How Not to Spend Your Senior Year

by Cameron Dokey

  “I guess so. Maybe,” Alex said.

  “I’ll tell you what. You ask Elaine, and the three of us can meet up ahead of time,” I suggested. “It would be nice for me to have someone to walk in the door with. Then you and Elaine can party while I cover the event. How does that sound?”

  “Okay. Actually, it sounds good,” Alex said. All of a sudden he smiled, his blue eyes dancing. It was the first time all day I’d seen him look truly happy.

  “You know, I put off coming to see you today. I was kind of dreading talking to you, as a matter of fact. I shouldn’t have. You’ve made me feel a lot better.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Though I warn you, I will have to do an official interview for the paper one of these days.”

  “Okay,” Alex said. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready. Thanks, Claire.”

  “You’re welcome, Alex,” I said.

  “Okay, so, I guess I’ll see you around.”

  “I guess so,” I said.

  Alex moved to open the door of the study carrel. Before he could even get his hand on the knob, the door swung open to reveal Mark London.

  “There you are,” Mark said. “I’ve been looking all over for you. You’re never going to believe what happened.”

  “There’s been another ghost sighting. I know,” I said. “Why do you think I’ve been here all day?”

  Before I’d even finished speaking, Mark was shaking his head from side to side. “No, not that.”

  “Then what?” I asked.

  “I think I know the answer,” Alex said. “I would have mentioned it before, but I thought you knew.”

  I pulled in a give-me-patience breath.

  “Knew what?” I asked.

  “Jo O’Connor’s been nominated for Prom Queen.”

  Mark made a derisive sound. “You mean her ghost has.”

  Twenty-one

  “Second Ghost Sighting Prompts

  Dead Student’s Nomination”

  Ticket sales shoot through the roof as Beacon students ask themselves the question: Will Jo O’Connor’s ghost attend the prom?

  BY MARK LONDON,

  SPECIAL TO THE ROYER REGISTER

  Prom.

  It needs no introduction. Its mystique requires no explanation. Though it’s unlikely students today attend the same prom their parents did, the way they think about it may be more similar than the people involved might care to acknowledge.

  Prom.

  It’s important. A necessary part of the end-of-high-school ritual. A night when magic happens. When anything is possible. And nowhere is this more apparent than at Beacon High School, where a student has been posthumously nominated for Prom Queen.

  Of course, the fact that students all over campus claim to have seen her ghost doesn’t hurt.

  I refer, of course, to recently deceased Beacon student Jo O’Connor.

  In the weeks following her tragic accidental death, multiple memorials have been both planned and implemented in O’Connor’s honor. But none is more touching, and unusual, than the Prom Queen nomination, which came just hours after the most recent claims of a ghost sighting.

  The fact that the nomination has spurred brisk ticket sales isn’t surprising to prom organizers.

  “People are excited and curious,” acknowledged prom committee chair Theresa Aragon. “Who wouldn’t be? Those are normal human emotions. Personally I hope Jo wins and her ghost shows up to wear the crown.”

  Strong words, particularly from someone who’s been nominated for Prom Queen herself.

  Will Jo O’Connor be elected Prom Queen? Will her ghost appear to claim the crown? Only time will tell. Regardless of the final outcome, Beacon students can already say one thing for sure: Their prom experience will most definitely be one of a kind.

  “Will you look at that?” I said as I tossed the latest edition of the Royer school paper down on the coffee shop table with a slap. It was the day following my interview with Alex, the day following my most recent ghost sighting. Though I was supposed to be covering events at Beacon for the Royer paper, Mark London had scooped me and dashed off a quick article about the Beacon prom.

  “Is that disgusting or what? Publicity. Exactly what I do not want. Thank goodness Detective Mortensen doesn’t have time to read the school paper. At least, I don’t think he does. He’s too busy getting dad ready to testify. They’re saying the trial could start any time now. I hope it does, for both our sakes. I’m getting a little tired of Law and Order reruns.”

