The Way You Make Me Feel(5)
And at this moment, music was blasting in my cluttered bedroom, pink twinkle lights casting the room in a warm glow. I stepped onto the pukey purple-and-brown woven rug that my dad had bought for me when I was ten years old. The reflection in the full-length mirror bolted to my bedroom door startled me, and I covered my mouth. Oh my.
I was wearing a floor-length peach satin gown with thin spaghetti straps and a cinched-in waist that I had found at Goodwill. Given that I was a whole five feet two inches tall, I looked like a little girl playing dress-up in her mother’s clothes. The dress pooled around my feet, so I stepped into my white platform boots. There, much better. My hair was twisted into a bizarre-looking updo with curled tendrils grazing my cheeks. I reached over to my desk—littered with makeup, books, and Sanrio pens—for a tube of drugstore lipstick in an old-lady coral shade. I applied it in two big sweeps.
Perfect.
I grabbed my faux-leather jacket with faux-fur trim and tossed it on before heading downstairs. My dad was sprawled across the sofa watching a baseball game in his lucky black Dodgers cap. He looked up at the sound of my clomping footsteps.
“Meu Deus,” my dad blurted, nearly falling off the sofa laughing.
“O-M-Deus is the effect I was going for,” I said with a twirl. My phone vibrated with a text. Patrick, Felix, and Cynthia were here.
“Enjoy your evening, Father. Wish me luck!” I called out as I grabbed my skateboard by the door.
My dad waved from the sofa. “Good luck, Shorty. Don’t stir up too much trouble.”
I opened the front door. “I will!”
*
The first person I saw when we got to the dance was Rose Carver.
She was greeting everyone at the cafeteria door and handing out little slips of paper. Rose looked every part the prom queen—wearing an airy dress in dark blue with fluttery sleeves and a deep V-neck, showing off her sculpted dancer’s shoulders. The length was short and her legs were endless in her strappy gold heels.
When I reached her, she held up a piece of paper. Her lips pursed. “You’re definitely going to need this.”
I tilted my head, looking at it for a second before taking it from her. “What bribery are you attempting at the eleventh hour?” When I glanced down, I saw that it was a coupon code for a ride share.
“So people don’t drive home drunk,” she said flatly, giving me and the rest of my group a meaningful glance.
Cynthia let out a snort of laughter. I smiled. “What a helpful citizen. It shall be a privilege to be your prom queen.”
Patrick reached over and took another flyer from Rose. “Just in case,” he drawled.
Her deep fuchsia lips turned down. “People do drive drunk, you know. It’s, like, an actual problem.”
“Thanks!” I said cheerfully, lifting up my skateboard before hiding it under my dress to head into the cafeteria.
The rest of prom was mind-numbingly boring, as expected. If I saw another guy dancing along to Bruno Mars in a sexy fashion in front of his date, I would torch him. And for some reason, the theme of our dance was 1001 Arabian Nights, which I found offensive. It just manifested in colorful scarves draped around the cafeteria and rugs tossed on the floor.
We passed the time by taking Snapchats of people making out or groping one another on the dance floor.
Then it was time for prom queen and king announcements, and the lights dimmed before Rose stepped on the stage. Everything was dark except for a spotlight on her and the flickering LED candles hanging in decorative Moroccan-style lamps. “Good evening, junior class of Elysian High!”
Everyone cheered. Except for Cynthia, who booed. Always the subtle subversive, that one.
“It’s the time you’ve all been waiting for! The prom king and queen announcements!” More cheers. Someone yelled, “CLARA!” I waved from my slouched position.
Rose opened up an envelope dramatically. You’d think this was the Oscars. “Drumroll, please!” she commanded. We thumped the tables with our hands, Felix and Patrick doing it with gusto—making the table bounce.
“Elysian High’s junior prom king is Daniel Gonzales! And the prom queen is … oh. Clara Shin.”
There were some audible gasps and then roaring cheers. I stood up, pumping my arms in the air before giving Patrick, Felix, and Cynthia high fives. Patrick handed me my skateboard from its hiding spot under the table, and I stood on it with Patrick and Felix on either side of me, pushing me toward the stage. Slowly making my way, I waved my right hand like a beauty-pageant contestant, smiling widely. Daniel Gonzales and Rose were waiting for me, him awkwardly wearing a crown and her glaring at me.
Before I got up onstage, Patrick leaned over and whispered, “It’s all ready.”
I nodded. “Wait until I say honor before dropping it.”
Rather than take the stairs to the stage, I hoisted myself up, hiking up my dress enough to get a few catcalls. I flipped my middle finger in their general direction, then walked over to Rose. She placed a tiara on my head, every part of her resisting—like a ghost was trying to wrestle the crown away from her.
She also handed me a pink satin sash, her fingers extended toward me with distaste. Instead of taking it, I bowed my head forward, waiting for her to place it on me. She muttered something unintelligible as she tossed it over my head.
Everyone cheered as I faced the crowd, and I soaked it all in, closing my eyes like a complete weirdo. Then I glanced at Daniel. “Do you have a speech?”