“Hi.” I smiled but didn’t slow down.
“The prom queen nominations have been crazy, huh?” she whispered, giving me a nudge on the shoulder. “But you shouldn’t be worried at all. Everyone’s definitely going to vote for you. I did a survey and everything.”
This was the point where I stopped to look at her.
Kelly was the kind of pretty that you didn’t see at first, but after a while, you couldn’t stop looking. She smelled like fresh sunflowers. We had been in the student council together for over two years, and I wondered how I could’ve missed that, how I could have possibly missed so many things.
Oh my God.
It was as if I’d been walking around in a black and white world for so long and color saturated everything at the speed of light. The gray skies turned into a bright, blinding blue. The formerly black tiles morphed into maroon.
Adam was right.
I was completely selfish. I became consumed with becoming prom queen so much that I failed to notice, well, everything going on around me, like this girl who had probably worshipped my existence for almost two years but whose presence I’d never acknowledged. I was horrible, like some sort of designer-clad monster.
“Are you okay?”
The question made me blink a few times before looking back into Kelly’s puzzled face. As if I’d woken up from a hundred-year nap, I said, “No, I’m not okay. But I will be.”
***
“People have always adored me,” I started. “Actually, adored isn’t the right word. People have always feared me, which I think is a little more accurate. So, it will come as a surprise to most people that I am officially announcing my decision to withdraw as a prom queen candidate.”
The camera mounted on a tripod a few meters away recorded every word that came out of my mouth. Alice didn’t even ask what I wanted to do with it when I stopped by her house to borrow it. She merely asked me to be careful, because she’d taken it with her to special places and it meant a lot to her.
It took me over an hour to prepare for this video. Mommy left for another business trip two days ago, so I was filming in her office with the hideous painting of the Milan Cathedral as my backdrop. I wore a white-button down shirt and red lipstick that made my mouth stand out from the rest of my face. If I were going to take apart my reputation as queen of Asia Pacific Academy brick by delicious brick, I was going to look good doing it.
“Let me backtrack a little.” I looked straight into the camera lens. “This whole thing started when Adam called me selfish, and like most selfish people, that made me want to prove him wrong.”
My smile right then must’ve looked a little insane, but that was okay.
I was ready to burn.
Chapter Seven
It didn’t take long for the video to circulate throughout the entire school.
I uploaded it on a Wednesday, and by Thursday, half the population of Asia Pacific Academy had already seen it and were about to pass the link on to their friends. By Friday, the rumors got worse or more entertaining depending on your point-of-view by the hour.
In the cafeteria, I heard a group of sophomores discuss in detail how I attempted to steal Stephen from Christy in an attempt to gain more support for my prom queen candidacy, and that was how our so-called friendship blew up in our faces.
That particular rumor, I admit, stung a little.
When I was standing in front of the vending machine trying to get a bag of potato chips, Grace Montinola and Arabella de Jesus, two of my Economics classmates, passed by, whispering to each other about how I destroyed Christy’s prom queen posters and did all sorts of other things to sabotage her campaign.
That one stung even more.
But I really shouldn’t have been surprised.
I didn’t make the video to paint myself in a positive light. I made it so everyone would know the truth, about how I’d treated Christy like a project as she so succinctly summed up and how I’d attempted to manipulate Adam’s perception of me. Most of all, I made it so Christy would finally forgive me.
Patricia and her friends even tried to corner me in the hallway, obviously searching for a new target after Christy grew a backbone. They chose the wrong person. Falling from my pedestal didn’t break me. It only made me grow wings on the way down.
The countdown to prom began.
***
Five Days before Prom
For the nth time, Melissa, the assistant of an up-and-coming designer, called to tell me my prom dress was ready. I could pick it up anytime. It was already paid in full. Cradling the phone between my ear and shoulder, I pictured walking down the stairs wearing the silver drop-waist number with sequins flowing down the front.
In my fantasies, Adam waited for me at the bottom of the stairs, James Bond-esque in a tux with a tie that matched my dress. We were so perfect together that the image made my heart ache.
I hung up on Melissa without saying anything.
***
Four Days before Prom
I refused to leave my bed and created a little nest for myself using back issues of Vogue and empty pizza boxes. People always said that you’d know rock bottom when you hit it, and I was pretty sure this was mine.
The day before, word spread around school that Adam had asked Saree Modigliani, a gorgeous half-Italian senior, to be his prom date. She was nice to everyone without having ulterior motives, drove a rusty red 1985 Volkswagen in a school full of luxury cars, and had been best friends with the same girl since preschool.
It was no wonder I loathed Saree.
My phone rang, and I groped for it amongst the pizza boxes that were starting to smell like moldy cheese. “Yes?”
“Alex, where are you?” Alice’s frantic voice bubbled over the line. “Your school called and told me you were absent today.”
“I wasn’t feeling well so I called in sick,” I said, tacking a little cough to the end of my sentence.
“You are not sick.”
I looked around at the mess that was my room and said, “Yes, I am. I have another call, Alice. Talk to you soon.”
