Liars and Losers Like Us

by Ami Allen-Vath

  Just when I think I can’t stand faking it any longer, Shandy makes an announcement for Prom Court members to make their way to the stage. Sam and Kendall tell me “good luck” and push me out of their circle.

  Principal Finley makes an introduction and thanks everyone as we file into position.

  I tap Jane’s shoulder. Leaning over, I whisper near her ear, “Hey, I’m sorry for giving you shit about my shoes yesterday, I found them in my car.”

  Jane twists a thin gold chain on her arm. “It’s okay.” She shakes her head. “No one ever believes me.” Her mouth drops into a slight frown before she quirks her lips back into a smile. She drops into her seat and fans the ruffles of her dress out.

  Shandy waves a red envelope as Langley makes her way to center stage gripping two glittery, shiny, golden crowns.

  “Ahem.” Shandy clears her throat loudly into the microphone. “Listen everyone. I’m asking you guys for some serious cooperation here. We’re missing some major decorations for tonight. Please see me ASAP if you know anything about any life-size werewolf or vampire figures.” Everyone laughs as soon as she says werewolves and vampires. I’m pretty sure they think she’s joking.

  My nerves kick in with the whole thing again about looking happy and gracious when I don’t win. The only consolation I have is knowing that once this king and queen stuff is over, I’m marching over to the DJ booth, requesting a song, and giving a short dedication in honor of Maisey.

  Even though Kallie’s my best friend, my money’s on Justin and Molly. Kallie’s probably thinking the same thing. Her deep burgundy lips are frozen into the kind of smile you might have before throwing up. Laura takes extra interest in straightening her dress, Molly crosses and uncrosses her legs. I’m doing all of the above.

  Jane sits tall, shoulders back; most likely holding her big white smile with the same Vaseline she’d applied to her gums at the pep rally yesterday. She looks so sure of herself that I almost feel bad.

  “And for Prom King, Juuuuustin Conner.” Justin hops off his chair and bows. Langley places the king’s crown on his head and kisses him on the cheek. Everyone is yelling and cheering, “Speech, Speech.”

  Justin takes the mic from Shandy. “This means the world to me. The world. I’ve been dreaming about this day since I was a baby. Literally. This one time, when I was a baby, in my crib, I had this dream. I was right here. Right now. Telling you about a dream I had. Seriously folks, thanks.” Shandy yanks the microphone from Justin’s hands. Then she grabs his shoulder to keep him next to her on stage.

  “And now the masses have spoken. Belmont High’s Senior Prom Queen is …” She looks back at us. “Breeeeee Hughes!”

  Molly leans over Jane and pats my shoulder, smiling. Kallie jumps up and hugs me.

  “We did it, girl!”

  The roar of the audience clapping and Jane sucking her teeth sound like echoes. I’m not sure but I think they just called my name. Molly stands up, walks behind Jane, and pushes me up out of my seat.

  “What?” I say to Kallie.

  “Oh please, give us a break with the theatrics. You fucking won,” Jane hisses in my ear.

  My heart is a goddamned drum in my chest. “I know, I heard. So, um, okay.” I squeeze Kallie’s hand before stepping next to Justin, Langley, and Shandy. I am center stage.

  “Welcome to the club,” Langley says, placing the crown on my head.

  “Congrats,” says Shandy, handing me the mic. She whispers in my ear, “I voted for you.”

  “Thanks,” I say into the mic, looking back at her. Beyond the edge of the stage, there are faces, smiling, cheering, and looking directly at me. My face warms up and my dress shimmers beneath the lights beaming onto the stage.

  A group of kids in the back yell, “Boooooooo.”

  “Can’t please everyone,” I say, my face getting hotter. Then I picture Maisey. I think of how asking the DJ to let me do a personal song dedication is nothing compared to this platform. It’s even better than I hoped.

  I inhale, lock my knees, and a wave of composure comes over me. “This is weird. Senior Prom. Crazy, right? Thanks for your votes, really. I’m not going to pretend it doesn’t feel good. Gosh, you probably think we’re all jerks. Just like I thought of these guys last year. Or maybe you think some of us are better than you. Or you’re jealous, like I’ve been. Maybe you think some of us have it all. But, you need to know that’s not even close. No one up here is perfect. We’re bitches, cheaters, bullies, backstabbers, and totally insecure. We have parents that don’t give a shit or parents that care so much it suffocates us. Some of us might even have a parent with a criminal record.” I look over my shoulder to the girls.

