A Prom to Remember

by Sandy Hall

  “I do feel happy. I feel like I’m going to the prom with a boy and I never expected this to happen to me.”

  Madison tsked. “As your best friend, I can totally tell you this was going to happen for you.”

  “You couldn’t know that,” Lizzie said, slamming her locker shut.

  “Are you working tonight? Let’s hang out and celebrate your happiness. I have plans with Otis, but you should come along. Maybe he could offer a male perspective on Mystery Boy.”

  “I am not working, and I would love to hang out with you and Otis, but why do I need a male perspective on Mystery Boy?”

  “Well, you know, why is he still being so secretive? Who is he? That kind of stuff.”

  “Sure.” Lizzie didn’t think she wanted to know who he was yet. She still kind of liked the anonymity, but that seemed like something Madison didn’t understand.

  “Cool, I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  *   *   *

  As promised, Madison was outside Lizzie’s house at seven o’clock. Lizzie jogged to the back door of the car and got in.

  Madison pulled away from the curb. “Do you guys want to go to the diner? I want home fries with cheese on them.”

  “Um, why have I never gotten home fries with cheese on them? That sounds magical,” Lizzie said.

  “It’s definitely magical.”

  As they slid into the booth at the diner, Madison said, “I filled Otis in on the gist of what’s going down with you and Mystery Boy.”

  “And what do you think?” Lizzie asked.

  Otis put his menu down. “You really have no idea who this guy is?”

  “None whatsoever.”

  “What if he’s grotesque?” Otis asked.

  “Do we even go to school with anyone who’s truly grotesque? Are we not all God’s creatures?” Madison asked.

  “I’m serious. There’s that dude. You know that guy,” Otis said, snapping his fingers, trying to remember.

  “I have no idea who you’re talking about,” Lizzie said.

  “Well, okay. But what if you see Mystery Boy and you’re just not attracted to him?”

  “I mean, I’ve still had a lot of fun talking to him all year. I still want to meet him; he doesn’t have to be the Hottest Hottie from Hotville.”

  “I like that. Hottest Hottie from Hotville. I’m going to use that,” Otis said.

  “I suppose I’ll allow it,” Lizzie said as the waitress came for their order.

  After she walked away, Otis looked at Lizzie appraisingly.

  “So, let’s take it back to basics. You have a secret admirer.”

  “I wouldn’t call him a secret admirer; it’s more like a double-blind friendship.”

  “Hmm, yes, so scientific, so specific,” Otis said, opening a packet of sugar and dumping it into his coffee. “And you really, really have no clue who it could be? Like you’ve gone through all the possibilities?”

  “I haven’t gone through any of the possibilities,” Lizzie said. It was time to put her foot down. “I honestly like the romantic comedy aspect of it. I’ve gotten used to not knowing. And now I want to wait. It’s only a couple more weeks.”

  “He’s never dropped any useful hints? Nothing?”

  “I used to try to figure it out at the beginning. I even e-mailed the document to myself so I could take my time reading it. But I don’t want to do that anymore. I really, really don’t want to know.”

  “OMG, let me read the document,” Otis exclaimed, stirring his coffee. “I’m sure I could figure it out.”

  “You just said OMG,” Madison pointed out to Otis. “You’re practically turning into Luke these days.”

  “He has a lot of influence on me,” Otis said.

  Madison rolled her eyes and turned to Lizzie. “If he reads the document, then I definitely get to read the document.”

  “Hell no. That’s my private business. And his private business. No one is reading the document,” Lizzie said, pointing at Otis.

  Otis pouted.

  Their food arrived, and everyone dug into their order.

  After a few more minutes, it was obvious that Otis wasn’t going to let go of this topic anytime soon.

  “Have you ever considered that it’s not double blind?” Otis asked.

  “What do you mean?” Madison asked.

  “Have you ever considered that he knows who you are, but you don’t know who he is?” he asked with an eyebrow raise.

  Lizzie had definitely never considered that possibility.

  “Oh my god,” she said. “What if he knows who I am but I don’t know who he is?”

  “That’s what I’m saying,” Otis said.

  “How have we never considered that possibility?” Madison asked.

  “It never even struck me. Not once.” Lizzie shrugged and looked around the diner. “It’s like everyone is a suspect now. He could be following me.”

  “He probably doesn’t know,” Madison said.

  “But he might,” Otis said.

  “He might,” Lizzie agreed.

  Henry

  In his head, Henry listed the things he should be doing. Writing his final paper for English, studying for the AP calc test, taking a jog, or texting Paisley. Instead he was lying facedown on his bed and pretending it wasn’t Sunday night, pretending that he didn’t have school in the morning.

  He sort of wished he could text Cameron, but he’d actually deleted his number back in November at Paisley’s urging. Henry hadn’t thought much about how Cameron was feeling back then with his mom’s remarriage and all. He didn’t think about what Cameron was going through. It wasn’t because Henry was a bad friend; at least he didn’t think so. It was more that he didn’t know how to navigate the murky waters of whatever was going on with Cameron. And now his mom was pregnant?

