The Real Prom Queens of Westfield High

by Laurie Boyle Crompton

  I try to focus, clutch, shift, ease onto the gas, and the car does little bunny hops down the road. Luke thinks this is adorable and assures me he’s a great driving instructor.

  He tells me everything I already know about driving with a standard transmission. The car still bunny hops. I laugh nervously and finally manage to get us moving. I keep it in first gear despite the engine’s moaning to shift into second, and I pray I don’t end up stopped on my way up a hill.

  As I head along Route 8 toward the Country Kitchen, my blonde hair lifts and swirls around my head so aggressively I find myself driving blindly. I swipe frantically at my hair while smiling prettily in Luke’s direction from time to time.

  Thankfully, after a while, he leans back against the seat with his sunglasses on. In spite of the wind roaring in my ears, I can hear him snoring by the time I pull into the Country Kitchen parking lot. At least stopping a stick shift is simple enough, but I hit the brake too hard. Luke flops forward, dangling against his seatbelt as he continues snoring.

  Yet another victim of my dazzling presence. I rub his arm to wake him so we can go inside and eat.

  ***

  After he’s scarfed down a huge plate of eggs with extra bacon, I decide Luke has sobered up enough to drive us back to my house. He suggests we play catch with his football on the front lawn as we wait for my mom to get home from her Saturday errands. Which, translated loosely, means her time with Thomas. She actually told Josie and me we might get to meet him soon. Which, translated loosely, means Mom is really gaga for the guy. As nice as it is to have Mom off my back, she’s never been this absorbed in a guy, and it’s starting to make me nervous.

  Her dark green SUV pulls up about an hour after I get sick of playing football—which happened approximately four minutes after we started. Luke looks pretty dashing, clowning around with the ball, and I’m doing my part to act adorable and pretend I’m having fun, but Victoria woke me way too early, and I’m almost ready to pass out.

  When Mom’s SUV stops in the driveway, I freeze. There’s a man with longish gray hair and a goatee sitting in the passenger seat. The infamous Thomas. I frown and Luke turns in time to see Mom step out of the car.

  With absolutely no provocation, Luke spikes the ball in my direction. The bullet hits me in the direct center of my forehead. The last thing I see is my mother running toward me.

  As she pushes past Luke, it honestly looks as if he’s reaching out to try to shake her hand.

  ***

  When I come to, I’m stretched across our living room couch with a lovely view of Mom, Luke, and the gray-haired, goatee guy sharing a laugh at our dining room table. I wonder what planet I’ve landed on where my mother is laughing with the boy who just assaulted me with a football.

  “You okay?” comes a voice from behind my head. I twist around to peer at Josie. She’s reading a book, her favorite accessory since the cameras moved in.

  “Nice one,” she whispers. “Getting hit in the head with a football makes for classic television. If he’d hit you in the nose, you’d be a shoo-in for the next Top Twenty Reality Show Moments of All Time.” She glances toward Luke and leans in to hiss, “He’s so hot!”

  I stare up at her double image as I rub my throbbing head. “Why is everyone acting like my near-decapitation is no big deal?”

  “It’s okay. Thomas is a sports therapist and he looked you over, said you’ll be fine.” She grins, and I vaguely remember being asked inane questions as I tried to sleep. “He works for the college where Mom’s been doing athletic contracts.”

  “Mom let Thomas examine me?” My voice is weak.

  “She’s awake!” Josie calls in to the Stranger, my Attacker, and my so-called Nurturer. Mom comes running in. Finally, a little sympathy. She kneels in front of me and starts laughing right in my face. Perhaps not.

  “Oh, Shannon,” Mom giggles. “You’re not going to believe what’s been happening while you were resting.”

  “Resting,” I repeat, but she rushes on.

  “Did you even know I’ve been on retainer with St. James State? Thomas got me a position negotiating contracts for all their athletic programs.” She gestures to the goateed stranger, and he gives me an amused nod.

