It's Our Prom (So Deal With It)

by Julie Anne Peters

I suggested to Louisa that the clothes are too crammed together in here and we shouldn’t hang so many at once, and that we should organize accessories on the walls, and paint every room with bright colors to cheer up the place, and hang plants….

  She said, “I’ll get right on that.”

  Dad says I’m a total control freak. Like that’s a bad thing.

  So far my text back to Radhika reads:

  No problem. I’m sorry if

  I have too much to say, so I just call.

  She asks, “Are you at work?”

  “Yeah, but that’s okay.”

  “I shouldn’t be bothering you.”

  “You’re never a bother,” I tell her. “You know that.”

  At the same time, we both go, “I’m sorry about lunch,” and laugh a little. Radhika adds, “I didn’t mean to run out on you.”

  “I didn’t mean to make a big deal out of prom com.”

  “It wasn’t that,” she says.

  I hear it in her voice—a hesitation. “What’s going on? Did you and your mom have another fight?”

  “No. We’re in truce mode. Walking on pins and needles.”

  “Eek. Bloody footprints on the Oriental rugs?”

  Radhika laughs. “Did I tell you I absolutely loved that beaded necklace you wore today? Did you get that at the thrift shop?”

  I don’t want to discuss jewelry when there’s an obvious crisis looming. But I don’t want to upset her again, either. “Yeah. I keep telling you there’s great stuff here. You need to come in.”

  There’s a pause, then a change in Radhika’s tone of voice. “Mom, do you mind? I’m talking to Azure.”

  I hear her mom say, “Tell her hello.”

  “Did you get that?”

  “Say hi for me.”

  Radhika seethes under her breath, “I have no privacy at all. I feel like she watches my every move. My father, too. It’s like I’m a prisoner in my own house.”

  “Have you talked to them about it? Maybe they don’t realize—”

  “They don’t care. I’m sorry. I have to go.” She hangs up.

  “Azure, you through with those clothes?” Louisa eyes the lump of unsorted donations.

  I shake out a rumpled shirt and think, Shit. I offended Radhika again. I need a self-affirmation—make that a confirmation—that reads: “For a control freak, you need to learn how to control what comes out of your mouth.”

  LUKE

  Radhika calls me at 7:30 in the morning and says, “Will you pick me up for school?”

  Like there’s any question? “Sure.”

  “Not just today, but every day. I know it’s an imposition.”

  “That word is not in my vocab. What about your college prep seminar—”

  “I’m dropping it. If you don’t want to drive me, that’s okay. I’ll find another way.”

  “I didn’t say that. Did I say that? I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  She sounds snippy or mad, not like the chill Radhika I know.

  I decide this is the occasion to bring out my big surprise. Radhika will be driven in style. It might even elevate me to prom stature in her eyes.

  Radhika’s gated community is on the way to Azure’s house, so she’s my first stop. I press the buzzer and identify myself, and the gate draws open.

  She’s waiting for me on a porch step when I pull to the curb. Her gaze is fixed behind me, as if she’s looking for my Kia. I get out and circle the Cadillac on foot. Her eyes widen. I open the passenger door in front and bow. “M’lady.”

  “Does Owen know you have this?” she says.

  I click my tongue at her. “Would I steal his car?”

  She just looks at me.

  “Puh-leease. I value my life.”

  She tilts her head, those sultry eyes boring into me. I run around the car and hop in. As I start the ignition, Radhika peers into the back and says, “Roomy.”

  “I would’ve thought you’d ridden in hundreds of luxury vehicles, seeing as how your father is a sheik.”

  She laughs softly in that sweet, sexy way of hers.

  “Not a sheik? A shah? A duke? The king of Siam?”

  She shakes her head. I know he owns an international commodities firm, which means nothing to me except big money. Azure and I are sure there’s royal blood running through Radhika’s veins.

  “How are you?” I ask. “I haven’t seen you in a week. Which is forever and infinity.”

  “Okay.” She stares out the side window, not sounding okay. Turning to face me, she forces a smile and goes, “But I miss being with you every day.” My heart does a little flip. Does she mean me, personally?