  Henry had no idea how to “be there” for Cameron. But he had a distinct urge to try, just like his mom had advised.

  It required an emotional quotient that Henry didn’t possess. He got good grades, and he was going to a good college in the fall, but he lacked something in the area of empathy. He could have tried harder to be there for his friend. But how do you put all of that in a text? It had started feeling like they’d never really been that close in the first place, even though they’d pretty much been best friends up until junior year. Cameron was second to Paisley, and that was only because Henry had known Paisley since nursery school and had met Cameron in kindergarten.

  Back when Cameron had started pulling away, not returning texts, saying no to hanging out, and quitting the baseball team, it had felt like it wasn’t Henry’s job to worry about him.

  But maybe it was his job. Maybe that’s what he got wrong.

  He flipped over onto his back, and his phone beeped next to him. For a second he believed it was Cameron, as if just thinking about him was enough to start a conversation.

  But it wasn’t Cameron. It was Amelia, sending him a picture of her dress so he knew what color corsage to buy her. Henry covered his face with his hand. He didn’t want to deal with this.

  His phone beeped again. This time it was Paisley with one of her wild stories from the mall food court. A woman had gone off on her about putting an extra pump of liquid cheese on her potato.

  Paisley texted back a series of emojis that equated to “What do you want to do about it?”

  And then he remembered something that happened the other day while the baseball team was riding home on the bus.

  He could almost hear her incredulous tone.

  She stopped responding after that, but Henry imagined he was going to get his ass handed to him sometime soon.

  Chapter 14

  Paisley

  When Henry told her that the guys on the baseball team were going to ask Paisley to the prom, she only halfway believed him. It seemed like the kind of thing Henry would say in jest and the guys would have a good chuckle over, but that no one would actually see through, even if there was hypothetical money on
the line.

  So, when she arrived at school Monday morning, it wasn’t even on her mind. Which was why when she got to her locker she was so surprised to see a single balloon tied to her lock, with the word PROM? emblazoned on it in thick black marker.

  She sighed and shook her head, looking around to find the culprit of this silly, harmless little prank. But no one was in the vicinity, definitely not anyone on the baseball team. By lunch, her secret prom suitor had still not revealed himself.

  It was only when she popped the balloon and a small piece of paper the size of a fortune from a cookie floated out that she learned it was Stewart Smith asking her. But if he wanted to go to the prom with her, he was going to have to actually speak with her face-to-face.

  Even knowing that meant she’d have to reject him face-to-face, it didn’t worry her. It shouldn’t be her problem to track him down when she didn’t even want to go.

  Garrett Yi was standing by her locker after lunch.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “I hear you don’t have a date for the prom and was kind of wondering if…” He trailed off and held his hands up.

  He was sort of cute, and he got points in style for not having any style.

  “I’m sorry to say I’m just not interested in going to the prom,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “It’s not you, it’s the prom.”

  “Oh well,” he said, walking away. “Thanks anyway.”

  She tried to ignore the way his neck glowed bright pink even from so many feet away. Paisley was not one to wallow in guilt. It wasn’t worth it. She knew she’d have a terrible time at the prom. She didn’t want to go and she didn’t have to go.

  When she found Henry during lunch, she backed him into a corner. “How many more, Henry?”

  “How many more what?”

  “How many more guys are going to ask me to the prom?” she said, poking him in the chest between each word to emphasize that she was in a take-no-shit kind of mood.

  “Um, well, I know at least four of them put money in the pot, but there might have been more that I didn’t see.”

  “Who gets the money if I don’t say yes to anyone?”

  Henry shrugged. “I don’t know the rules of this particular gentlemen’s agreement.”

  Paisley scoffed and went about her day. But she had a great idea during gym class. When she got home that night, she used some random leftover T-shirt-making stuff from her days as an Internet fangirl. She had bought a bunch of printable iron-on T-shirt transfer sheets and was going to start an Etsy shop for fans of a certain boy band she had been pretty passionate about in middle school.

  And the beginning of high school.

  And part of the middle of high school.

  Fine, she had been obsessed with One Direction right up until Zayn left the group.

  And it was right around when Zayn left the group that she lost all interest in starting an Etsy shop, but she’d already lost the receipt for the iron-on T-shirt transfer sheets.

  All this to say, she was going to make a T-shirt printed with the phrase It’s not you, it’s prom.

  The next day when Tyler Lewis approached her in the hallway, all she had to do was unzip her sweatshirt and point to the phrase. He turned on his heel and booked it in the other direction.

  Paisley was smug with joy over her idea.

  But this meant she was either going to have to make another T-shirt tomorrow or wash this one tonight. It honestly seemed easier to make another T-shirt. Especially when Madison came up to her after school.

  “Um, that T-shirt is awesome and where did you get it?”

  “I made it,” Paisley said.

  “Any chance you’d be willing to make me one?”

  “Get me a plain T-shirt and I definitely will.”

  “I’ll bring it by later; we could have a T-shirt-making party.”

  Paisley grinned. Maybe she should start an anti-prom T-shirt Etsy store.

  The next day was sort of a letdown. Not one guy from the baseball team approached her. It was kind of annoying, seeing as how she spent all that time last night making T-shirts with Madison.