  “Anyway,” Mom goes on in a rush, “I’ve been reviewing scholarship contracts for them for the past few weeks. Very exciting. It really is the best work situation I could ever imagine.” I stare at the pair of Moms in front of me, trying to figure out which one is real, so I can ask it for a hug. “Obviously when I saw what a great arm Luke has, I thought I’d maybe impress my new boss by introducing them.”

  “Because his pass impressed you when it knocked your eldest daughter out cold.” My voice drips with so much sarcasm she should be drowning in it.

  “Oh, dear, I know. Are you feeling better? I’m so glad Thomas was here to look you over.” I lean my head back, which she must take to mean I’m okay, because she resumes babbling. “So anyway, Thomas thought it was a great idea. I made the call, and it just so happened Luke had a junk drive computer thingy with a video of him playing. So we Internetted that right over to them at St. James, and now they’ll be watching how he develops throughout the year. Isn’t that great?” She finally takes a breath. “If they sign him, I’ll actually get a scouting bonus on top of my retainer.”

  “If I get a starting position, it’ll be double.” Luke grins at me over Mom’s shoulder. I just stare at the two of them, wondering if my urge to knock their heads together is a sign I’ve suffered brain damage.

  Mom finally gets around to looking concerned. “How’s your head feeling?”

  I close my eyes and cover them with my forearm.

  “Thomas is the team’s nurse,” Mom says.

  “Assistant doctor,” he corrects, and she giggles in a way that makes her sound like she’s not my mother. When I move my arm to glare at him, he shines a small flashlight back and forth in my eyes. “You took quite a hit there, but you’ll be fine. Wish some of my players were so tough.”

  Securing a big client like St. James State is probably the best thing to happen to Mom’s career. But honestly, I don’t trust any of this. A guy who randomly signs off on my blunt-force trauma via football? And what are the odds of her accidentally scouting my brand new boyfriend?

  My eyes widen. I’m not seeing double anymore. I’m seeing red. “Wait a second.” I try to sit up, but a harsh pain in my head makes me slide back down and confront Luke from a horizontal position. I make up for my lack of verticalness by sharpening my glare.

  “You just happened to have footage of yourself playing?” I think of Luke’s insisting we play catch, despite my resistance after aforementioned minute four. I couldn’t figure out if his obsession with meeting my mom was cute or creepy, but now it seems he must have had a clue about her new position before I did.

  Luke swings down to sit at the edge of the couch and grabs my hand in one smooth motion. He still smells like stale beer, but his brown eyes are warm as they meet mine and his voice is deep. “Of course, silly, I’m a senior. Everyone carries tapes at this stage in the recruitment game.” He gently brushes my hair back off my face. “I’m so sorry you got hit by that throw.” He chuckles. “It was a pretty sweet one too.” At the utterly unamused look on my face, he adds, “Are you feeling okay?”

  Finally, a little sympathy for the victim.

  As he strokes my hair, I can’t help but notice Luke is seriously dreamy. It’s no wonder Grace feels burned over losing him. And obviously my mother approves. She’s excused herself, dragging Josie and Thomas with her, so Luke and I are alone in the living room. Well, that is, alone with all the hidden cameras and stuff.

  Luke smiles and leans in. As his gorgeous eyes close, I think, Well, I knew I’d have to make some sacrifices going into this competition. I feel his breath on my lips, which, unlike my forehead, feel just fine. I close my eyes.

  I like his kiss much better than his throw.

  Chapter Ten

&nbs
p; I’m putting my books in my locker after first period when Rick grabs my arm and guides me into the math room. I try to resist, but he seems determined to get me alone.

  He swings on me the moment the classroom door closes behind us. “What the hell, Shannon?”

  I want to hide behind one of the desks. I’ve been so focused on getting even with Grace and winning Luke over to gain a foothold in the competition, I somehow managed to ignore Rick’s feelings for me. And the fact that they might be reciprocal.

  Rick looks so angry I can’t think, and despite all my Prom Queen training, I find myself stammering, “I-I-I…j-just…”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He takes a step toward me, and I back up to one of the desks. Looking around wildly, I try to figure out whether or not this classroom is wired. If anyone walks in right now, I’m boned.

  “What’s the matter? Afraid you’ll get caught talking to me?” Rick’s anger flashes and I want to explain everything. Instead, I keep my palms flat against the desk underneath me and shake my head no.

