“Let’s put a lid on it,” Emma said quietly. “Here comes Felicia.” She waved to Felicia as she quickly relayed the latest. “She’s feeling pretty bad about Sofia right now. The chemo kicked in and Sofia’s hair started falling out, so they shaved her head this weekend. Felicia showed me a photo and Sofia was smiling brightly, but it was still sad.”
The girls all greeted Felicia and, to Emma’s relief, kept the prom talk upbeat and positive. When Bryn inquired about Sofia, Felicia produced her phone and showed them the photo. “She’s really got a good attitude,” Felicia told them. “I even offered to shave my head in solidarity, but she wouldn’t let me. She said I needed my hair to go to prom.” Felicia frowned as she slipped her phone back into her bag. “Not that I’m holding my breath.”
Emma noticed Isaac and Marcus coming their way. Occasionally some guys would join them at their table, but not so much since the prom wars had begun. Emma repressed the urge to sneer at Isaac. For all she knew he could be here for a reason—and he was pulling something from his pocket. Was he about to ask her to prom?
To her dismay it was only his phone, which he was aiming at Marcus. She turned to look at Marcus, wondering if he was about to do a promposal. But he simply stood in front of their table with a goofy grin. He looked handsome in a cowboy sort of way with his plaid western shirt, jeans, and harness boots.
“Felicia,” he said in a rather loud voice. “Come here!”
Felicia looked embarrassed, but stood. “What?”
“Go ahead.” Bryn gave Felicia a gentle shove toward Marcus.
“What’s going—”
Just then Marcus reached up to his collar. He ripped his shirt open, the snaps releasing to show his bare chest. Inked carefully and rather artistically there were three words:
Felicia
Marcus
Prom?
Felicia squealed as she jumped up and down. “Yes, yes!” she cried. Then she hugged Marcus, and Emma could see tears in her eyes.
“Way to go, dude!” Devon was on her feet, slapping Marcus on the back as he snapped up his shirt. “It’s nice to see that at least one of the guys isn’t a coward.”
Felicia looked at Isaac. “Did you get it? Did you record it?”
He nodded as he studied his phone. “Yep. It’s all here.” He looked at Marcus. “I just sent it to your phone.” He nodded to Felicia. “And yours too.”
“You can enter the contest,” Felicia told Marcus.
“Yeah, but it probably won’t beat Devon’s.” Marcus tipped his head to Devon. “Nicely done, Devon.”
“Thanks.” She grinned. “I figured someone needed to get the ball rolling. And hey, if I win that bike, you won’t hear me complaining.”
Emma tried not to look directly at Isaac as the group continued talking and joking about promposals, but all she could think of was that it was hopeless to keep pining away for Isaac. This guy had absolutely no interest in going to prom with her. She’d already hinted to him several times. She’d even complained to him at youth group. And even though he’d acted understanding, like he was going to do something, he had done nothing. Well, she decided, if Isaac didn’t want to go to prom with her, maybe it was time to start looking around for someone else. Because suddenly, and inexplicably, Emma really wanted to go to prom. And, as Grandma would say, Isaac was not the only fish in the sea.
After the guys went on their way, the girls congratulated Felicia on her invitation to prom and rewatched the video that Isaac had sent to her phone. Emma was happy for her friend. If anyone needed a promposal today, it was Felicia. What great timing.
“I went ahead and got my dress yesterday,” Bryn told them.
“Even though no one’s asked you yet?” Abby shook her head.
“I had to get it in order to have time for alterations.” Bryn looked at Abby. “You’ll be pleased to know that it was on sale and I’ll donate the savings to your PBC fund.”
“But how can you be so certain you’re going to prom?” Emma demanded. “Or are you like Cass—planning to go in a girls’ group?”
Bryn wrinkled her nose. “I do not plan to go in a girls’ group.”
“Bryn could get Jason to ask her,” Devon told them. “All she has to do is give him the time of day.”
Bryn seemed to consider this. “He wouldn’t be my first choice, but hey, he might do in a pinch.”
“You’d go with someone you don’t even like?” Emma asked.