  Elaine made a consoling sound as she took a sip of her favorite treat drink, a double tall white chocolate mocha. She allows herself this treat under only two conditions: extreme stress or extreme delight. I hadn’t yet figured out what today’s reason was, but I had my hopes.

  Unlike our other meetings lately, Elaine had called this one. At her suggestion we’d met after school in the Starbucks at the Convention Center downtown, a thing which dovetailed nicely with an errand Dad wanted me to run.

  “You’ve got whipped cream on your nose,” I said.

  “Alex asked me to the prom.”

  I felt a bubble of relief well up and burst inside my chest.

  “Great,” I responded with genuine enthusiasm. “At least one thing is going right.”

  “You’re not mad?” Elaine asked as she dabbed her face with a napkin.

  “Mad?” I echoed. “Of course not. Why should I be? It was my idea in the first place.”

  Elaine’s hand paused in midair.

  “What?”

  “He asked me first,” I said, so relieved I was totally oblivious to her reaction. “I mean, he asked Claire Calloway. It was right after the interview we did about the most recent sighting of Jo’s ghost. He asked if I wanted to go to the prom, but I knew he really didn’t mean it. He just wanted me to not feel funny about showing up to cover the event without an escort.”

  “And you suggested he take me instead,” Elaine said softly. Slowly and carefully, she set the damp napkin back down on the table, then smoothed it out. I think it was the way she moved that finally got through to me. Precise and controlled. But I could see the way her fingers quivered, as if she was longing to bend them into fists.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked, her tone still quiet. “Didn’t you think I could get a date on my own?”

  “Of course I didn’t think that,” I protested. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told Alex. That he ought to go to his senior prom with someone who meant something to him, not a complete stranger. Someone who’d understand . . . ”

  Appalled at what I’d been about to say, my voice petered out.

  “Someone who’d understand that the invitation itself didn’t really mean anything,” Elaine filled in for me. “Someone who wouldn’t even have to be told the evening didn’t constitute a real date. A person who wouldn’t mind that she was just a stand-in for Jo O’Connor.”

  “No,” I said. “That isn’t what I meant. Besides, Alex told me . . . ”

  “I don’t care what he told you,” Elaine cut me off. “Did you even stop for a minute to think about how this would make me feel? Or did you just assume I’d be happy to take your leftovers?”

  That was the moment it hit me, right between the eyes. How blind can one person be? I thought.

  “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Elaine choked out. “That would be a totally lost cause. Why would I waste my valuable time doing a stupid thing like that?”

  “How does because you can’t help it sound?”

  “About right.”

  We stared at one another across the formica-topped table. “How long have you known?” I asked.

  Elaine took a fortifying sip of mocha. “Try asking when I didn’t know. I think it’s a shorter period of time.”

  “You could have said something. How long have you guys known one another?

  “Since kindergarten.”

  “Geez, Elaine,” I exploded. “Why on earth did
n’t you say something? Tell me to back off?”

  “What would have been the point?” Elaine asked. “It was obvious to everyone Alex was totally gone on you. Then you had to go and be all generally likeable. There wasn’t much I could do after I realized that.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said.

  “Yeah, well, you ought to be.”

  “Elaine,” I said softly. “I—Jo—isn’t the one Alex was gone over.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Elaine began.

  “No, I mean it,” I said. “He told me so just yesterday afternoon.”

  “What?” Elaine exclaimed, her eyes widening.

  “Alex gave Claire an interview today,” I said. “Off the record. He talked about Jo O’Connor. He told me that the very night she died, he realized something completely unexpected: He was actually in love with someone else. That’s part of the reason Alex has been so obsessed by the whole ghost thing. He feels guilty.”

  “I don’t believe it,” Elaine said.

  “Are you calling me a liar?”

  She shook her head as if rearranging her brain cells.