  The emptiness of the classroom fades as Rick fills the space in front of me. Drawing closer until I’m leaning back against the desk, we stare at each other eye to eye. He glances down at my mouth, and my heart gives a dip. I lick my lips and realize my body language is practically begging him to kiss me right now.

  Rick wraps an arm around my waist, and I instinctively press forward. He touches my cheek. I close my eyes. I don’t care about being a bottom three loser, or getting even with Grace Douglas, or anything except for how much I want his lips on mine. Wait for them.

  “Shannon?”

  I open my eyes and see hardness has seeped back into his gaze. “What is going on between you and Luke Hershman?”

  “I-I-I…” I start stammering again, and the spell is broken.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

  Rick releases me, pushes off the desk, and turns away.

  “Wait,” I call, but he just keeps walking. At the door, he turns to give me a look of sadness, but I can’t think of a single thing I’m allowed to say that will make him stay.

  ***

  It turns out Marnie must have been right about Rick’s “I’ll reject you before you can reject me” complex, because when I try to tell him later,“It’s not what you think,” he won’t even look at me. Instead, he gets suddenly absorbed with something buried deep in his backpack.

  At the end of the day, when I walk by his locker, he starts studying his BlackSpot sneakers as if they’ve sprouted wings.

  “All right already,” I say to him, holding my palms up in surrender. “I get it.”

  Some of us don’t need a 150 IQ to know when we’re being blown off.

  The cameras must have caught Rick dragging me into the math room, because Victoria asks me about it at our next SACC meeting. She reminds me that there are strict rules regarding off-camera zones, and I nearly faint with relief that there’s no footage of our near-kiss.

  I tell her Rick was just helping me with a science assignment, and then I launch into a detailed description of a bogus project.

  I don’t know if Victoria believes me because I’ve become so skilled at lying or if she starts waving me off just to make me stop talking all science-y stuff. But she quickly moves on to matters of great consequence. With a flourish, she sets out samples of the new Nőrealique lipstick shades on the table before me.

  I need to pick a signature color that will be named Shannon’s Sugar Bliss. After the show starts airing, it will be released for sale wherever Nőrealique products are sold. I try to design a quilt in my head to commemorate having my very own shade of hot pink lipstick named after me, but the only pattern I can come up with is a giant pair of lips in the center of a square.

  Meanwhile, I’ve decided that wearing a hunky football player’s arm casually over one’s shoulder translates to ballistic armor against things that suck. The same hallways I used to drag my black boots down with my head bowed are now a welcoming haven. Instead of a nightmare, high school is starting to feel like a dream that I don’t want to wake up from.

  Of course, our expensive clothing, new lipstick, and SACCs aren’t actually magical. Kelly, Amy, and I are working our asses off to become popular. We have ongoing Poise Perfection Classes with Victoria giving us tips on things like how to make our peers crave our approval and maximizing lunch time as launch time!

  We finally master the fine art of house parties too. The trick is to remain sober but act adorably tipsy and make a point of saying hello to every single person in attendance. Then we can head home once things get sloppy and people are too drunk to notice we’re gone.

  As the weeks pass, our extracurricular calendars get so loaded up they practically require the use of time travel in order to function. The three of us toss our hair, give sideways glances, and remain mysteriously aloof toward everyone. The aloof part is the easiest to fake since we’re constantly exhausted.

  By mid-October, Amy, Kelly, and I are on everyone’s lips. In a good way.

  “How has Amy kept the weight off?”—Starvation. That girl should be worshipped. “I still can’t believe Kelly used to be the biggest burnout in the school.”—Not even Kelly can resist enjoying the praise. “Have you seen Shannon’s outfit this morning?”—Everyone has. And it is fabulous.

  All I have to do now is keep moving forward with my head in the game and hope that when my old friends finally find out about the show, they’ll come around. I know I’m willing to forgive them for not having all that much faith in me.