“No, you don’t. If you hang up on me, I swear you’ll—”
***
Three Days before Prom
I had no idea my bed was so comfortable.
Or that I wanted to stay in it forever.
***
Two Days before Prom
My fingers itched to call Adam so much that I deleted his number from my phone, which was stupid considering I’d already memorized it. I sat on the couch, pretending to watch one stupid romantic comedy after another while waiting for him to call or even send me an inane text message. None came from Adam… or Christy.
I told myself I deserved it, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.
When I ran out of Pringles, I stood up and walked into the kitchen. Imagine my surprise when I found my mother making a pitcher of lemonade, the special kind with carefully measured sugar and cucumber slices floating around inside it. The same kind Alice made for me the day I broke down crying.
“Mommy,” I said, stuck in the doorway.
“Alex.” My mother stopped mixing the contents of the pitcher, her eyes trailing down from my uncombed hair to my cheese-stained Egyptian cotton pajamas. The look on her face told me everything I needed to know. I was a disappointment in comparison to Alice. Just like always.
“I… I thought you were supposed to be in Thailand.” I tamped down the urge to smooth down my hair. It was already too late for that.
“I cut my trip short.” Mommy gestured to the vacant chair by the counter, a sign for me to sit down, and resumed making lemonade. “Alice called me. She said you were going through a very difficult time.”
Like a robot with joints that needed to be greased, I took the seat in front of her. “That’s shocking.”
“Alex, I know our relationship hasn’t always been very… warm,” Mommy said, placing cold, sweating glasses of lemonade for the two of us on the counter. “But yo
u’ve always been very self-sufficient while I, well, have been quite busy.”
I almost snorted.
In sixth grade, after Daddy left for Brazil with his twenty-four-year-old secretary, Mommy refused to come home early from a merger in Seattle. It shocked me how much the memory still hurt, like ripping off a band aid after weeks only to discover the flesh underneath hadn’t fully healed.
When I didn’t answer or even attempt a sip from the glass of lemonade, my mother said, “I saw the video you made.”
For the past couple of minutes, I had been standing on a diving board, dangling my legs over the deep water but not really intending to jump. My mother’s words pushed me over the edge.
A barrage of emotions filled my chest as I struggled to choose the one I felt most, like I spilled Skittles on the table and was trying to eat the grape flavored-ones first. Anger, hurt, and finally, relief settled over me.
Being my mother’s daughter for seventeen years and counting was so difficult. I tried to be perfect for so long that now I was glad she knew I wasn’t.
“I screwed up,” I said, my voice bouncing against the kitchen cupboards and sounding like it belonged to a girl far braver than I. “I’m seventeen. It happens.”
To my utter surprise, Mommy nodded in agreement. “Yes, it does, but it’s how you deal with the aftermath that matters.” She flicked one dismissive hand over my appearance and sighed, like I was a lost cause. Pointing at the lemonade, she said, “Drink up.”
I was too stunned to do anything but obey. The lemonade tasted cool and tangy as it made its way down my throat, the cucumber slices sloshing around in my mouth. When I drained the glass of every last drop, I returned it on the counter.
My mother nonchalantly crossed her arms over her shoulders, as if she hadn’t been waiting for me to finish all along. Flipping her hand over to inspect her manicure, she said, “Oh, by the way, I called my assistant and had your dress picked up. It’s ready if you want it.”
***
One Day before Prom
Was I or was I not going? The question haunted me throughout the night and refused to let me sleep.
When I woke up the next morning, I found the custom-made prom dress hanging in my closet. Without thinking twice, I shed my pajamas and pulled it over my head. It fit like a dream, emphasizing all the right places and hiding any possible flaws. The shiny silver fabric made my skin glow, and I already had a little clutch that would look perfect with it. The dress was nothing short of magical.
Looking at my reflection in the mirror, at the girl who looked like a mystery novel come to life, I made up my mind. I was going to prom.
Chapter Eight
The Bluebell Hotel proved to be the perfect prom location. A huge golden banner saying ‘Welcome, Asia Pacific Academy’ hung from its front along with glittering lights. The hum of a popular pop song drifted down from the grand ballroom on the second floor. There was a feeling of expectation in the air, like something wonderful was going to happen the second you turned a corner.
I sat inside the car in my perfect prom dress, watching one luxury car after another drop off my classmates and their dates. This night couldn’t have been more different from how I imagined it was going to be. I didn’t have an acceptance speech all planned out for when I was finally named prom queen. I wasn’t even in the running.
At that thought, a sense of utter calm spread over my chest, like a butterfly slowly spreading its wings.
Becoming prom queen didn’t matter. At least, not anymore. Winning my best friend and Adam back was more important, and I just needed the guts to step out of the car before I could go and do that. Taking a deep breath, I went into the hotel, feeling unsteady on five-inch heels for the first time in years.
The ballroom looked like someone transported it from the 1920s. Gold fringe curtains covered the walls. A mass of students danced under gold and white balloons dangling from the ceiling, a tangle of limbs and awkward fumbling. My eyes scanned the room for Adam and Christy.