  “How are you?” she asks.

  “Besides having to live with a sewer rat and working my ass off to get this play done? I’m hanging, I guess. Then Azure signs me up to plan this alt prom.” I sigh.

  She sighs in exactly the same way. Now I know we’re on the same wavelength.

  “Have you decided where you want to go next year?” she asks.

  “I’ve applied to UCLA, NYU, the American Conservatory Theater, the L.A. Film School, and the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. I doubt I’ll get accepted anywhere.”

  “Luke. Don’t be a pessimist. You know you’re talented.”

  “Well, sure. I know it. But if I have to audition, I’ll turn into a quivering mass of Velveeta.” We pull into Azure’s driveway and I check the dashboard clock: 8:05. We’re going to be late if I don’t haul ass. I honk. Smooth tone, like an English horn. I love this Cadillac Seville.

  Azure tears out the door, then shuts and locks it. She pivots and stops dead, a priceless look on her face. Slowly, she advances toward the car. I get out and open the back door for her.

  “Does he know you stole it?” she asks.

  “Geesh. Not you, too.”

  Azure glances inside and sees Radhika. Her jaw drops to the ground and she opens the front door. She yanks Radhika out and hugs her. “I’ve been calling and texting you. I thought you were mad at me.”

  “No, I’m not mad. I just had a headache last night, then I figured I’d see you this morning.”

  Azure shuts Radhika’s door and opens the back passenger door. She climbs in and pulls Radhika in after her. “Drive, James,” she says to me.

  “What am I? Your chauffeur?”

  “Duh,” Azure says.

  I stick out my tongue at her, which she misses because she’s already babbling away at Radhika. I try to listen in, but it’s girly talk and my mind drifts. I think about my play and how far I have to go to get it stageworthy.

  There’s a tap on my shoulder and I jerk back to the moment. Azure says, “How did you rate the Cadillac? Seriously.”

  “Owen said if I could get it running, it was mine.”

  “To keep?”

  “That’s what ‘mine’ means to me. He was ready to have it junked for parts, but I told him I’d trade my Kia for it. Naturally, he didn’t want that hunk of junk. The Caddie only needed a rebuilt transmission. I got one from a guy on craigslist.”

  “Sweet,” Azure says. “We should name it. Like, Moby Dickwheels.”

  Radhika laughs.

  “Forget it,” I say. “If Owen knows I’m even a little bit attached, he’ll take it back.”

  Azure sniffs the air. “Why does it smell like bleach? Do you smell bleach, Radhika?”

  In the rearview mirror, I see her nose wrinkle.

  “It’s not the car,” I tell them. “It’s me. Is it that strong?”

  “It’s lethal,” Azure says. “Although there is a hint of Seduction mixed in.”

  She bumps Radhika’s shoulder and they both smile. A tiny pang of jealousy ripples through me.

  “Some kid had diarrhea all over the backseat of a taxi last night and Owen said he’d pay me twenty bucks this morning to get rid of the smell.”

  “Ew.” That wipes the smiles off their faces.

  A song comes on the radio and Azure leans forward. “Turn it up,
Luke.” It’s Azure’s new favorite band, Mercy Her. The song is “Now’s the Time,” which has dominated the airwaves and YouTube for weeks.

  Azure and I sing along, but not Radhika. She says she’s tone-deaf, which I don’t believe for a minute. She’s perfect in every way.

  “Was your seminar canceled this morning?” Azure asks Radhika.

  “No. I dropped it. Or at least I’m going to. Don’t tell my parents.”

  I gasp. “You’re rebelling against parental tyranny? You?”

  Azure thunks me hard on the back of the head.

  “Hey, that hurt.”

  “I’ll be riding to and from school with you guys from now on,” Radhika adds.

  “Yay!” Azure cheers. “But won’t your parents wonder why you’re leaving so late?”

  “No, because I told them the seminar time changed to two thirty.”

  “Genius,” I say.

  “I’ll just study in the library until you’re both ready to leave. Like I told Luke, I miss you. We never get to spend time together the way we used to. Just the three of us, you know?”