  Molly and Laura beam. Kallie gives me a thumbs up. Jane’s pageant smile and luminous eyes are washed over with something I’d call poised panic.

  I turn back to the crowd. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to shout anyone out. Let’s just say that some of us try so hard pretending we’re someone we’re not, that we become evil bitches stepping over people struggling to get through the day. And some people end up dying feeling like they’re less than human, because we didn’t care. So don’t think any one up here is better than you. We act like we’ve got our shit together, but we don’t. We’re faking it. Just like you guys. You’re liars and losers like us.

  “Most importantly, I think we’re even bigger losers if we don’t acknowledge who should really be up here wearing this crown.”

  I switch my focus to a line of black and silver balloons along the back wall. “Listen you guys, if things had gone according to plan, someone else would be up here right now.” I picture Maisey hunched over, tears falling onto her good-bye letters. How tired she must’ve been, pissed off, resentful, and broken. How that walk out of the office to decline the Prom Queen nomination must’ve felt like one more giant kick in the face. “Yeah, I’m talking about Maisey Morgan. Most of us would be laughing right now. Or just watching from the sidelines, glad it wasn’t us. I’d like to think that she wouldn’t have gotten my vote. But that doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t have stood up for her. I didn’t. Year after year and I never did. I wish I would have. I’m sure some of you do too. She was messed up. And we messed up.”

  Shandy reaches her hand out for the mic, but I walk to the other side of the stage and continue. “You know, I’ve been hanging out with these guys for the past couple months and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that we’re all fucked up in some way or another.”

  Sean meets my eyes with a small nod and a smile.

  “School shouldn’t make things worse” I say. “We’re supposed to make things better for each other. High school is supposed to be like a getaway from everything else. Ask any ‘grown-up.’ It should be like a break from the real world—the one at home and the one we’ll have to deal with next year. I’m not saying what happened to Maisey is because of us, but I’m not saying that it’s not. What I’m saying is that it could’ve been prevented—here. Inside our school. Maybe we could’ve made a difference. I don’t know. And I hate not knowing. Because it’s too late. She’s dead. I never stood up for her. I laughed. I made jokes. I was glad it wasn’t me. And I was never really sorry until it was too late. I actually tried to apologize to her once. You know what I did though? I made sure no one else was around. She didn’t care. And I didn’t care enough either.

  “Anyway, Maisey wrote good-bye letters to her family and friends. I wasn’t her friend, but I guess since I’m the only jerk who made a half-ass attempt to apologize, she figured I might be interested in knowing who she really was, and just maybe I’d pass along the message.”

  I pull the letter out of my bag. Shandy’s wiping her nose with her wrist corsage. Everyone is silent, even Mr. Finley and the group of teachers along the wall. A male teacher nods and winks. I glance down at Maisey’s letter, then back at the teacher. It’s Mr. N. in a tux. I smile as one of the tears I’d been holding back falls. Right onto my paper, next to one of the splotches of fade
d ink from Maisey’s tears.

  I clear my throat, “I’m not going to tell you everything she said. But the people that hurt her the most, you know who you are. And you know why it hurt her so bad.” I grip the letter and read: “You are all a bunch of bitches. Wherever I am right now, you can bet that I’m no longer worried about feeling like shit and going to school and feeling even shittier. I hope everyone has a great time at the Prom. It won’t be at my expense. To anyone that has ever felt like a loser: sad, damaged, shitty, ugly, small, invisible or lonely, I’m sorry. It was really bad for me but just because I didn’t fight anymore doesn’t mean you shouldn’t. I hope you dance tonight. Dance like no one is watching. I’m going to be okay now. I’m dancing too, and this time no one is laughing.” I fold the paper back up and wipe my eyes.

  Someone yells “Wooo-hooo!” and some people begin to clap. Shandy lets loose a high-pitched, horror movie scream.

  Justin yells “Duck!”

  I throw myself to the ground as my crown is knocked violently off my head, shattering into a thousand pieces. Everything happens in a matter of five seconds. I raise my head, expecting Maisey’s ghost or pig’s blood dripping onto the stage. Instead my attacker is a cardboard vampire cutout, now lying on the floor next to me, among the crown pieces. And what looks like a dozen more, swooping down like flying monkeys, on strings hung from the rafters.

