The Anti-Prom (4 page)

“Manners!”

“Oh! Sorry!” She blinks at me, wide-eyed. “You mind if I . . . ?”

I shake my head quickly. “No, go ahead.”

She finally settles on a pop station and sits back, humming along with the song. I wait, trying to decipher what’s going on. Bliss seems breathless and excited, and even Jolene keeps glancing back toward the building. She notices me watching her.

“What are you doing out here, anyway?” Her eyes narrow, assessing me. “The party started ages ago.”

“I, ummm, my date couldn’t make it.” My voice comes out almost a whisper. It hurts to admit, especially to these two. They’ve probably never been left waiting more than a minute in their entire lives. Some people, you don’t even dare.

“You got stood up?” Bliss exclaims, her head popping up next to me again. “That’s awful.”

I try to shrug, like I don’t care. “It’s cool. I mean, it’s only prom.”

The words sit, hollow between us. I want to slap myself. Who am I fooling? Only prom?

“So, what — are you going home?” Jolene is still watching me carefully, her blue eyes cool and unblinking. It’s the first time I’ve seen them without smudges of dark liner, but they’re still as unnerving as ever.

“I guess. I don’t know . . .” My words catch in my throat, and then to my horror, I feel another tear spill over and slide down my cheek. I swipe quickly at my face, hoping they haven’t noticed.

“Maybe you want to come with us?” Jolene suggests suddenly. I blink.

There’s a noise of protest from the backseat, but Jolene whips her head around and fixes Bliss with a fearful stare. “We were thinking of heading to DQ,” she adds. “Just getting out of here.”

My heart sinks. “So, you need a ride.”

“Well, yeah. But you don’t have to . . .” Jolene shrugs, nonchalant as ever.

I waver.

For three years, I’ve been invisible to girls like Jolene and Bliss — drifting silently around that school; overhearing snatches of everyone else’s crazy gossip, while I sneak my sandwiches in the quiet of a library carrel and daydream of one day, maybe, being a part of things. I’m not stupid; I know that they just need a chauffeur tonight, and I happened to turn up at the right time, but even so . . .

Bliss and Jolene
do
things. They have adventures. They don’t sit, weeping in a parking lot while everyone else has the night of their lives.

It’s a waste of a damn pretty dress, that’s what it is.

“OK.” I wipe my eyes again and start the ignition. “Let’s go.”

Meg drives even slower than my
abuela,
Jolene switches the radio to some noisy punk rock station, and I get a bunch of desperate WHERE R U?? texts from Courtney, but by the time we pull into the deserted DQ parking lot, I’m buzzing with a fierce kind of energy. Bailing on prom after I spent so long planning for it is crazy, I know, but that backseat lap dance has already ruined everything. There’s no point faking smiles for the rest of the night, knowing all along it’s a lie. No, now’s the time for payback, when I’ve still got this sharp heat in my rib cage urging me on.

Something’s in motion now. There’s no going back.

“I’m, umm, just going to use the restroom.” Meg clambers out of the car. Her mascara is smudged, and her eyes are puffy from all that crying I pretended not to see. She waits, blinking at us.

“Sure!” I reply. What does she want, permission? “See you in there.” I watch until she’s inside before turning to Jolene. “So, what’s the plan? When do we ditch her and get started?”

“Relax.” Jolene looks amused. She slams the car shut and stomps toward the brightly lit entrance like she’s heading for battle, not a soft-serve restaurant. I grab my purse and hurry after her.

“But, you’ve got one, right?” I’m struck with another panic. “A plan, I mean. I didn’t leave the biggest party of the year just to hang out and get ice cream!”

Inside, the place is practically deserted, nothing but a depressing stretch of red-and-white tile and empty booths under too-harsh fluorescent strip lights. An overweight man sits alone by the windows, slowly scooping at a huge sundae. He stops with the spoon halfway to his mouth, staring at us and our formal dresses. I quickly turn away.

Jolene marches to the counter and calls out, “Denise, you there?”

A woman emerges, maybe forty or even older. She wipes her hands on her apron and gapes. “Oh my word. Honey, just look at you!”

