by Wilde, Ora
English Lit went by peacefully, though some of the students turned their head towards my direction for God knows what reason. They wanted to look at me. It was something I wasn’t comfortable with, as I’ve never generated that much attention before.
After the subject was over, Mr. Schumeister summoned me and I approached his table.
“What you did there was a brave thing, Andrea,” he said. “You’re right... it was a stupid editorial piece that shouldn’t have seen the light of day.”
“Thank you, Sir... I guess,” was the only reply I could come up with.
Come lunchtime, I fell in line at the cafeteria to redeem my meal stub. Martha May, the usually nice girl who had a propensity of overcomplicating the simplest of things, was behind me.
“Hey girl!” she greeted. “Guess who’s Miss Popular all of a sudden?”
“Huh?” I responded.
She showed me her cellphone. Her Twitter feed was on. I saw line after line after line of tweets from people I know, people who attended the same school, people who never even talked to me before.
I didn’t get to read each tweet, but all of them - as in ALL of them - shared one thing in common.
A hashtag.
#AndreaForHomecomingQueen
A lump formed in my throat. Nervousness suddenly took over me. Somehow, the world around me seemed to have expanded, and I felt so lost in how big it has become.
“I guess Jaynie Martell’s gonna have some tough competition this year,” Martha May added with a wry smile.
21
Don’t Let It End…
A black tubed dress that extended to my knees. A pair of elegant long gloves matching the color of my outfit. A pair of silver heeled shoes just to break the monotony of color. My hair, curled at the edges, flowing over my shoulders. Accessories here and there (fake ones, though, I couldn’t afford real jewelry).
I was all set.
I planned on wearing a tiara to complete the ensemble, but with the series of tweets and Facebook posts (and an Instagram video from someone who actually recorded the confrontation) after that incident with Martin made me question if it was proper to display it on my head.
A tiara. It looked like a crown. A crown for a queen.
I didn’t want to be a Homecoming queen.
I never wanted to be a Homecoming queen.
I have always been proud of the simple life I lived. I never planned on becoming the most popular girl in school. Popularity scared me stiff. Lots of prying eyes and wandering ears waiting for me to make a mistake... the smallest misstep would be magnified into something short of cataclysmic. That thought alone made me feel restive.
My social skills were terribly lacking, too... an aptitude that was required by the title. Jaynie Martell can act friendly and be nice to everyone she met, with the hidden agenda of trying to win their votes. Last year, Dyna Barrymore - Jaynie’s closest rival for the crown - tried the same approach, and she failed. Jaynie was the master of the art of consorting, in exchange for acceptance.
I didn’t have that skill, and I never ever intended to develop it. Not then, Not now. Not ever.
But I must admit that a part of me... well, a very small part of me... was actually excited about the thought of being a Homecoming queen. To be venerated like royalty, to win the respect of my peers, to be - at least once in my life - the center of attraction for one single night...
A month ago, I would’ve relished that thought even more. To be the queen would mean that I’d have Finn as my escort. But with everything that has happened... with everything that I was expecting to happen... with my heart yearning for someone else... the thought of being hailed as a royal couple actually caused a lot of apprehension.
I looked at the mirror once more and took a deep breath.
Okay, Andrea... you can do this.
I grabbed my purse and went downstairs. I knew they’d be there to greet me... my family. They’d shower me with compliments about how nice I looked, though most of those praises would be greatly exaggerated. Dad would remind me to come home early, as usual, even if I was attending a school-sanctioned party. Aunt Susan would approach me and help me fix my dress to remove the creases I may have missed. And Nash... well, Nash... I wouldn’t know what he’d do. I wasn’t used to him being around that much.
To my surprise, though, no one was downstairs. It was seven in the evening. They should be home. My stepmom should’ve finished preparing dinner by now, and the delicious smell of her cooking should’ve strewn all over the house. My dad should be on his Lazy Boy, reading a book or a magazine.
But they weren’t there.
I looked around just to make sure that they weren’t hiding anywhere... that it wasn’t a setup for a prank they wanted to pull off.
“Movie date,” someone said from behind me.
It was Nash. He just entered the front door.
“Huh?” I asked, puzzled by his greeting.
“They went on a movie date,” he clarified. “They left around thirty minutes ago. They wanted to inform you of their plan, but they figured that you were too busy... you know... prettifying yourself...”
He avoided my eyes, his lips curled in a peculiar manner that revealed how edgy he was feeling. He dreaded this night. He didn’t want me with Finn.
I found his expression rather cute, though. Much like a very young teenaged boy, in love for the first time in his life, unsure about the parameters of a relationship, inexperienced in the ways of dating.