  I know exactly what she means. I’ve been feeling nostalgic for the good old days myself. Not that they weren’t without challenge. But thinking about graduating and having both of my security blankets ripped out from under me…

  I feel a tear at the corner of my eye and swipe it away. I’m such a girl.

  Mr. Rosen stops me on my way out of Life Skills and says, “We need to have a prom com meeting today.”

  “Today? But I have play practice after school.”

  “We’ll keep it short. We just need to set up a schedule and get going.”

  Already I’m feeling pressured about dividing my time. Why did I let Azure talk me into the prom? “Yeah, okay. I might be a little late. I need to drop off the new and improved script. How often are we going to meet?”

  “That’s something else we need to talk about,” Mr. Rosen says. He clamps a hand on my shoulder and smiles. My knees buckle.

  Damn Azure. I never should’ve told her I had wet dreams about Mr. Rosen and me riding off into the sunset in a rebuilt Roadster.

  After last period I race to the auditorium, where I almost collide with my stage manager, Ryan. “Hey,” I say, pulling him aside. “Would you mind passing out this new script? I have to go to a short prom com meeting. Go ahead and do a read-through. You can play my part.”

  “M-me?” Ryan gulps.

  I clap him on the back. “It’s called acting.”

  “But…”

  “There he is! Luke!” The cast swarms me before I can get away:

  “We still don’t have an opening song for Act Two.”

  “We’re going to need sketches of the costumes if my mom’s going to start sewing them.”

  “We need to start on the set design.”

  “People, people,” I say, holding up my hands. “Chillax. Everything will come together. I’m working on songs for Act Two. I didn’t like the direction it was going, anyway, so I rewrote most of it over the weekend.”

  “What?” Their communal echo reverberates in the auditorium.

  “Come on. It’s a challenge to fit everything into an hour and a half without an intermission. Where’s Mario?” I ask.

  I hear a keyboard riff and see he’s already set up onstage. “Mario, I’ve got a few lyrics sketched out for Act Two songs. Do you want to work on the music?”

  He responds with another riff.

  “Ryan has the new script to hand out. I have to go to a meeting, but I’ll be back.”

  I hear someone say, “This is going to be a disaster. I’m sorry I ever got involved.”

  That hurts my feelings. This play means a lot to me. It’s a musical-slash-drama-slash-comedy, or musidramedy. I call it Closets Are for Mothballs. It’s basically the story of my coming out as a bisexual. The whole school knows who and what I am by now, along with my family. But it was a long and painful process. I’ve known I was different since I was ten, and I was in the closet for a lot of years, until the walls closed in on me. It was either bust out or die trying. So my play is about liberation, freedom, and finding out who your true friends are.

  Now I’m wondering if, after this “disaster” is over, I’m going to have any friends left. Except for Radhika and Azure, of course.

  AZURE

  “I still don’t think we need officers,” I say, trying my best to sound authoritative.

  Shauna stares me down. Just as I’m about to wilt, she goes, “I guess we can do without, as long as we divide the tasks. But we really need to come up with a theme.”

  Luke rushes in and takes his chair beside me. “What’d I miss?”

  “You were voted taskmaster,” I say.

  “Ooh,” he goes. “Where’s my whip?”

  Mollie giggles.

  Connor raises his hand. “Could we make some decisions quick? Because I have an early soccer meet in ten minutes.”

  Shauna goes, “Can we talk about the theme, please? Everything revolves around the theme.”

  “What about disco?” Luke says. He does his best impression of John Travolta, and everyone laughs. Except Shauna, who purses her lips at him. “Or a masquerade ball,” Luke says. “I like wearing costumes and masks.”

  “They did that a couple of years ago and I heard hardly anyone dressed up,” Shauna replies. “Costumes are for Halloween, not prom. What about Under the Sea?”

  I groan.

  Shauna snaps, “We did it last year and everyone seemed to like it.”

  Haley says, “I saw the decorations and they were super awesome.”

  Mollie echoes, “They were.”

  I ask, “How many people came?”

  Shauna cuts a glance at Mollie and Haley. “I don’t know.”