“Shut up,” Jolene protests, but it’s softer than all her biting replies to me have been. She folds her arms over the ruffles, like that’s enough to hide them. “I left some stuff in my locker. Can I grab the keys?”

“Sure thing.” Denise waves her through, and Jolene disappears into the back. Right. I forgot she works here, even though I’m sure she must have served me a dozen times.

“Can I get you anything?” Denise asks, clearing up the counter. Her hair is dyed an unconvincing shade of red, and she’s got a tired look around her eyes, the one my mom spends a fortune on spa treatments to smooth away.

I hover, awkward. It seems rude not to order something. “Umm, just a Diet Coke, thanks.”

“I hope you girls are taking plenty of pictures.” Denise beams at me. Moving to the drink machine, she begins filling a huge cup. “I remember my prom. . . .”

“Back in the eighties, when Bon Jovi was still cool.” Jolene finishes for her, reappearing with a bulky backpack. It’s cheap black nylon and clashes badly with her outfit. “I know, you’ve been telling me all week.”

“I wore a pretty blue dress, cut right to here.” Denise passes me the soda with a wistful look. I open my purse, but she shakes her head. “Oh no, any friend of Jolene’s . . .”

“Thanks, Denise.” Jolene quickly drags me toward a booth in the far corner, throwing herself down like she doesn’t care that she’s going to leave creases in her dress. I carefully slide in after her.

“She seems nice,” I offer, peeling the paper wrapping from a straw.

“What do you care?” Jolene raises an eyebrow at me, but I don’t shrink away in fear. I’m back in control now, and she may be badass, but it’s not like she’s going to cut me with the plastic utensils or anything.

“Wow. You really are touchy.” I slurp my drink.

“No, just amazed that you noticed the help,” Jolene drawls, sarcastic. “I figured we were all invisible to you.”

I’m about to ask how she manages to even walk with that massive chip on her shoulder, when the door swings open and a group of teenagers strolls in. I freeze.

“What?” Jolene notices my expression, following my gaze to the door. “Friends of yours?”

“Sure.” I ease back so I’m hidden from view by a fake plastic plant. “Because my friends really wear generic denim and ugly-ass Ts.”

Still, I can’t be too careful. Brianna and the gang would flip if they knew I was even talking to Jolene, let alone plotting . . . something.

Jolene shakes her head. “I know you’re ashamed to be seen with me and all, but you could at least try to pretend. You know, to be polite.”

I sigh, still peering through the leaves. “Like your reputation wouldn’t suffer if people saw you with me, looking like that.”

But Jolene just shrugs. “I am who I am.”

Enough with the small talk. Clearly, I’m not going to get her to loosen up any time soon, so I just switch straight to business. “What are we going to do about Cam and Kaitlin?”

“Kaitlin Carter?” Meg chooses that moment to slide into the booth. She’s cleaned up her face, but her eyes are still a little red — and full of that forlorn expression from before. Digging into a cup of plain soft-serve with rainbow sprinkles, she looks back and forth between us. “What’s she done?”

“Nothing, it’s just . . . a thing.” I take another sip of soda, impatient.

“She screwed Bliss’s precious boyfriend,” Jolene announces. “And now Bliss wants payback.”

I choke on my drink. “Hey!”

“What?” Jolene shrugs, unconcerned. “Although, I don’t know why you can’t just walk up and bitch-slap her. Him, too.” She reaches over and scoops some of Meg’s ice cream with her fingertip.

“You know, there is something called discretion,” I hiss. “I asked you for help because I figured you wouldn’t want to get caught!”

“And?” Jolene glances over at Meg. “You won’t rat us out, right?”

She blinks. “Umm, I don’t know what —”

“See?” Jolene turns back to me. “No big deal.”

“It’s the principle!” I protest. “I can’t believe you’re just spilling all my secrets to some random reject. No offense,” I add to Meg, because she’s just the kind to take it. “Seriously,” I keep complaining to Jolene, “it was bad enough telling you. More strangers knowing the intimate details of my betrayal is so not what I signed up for.”

“She’s not exactly part of your rich-bitch clique,” Jolene points out, eating more of Meg’s ice cream. Meg just sits there.