Bryn seemed to consider this. “Well, to be honest, I’d rather not.”
“What about Harris?” Emma suggested—and then suddenly wished that she hadn’t, since she was pretty good friends with Harris. Maybe he’d be a good option if Isaac remained stubborn.
Bryn’s eyes lit up. “Yeah . . . I’ve actually been thinking about that. I wouldn’t mind going with Harris.”
“Want me to drop some hints his way?” Devon offered. “I have him in my economics class.”
Bryn nodded firmly. “Yes,” she agreed. “That’d be great, Devon. Thanks.”
“Or you could just invite him,” Cassidy suggested.
Suddenly the girls were all talking about promposals that they thought would be fun. “What about writing it in lipstick on his windshield?” Devon tossed out.
“Or put it out on the school marquee,” Abby said. “Unless that’s not allowed.”
“You could paint it on his locker,” Emma suggested. She’d actually considered doing that to Isaac but couldn’t work up the nerve. What if he said no?
“Hey, look!” Cassidy pointed over to a table where a bunch of guys were congregated. They all turned to see Mazie Tucker carrying a platter of what looked like cupcakes toward the guys.
“Let’s go watch this.” Devon was already up. And the rest of the DG followed, clustering around Mazie and her friend who was getting the unfolding event on camera. Emma peered over Cassidy’s shoulder to see what the red letters on the white cupcakes spelled out.
Harris?
Prom?
With me?
Mazie’s cheeks flushed pink as she waited quietly for Harris to respond to her sweet invitation. Emma knew that Mazie was very shy and to do this in front of everyone—risking public rejection—was really, really brave. And Emma was silently cheering for her.
“Say yes!” Devon urged him.
“Yeah, man,” a guy said. “Those cupcakes look yummy.”
Harris grinned at Mazie. “Sure, I’d like to go to prom with you.”
With a relieved smile, Mazie handed over the cupcakes. “They’re red velvet.”
“Seriously?” Harris looked surprised. “I love red velvet.”
Her eyes twinkled. “Yeah, that’s what I heard.” And now she grabbed the arm of her camera friend and hurried away as the guys dove for the cupcakes.
“Well, I don’t think that’s going to beat my promposal,” Devon said as they walked back to their table. “But I gotta admit it was pretty cool.”
“At least people are starting to get on board,” Abby said.
“With no time to waste,” Bryn said in a dejected tone.
“I guess I don’t need to drop hints with Harris now,” Devon said.
Bryn just frowned.
“Hey, you should do what I did.” Devon poked Bryn’s shoulder. “Ask a nice, nerdy guy.” She laughed. “Maybe I should create a new holiday: Ask a nerd to prom day.”
Emma considered this as she walked to class. Maybe she needed to lower her expectations about prom. Just because she liked Isaac didn’t mean that she had to go to prom with him. If Devon was okay going with someone like Leonard—who was actually a really nice guy—maybe Emma needed to expand her own search. Not that she was searching exactly.
By the end of the day, Emma had made a decision. She would quit thinking about a prom date. Like Cassidy, she would simply be content with the idea of going to prom with a group of girls. And, really, wouldn’t that be fun? Since she’d promised to help her grandma with a garage sale during sprin
g break, she might even make enough money to purchase her own prom ticket. What was wrong with being independent—and hanging with girlfriends—at an event like prom? Cassidy was right—they didn’t have to be on the arm of a guy to have a good time. Perhaps they’d have an even better time by not being with a guy.
From now on, Emma was determined to focus all her prom energy on the decorations. And since she was chairing the decorations committee, she would have more than enough to keep her busy for the next couple of weeks.
Emma headed back to the art department, where she’d asked the committee to meet with her after school to help with decorations. Today was their first official meeting and she knew they had no time to waste. Last weekend she’d started a list of easy and inexpensive ideas that she felt would lend themselves to the red carpet theme. She’d even made some sketches.