  We are being attacked by cardboard vampire and werewolf cutouts.

  Jane is knocked out of her chair while everyone else jumps and dives, scattering onto the stage, sprawled out like dead bodies. Langley is rolling all over the stage, cry-laughing like a madwoman. The laughter and squeals of fear from the kids in the crowd are deafening. Sean army crawls toward me but is stopped, in the nose, by a low flying werewolf. Kallie’s taken cover under Todd, and Laura’s on the ground, sobbing into Chris’s arms. He guards her while his whole body shakes with laughter. Brian lays flat, belly to the floor, with his hands covering his head. Jane lays next to him, the cage of her dress bent; pink satin ruffles and white tulle hiked up, exposing a matching pair of bloomers.

  Molly screams, “There’s blood, there’s blood!”

  “Chill out Molly, it’s my nose,” says Sean. “You okay, Bree?”

  “Who did this? Who freaking did this?” Shandy screeches, clawing over the stage to us.

  Todd lifts his head and laughs. “It sure as hell wasn’t us. I don’t think any of us are willing to lose an eye for a prank.”

  “Yeah, not even me,” says Justin.

  Shandy glares. “I knew it was you jerks.” She slides to the end of the stage and climbs the stairs backward, as if they’re a ladder.

  “I’m fine. Are you okay?” I ask Sean. “It’s a lot of blood.”

  He smiles and winces. “I’ve felt worse.”

  “Holy shit, dude.” Justin yanks his tie from his neck and passes it to Sean.

  Sean reaches into Justin’s breast pocket, and pulls out a gold handkerchief. “I’ll use this instead. Thanks, man.”

  “Shit, I was saving that.”

  “Now it’ll have my blood stains on it. Makes for a better story.” Sean wipes his nose and stands, pulling me up with his other hand. “Coast is clear guys, we can get up.”

  “Oh, snap. Look at all these.” Justin props up a vampire and a werewolf. “It looks like there’s one for each of us.” He holds the werewolf next to him and smiles. JUSTIN CONNER: PROM IDIOT. He passes the vampire to Chris.

  CHRIS MONROE: PROM JOCKSTRAP. We get up examining the others. I pick up the one that was lying next to me. The one that almost took my head off.

  BREE HUGHES: PROM POSER.

  Sean sees it and laughs. “Could be worse.” He holds up a vampire. SEAN MILLS: PROM ONE-HIT LOSER.

  Laura cries even harder when she sees hers. LAURA ROSE: WHO CARES?

  “Oh really, you’re going to cry? Look at mine,” Kallie says holding hers up. KALLIE VATE: PROM STAR FUCKER.

  Todd holds up his. “Pffft.” TODD WHITE: PROM GONARHEA. “What the hell? Is that even spelled right?”

  Brian says, “I found mine!” He lifts it like a trophy. BRIAN WANG: PROM QUEEN. “This is hilarious, I’m keeping it.”

  “Well, I guess I know what everyone thinks of me,” says Molly. She holds up a sexy vampire cutout. MOLLY CHAPMAN: PROM FAKE FUCK.

  “Oh don’t forget this one. Here’s yours, Jane,” I say walking to the back of the stage, grabbing the werewolf that knocked her over. “Honestly though, I hope things get better for you.” I drop the cutout onto her lap. JANE HULMES: PROM BITCH.

  Principal Finley walks onto the stage looking over his shoulder and up to the rafters. Shandy follows. They stare up to the ceiling. Shandy pulls Finley over to a corner, her mouth moves a mile a minute as she points back and forth to us, the decorations, the cutouts, the stage, and back to us. Finley nods and marches over to us with Shandy, his eyes blazing, hers glaring.

  “I don’t see any more up there. I think it’s over Mr. F,” Justin says.

  “You bet it is.” Mr. Finley yanks Justin’s arm and walks him over to a corner of the stage. Shandy tells the crowd to party on and that we’re all safe and everything is under control. The DJ puts on “Dancing Queen.” Fate. I’d almost say everything had gone better than I’d planned. Except for the flying cutouts and Sean’s bloody nose.

