You Should See Me in a Crown(75)
“Bonsoir, les étudiants!” Her expression is coy, like she knows she has everyone in the room’s attention and she’s not going to let it go. “Crowning the king and queen of Campbell County prom is my honor every year.
“I believe the king and queen should represent the very best of what Campbell has to offer, and I do truly believe that this year, we have had some of the very best candidates we’ve ever seen.”
Everyone claps again, on cue, as Madame Simoné begins to unfold the envelope in her hand.
“And your 2020 Campbell County prom king is … Jordan Jennings!”
I look to my left, and Jordan is weaving his way up to the stage, smiling brightly. Emme is clapping furiously and crying happy tears. Everyone in the room could have seen this one coming—even Jaxon is hollering his praises as Jordan gets crowned—but it still feels good to watch. It isn’t often people get the things they deserve, but Jordan deserves this. If king and queen are really what Madame Simoné says—that they represent the best of what Campbell has to offer—then this was always his to win.
He’s the best Campbell has to offer.
Jordan hasn’t taken his eyes off Emme since he got onstage, but as Madame Simoné gears up to make the announcement for queen, he looks at me and winks. And, like, I’m eighty-five percent sure this overwhelming, obnoxious, definitely-too-soon feeling in my chest is love for the girl to my right whose hand I’m holding and who happens to be the only person I want to kiss at the end of the night—but I’d be lying if I said the other fifteen percent isn’t sheer terror about what’s coming next.
“Now for the pièce de résistance, your 2020 Campbell County High School prom queen is …”
She unfolds the envelope, and my heart stops.
Amanda squeezes my hand once.
The room goes quiet, and I swear I can hear the shouts of an indignant Rachel Collins from the street below.
And it’s as if I’ve been here before. I know this feeling like I know the way my hands feel wrapped around my instrument, spine straight and ready to perform.
It’s the moment before the first movement of an orchestra. It’s the split second before a conductor drops their arms to signal the beginning of a song. When you wait with bated breath and you feel the energy in the room and you don’t have to wonder anymore because you just know. You just know it’s all out of your hands from there. Call it fate or magic or miracle or whatever, but you’ve done what it takes for a flawless performance—practiced and rehearsed until your calluses had calluses—and yet, everything hangs in the balance. Anything could go wrong. Or—on the best nights—go very, very right.
“Elizabeth Lighty!”
I know people are clapping because I can see them, but I can’t hear anything except a dull roar in my ears. She couldn’t have said— There’s no way it’s—
“Liz, you won!” Amanda shouts. She’s holding my face in both of her hands, and she’s smiling a smile I’ve never seen before—a little wild, more than a little proud. “It’s you! You won, Liz!”
And I don’t know how I get onstage, because I can’t even think to move my feet, but suddenly I’m standing next to Jordan and crouching down so that Madame Simoné can place the tiara on my head, and I’m crying a little, and I’d probably be embarrassed if I didn’t look down into the audience and see Gabi, Stone, and even Britt all crying too.
Madame Simoné places a bouquet of flowers in my hands and whispers in my ear.
“Tu es la meilleure. The best queen I’ve ever crowned, Elizabeth.” She kisses both my cheeks before pulling back and gesturing for me to step up and stand by Jordan. “The very finest.”
I sort of stumble forward, and the room comes into sharp focus in that moment. I can see and hear everything, and it’s almost sensory overload. The shouts from my friends I can distinguish easily, mingling with the clapping and the cheering of people I don’t know. Everyone in the room, it seems, is locked into this moment with me. With Jordan.
Jordan grabs my hand with his and gives it a squeeze.
“What did I say, Lighty? A first is nothing without a good second.” He waves at the audience with his free hand but smiles down at me. “But this is all you—you’ve always been first.”
“Now, now!” Madame Simoné is back on the mic, calling for everyone to quiet down. “If everyone would settle down. It’s time for our king and queen’s official first dance.”
Jordan lets go of my hand and smiles at me one more time, and I’ve never loved him more than I do in this moment.
“It’s time for you to get that grand finale.”
Jordan hops offstage like it’s nothing, and the crowd parts for him like Moses and the Red Sea. But he stops, removes his crown, and places it directly on Amanda’s head. He whispers something in her ear that makes her blush, turns to Emme, grabs her hand, and pulls her away for a dance of their own.
When I step down, Amanda is bouncing between looking at me and looking up at her too-big borrowed crown and trying to keep it from falling off her head. There are a couple of “Awwwws” around us and a couple of annoyed groans too. I may have won, but this is still Campbell. Things still aren’t perfect, not by a mile.