Liars and Losers Like Us(68)
Shandy smiles with a swift nod of her head. “No. Everything’s perfect; I’ve been planning this theme––I mean the whole committee has since last year. But thanks, that’s really sweet of you.”
Brian steps forward. “You’re aware that cardboard werewolves and vampires are more kid’s birthday party than Prom, right?”
“Yeah,” says Molly. “It’s not a Bat Mitzvah.
“They’re right,” says Jane. “It’s so two thousand and late, and it’s going to ruin a lot of photo ops having that shit in the background.”
The rest of us give Shandy our two cents about Prom decor while she grips her clipboard as if it’s someone’s neck. “Seriously guys, this is my thing.”
Just as Justin starts to make another joke, Finley announces the Court.
As I sit onstage, applause slowly dying, Mom and Dad wave from the audience behind a small roped off area. They’re in the front row next to Kallie’s parents and Beth, Sean’s mom. Jane’s mom is there too, but without her dad. For Jane’s sake, I’m glad. I try to guess which parent goes to which kid but get interrupted by Shandy tapping and saying something about us stepping up to the microphone.
“Each nominee will introduce themselves as a member of the senior class Prom Court. And tell us why they’d best represent Belmont High School as Prom Queen or King.”
Wait. What? I didn’t sign up for this. There was nothing about public speaking on the Prom Guide. Kallie meets my eyes with a smile, then shrugs.
Molly stands up and is flawless. She tells everyone how she’s truly been blessed by this experience, and would be honored to represent her class as Prom Queen. It all happens so fast that I don’t even have time to run though what to say before she passes me the mic.
I rise, grateful that my dress is long enough to cover my violently shaking knees. I wait for the applause, two random boos, and “Go Molly’s” to subside.
“Is this thing on? Um, just kidding. Okay … hi. Hi Mom, hi Dad.” I wave. “Um, I’m Bree Hughes and I’m … um, I’m really sorry that I don’t have anything really poised or cool to say right now. To be honest, I’m probably not the best candidate to represent BHS. I mean, um, not like in a way that, um …” Totally choking here. My voice is shaking, my armpits are sweating, and everyone’s staring at me. Breathe, just f*cking breathe. I dip the microphone from my mouth to my hip, take a deep breath and bring it back to continue, “Okay what I’m trying to say is that I may not be the best choice. I couldn’t even find my shoes today.” I lift my dress and point my foot, turning the toe of my sneaker on the stage. “So, yeah, this is really cool to be here, but I’m definitely not a Prom Queen.”
Dropping back into my seat with a thud, I smile. My heavy exhale is drowned out by the roar of applause. There are more kids yelling my name than I’ve ever even spoken to in the past four years here.
I pass the mic to Jane and maybe it’s the sweat of my palms or just the nerves, but I let go before she grips it. It hits the stage with an amplified thud. The woo-hoos ring out as half the class cheers as Jane bends down, trying to reach over all her ruffles in order to pick up the mic. Her Barbie pink ruffles are so big and awkward with that stiff, giant hoop in it, that she’s swinging her hips to the side to move the dress out of her way. Instead of making space to pick up the mic, Jane falls. Right on her ass. For the briefest moment, Jane’s perfectly coifed updo and wide-eyed horror is obstructed by the flipped-up hoop. I catch a glimpse of an equally ruffly pair of pink underwear.
As best as I can in my dress, I leap over, grab the mic and her shoulder, yanking her up. “Are you okay?” I whisper.
Half the class jumps out of their seats, laughing. My mom’s hands shade her eyes, and it looks like Dad’s laughing into his hand.
Jane snatches the mic as I mouth the words “I’m so sorry.” Still, she brands me with the evilest stink eye ever. My smile widens and all I’m thinking as I slide back into my seat is fake it.
I’ve gotta give Jane credit. If she wasn’t breathing venom right now, her speech is an A plus for effort in her attempt at damage control. This is not her first rodeo. Her lips purse, her shoulders come back, and her chin tips up. “Things happen that change you. Life happens. Other people happen. But we have choices. You can become someone bigger and better than the evil you’ve been running from. In the face of adversity, we can become giants. We cannot only survive, but overcome. I’ve worked my ass off to be me. To exceed when jealousy and monsters with claws are within seconds of bringing me down. But I’m always quick on my feet and ahead of the game. We are fighters, Belmont. I am always fighting.” Her voice is a knife dipped in honey butter. Sharp and sweet. “A vote for me is a vote for strength and poise.”
The only problem is that someone keeps bellowing “Booooo” every few seconds. Jane dips into a curtsy and passes the mic to Laura. Shandy runs over asking that everyone please refrain from any lewd or negative comments while the court candidates are speaking, thank you so much.
Someone yells, “Shandy, you suck.”
Laura frowns. “No she doesn’t. Shandy is a really good person.” For some reason that gets another big laugh from the audience.
Everyone else’s intros drone on, the class becoming more restless with each candidate. I run through things to say to Sean when we walk out. I don’t get much more detailed than “hello” and a daydream that he’ll be the one with all the things to say. Things like “I never stopped loving you” and “I can’t go another minute without you.” Before I know it, we’re herded back into couples by Shandy.