The Real Prom Queens of Westfield High (16 page)

I can't help but wonder how the show will portray all the incredible events that catapulted the school's biggest nobodies into the fabulous and popular alphas we are today. There's just one thing I'm sure of—there's no way it will be able to capture the reality of it all.

***

The
Prom
Queen
Wannabes
is the biggest thing that has ever happened to Westfield High School. By. Far.

Like, before this, Westfield's biggest claim to fame was that some alumni chick became Miss Pennsylvania back in the 1960s.

When Kelly, Amy, and I walk into school the day after our reality show's debut, the impact is immediately obvious. The first thing we can't miss is the enormous television parked in the lobby, right in front of poor old Miss Pennsylvania's framed portrait. The TV has a huge façade in the shape of the Nőrealique lips logo surrounding the screen. Nobody notices when we join the crowd of students gathered around it. Onscreen, a Nőrealique cosmetics commercial ends, and the scene changes to Kelly, Amy, and me turning dramatically in our official “show poses.”

A guy from my English for Idiots Class lets out a high-pitched “Ohmygod!” when he sees us. We're greeted with hugs and squeals and open-mouthed grins as everyone looks around, probably scoping for cameras. We smile humbly, soaking up the glory.

“There's my superstar!” Luke says happily as his two best buds close in on Amy and Kelly. Everything feels perfect as Luke swings me effortlessly over his broad shoulder. I'm floating above the crowd and I'm breathless. And I don't mean Luke has me swooning. I mean he's knocked the wind out of me, and I start coughing at the sting of bile in my throat.

He puts me down. “You 'kay, babe?”

Everyone seems to be holding their breath waiting for my response, and I command myself not to projectile vomit all over my hunky boyfriend. When I nod yes and hold two thumbs up, the whole crowd gives a cheer and starts clapping. Kelly, Amy, and I share smiles of victory.

Come prom night, one of us will be wearing that tiara for sure.

***

A part of me hopes that Marnie will run up and say she totally understands now about this whole lips logo mix-up.

I'm telling a group of classmates-slash-fans the story of how our new cars were presented to us at Prom Queen Camp when I spot Marnie down the hall. I give her a smile and an energetic wave. She actually rolls her eyes at me and turns away. As if the fact that I'm on a reality show makes everything even worse.

“Were you totally in shock?” A girl prompts me to continue with my story, and I realize I'm just standing here openly gaping at the person I used to be best friends with.

I snap out of it and reply, “Well, they had to give us some way to cart around our new makeup and clothes. All Nőrealique brand of course.” I pull a tube of
Shannon's Sugar Bliss
from my lips-logo purse and hold it up for them to see. Everyone laughs, but the crowd can't quite drown out the image of Marnie turning her back.

The reconciliation I'd imagined dissolves into a wispy cloud and floats away. Even though we haven't spoken in months, I feel the loss of Marnie more sharply than ever. Now I know it's permanent. The eager faces surrounding me seem like poor substitutes for having one best forever friend.

It's late enough in the school year that a number of seniors have already turned eighteen and are able to sign their releases right there in homeroom. Of course, everyone else needs parental approval, but they're all clearly dying to get their non-blurry faces on TV. Even Grace, Kristan, and Deena play along, in spite of the fact that there's sure to be ugly footage of them from this past year that can get aired now.

There are a few holdouts who refuse to sign waivers, which means they'll be shown wearing cloud faces or else be cut entirely. According to Mickey, the nonparticipants all seem to be from insignificant subsets of cliques. It's upsetting but not at all shocking to learn that Marnie, James, and Rick are opting out of my show.

“Well, at least we don't have to worry about our big revelation sending us back to social wasteland,” I say to Kelly and Amy as we sit outside for lunch. We can barely eat with all the greetings interrupting us, and it's hard to tell if everyone's just excited about the spring weather or if they're acting wilder than usual because they're hoping to get on television. I watch a girl with earbuds in her ears climb onto her boyfriend's shoulders and start singing while punching the air.
Definitely
grasping
for
screen
time
.

Amy smiles hello to a girl walking by, then turns a worried look on me. “I had somebody ask me today if we've been sabotaging Grace, Deena, and Kristan just so we could win the million dollars.”

“Ha!” Kelly says. “It was only a matter of time before those rumors started.”

I swallow a bite of my tuna salad sandwich. “As if we could have anything to do with the crap that's happened to them.”

The girls nod their agreement, but we all glance around nervously. A few times during the school year, I wondered if Kelly or even Amy could be sabotaging the queens. All three of us now have the clout to start rumors, pass judgments, and sway public opinion. But just because we can now manipulate the system doesn't mean we are above the system.

