Liars and Losers Like Us
Ami Allen-Vath
To the BFFs of my YA years. You got me through the worst of times by showing me the best of times. Anne, Laura, Steph, Heidi, Tera, Beth, Donna, and Holly, for literally saving my life.
ONE
If I wasn’t dreading the lame-ass Prom nomination drama about to go down, I’d be staring at the back of Sean Mills’s short, sexy, brown hair in peace. To be fair to Mr. Norderick’s Language Arts class, the hair’s not really the main distraction, it’s everything about Sean. He’s tall, plays football and the guitar, which pretty much makes him a triple threat in my book. He’s got these swimming pool blue eyes—the kind you shouldn’t look at for more than a few milliseconds because, if he looks back and there’s eye contact, you’ll drown. Which is obviously the reason I’m sitting in the desk right behind him.
Unfortunately, across the aisle, my best friend Kallie’s eyes are practically waving a neon “get ready get set” flag in my peripheral. A tiny piece of folded paper flies from her hand and lands on my notebook. The note practically unfolds itself:
You’re gonna do it—right?
Instead of stressing my role in Kallie’s Prom Queen scheme, I give her a two-second “chill the hell out” look and go back to not taking notes and Sean. There’s even something about his ears that get me. They stick out a little—not too much—just enough to give him character. They make him more accessible, not so perfect. I shove the note into my pocket because I’d rather daydream about hanging out with Sean. Not as a girl sitting behind him getting high off his pheromones either. But on a date, somewhere like the movies as opposed to last period Language Arts.
Tap tap tap. Mr. Norderick’s highlighter jolts me to reality.
“All right ladies and fellas. I suppose it’s time to deal with these Prom Court nominations. You’ll need to nominate five queens and five kings. All senior class votes will be tallied up and your court will be announced on Friday.”
Here we go. My armpits sear and my knee bounces like a bobblehead.
The class roars and debates the must-haves and the maybes. As if we all really need another way and day for all the jerks of Belmont Senior High to get off on themselves.
Kallie taps her midnight blue fingernails together in front of her lips, and in spite of her hard-ass exterior, she’s dying to get on that court.
“All right, all right guys, calm down,” says Mr. N. “Let’s get on with it. We need five of each.”
Shandy “Kissass” Silvers raises her hand and asks if she can nominate two.
“Brian Wang and Molly Chapman.” Shandy, head of the Prom Committee, Yearbook Committee, and everything else boring committee, nods as Mr. Norderick copies the names on the board.
Brian and Molly. Our Senior Class’s Homecoming King and Queen and Class President and VP. Yes, let’s honor them with this incredibly humbling surprise, shall we?
Kallie gives me a sharp head nod. I’m pretty sure her thought is something like Please nominate me please please please prettyfreakingplease?
We had a whole conversation about this on the phone last night. My nose crinkles as I think right back at her, Dignity is not overrated. Don’t make me do it. I told her Prom Court was bullshit and did she really want to be forced into meetings and stage time with Belmont’s biggest jerks? Did she really want to be lumped into a category with those guys? Yep.
I get myself ready with a “you can do it” pep talk.
C’mon Bree, it’s not that serious. Or maybe it is. Referring to oneself in first person is never a good sign. But I’m just not the best candidate for public speaking or raising my hand to nominate my best friend as a Prom Queen when I think it’s an obnoxious idea. My face is getting warm already.
Kallie’s hand shoots up right before I’m almost about to raise mine. I’m totally embarrassed for her. She’s seriously going to vote for herself.
I try to send a telepathic text message: “OMG, Kallie DON’T DO IT!”
She blurts out, “Bree Hughes.”
Oh. Shit. My face goes from ninety-eight degrees to super freaking hot as my heartbeat picks up. That’s me. That’s my name. We did not discuss this last night.
My hand shoots up. Without breathing I say, “Kallie Vate” before Mr. N. can call anyone else.
“Well, okay, now we’re getting somewhere.” He writes our names across the board.
I stare straight ahead, slowing down my breath and wishing I could settle back into my movie daydream.
Shandy turns around sucking her teeth. She looks down her nose as if an unspoken Prom nomination sin has just been committed. Some girls on the other side of the room giggle. My heart’s ticking so hard and I want to dissolve into my desk. Pretty sure this is what it feels like for a loser. I shake my head and sigh as Kallie beams at me.
Justin, the guy who never has a problem laughing at his own jokes if someone else won’t, says, “Wow, what a crazy coincidence. The two best friends that anyone could have, voted for each other.”
I sink farther down into my seat, wondering what it’d be like to actually disappear into the hard brown plastic.
While Justin laughs and breaks into a song about two best friends, the girls name another girl, three more popular guys, and then Sean. Oh wow. His name is practically across from mine. A notion creeps into my head like a tiny spider. Maybe being on Prom Court wouldn’t be that bad. Seeing Sean in a tux and being on stage with him could be—