  Haley says, “Not that many. There were, like, hundreds of party favors left over. Maybe we should switch up the theme.”

  Shauna’s eyes drop.

  I say, “We’re here to reinvent prom. Right, Mr. Rosen? To get more people to come.”

  “Well, we still want it to represent the spirit of prom,” he replies. “Just in a more inclusive way.”

  “Like how?” Shauna asks.

  My mind is buzzing with ideas. Just as I open my mouth, Luke says, “What about Arabian Nights? Or Burlesque?”

  “Why do we need a theme at all?” I ask.

  “Because it’s a prom,” Shauna answers.

  “But it’s not,” I counter.

  “Let’s decide this one issue and move on,” Rosen says. “Everyone who wants a theme?”

  Shauna raises her hand immediately. So do Mollie and Haley. Connor raises his, so Luke puts his up slowly. My blistering gaze at Luke makes him pull his arm down fast.

  Mr. Rosen says, “Decided. Who has theme ideas? We know Luke does. Um, for Azure’s sake, something original?”

  “If we have to go with a stupid theme,” I say, “we need to do something that speaks to diversity. Like, Over the Rainbow.”

  “No way,” Shauna says. “I don’t want my prom to be gay.”

  I feel my anger boiling over. “Maybe I don’t want my prom to be straight.”

  Mr. Rosen leans forward in his chair. “This is good. I like healthy debate. Let’s keep the discussion going.”

  This is healthy? At any moment I’m going to lunge across the table and claw out Shauna’s eyes.

  “I have to leave in five minutes,” Connor reminds us.

  Mr. Rosen says, “I want everyone to think about the theme and come up with one that’ll entice every, um, persuasion here at Roosevelt to consider attending prom.”

  Shauna says, “Even the geeks and nerds and stoners?”

  “Don’t forget the prommies.” I mock-smile at her.

  Mr. Rosen says, “Everyone.”

  Shauna shakes her head. “I can’t believe we’re starting so late. We’ll never get everything accomplished. Do you even have Prom Central up yet?”

  “What’s that?” I ask.
<
br />   She rolls her eyes at me. If she disses me one more time…“The online bulletin board for prom information.”

  “We have an online bulletin board?” Luke asks.

  Shauna doesn’t answer.

  Mr. Rosen smacks his forehead. “I almost forgot. The Sheraton where we usually have the prom will be closed for renovations this year. We need to find a new place, and it has to be within our budget, which is tight.”

  “Are you insane?” Shauna cries. “We’ll never find a new location in time.”

  “Now, Shauna, think positively. Any volunteers to start the search?” Mr. Rosen asks.

  No one raises a hand, then Shauna and I both raise ours and lower them simultaneously.

  Connor, who’s shouldering his backpack, says, “I could make some calls.”

  “Me, too,” Luke chimes in.

  “Me three,” I say.

  “Groovy.” Mr. Rosen pushes to his feet. “You’ll want to go check out the locations, too. See what they’re like.”

  “What day is prom, exactly?” I ask.

  Mr. Rosen laughs. “That would be helpful information.” He shuffles through his papers and pulls out a folder. “April sixteenth.”

  Shauna says, “If we have to move it, is that a problem?”

  “Any later and you’ll be running into finals and senior activities. We might be able to move it to a Friday night. Say, April fifteenth?”

  “No way,” Luke says. “That’s the night of my play.”

  “Come to think of it, I’m not sure I have the authority to move the date, since it was set last year.” Mr. Rosen sticks his folder in his backpack and says, “Can we meet on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays? At least until we have all the tasks assigned. If anyone has a problem with that, come talk to me.”

  Luke gives me a despairing look. He’ll have to cram his play practices into two days, or reschedule altogether. Sorry, I mouth.

  His cell rings and his eyes dart around the room. “Excuse me,” he says. He answers the phone and Connor says, “Now you have my number. Give me a call.”

  Connor leaves and Luke stares at me, slack-jawed. I say, “He meant when we’re ready to call hotels.”

  I need to remind Luke that crushing on straight people only leads to rejection. Or maybe I should remind myself of that.