Nobody in high school is ever above the system. And if we've learned anything this year, it's that popularity can be fleeting.

I finally relax when Luke and the others sit down around us. Amy and George feed each other fruit salad, and Luke and Pete start unpacking their large paper shopping bags filled with food. I feel happy to be associated with such charismatic people. Luke grins at me and I can practically hear a Crestmate toothpaste commercial chiming at the sparkle of his teeth before he sinks them into an enormous ham sandwich.

A few tables away, I spot Marnie sitting with Rick and James, and I wince at her homemade wrap skirt. It's nice to be passionate about something, but I just don't get how the corporate global economy is being influenced by her dressing unattractively.

She looks over at the six of us now and takes a breath that raises her shoulders. Her lips purse. James puts an arm around her waist and her shoulders settle. With a flash of excitement, I wonder if they've finally hooked up. Their shift from friends to dating wouldn't exactly make the front page of the school newspaper the way Luke and I did.

Rick's back is facing me, and by now I've almost forgotten what it felt like to have him give me that special look.
Almost
.

I picture for a moment what our senior year might have looked like as Shann-ick. He turns his head to look over his shoulder, and his blue eyes flash at me for an instant. I break eye contact and can't help but wonder,
Do
these
yellow
pumps
go
with
my
black
heart?

***

The whole week is a blur of people congratulating us and inviting us to parties and even offering to let us cut in line at lunch.

Amy, Kelly, and I were respectably popular before, but now we're famous. I find myself walking around with a constant giddy feeling in my gut.

And then, I discover there's an online blog where viewers have been discussing our show. And apparently people have some conflicting opinions about the way I came across in the first episode. While some commenters think I'm kind of funny and a few even use the term “awesome,” others think I seem like a flake, and one anonymous girl clams she'd love to “slap some sense” into me. For some reason, I feel tears spring to my eyes as I read on, and I want to explain to everyone that I'm doing the best that I can. Every word feels so personal.

Anilu_898:
As far as I'm concerned, Shannon is beyond clueless.

Tomatlanta:
She's a bit of a goof at times, and definitely spacey, but I wouldn't call her clueless.

Anilu_898:
I said she's
beyond
clueless and if I want your opinion, I'll beat it out of you.

I sit at my computer late into the night, memorizing stranger's opinions of me. The most negative comments take the deepest root in my mind.

I'm exhausted, but I need to unlock the secret. I've worked too hard for too long to still be so unlikable.

Amy, Kelly, and I are invited to several viewing parties for the next installment of
The
Prom
Queen
Wannabes
, but at the suggestion of our SACCs, we decide against endorsing any one specific group. According to Victoria, “It is best to maintain an air of exclusivity.” Our most strategic move is to stay home the night of the show and perpetuate the illusion we have more important things to do than sit around watching ourselves on television.

The three of us decide we don't need to go through the whole handholding group-viewing routine again. We sailed through the ordeal of being outed just fine, and things should cruise smooth from here.

Josie is watching the show with her clique at some junior's house, and Mom is out celebrating something work-related with Thomas. I still don't trust him, but one thing's for sure—he came along at the perfect time to distract Mom from the fact that I'm on a reality show. After the first episode convinced her my life wasn't being ruined, Thomas even managed to get Mom to give me a little privacy. She'll only watch the show if I invite her to. And I haven't. I figure she'll sneak a viewing in anyway, but at least this means I won't ever have to watch it with her or discuss anything that happens.

By now nearly everyone's releases have been signed, so that might be why episode two focuses more on random high school drama than on us Wannabes. I curse myself for not listening to Josie and acting larger than life to get more screen time.

Deena McKinnley appears time after time asking for a hall pass and heading into the bathroom. I call Amy immediately, and she answers saying, “I can't believe they're going to show it.”

“I'd be shocked if they didn't show it,” I say. “But this is so freaky. She must be sitting at home dying.”

All of us at Westfield High have already seen it, but I still exclaim, “Holy crap!” when the homemade video comes on. It hasn't been edited down a single bit, and Amy and I make gagging noises as we rewatch the entire three-minute-and-fifteen-second clip of Deena McKinnley making herself throw up.

I know that sounds pretty bad, but trust me, it's much worse. The video was taken at a crazy angle, from behind the toilet or something, so Deena's throw up is propelled toward the viewer in vivid 3D.

“Bulimia,” I say. “Have your cake and be thin too.”

Amy says, “I have to go,” and hangs up.

I think about the anonymous website that circulated through the school's email list back in November. The site featured only one thing. This video. The McKinnley Vomit Video.