  And maybe if it wasn’t for the look of death on Mr. Finley’s face. “All of you. Right here. Right now,” Mr. Finley says.

  “Even me?” asks Brian.

  “I said all of you.”

  We drop the cutouts, half of them still attached by their strings to the rafters. Sean leads the way as we straighten our dresses and tuxedos and slink over to him and Justin.

  “We had nothing to do with this, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Laura says to Mr. Finley.

  “Yeah,” says Justin. “That was nuts.”

  “Well, I’ve been given many reasons to believe some or all of you were involved. Not to mention two anonymous tips. I hate to do this, but I hate even more for my faculty and students to have been disrespected the way we just were. It’s deplorable. In lieu of any disciplinary action, contacting of your parents, suspension, marks on your school records or whatnot, I’d like you to voluntarily leave. If you have any questions or protests, we can discuss it in my office, with your counselor and parents on Monday morning.”

  “Are you serious?” Justin asks.

  “Leaving Prom early is me cutting you a break. I’m as serious as a heart attack. Don’t test me. Who’s got another question or comment?”

  None of us say a word. Molly and Laura are crying. Kallie and Jane are pissed. So are the guys. Even Brian. Shandy gives a sad smile to Mr. Finley, shaking her head at us, then waltzes off the stage.

  “Ladies, you can make your way out the door and wait for your dates outside. Gentlemen, you can pick up and untie these monster pictures and follow me to the dumpster out back.” Mr. Finley looks at me and Justin. “This should’ve been a magical night for you both. I hope it ended the way you had hoped.”

  I walk away, back to the spot where I’d fallen, kneel to the floor, and gather as many of my crown pieces as I can. I sweep them into my clutch bag. Actually Finley, this night hasn’t been all that bad. Maybe not exactly what I’d hoped for, but definitely magical. I see Maisey’s face again. This time she’s the one laughing.

  THIRTY-TWO

  I dodge into the bathroom on my way out. I don’t pee or check the mirror. I lean against the wall, the cold tiles against my bare shoulders. My heart’s racing and my breath is heavy again. I run my fingers slowly across the beads on my purse, taking care to talk my breath into slowing down. You did it. It was scary, but you said everything you wanted to say. It’s over. Now, breathe. Slow and steady on the ins and outs.

  My phone buzzes. KALLIE VATE.

  Hey PROM QUEEN, We’re going to Chris’s after-party! See you there! CONGRATS!!!! LOVE YOU! XOXO.

  As I leave the bathroom,
soft muffled laughs and fast footsteps echo behind me. I turn and tiptoe back toward the bathroom door. I push it open a sliver and see Maisey’s friends, Tera and Anne. Tera’s barefoot in a tuxedo suit as she zips Anne into a toile and floral mini dress. A shopping bag overstuffed with black clothes sits next to their feet.

  I push the door open wider and they freeze. Anne’s eyes get baseball size and Tera sucks in a deep breath.

  “Holy shit. You scared me,” says Tera, her voice shaking. She pushes the bag with her foot.

  Anne steps in front of the bag. “So, congratulations on getting Prom Queen.”

  “I saw the bag. I know what you guys did.”

  Tera snatches the bag and shoves the black clothes farther down. “We didn’t do any—”

  “And I don’t care,” I say. “It was a good one. I think she would’ve laughed.” Tera cracks a small smile.

  “You’re really not going to say anything?” Anne asks.

  “No. It’s the least I could do. I’m really sorry about her—for your loss. I …” Tears spring to my eyes again.

  “Don’t do that.” Tera slides her feet into a pair of black and white wing-tipped dress shoes. “We said we were only going to laugh tonight. It was supposed to be just for her. It’s what she …” Her gaze falls as she tugs the tail of her tuxedo jacket. “It’s what she wanted.”

  “Yeah,” whispers Anne. “Only dancing and laughing and no tears. Of course you did kind of mess that up because I got teary-eyed during your speech. But, I think Maisey would’ve been okay with that.”

  A teacher in a tacky orange formal walks in and waltzes up to a mirror to adjust her poufy updo. Anne turns into a scared rabbit statue again and Tera stares at the bag. I grab it and stuff it under my arm.

  I whisper “No worries, I’ll hold on to this and give it back to you guys on Monday.” I smile. “Have fun, dance. You deserve it.”