  At least she had a few new shirts and some fun ideas for making money off other people who didn’t care about the prom.

  When she went outside after school, Derek Rodriguez was standing there with a single yellow rose, like his whole life was an episode of The Bachelor.

  “Hey, there,” he said.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “How about we go to the prom together?” he asked. There was something unsettlingly smooth about Derek.

  Paisley lifted the sweater she’d put on over her T-shirt.

  “It’s not you, it’s prom,” Derek read. He looked her in the eye. “So that’s a no, then?”

  Paisley nodded.

  “Dammit,” he said, and walked away, still holding the yellow rose.

  She pulled out her phone and texted Henry.

  She slid her phone in her back pocket and threaded her way to Madison’s car, finding solace in the back seat while Madison drove her and Lizzie to their respective homes.

  Thursday and Friday were quiet. It seemed that the message was out there.

  Paisley Turner was not going to the prom with anyone.

  Jacinta

  Kelsey and Mike picked up Jacinta at 6:30 p.m. on the nose. They drove over to the Olive Garden, where Brian met them out front. For some reason Kelsey loved the Olive Garden no matter how much other people made fun of it. She was not one to be swayed by the opinion of others.

  Brian was definitely cuter than Jacinta had expected, even cuter than Kelsey had described. And much cuter than any of the pictures that Jacinta had found of him on social media. Apparently the camera was not his friend.

  He had the kind of smile where you could tell he still wore his retainer every night. Which reminded Jacinta, she needed to start wearing her retainer every night. It’d be worth it if her teeth looked as good as Brian’s.

  Another plus for Brian was that he held the door open for her. Jacinta was easily impressed by even the most basic manners. She really did believe it was the little things in life that sometimes meant the most.

  The four of them got seated pretty quickly in a booth, and their waitress brought over bread sticks that Kelsey immediately attacked as if they were her last meal.

  Brian smiled and offered the bread stick bowl to Jacinta before taking one for himself. Another point for him.

  Sadly, things plateaued after that and Jacinta couldn’t find anything else to give him points for.

  He was okay. He didn’t have much to say, which wasn’t really a bad thing, but Jacinta was having a hard time imagining spending a lot of time with him. He wasn’t exactly making an impression with his quiet politeness.

  She sighed inwardly and hoped no one noticed her eye roll. Why couldn’t she be the kind of person who was lucky enough to have a date from their class? Why did everyone else get to go to their prom with someone from school, while Jacinta had to scramble to find someone, anyone, willing to spend an evening with her?

  It wasn’t doing great things for her confidence.

  Focus on Brian, she told herself.

  The food arrived and truth be told, Jacinta’s meal was better than she expected, so at least the night had something going for it.

  Kelsey dragged her to the bathroom before they ordered dessert.

  “So, what do you think?” she asked.

  “He’s not really doing much?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, he’s barely said a word.”

  “He’s shy!” Kelsey insisted. “You need to get to know him. You’re shy, too.”

  “Okay. Yes. But like he needs to do something to make me want to get to know him. Like leave some kind of impression. Right now I’m imagining being at the prom with him and neither of us saying a word for four hours.”

  “Well, I’ll be at the prom, too, and Mike, of course, and
we can help keep the conversation going.”

  “I appreciate your optimism, but I’m honestly not sure this is going to work out,” Jacinta said, placing a hand on Kelsey’s arm.

  Kelsey frowned dramatically. “Come on. Give him one more chance. Ask him a question.”

  “I can’t ask him a question when you’re sitting there staring at us like we’re about to do a song-and-dance number. That’s probably not helping his shyness, either.”

  “Okay, fine, I’ll have a conversation with Mike, and you have one with Brian.”

  “Fine. Let’s go.”

  They settled back into the booth, and Brian and Mike both smiled at them.

  Kelsey started a quiet conversation with Mike, and Jacinta took her moment.

  “So what are your postgraduation plans?” Jacinta asked.

  “Um, you know,” Brian said, nodding.

  “No,” she said with what she hoped was a carefree laugh. “I don’t actually know. That’s kind of why I asked.”

  “Oh right,” he said, and laughed at himself. She liked his laugh at least. “I’m going to Rutgers.”

  “Cool, cool.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’m going to Penn State actually.”

  “Nice. They’re rivals.”

  This was the worst conversation known to man, and Jacinta had no idea how to keep up her end of the bargain when this kid couldn’t offer anything interesting. She decided to try something random.

  “What was your favorite TV show when you were a kid?”

  Brian smiled and seemed to think long and hard about this question. Jacinta really appreciated the time he put into it. A solid minute passed before he answered.

  “Is it weak if I said SpongeBob?”

  Jacinta laughed with surprise. “Why would that be considered weak? Doesn’t everyone love SpongeBob?”

  “It’s kind of obvious, you know? Like of course everyone loves SpongeBob. I feel like I should have a more highbrow answer.” His cheeks reddened when Jacinta giggled.

  “I don’t think there are a lot of highbrow shows for little kids. And really it’s a better answer than, say … Caillou.”