Upon closer inspection, she saw that it was her second order of chocolate bars—baking in the sun. She grabbed the box up, taking it into the house, where she tore it open only to discover that the bars were melted. Worried that the candy was ruined, she carefully removed them, one at a time, and placed them in the fridge and freezer. Really, what more could go wrong today?

She went to her room and fell onto her bed, exhausted. All she wanted to do was sleep . . . and hopefully when she woke up, life would look better. However, when she woke, it was to the jarring sound of her cell phone ringing. It was Jack.

“Hey, Jack.” She sat up sleepily.

“Did I disturb you?” His tone was sharper than normal.

“No . . . I was just asleep.” She tried to focus.

“Well, thanks for letting me know.” He was obviously mad at her.

“So you got my message.”

“Yeah. Well, first I heard it from Valotti, along with the rest of the cast. That was pretty special.”

“I’m sorry, I would’ve—”

“Do you know what a slap in the face that was?”

“A slap in the face?”

There was a long pause, and she wondered if he’d hung up, but then he spoke. “We auditioned together, Megan. It was kind of a mutual commitment to do
Fiddler
together. At least I thought it was.”

“I know, but I was failing at it.”

“You could’ve tried harder.”

“I
did
try harder. I just didn’t have what it took, Jack.”

“You did too. When you were good, you were great.”

“But I didn’t have the energy. You could see that.”

“You mean because of your
prom queen
campaign.” He sounded disgusted.

“Yes . . . that and other things. The fundraiser and book club and my studies and . . .” She knew she sounded lame.

“Right.” His voice was flat. “FYI, the fundraiser is history now.”

“I know . . .”

“So basically you just wanted to quit so you could focus on your prom queen crown.”

Megan didn’t know how to respond. What he’d said was partly true, but it wasn’t really how she felt. Although at the moment she wasn’t even sure how she felt. Well, besides confused.

“Anyway, I get it, Megan. You don’t really care about me or the musical.”

“I do too.”

“No, you don’t. Not as much as you care about that stupid prom.”

“That’s not true!”

“So I think you and I should call it quits too.”

“You don’t want to go to the prom with me now?” Her voice cracked slightly. “You’re backing out on me?”

“No more than you backed out on me.”

“But I—”

“Anyway, I heard that Dayton was taking you,” he said in a hurt tone. “I didn’t really believe it at first, but I noticed you two together at the fundraiser, and I suspect that even if he hasn’t asked you yet, he’d probably be willing.”

“Right . . .” She felt like she was falling into a hole—a deep, dark hole.

“I guess there’s not much more to say.”

“Except that I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I really am, Jack. I never meant to hurt you.”

“Hey, I’m just fine.” The sarcasm seeped from his voice. “And Clarisa is thrilled about getting to play Golde. In fact, I might even take her to the prom now.”

“Great.” She attempted to sound cheerful. “I’m happy for both of you.”

After she hung up, she felt sick to her stomach and not even hungry. It was like her life was on a crash course and from here on out, nothing was ever going to go right in regard to this stupid prom. Why should she even try?

She knew it was time to pray—actually, it was way past time. Yet she’d had this gnawing feeling that God might not want to listen to her anymore. Not after she’d been so shallow and selfish and stupid. Not to mention hypocritical, trying to keep up a Christian persona when she’d been anything but underneath. Why should God listen to her? She didn’t even want to listen to herself. Still, she knew the right thing was to go to God. But why was it so hard?

Pacing back and forth in her room, she thought about all the selfish choices she’d made these last several weeks. How she’d completely left God out of her life. How she’d fallen for Pastor Robbie’s promising words. How stupid could she have been? Just thinking about all this made her feel more tired than ever. If only she could go back to bed and just sleep until prom was over and done with. Then she would reemerge and attempt to put her life back together. If that
was even possible. She didn’t even want to think about her grades right now. She knew they had suffered.

Megan glanced uncomfortably at the Bible on her dresser. Thanks to her killer schedule and missing youth group, it had gone untouched for the past several weeks. She picked it up now, absently letting it fall open in her hands and wishing she could find some answers there. She flipped to where she’d left a bookmark long ago. It was in the New Testament section, and for some reason her eyes stopped in the middle of a page and she began to read. Blinking at how comforting the words were, she reread the three simple sentences again, slowly and out loud this time. She knew they were words Jesus had said. Obviously they were spoken long ago, but for some reason they seemed to be written just for her.

