by Liz Botts
The rest of the game passed in a blur as I tried to sort through various scenarios in which Kyle was so impressed with my audition that he asked me to prom on the spot. Not that getting asked to prom was that big a deal to me or anything, but I couldn’t imagine anything more amazing than getting asked to prom in front of the whole drama club. By Kyle nonetheless. In my fantasy, Kyle jumped up on stage after my audition and declared it the best thing he’d ever seen. Then with amazement still shining in his eyes, Kyle dropped down on one knee and asked me to be his date at prom. Every girl in the auditorium would be green with envy, and I would swoon and say yes, of course.
Granted my fantasy was a slight blur of a marriage proposal, but being asked to prom was the next best thing in our school. People put so much emphasis on prom and asking/being asked in the most creative way possible that you’d think we were straight from some cheesy teen movie where all the students know the exact same dance at the party. And they all look really amazing even when they’re supposed to be geeky and ugly.
“Earth to zombie girl,” Hayley was calling to me by the time I emerged from my daze. She looked supremely annoyed, what with the crossed arms and perpetual scowl. It was hard to believe she was pretty under all that grouchiness.
We trudged to the car in silence, shivering against the biting January wind. My car took its own sluggish time turning on, and no matter how high we turned the heat up, only cold air blew at us through the vents.
“This car is a piece of crap,” Hayley said, adding a few choice words as a shudder rolled through the car.
“Hayley!” I snapped. “Language.”
“Oh whatever,” Hayley rolled her eyes. “Like you never swear. Whatever.”
Lapsing back into silence, I wracked my brain for something to say, figuring conversation would take our minds off the cold. “Hey, you were really good tonight,” I said. “It seemed like everyone was really in to it. The crowd, I mean. You guys are always really in to it.”
Gosh, I was saying really a lot.
Hayley crossed her arms, whether out of annoyance or cold I couldn’t be sure. Glancing at me she said, “Thanks. It turned out okay I guess. Becky can never remember her moves. She just ticks me off so much.”
“That’s too bad,” I replied, hoping I sounded somewhat sympathetic. In all honesty, I couldn’t remember who Becky was, nor had I noticed anyone forgetting their moves.
Hayley shrugged. “Whatever. She just sucks, that’s all. I think Mike is going to ask me to prom.”
I nearly hit the car in front of me. “Are you kidding?”
“No,” Hayley said, drawing patterns in the frost on the window. “Why would I be kidding?”
“Um, no offense but why would Mike ask you to prom?” I said, easing off the brake. “You’re only a freshman.”
“Duh, I’m aware of that fact,” Hayley said. “But there’s no rule that says a freshman can’t go if an upperclassman asks her.”
A thick moment of silence dropped between us. “Did, um, Mike tell you he was going to ask you?”
I peeked at Hayley just in time to see her shake her head in disgust. “We’ve only been dating for like the past two months. Where have you been? Why wouldn’t he ask me?”
She had a point, of course. She and Mike were practically attached at the hip. But come on, the guy was a senior. It was his last chance to have a really great prom, and there was no way Hayley would be a fun prom date. She’d no doubt make him wear a pink cummerbund or something equally outrageous. Ugh, what if she made him wear a pink shirt? I just couldn’t see Mike, who hung out with all the theater kids because he was a major tech geek who loved building scenery and such, enjoying that type of thing. I’d never quite understood what he saw in my baby sister, and I just didn’t see how he’d follow through asking her to prom.
“Do you think he’ll do something big?” I asked because I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“He better,” Hayley said. “Everyone knows the bigger the better. I’m hoping he does something at a game.”
Hayley ended the conversation at that point by flipping on the car radio. She cruised through a bunch of stations before deciding on one that was playing a drippy love song. Settling back in her seat, she gazed out into the frosty night and sighed contentedly. I tried not to focus on the little nips of jealousy crossing my path.
About the Author
Liz Botts was born, raised, and still lives in Northern Illinois with her husband and three small children (two boys and a girl). When not writing, she enjoys reading, sewing, trying new recipes, and hanging with her kids. She is proud to pass her love of stories on to her children, and makes several trips to the library each week. After working with teenagers for several years, she decided to write stories about them instead.
Astraea Press
Where Fiction Meets Virtue
www.astraeapress.com