“Thanks for coming,” she told everyone as she stood in front of the small group of students. “As you know, our theme is red carpet and our budget is limited.” She held up a large sketch. “The entrance to prom will be set up like this.” She explained how a rental company had offered them a discount on the red runner and brass poles to cordon it along the sides. “We’ll make glittery gold stars to lay on the red carpet, and we’ll use lots of white lights and metallic-toned balloons to make it feel glitzy.” She held up another sketch. “We’ll create an eight-foot-tall star with more silver and gold balloons and light strings. It will provide the background for photos.”
As she continued sharing her ideas with the committee, she was surprised at how enjoyable it felt to be up front and calling the shots—especially in the art arena, a place she felt comfortable. And everyone seemed supportive and agreeable as she assigned various tasks.
“As you guys can see, I’m trying to keep it simple. The main thing is to make it look like a fun and exciting gala without spending too much money, because everything we save goes to help Sofia Ruez.” She paused to catch her breath. “But I don’t want it to feel cheesy or cheap.” Then she told them a little bit about how it felt to be at the real red carpet. By the time they finished the meeting, she knew she had a good team behind her. They could do this!
Still feeling like it had been a successful meeting, Emma took her time to bundle up her sketches and even wrote down a few more notes from some of the ideas that the committee had tossed out. She packed everything into her oversized bag and was just turning off the lights to the art room when she heard the sound of footsteps coming through the breezeway.
To her surprise, it was Isaac—and he still had on his lacrosse uniform. She knew they’d had a match after school. Apparently it was over now. But she couldn’t read the expression on his face as he approached her.
“Hey, Isaac.” She closed the door behind her.
“Hey.” He had what looked like a cup of coffee in his hand as he planted himself in front of her. But there was a strange look in his eyes.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“No.”
“How was your lacrosse match?”
“We won.”
“Good.” She gave him a stiff smile. “I just finished a decorations meeting . . . for prom.” She wished she’d left off that last phrase.
“Yeah, I know.”
“Oh.” She just nodded, attempting to step past him.
“Wait.” He held the cup of coffee out toward her.
“Huh?”
“This is for you.”
“For me?” She felt puzzled as she took the cup from him. “Why?”
“Don’t you still like mocha with whipped cream?”
“Yeah, sure. But why are—”
He reached over and gently turned the cup around in her hand. On the side of the white paper cup was the word PROM?
She blinked then looked again. “Are you sure this cup is for me?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“I mean, are you sure this cup is from you? To me?”
He gave her a sheepish smile. “Yeah, Emma. I’m asking you to prom, and I won’t blame you for pouring that over my head.”
She looked down at the cup. “And waste a perfectly good mocha?”
He chuckled. “So, will you go?”
She waited for a few seconds, acting like she was unsure, then broke into a big grin. “Sure, Isaac, I’d love to. Thanks.”
He gave her a relieved smile. “Cool.”
“So how did you know I was down here in the art room?” she asked as they walked together.
“Cassidy told me. She was coming to get you to give you a ride. But I told her to go on home and that I’d give you a lift. If that’s okay.”
“Hey, it’s better than riding the activities bus.”
“I wanted to explain why it took me so long to ask you,” he said quietly as they walked through the locker bay.
This she wanted to hear—so she said nothing.
“At first I was kind of into the prom boycott thing. But then I realized it was pretty childish. And I knew you wanted me to ask you. But I wanted to do it in my own timing . . . my own way. And even though everyone is starting to get into the whole promposal thing—by the way, a bunch of guys were springing them on girls after school—I didn’t want to ask you because of the contest, you know? I wanted to ask you just because I wanted to ask you, Emma. Does that make sense?”
“It does to me.”
“Because I do want to take you to prom—but not to win a contest. I just wanted to ask you in my own way, you know?”
She held up her cup. “This mocha works for me.”
“Cool.”
As they walked out to Isaac’s car, Emma thought Isaac’s invitation couldn’t have been better. “I’m glad you didn’t have anyone record it,” she said as they got into his car. “I like that it was just between you and me.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “Me too. Besides, we already won the Christmas ball prize. It would be embarrassing to win the prom one too.”
She laughed. “Well, no offense, but as much as I’m enjoying this mocha I don’t think it could’ve beaten Devon’s Juliet or Marcus’s temporary tattoo. Even Mazie’s cupcakes would probably get more votes.”