Come to me, all of you who are tired and have heavy loads, and I will give you rest. Accept my teachings and learn from me, because I am gentle and humble in spirit, and you will find rest for your lives. The burden that I ask you to accept is easy; the load I give you to carry is light. (Matt. 11:28–30)

With these words reverberating through her tired mind, she got down on her knees and began to pray. “Here I am,” she said quietly. “You said to come to you. I’m coming. I am tired and I have been carrying a heavy load. Too heavy for me. Please, give me rest.” She looked at the next line. “I do want to accept your teaching. I want to learn from you. I want to be gentle and humble like you. I want your rest. Please, help me to find it.”

She waited there for a few minutes, just thinking on these things. She began to cry again. But these weren’t the desperate tears of frustration that she’d been shedding off and on all day. These were tears of relief and genuine regret. She told God everything she was sorry for—and the list was long—and she asked him to forgive her and to lead her. “If I’m going to run for prom queen, I want to do it your way,” she said. “Please, show me how.”

When she got up, she felt surprisingly refreshed. It really did seem that a load had been lifted. She washed her face, went into the kitchen, and for the first time in weeks, poured herself a bowl of cereal and began to eat it.

“What are you doing?” Arianna asked as she came into the house.

“Eating.” Megan smiled.

Arianna frowned. “But what about fitting into your dress?”

Megan shrugged. “I guess I’ll have to get a different one.”

Arianna opened the fridge, then held up a chocolate bar. “What’s up with this?”

Megan explained about the meltdown.

“Oh.” Arianna shook her head. “Bummer.”

“You can have one if you want.”

“Seriously?” Arianna looked shocked, because Megan had gotten on her for sneaking one last week.

“Sure.” Megan smiled. “You know, I never really thanked you for all the help you and Olivia have been.”

“You got us pizza,” Arianna reminded her as she peeled off the paper.

“Yeah, but I was usually grumpy about it.”

“That’s just because you were hungry.”

Megan laughed. “Well, that was part of it. But I was also doing everything all wrong.”

“How so?” Arianna sat across from Megan at the breakfast bar, and Megan proceeded to tell her younger sister about her God moment today.

Arianna nodded like she got this. “That’s cool, Megan. Thanks for telling me.”

“So I’m going to run my campaign God’s way.”

“How do you know what that is?”

Megan frowned. “I’m not sure exactly. In some ways it probably won’t look that much different . . . on the outside anyway. But on the inside, well, I don’t think I’ll be nearly so stressed.”

Already Megan felt like the stress was melting away from her. Just sitting there peaceably with her little sister, and later on eating Chinese takeout with Arianna and Mom, not freaking over the calories . . . it felt like old times. It felt good. And the food was delicious!

After dinner, Megan went to her room to work on homework and to write two letters. One to Jack and one to Dayton. Both an apology. She tried to keep it short and sincere. Although she knew they might just laugh at her or even read her letters aloud to friends, she was determined to give them to the guys. To sweeten them up and to prevent the guys from just wadding them up and tossing them, she rubber banded each note to a couple of chocolate bars.

Then she went and looked at the dress hanging in her closet. It was so pretty, yet she knew it was never going to fit. Just to be sure, she tried it on once more. There was no way that zipper was going up. Even with the aid of Spanx, if she could get it up, she realized that it would’ve been extremely
uncomfortable. She doubted she would’ve even been able to sit down in it. And with her luck, she probably would’ve ended up splitting a seam at the dance. She laughed as she hung it back up. One disaster avoided.

However, when she considered the money she’d wasted on that dress, as well as so many other prom related things, she felt depressed and weary. How could she have been such an idiot? So she got out the Bible and read those three verses again. She gave all her worries about money to God too. It was a burden she didn’t want to carry on her own anymore. She also asked God to help her to find a dress to wear to prom—even if it wasn’t much.

“It would be nice to have someone to go with too,” she prayed finally. “But I probably deserve to go by myself. That would sure humble me.” As she said amen, she realized she didn’t even care if she went alone or not. It was like none of it really mattered anymore. It was in God’s hands now, and that was a huge relief.

Megan felt truly happy as she walked into school on Friday. Without saying anything, she handed off her apology letters to the guys. They looked surprised, but at least—perhaps due to the chocolate bars—they didn’t toss them.

She cheerfully said hi to both Amanda and Hallie as she went to her campaign table. And she freely gave away the chocolate bars to everyone and anyone who wanted them, even though she knew they didn’t intend to vote for her. It just didn’t matter.

“You seem different,” Lishia said as Megan was packing things up.

“I am different,” Megan told her. “I’ll explain it to you guys at lunch.”

For the first time in weeks, Megan felt able to focus on her classes. She knew it was partly because she was no longer starving but also because she wasn’t distracted by trying to act like Miss Congeniality. Not that she was rude to anyone. She was just more herself. Relaxed and friendly, but not obsessed with earning people’s favor—and votes. She no longer cared.