Adam stood next to the buffet table. The suit he had on, black this time, fit snugly across his shoulders, emphasizing how broad and strong they were. He propped his drink up on the stack of hardbound books on the table that served as décor and continued his conversation with Saree. She was utterly beautiful in a red drop-waist dress and a matching headband.
So, the rumors were true. He had asked her to be his date.
At that moment, I discovered that a heart made a sound whenever it broke, except maybe you were the only one who could hear it. It was a harsh noise that made my knees buckle and tears pool at the corners of my eyes. Thank God for waterproof makeup.
I turned and headed right for the bathroom. After closing the stall door, I mentally steeled myself and tried to breathe.
Inhale. Exhale.
Inhale one more time because Adam was here with Saree and there was nothing I could do about it. Exhale.
I was about to step out of the stall when I heard two girls walk into the bathroom.
“I can’t believe Alex had the guts to come here.” Cory’s voice had a bite of meanness underneath its surprised tone. I could almost imagine her leaning into the mirror above the sink and retouching the plum lipstick that didn’t flatter her skin tone.
“What do you mean?” The other girl’s voice sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it.
“Duh?” Cory scoffed. “After what she did to Christy? She sure has some guts showing up here like nothing happened.”
“Well, she is Alex dela Cruz.”
I did a mental fist pump as Cory’s mouth jaw probably dropped open. That served her right for thinking that my social stock imploded along with my friendship with Christy. Whoever that other girl was, I vowed to find her and thank her, because she was right. I was Alex dela Cruz. Maybe I wasn’t the queen of Asia Pacific Academy anymore, but I was still someone.
I stayed put inside the stall until they finished retouching their makeup. After hearing their heels clack toward the bathroom doors, I opened the stall door and stared at my reflection. My hair fell in loose waves around my face. Deep down, I was scared about what waited for me outside, but my kohl-lined eyes were ready for battle. Mommy had taught me well. With that thought still in mind, I returned to the ballroom just in time to see Professor Diaz, the principal, walk onto the makeshift dais with two envelopes in hand.
“I am now about to announce this year’s prom king and queen,” Professor Diaz said, leaning into the microphone.
A hush settled over the entire room. People began to sneak glances at me, and the whispers soon followed. I stood in the middle of it all, pretending I couldn’t hear them.
Professor Diaz ripped open the first envelope. “This year’s prom king is… Stephen Ramirez.”
I clapped along with everyone else. The crowd parted for Stephen, because that was what people did when not only were you gorgeous beyond belief but also nice. He wore a pinstriped gray suit that made him look older and like he belonged in a spy movie. I watched as he climbed up the dais, flashing a smile at the crowd. The collective female sigh that followed almost made me go deaf.
After Stephen had been properly crowned, Professor Diaz faced the crowd once more. He held the remaining envelope in his hand. “And now, this year’s prom queen is…”
I held my breath. I couldn’t help it, because I’d pictured this moment over and over throughout the past couple of months. In my head, I’d imagined that second before the principal called my name, and I would be calm, confident that only my name alone was about to be uttered. I would then climb up the dais and someone would place a tiara over my head with care, like it was made of actual jewels instead of flimsy plastic.
And then what? I’d chase after something Alice had already achieved? Follow down the well-worn trail she’d already blazed? No, it was too exhausting. I was glad I made that video, because for once in my life, I didn’t need to be as good as or even better than my sister.
Cliché as it may soun
d, I could be me, even if I had no idea who that was.
“…Christy Marquez!” Professor Diaz’s voice snapped me back to reality as the crowd around me erupted in cheers.
Christy stood up from the table she shared with Stephen and a bunch of people from the student council. Unlike most of the girls in the ballroom, Christ opted to leave the headband at home. She wore a gold dress with delicate details made from sequins running down the front, classy and elegant at the same time. Walking up the dais, she wobbled a little on her heels, and Stephen reached out a hand to help her up.
I watched as Professor Diaz placed the crown, the very same one I’d wanted so much a week ago, over her head, and I was happy. Along with everyone else, I clapped and cheered her name. Someone behind me let out a loud whoop, and the crowd gurgled with laughter. We were all happy, because we knew Christy deserved this.
The prom king and queen were supposed to dance to a sappy love song next. Stephen waited expectantly behind her, but Christy wasn’t done. She stood in the middle of the dais, holding her gigantic bouquet of red roses, her eyes searching the crowd. Then, they found me.
Beatific was the only right word for her smile.
I smiled back at her, hoping she understood all the things I was trying to say. I’m so happy for you. You’re my best friend. Forgive me.
Christy whispered a few words to Stephen and handed him the bouquet. She bounded down the steps of the dais, making her way through the crowd.
“God, if I were her, I wouldn’t leave Stephen by himself up there,” a girl behind me said.
“I’d keep him company,” another girl replied.
They burst into giggles.
I was about to roll my eyes at them when suddenly there was Christy, standing right in front of me. The crown sat a little askew on her head, but she still looked every inch the prom queen.
Prom Queen Perfect Page 7