Poor Deena. When the website first made its rounds, she was so devastated she skipped school for a week and a half. Then, when she finally came back, she had to eat her lunch in the nurse's office and be supervised in the bathroom. Deena put on about ten pounds and stayed the focus of gossip until she finally shaved half her head and got a vine tattooed on her skull. Universal high school lingo for, “Hey, everyone? Piss off.”

As the show continues, I'm confused by a shot of Amy sitting in the computer lab at school. The picture cuts to the computer screen and shows one of the funky beat remixes of the Vomit Video where the clip is played backward so Deena sucks up all of her own puke. The TV screen cuts back to Amy laughing hysterically at her computer. Which makes her seem like a pretty awful person. Deena may be a mega bitch, but her having bulimia isn't exactly hilarious.

The show fails to expose the one thing we all want to know about the Vomit Video. Who the hell taped it and spread it all over the Internet?

After another commercial break featuring our awkward Nőrealique lip gloss shtick, the show comes back on with a shot of Luke hanging out at his locker with his buddies. He's talking about how much he needs a good football scholarship if he hopes to go to college. He mentions that St. James State is his top choice, and someone says, “Hey, isn't Shannon Depola's mom, like, a scout or something for St. James?”

My mouth shoots open in shock at that since before dating Luke,
I
didn't know my mom had anything to do with St. James.

Just then, onscreen, I stride past and Luke turns to watch me. I recognize the look he gives me from the video Victoria showed me at the beginning of the school year. I can't believe she didn't show me the whole clip.
He's not drooling over me! He's drooling over my connection to St. James State!
It's suddenly clear why Luke was so anxious to meet my mother.

This also explains why he threw that football so hard. He beaned me in the head
on
purpose
! He was showing off, and then I actually let him kiss me, like, immediately after regaining consciousness. It's all so horribly obvious. Our beautiful, romantic fairytale relationship is a big, fat, hairy lie. I watch the onscreen shot of the two of us kissing and wonder if people can tell we have zero chemistry.

When we first started going out, I couldn't understand why I didn't get the little stomach flips that Rick gave me. Then I figured it was Luke's hotness factor that was throwing me off. Like, I'm naturally attracted to dweebs who put socks on their ears and in order to fully transform, I needed to override my innate nerdy inclinations. I remember feeling like an actress pretending to be in love as I made steady and frequent eye contact with my hunky boyfriend. I watch myself onscreen forcing my body language to convey how perfect we are together. Blinking eyes, flipping hair, touching my bare skin, parting my lips. None of it is real.

I'm already sinking into an insta-depression when my cell phone rings with the show's theme song. I'm clinging to the slim hope that maybe no one will notice Luke has been using me
.
I pick up the phone to Josie's anguished voice. “I can't believe he's been using you!”

“Was it really that obvious?” I wail. “What will everyone think of me?”

“Well, they'll think your relationship is fake!” Josie answers. “What was with that lame-ass shot of you two kissing?”

“I know, I know. What should I dooooo?”

“Maybe you can pretend to be a lesbian?”

I stop crying. “Can that work?”

“Probably not. You're lousy at acting. Plus, you'd have to stick with it after the show ends.”

I start crying again. “I don't want to be a lesbian.”

“I knew you couldn't handle this.”

“You told me I was going to be great.”

“That's just something sisters tell each other to be encouraging. When will Mom be home?” I answer her by gasping for air and Josie says, “Hang in there, Shannon. I'm on my way.” She sounds so uncharacteristically caring it makes me cry harder.

As soon as I click off with Josie, the theme song starts up again on my phone. I make a mental note to change my ringtone back to the quacking duck. Still crying, I answer to echoed wailing on the other end.

“I'm not laughing,” comes Amy's anguished voice. “At the Vomit Video. I didn't think Deena throwing up was funny at all.”

“Did you not notice my
relationship
happens to be a complete
sham
?” I ask. “You were barely even onscreen this episode.”

“But it's a lie.” She sounds miserable. “They made me seem heartless and cruel and meanwhile my cousin has bulimia and it's an awful disease. I hung up with you because of your stupid joke about eating cake and being thin.”

“Sorry,” I say. “I just saw a picture of that written in icing on a cake covered in puke and thought it was kind of funny.”

“Bulimia isn't funny,” she moans. “I was laughing at some stupid picture of a kitten sleeping in his food dish that my
abuela
sent me. What if people think I made the video and sabotaged Deena?”

“No one will believe you would do that,” I say as I silently wonder,
Would
Amy
do
that?
She really does have it bad for that tiara. “Everything will be okay,” I soothe her. “Most people know how much these shows are edited anyway.”