Nash was wearing a plaid buttoned shirt and a white tee underneath. A simple attire, one that brought out the ruggedly masculine profile of his face and hinted at the boyish charm that was hidden underneath those layers rough virility.
Finally, he got rid of that damn hoodie!
“It’s just for one night,” I tried to reassure him. “We’ve talked about this. It’s just something I have to do, something I owe him.”
I held his hand and he started to look at me.
“You shouldn’t have gone through all that shit just to get me out of jail,” he uttered, his eyes expressed both remorse and frustration at the same time.
“No, I should’ve,” I told him. “I don’t want you to miss my pregnancy. I mean... who would I get mad at when I suddenly get one of those mood swings, right?”
It was a joke that wasn’t met with laughter.
Instead, he just kissed my forehead and gave me a tight, albeit short, hug.
“Come, I’ll drive you to your damn party,” he offered.
“No,” I answered. “Let me do this alone, Nash. Just for this night. I will need to close things up with Finn.”
“Will you tell him about your pregnancy?” he asked.
“Probably not,” I said as I scrunched my nose.
“Will you tell him about us?”
“Errr... I don’t think he needs to know,” I said. “We’ll just talk and get the closure we need.”
He nodded.
He walked me out the driveway until I reached my beatdown Ford Focus. He opened the door for me - which was kind of a big deal because he never did that for me, nor for anyone, before. Then he told me to enjoy my night, something which I knew he didn’t even mean, judging from the frown he was visibly trying to curtail.
A few minutes later and I arrived in school to see a lot of people gathering in the premises. Most of them were paired up, though clustered in groups. I parked my car and started my way towards the entrance.
It felt a little awkward, to walk to a Homecoming party all by myself when everyone around me had dates. I looked around and some of them actually smiled at me. I smiled back. Alicia Thomas was with her boyfriend of two years, some burly college guy who looked like an athlete but was always described as nerdish. Martha May was with a date, as well. She approached me and said hi, before introducing her companion. Terrence, she said, my brother.
I tried my best not to giggle.
If she could bring her brother to the event, maybe I could’ve bro
ught mine. It made me wonder... if Finn wasn’t in the equation, would Nash have been a suitable date for that evening? All of the cheerleaders viewed him as a pervert. Many from my batch knew I had a stepbrother, but they haven’t really met him. Nash himself was too antisocial. He wouldn’t even attempt to talk to anyone, and everybody would just think that I brought a weirdo to the dance.
No, Nash was a bad idea for a date.
But somehow... somehow... I didn’t care. If I was with him, I would be walking towards the entranceway with a wide grin... contented, assured, happy.
Just the thought of it actually made me beam as I approached the main hallway.
And then I saw him. At the top flight of the steps. Waiting. Waiting for me. With a perfectly satisfied smile that didn’t want to cease.
Finn looked dashing in his black tux, his short hair combed perfectly to snap back, his amazingly beautiful features made even more prominent... more swoon-worthy.
“Andrea... you look so fantastically... gorgeous!” he exclaimed. “And hot.”
“Which is which?” I asked him, just to be polite, as I knew that neither of those adjectives suited me.
“Gorgeous and hot! Both!” he clarified. “You look amazing! I’m so proud to be your date tonight!”
Date?
Let it go, Andrea. Let him think that it’s a date. There’s no harm there, for as long as you know it’s nothing more than that.
He offered his arm and I held it. He escorted me towards the gym where the party was being held. He walked as slowly as he could, savoring every second he spent with me. I had no choice but to follow his pace.
“Excited?” he asked.
“About?”
“What’s going to happen inside.”
“It’s just a party, Finn. People will dance, enjoy some punch, get a little tipsy and revel at the fact that it’s the only time the entire year when the school would actually serve them alcohol.”
He chuckled.
“Actually, the school didn’t allow us to serve alcohol,” he explained. He knew what was going on, as he was part of the organizing committee for the party. “They said we can serve juice.”
“Really? A lot of people will get disappointed tonight.”
“Hardly.”
“Hardly?”
“We spiked it,” he revealed with a mischievous grin.
“Ah. Well, I can’t say I could be excited about that. I don’t drink. At all.”
Especially now that I was pregnant.
“That’s not what I meant,” he interposed. “Are you excited about the Homecoming court?”
“For you, you mean?” I asked him. “I’m happy for you, Finn. You’ll be Homecoming King. People knew that since the first day of school... or earlier even.”
“No, not about that, Andrea. Are you excited about possibly getting elected as the Homecoming Queen?”
His question made me gulp.
“Oh shut up, Finn,” I told him. “Not a million years would I be voted.”