  “Of course not,” she said. “So, who’s the lucky girl?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Oh, come on,” Elaine exclaimed. “He told you he was in love with someone else, and you didn’t ask him who she was?”

  “I asked,” I said simply. “He wouldn’t tell. He said she didn’t know. He hadn’t wanted to do anything until he’d tried to explain things to Jo. Unfortunately a fatal accident intervened before he could.”

  “That’s the trouble with Alex,” Elaine said after a moment. “He’s a really nice guy.”

  “I’d have to second that,” I said.

  Elaine regarded me thoughtfully. “You don’t seem all that upset.”

  “You know?” I said. “I’m not. I’ve been thinking about this a lot, and I have a theory about what happened with Alex and me. I do think we saw something in each other, just not what we thought.

  “Alex kept saying I was different. That was the thing about me that attracted him right off. But what I liked about him was that he was so easily recognizable. Big Man on Campus, in the nicest way possible. He made me believe that I could fit, that I could belong. Boy, does that sound like I need therapy,” I said as I put my head down in my hands. “Maybe I’d better have one of those mochas.”

  “I’ll buy you one,” Elaine offered. “Jo, I mean Claire.” She blew out an exasperated breath and I lifted my head. “God, I wish things were back to normal! What I’m trying to say is I realize I haven’t been all that understanding lately. I want you to know I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry too,” I said. “I know I’ve asked a lot of you and we don’t really know each other all that well. That isn’t what it feels like, though. It pretty much feels as if I’ve known you forever. I’d be a raving lunatic without you, for sure I know that much.”

  Elaine grimaced as tears filled her eyes. “Some friend you are. Trying to make me cry in public.”

  “Is it going to work?”

  “No way.”

  “And another great Calloway/O’Connor plan bites the dust.”

  “Is this the moment where we vow never to let any guy come between us, no matter what?” Elaine asked.

  “I think so. Elaine,” I said. “What am I going to do? I can’t see my way out.”

  Elaine reached to cover my hands with her own, her grip both strong and consoling. The same way I’d comforted Alex the day before.

  “What every senior girl dreams of doing,” she said. “We’re going to the prom. With the student body president no less. Then we’re going to watch him like hawks to see if we can figure out who he wishes he were taking instead of us.”

  “Do we have to wear twin dresses?”

  Elaine laughed. All of a sudden, I realized I was grinning like an idiot.

  “You wanna go shop?”

  Twenty-two

  In the movie version of my story, this is the scene where Elaine and I get all girly as we shop together. Or, as a variation, Alex may even be involved. In a wacky montage, Elaine and I try on a variety of personality-defying outfits, while some great song plays in the background.

  Everything about this scene is happy. The lighting is warm and golden, even in a fluorescent-filled department store. The actors playing Alex, Elaine, and me display their expensive dental work throughout. Not only that, Alex is endlessly patient through the countless changes of clothing.

  This is just one of the ways in which you can tell it’s a fantasy and not real life.

  In reality, Elaine and I did eventually shop together. We did find dresses for the prom. They were not the same dress, and Alex did not go with us.

  Duh.

  But before any of that occurred, I had a close and confusing encounter with Mark London.

  It happened right after my heart-to-heart with Elaine, in fact. She’d already departed for home. I waited fifteen minutes, then headed off for the safe apartment. This was a combination of the routine Elaine and I had developed so we didn’t seem to be paling around too much, and what our individual bus schedules required.

  Rather than just sitting by myself at the table, I decided I’d get a jump on searching for a prom dress by doing a little window shopping. I’d just gotten up from the table to carry out this plan when I heard a voice say:

  “You certainly are getting chummy with Elaine Golden.”

  Though my heart was racing, I turned around slowly. I didn’t need to face him to know who it was.

  “I might consider backing off if I were you,” I said. “Otherwise I’ll have to report you to Mr. Hanlon for stalking.”