  PART FOUR

  The Royal Premiere

  Chapter Eleven

  When spring arrives and the show’s teasers start airing, they’re mysterious and enticing and absolutely everywhere. It’s being promoted as “The boldest reality show ever conceived” and “Filmed in secret for an entire year” and “Maybe YOU are one of the stars and don’t even know it.” Mickey says they expect a healthy tune-in for the premiere episode.

  “I’m betting the show’s not even about a real high school,” I hear a girl saying as I walk down the hallway, and I can’t help but smile. People are going to go batshit when they find out this is all about us.

  I swallow down my nervousness as I greet Amy and Kelly at our lockers and take a moment to marvel over how much things have changed for us since that devastating meeting in the guidance office. Mickey was actually right about that being the beginning of everything.

  Those first weeks of school after Prom Queen Camp were like pedaling uphill with training wheels compared to the way the three of us are soaring along now. I feel invincible as I touch up my signature pink lipstick in my locker mirror. Shannon’s Sugar Bliss. I’ve come to think of it as my war paint.

  “You guys ready to be reality show stars?” Kelly asks Amy and me.

  The first show is airing next week, and Amy is practically vibrating with anxiety. I soothe her, “Come on, girl. Just imagine you’re onstage.”

  Amy was amazing in Westfield High’s winter musical a few months ago. The drama club performed The Sound of Music, and her Maria von Trapp demanded everyone’s attention. I was worried that she’d barf onstage, but she tapped into something deep and solid, and gave a killer performance. Grace did a decent job as Liesl, but it was absolutely Amy’s show.

  “There’s my girl.” Luke materializes in front of me and gives me a rib-crushing hug hello. His buddy Pete moves in to embrace Kelly, but she twists so that her shoulder juts into his chest when he hugs her. I try not to laugh at Kelly’s look of disgust. Amy is already giggling about something with George, her own hunky football star who she met at the gym.

  Just as our SACCs predicted, dating hotties has galvanized our social positions at Westfield. Although Kelly complains about playing constant DE-FENSE against Pete’s displays of affection, Amy is genuinely smitten by her lumbering linebacker. A feeling that’s clearly mutual.

  Looking down the hallway, I see Deena, Grace, and Kristan huddled together, sh
ooting us occasional glares. I thought Grace hated me as the Elf Ucker, but she downright loathes me now that I’ve ditched her nickname. Oh, yes. Plus stolen her boyfriend. I stand on my toes to give Luke a peck on the cheek and smile innocently in her direction.

  Grace’s hatred actually makes me feel strong. Like I finally stood up to the school’s Alpha Bitch and now nobody needs to submit to her ever again.

  The one gaping hole in my awesome life is the one that Marnie ripped out. The last time she and I even spoke was just after Buy Nothing Day, which takes place the Friday after Thanksgiving every year. Marnie is all into it as part of her anticonsumerism crusade, and the idea is to purchase absolutely nothing for twenty-four straight hours as a boycott against the frenzy of holiday shoppers. I’ve always supported Marns because she feels so strongly about corporate greed ruining the world and all, but by Thanksgiving, the two of us were almost completely unraveled anyway.

  Plus I really, really needed a bottle of Silver Linings nail color for my New Year’s Eve date with Luke.

  Instead of lying to Marnie, I mentioned my Buy Nothing Day Fail, and she acted as if I’d stormed the gates of Buymart with all the middle-aged door-busting zealots.

  “I can’t believe how selfish you’re acting, Shannon” she said, which hurt like a sewing machine needle to the heart. But it also made me realize that Marnie is not as loyal and understanding as I’ve always thought she was.

  Apparently, for some reason, she preferred being friends with a total loser. To let a few rhinestone lip logos and a bottle of nail polish destroy our relationship showed me what kind of friend she really was. And I guess it’s better I found out now, instead of waiting until we both got old like my Mom and Aunt Kate when I might really need her for something. I’m sad that she didn’t choose to rise up the social ranks with me, but honestly she did have a choice.

  And Marnie chose to watch me move on.

  ***

  When From Wannabes to Prom Queens premieres, there are a number of dramatic clips they could choose to open the show with. There’s the first day of school. Our makeover session in the Beauty Room. Or even my sprawling fall on the runway.