“Yeah, I know. And believe it or not, I did spend some time trying to think of something more clever, not to win a prize, but just for fun, you know? But when I saw your face at lunch—when Marcus surprised Felicia—well, I knew I needed to get on this thing fast.”
“Well, thanks, Isaac.” She sighed as she took another sip of mocha. At least she hadn’t told Cassidy that she’d do the girls’ group date yet. She was glad to know that she’d truly been willing to do that. She glanced at Isaac. But this was better. Much better.
16
By Wednesday, Abby was starting to plan a promposal of her own. If Kent wasn’t going to ask her, she would simply swallow her pride and ask him. After all, there was no denying that they were friends—and on good enough terms to attend prom together. And she’d already hinted to her parents that she was going and, although Dad acted like Dad, he did give his okay. The only problem now was Kent. If the boy kept dragging his heels, she had no problem jumping in and possibly making a total fool of herself. Best case scenario, she might win a bike. If only she could think of something really fabulous to do. Especially since Kent appeared sadly unmotivated.
But to be fair, she knew the whole track team had been distracted with really hard practices this week. Their first big meet was coming up on Thursday and the whole team was focused on improving times and being in tip-top form. So if Abby did a promposal—and she just might—it would have to wait until Friday. But she was determined that Friday would be her deadline. If she didn’t get a yes from Kent, she would resign herself to going to prom with Cassidy . . . and maybe Bryn too since no one had asked her yet.
It hadn’t made Abby feel any better to see promposals going off like fireworks all around the school. There had been several first thing this morning, and Olivia Pratt’s locker had been flamboyantly decorate
d with balloons and streamers. There’d been at least five at lunch—including a giant cookie, a singing telegram, and a senior who wasn’t a bad juggler. Even after school, there had been squeals and shrieks when Amanda Norton came rushing into the courtyard, urging everyone to go out and look at her car.
Assuming Amanda’s car had been in a wreck, Abby and Bryn had run out to see. But, as it turned out, Jason had painted a promposal (hopefully with water-based paint) all over Amanda’s pretty little car. Abby had laughed and Bryn had pasted a stiff-looking smile on her face. But as they walked back into the school, Abby could tell that Bryn was not pleased. Abby knew that Bryn had been secretly holding out for Jason to spring a promposal on her. And Abby felt pretty certain that Bryn would’ve accepted it. Oh, she might’ve acted like it was beneath her, but she would’ve said yes.
It seemed that Bryn and Cass and Abby were all in the same boat—dateless for prom. As Abby waited for her turn in the long jump, she fantasized a fabulous scene where her DG girlfriends performed a choreographed dance in the cafeteria. They would be joined by other kids until it turned into an amazing flash dance. Naturally, it would be filmed from a good vantage point. Then Abby’s DG friends, wearing denim jackets over white T-shirts, would line up in front of Kent and just as the song ended, they would whip open their jackets to reveal that their T-shirts each had a different letter on the front, spelling out P-R-O-M-?, and finally Abby would open her jacket and her T-shirt would say WITH ME.
Okay, maybe that sort of promposal was too over-the-top, not to mention difficult to pull off—who had time to practice a flash dance? But it was fun to daydream about. Abby realized she was on deck for long jump now. Time to focus on sprinting and positioning her steps—and stretching her arms and flying. Promposals would have to come later. If at all.
Abby ended her track practice back at the high jump pit. A lot of the other kids had already quit for the day, but Abby really wanted to get in a few last jumps while her legs were still warmed up. She’d done some jumps earlier but hadn’t been happy with her height. She’d managed to raise her personal best jump two inches in the last couple of weeks, but for some reason she hadn’t been able to clear it this afternoon. And the more she pushed herself at the end of practice, the worse it seemed to get. Finally, tired and discouraged, Abby collapsed onto the high jump pit pad and, lying flat on her back, simply looked up at the sky. A few fluffy white clouds were peacefully floating across the clear blue. So peaceful . . . so quiet.
Prom Date Page 12