After leaving a hate voicemail for Victoria, I consume a half gallon of fat-free ice cream while sitting on the couch comfortably loathing myself. Then of course, I have to eat two heaping handfuls of potato chips to cleanse the waxy taste from my mouth. By the time Josie comes home, I'm in the kitchen ready to launch into a full-on pork-out.

Josie eases me away from the Disodito nacho chips and guides me to the living room like I'm a delicate life-sized doll. “This is a very unhealthy reaction to watching a video of a bulimic,” she says.

“This is a completely appropriate response to heartbreak.”

“Well, the cameras are watching right now, and if you could see how you look…”

I glance down at my oversized stained T-shirt and allow Josie to lead me to the couch.

She reasons that I should give Luke a chance to explain himself, seeing as how he's so cute and all. Like his behavior should be measured on a different scale. “Lots of times, a guy that hot can act douche-y without meaning to,” she says. “I know he deserves to be kicked to the curb for using you, but sister to sister? Wait and see what he has to say.”

Josie also thinks Amy came across as heartless and possibly devious on this episode, which works slightly to my favor. The way she sees it, if the school were voting right now, Kelly would probably win but I'm still a close second.

“Great,” I say, “the girl who least wants to be Prom Queen has the best shot at the crown.”

“There are still plenty more episodes left to air,” Josie reminds me, making me feel a little better. “And then there's the
live!
taping at the
Prom
,” she adds, which makes me feel much, much worse. I'm not even sure I'm going to have a prom date.

***

As I wait for Luke by my locker the next morning, I mull over Victoria's insistence that I try to work things out. “He's been
very
good for your projected ratings,” she told me over the phone last night. “And with the prize money and
tiara
hanging in the balance, you should really give him another chance.”

I see him approaching and I wonder if he's planning to beg me for forgiveness.

“Hey there,” he greets cheerfully. “Cool show last night.”

Guess not.
Note
to
self: revisit earlier notes to self.

“Why didn't you tell me you knew about my mom working for St. James before we started dating?” I cross my arms. “On the show, it looked like that was the only reason you even noticed me.”

“Aw, come on, babe.” He seems weary of our confrontation already. “Please don't act all sensitive about that.”

“What?” I'm furious. “I'm not
acting
sensitive. I want to know if you've been using me.”

He considers me a moment then leans in close.
Oh
my
God, he's wearing foundation
. In a low voice, he says, “I'm not using you any more than you're using me, Shannon.”

I stare at him. “I'm not using you to get a football scholarship,” I hiss at a volume that hopefully won't get picked up by the microphones.

“No, but you
are
in a competition to win a million bucks,” he shoots back in a low voice. “And you know being my
girlfriend
can totally get you voted
Prom
Queen
.”

He does have a point. I squint up at him. “If you honestly think I'm using you, why didn't you confront me as soon as you found out about the show?”

“Confrontation, ugh.” He shivers. “Besides, I guess I don't really mind being used.” He gives me one of his easy smiles.

“I'm not using you,” I insist quietly.
Just
maybe
your
image
and
popularity
and
endorsement
for
getting
elected
Prom
Queen.

“Okay, so you're not using me. But you do have to admit, we find ourselves in a mutually beneficial situation.”

I look him in the eye.
Mutually
beneficial
situation?
With that one phrase, he just used more multi-syllable words than he has used the whole time we've been going out. Underneath all the silly fart jokes and light underclassman bullying, Luke is brighter than I realized.

I'm suddenly glad I never let him get past second base, which in my ball field, means French kissing with hands vaguely rubbing near private bits
over
clothes. Sure, he once suggested I might enjoy getting naked under a blanket in his convertible at the drive-in, but he took my polite “no thank you” in stride and never pressured me to go all the way. In fact, to be honest, other than Grace's occasional outbursts, our overall relationship has been fairly devoid of drama.
Should've known it was all fake
.

“Okay,” I whisper calmly, glancing around at our gawking peers. “Can you fix this so I don't look incredibly stupid to everyone who watched the show last night?”

With a glint in his eye, Luke suddenly collapses to one knee and says loudly, “Please, Shannon, please don't dump me.”

Suppressing the urge to laugh, I ask at full volume, “What about the way you used me?”

He smiles up at me and lowers his voice enough that the gathering crowd has to move in to hear what he's saying. “I'll admit, at first I may have been interested in getting a free ride to college, but then I got to know you. And you, Shannon, are the reason I was able to throw a grand total of over
twelve
hundred
yards this season. I couldn't care less about that scholarship to St. James State.” He gives his head a slight shake, indicating that he cares very much about that scholarship to St. James State. “Please don't dump me.” He stands up and takes my hand in his. “You're the only girl I want to take to prom.”