“No, but she’ll probably go running to her parents the minute we do anything bad,” I argue. And in this town, it would only be a matter of time before everyone knew — including my mom and dad.

“We don’t know that for sure.”

“Umm, I’m right here.” Meg tries to interrupt, but Jolene talks over her.

“I know it’s not your forte, Bliss, but think. We need a ride for this revenge scenario to work.”

“So we get her to drop us at my place,” I reply, bristling at her tone. “My car is in the garage.”

“Right,” she says with a sigh. “Your red convertible. Your inconspicuous, untraceable red convertible with the East Midlands bumper stickers.”

I bite my lip. She does have a point.

I look back at Meg again: waiting silently now, swirling ice cream around her cup like we aren’t talking about her right to her face. I sigh. It’s clear she has nothing better to do, and she’s not part of the social scene, at least, so maybe this won’t get out. . . .

“Fine,” I agree, turning to Meg. “You’re in.”

“But in on what?” She looks nervous. “Sorry, it’s just you didn’t even say what this is about.”

“Payback,” Jolene explains, taking a slurp of my drink. “But revenge isn’t a one-size-fits-all kind of thing. This Cameron guy, how long have you been dating him?”

“A couple of months,” I reply, casual, like I don’t even know to the day. “We got together at Nico’s birthday thing.”

I couldn’t sleep that night after he kissed me. I stayed up, talking until dawn about how cute he was, and how long it would take for him to call. Talking with Kaitlin. I scowl. “And I’ve been best friends with Kaitlin since the start of sophomore year.”

“Ouch.” Jolene smirks. “Bet you didn’t see that one coming.”

“No,” I say quietly. “I didn’t.”

“OK. So, you don’t want violence, and I doubt you’ll work up the nerve to destroy any of their stuff. . . .” Jolene muses, like that’s a bad thing. “Then I guess your best bet is public humiliation, and —” She stops suddenly. Denise is approaching, clearing wrappers and debris from the tables nearby.

“Can I get you girls anything?” she asks, beaming at us.

“No, thanks, Dee.” Jolene smiles and waits until she’s gone before continuing. “You know, this would be so much easier if you’d taken photos. Or video. Any kind of proof they’ve been cheating.”

“Sorry, I was too busy having my heart ripped into tiny pieces.” My voice comes out bitter, so I cover with a careless smile. “Not exactly a Kodak moment.”

There’s a pause. I can tell they’re both thinking what an idiot I am; even Meg is looking at me like I should have seen this coming. But this is why I didn’t tell anyone, back at prom. They would have all swooped in with their fake sympathy — and then bitched behind my back about how I must have done something wrong, how Kaitlin must be better than me. No, keeping quiet was the right thing to do. I just need to act like I’m not hurting and make sure that when news gets out, Kaitlin and Cam are so humiliated, nobody thinks to gossip about me, too.

“You know, I bet we could get something from her room,” I suggest, thinking hard. “Kaitlin texts like, twenty-four seven. And with e-mail, video chat, it would be easy to send around.” I brighten. “Like what happened to that freak Eli, you know, with that whole Gaga clip.”

“I saw that.” Meg finally speaks.

“
Everyone
saw it.” I giggle. “We copied the entire school. I think it even made Perez Hilton.”

Jolene raises an eyebrow. “That was your clique? Gee, how nice.”

“Whatever.” I roll my eyes. “Seriously — if you’re going to goth up and do some crazy death-metal dance routine, maybe you don’t want to film the whole thing. Anyway, if we can break into Kaitlin’s computer, there’s bound to be something scandalous to spread around.”

“Break in?” Meg stops. Her brown eyes get wider, like she’s just realizing what we’re planning. “Nobody said we’d be doing anything illegal!”

“It’s hardly even against the law,” I reassure her, impatient. “I know the security for the alarm and everything.”

Still, she shakes her head. “No, I can’t.” Reaching for her tiny beaded purse, she picks up her skirts and tries to leave, but Jolene slides around so we’re sitting on either side of her in the booth. We don’t move.

“You won’t have to get out of the car.” Jolene sighs. “Just wait for us down the block.”

“Nobody would ever know you were involved. Promise.” I add a beam of encouragement.