  He snorted. “I’m a reporter,” he said. “It’s my job.”

  “What about the part where you’re incredibly obnoxious? Is that in the job description too, or just a personality disorder?”

  “You always come out swinging, don’t you, Calloway?” Mark London said. “It kind of makes a guy wonder what you’ve got to hide.”

  “I think they call that blaming the victim,” I came right back. “And for your information, it went out about twenty years ago.”

  I grabbed my bag and attempted to brush by him. He caught me by the arm. I stopped. We were shoulder to shoulder now. Eye to eye.

  “You really want to let go of me,” I said.

  Just for a second, I was sure I saw the last thing I expected flare in his dark eyes.

  “No, I don’t,” he said.

  But he did it anyhow, stepping back, his expression shuttered now.

  Run! my brain screamed. The rest of me stayed right where I was.

  “You really think I’m her, don’t you?” I heard myself say. “That’s what this is really all about. You’re not attracted to me, London. You just want to solve a puzzle. Prove you’re the smartest.”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know,” Mark said. He made a disgusted sound and dragged a hand through his hair. “There are just too many coincidences for me. Combined with too many things that don’t add up.”

  “Maybe I’m just a woman of mystery,” I said.

  He gave a sudden bark of laughter. “Maybe, but I doubt it. I’ll say this, though. You’re full of surprises.”

  I took a step, closing the distance between us, and saw emotion flare back into his eyes. This time, surprise.

  “Leave me alone, Mark,” I said, using his first name for the very first time. “Stop following me. I don’t have anything to hide.”

  “Prove it,” he said.

  “How?”

  “Take me to the prom.”

  “You have it backward,” I said, my tone condescending and patient. “You’re supposed to say, Claire, may I please take you to the prom.”

  “Not the Royer prom,” Mark said impatiently. “The Beacon prom.”

  “I can’t do that,” I said, giving my head a toss to cover the fact that he’d totally caught me off guard. I really liked the way Claire’s hair moved when I did that
.

  “I’m already going with Alex Crawford.”

  For just an instant, Mark’s face became absolutely unreadable.

  “I don’t mean as a date,” he said, his tone ever so slightly snide. “You’ll need a staff photographer.”

  “Forget it,” I said.

  Without warning, he leaned down until our faces were close. Omigod, he’s going to kiss me, I thought.

  “Make me,” he said. “You want me to back off, fine. Prove to me you’re not Jo O’Connor and I’ll do whatever you say. I’ll flap my arms and fly to the moon.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” I said. “The other side of the room will be just fine.”

  He gave a breathy laugh, the air of it moving across my face, and eased back.

  “So, do we have a deal or not?”

  “What’s so important about the prom?” I asked.

  “Don’t be stupid, Calloway,” Mark said. “The ghost is practically expected. If she doesn’t show, I’ll know it’s because you’re not who you say you are. That Claire Calloway and the ghost of Jo O’Connor are one and the same. They can’t be in the same place at the same time.”

  “That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” I said, though my heart was beating so hard I thought for sure it was going to burst right through my clothes.

  “Then you shouldn’t have anything to worry about, should you?”

  “I don’t have anything to worry about,” I said.

  “Fine.”

  “Fine. I’ll clear things with Rob. In the meantime, stay away from me, London. Or I might develop a sudden illness which will prevent me from attending the prom at all.”

  “Chicken,” he said.

  “You’d so like to think so.”

  This time when I attempted to move past him, he let me go. I’d only gone a few steps before he called after me.

  “Hey, Calloway.”

  Reluctantly I turned back. “What?”

  “Save me a dance, will you?”

  I smiled sweetly. “Only if you wear one of those cute little plaid cummerbunds.”

  Twenty-three

  The week before the prom passed slowly. Quietly. A thing I might have enjoyed if it hadn’t felt quite so much like the lull before the tsunami. Mark kept his word—and kept his distance. He didn’t offer me a ride once.