“Really? You’ve become very popular in school the past two days, Andrea... what with the way you fought against that ridiculous article about pregnant teenagers. Everyone’s talking about you. I got to see it on YouTube. You were very admirable.”
Me? On YouTube? In a video I didn’t upload myself?
“You know just as well as I do that it’s not about the things we show,” I said. “It’s about being pretty, being sociable, being charismatic. Like... like...”
I wanted to mention Jaynie’s name, but I stopped myself as I didn’t want to ruin our night by having to remember that dreadful weekend when I saw them together in his room.
He was able to read my state of mind, and Finn being Finn, he understood. So he kept his mouth shut until we reached the gymnasium.
The area looked marvelous. It didn’t look like a basketball arena at all. The floors were carpeted, the bleachers were curtained off, and a lot of pretty lights dangled from the rafters. The dance area had a gigantic disco ball hanging over its space. Buffet tables were set up on one corner, and judging from how expansive the tables were, there wouldn’t be any shortage of food that night. Just as he mentioned, a big bowl of what looked like orange juice was at the end of the said corner... spiked, as some of those who were already merrymaking with drinks at hand surely discovered. There was a makeshift stage that actually looked quite intricate. A band was playing a cover of Whiz Kalifa’s When I See You Again, minus the rapping parts. Above them was a giant projector screen, the width of which covered the entire stage. An MTV of some sort was being shown while the band was performing. It was a nice touch.
“This is fabulous, Finn,” I congratulated him. “Your committee did a splendid job!”
“I can’t take the credit,” he replied. “I just attended the meetings. All of these were the girls’ ideas. Melanie, Betty, Charice, Kyla, and... and...”
He didn’t continue to mention her name. He didn’t have to. Jaynie was the head of the committee.
As soon as we entered the gym, a lot of the people who were already there turned their heads to look at us. Us would be too presumptuous a term. They were looking at Finn... the school’s favorite son... their soon-to-be-crowned Homecoming King.
Or so I thought.
When a number of them approached us, they didn’t greet him. They said their hi’s and hello’s to me. Me! I knew that the incident with Martin caused quite a stir... but I never expected people who I didn’t know... people from batches lower than ours... to actually salute me.
The program started soon thereafter. The welcoming remarks were delivered by Principal Hendricks, and it lasted a tad longer than expected. Ten minutes into his speech, Mr. Schumeister had to approach him and whisper something to his ear. Principal Hendricks nodded and wrapped up his talk.
Then the band started playing, covers of hits from the not too distant past. Everyone started dancing. A lot of the students approached the bowl of spiked orange juice, most probably with an inkling of its alcoholic secret, and each enjoyed a cup or two... or even more...
“Relax,” Finn reminded as he saw through me, through my facade of tranquility... unraveling a young girl drowning in discomfiture, not used to the revelry around her.
I looked at him and smiled.
“It’s a party,” he added. “Have fun!”
I tried.
I allowed myself to sway to the music - OneRepublic’s Love Runs Out. My movements were calculated... forced... unnatural. But as the band played on, as the beat took over my soul, as the lyrics penetrated my heart... I began to dance. Where I stood, I danced. With my feet planted on the ground, I danced. With my fingers snapping to the rhythm of the song, I danced. With my hands swinging freely but carefully, I danced.
Finn saw me, and he gave me that ‘oh my goodness, you’re so adorable’ look he always showered me with when we were a couple. He probably wanted to dance with me, to shake his pelvis, to swivel his torso, to wave his hands in the air... but he didn’t. Then I remembered... Finn never wanted to dance in public. Despite the popularity he enjoyed, he always remained to be that shy kid from SoCal.
So I teased him by bumping his hips with mine. He pretended to lose his balance, only to dismiss my gesture with a laugh.
He still didn’t dance.
“It’s a party, Finn,” it was my turn to remind him. “Have fun!”
For three straight songs, we just stood there, in the middle of the entrance hall and the buffet table. I was bopping to the music of Paramore, Pink and Maroon 5, while he was just contented being by my side, watching me relish the band’s performance.
When the band played the fifth song, I saw some of the students get restless. I’m hungry, someone said. When are we going to eat, cried another. Serve the fucking food, someone even screamed.
Many of the students probably got thirsty, as I saw a longer queue at the orange juice counter.
I had to go to the restroom so I excused myself. Finn offered to go with
me and wait outside the door. I told him I was okay and that I was going to be quick.
The restroom was at the opposite corner of the gymnasium. I passed by several groups of people... some I knew, some I didn’t... and many of them turned to greet me.
“Andrea! You’re here! Yey!”
“Hey, hey, hey... look guys... it’s Andrea!”
“Is that Andrea Higgins from 4-C?”
