Page 1 of The Wrong Prom Date

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Teagan

My fingers tapped restlessly against my desk as I waited for the bell to ring. Today was the day I’d been waiting for all year, but it was like time had gone into slow motion ever since I’d arrived at school that morning. The cast list for the school play was being posted at the end of the day, and I couldn’t have been more nervous.

I glanced up at the clock yet again, and I swore the minute hand had stalled. This English lesson was going on forever, and I still had lunch and a couple of other classes to get through before I’d find out if I’d gotten the lead. Why was it that lessons always went so much slower when you wanted to get them over and done with?

Mr. Randall was slowly walking down the aisle as he handed back our latest assignments. As he passed me mine, he gave me a disappointed look, and when I saw the grade, I instantly knew why. I let out a sigh as I placed the assignment down on the table and sunk low in my chair.

My English teacher was out to get me.

It didn’t seem to matter how hard I worked on the essays I submitted; they always came back with a big red D circled at the top of the page. Today was no exception, but for once, I’d been expecting the result. The auditions for our play had been the same day the assignment was due, so obviously, I’d had other priorities. Mr. Randall was lucky I’d submitted the work at all.

“Teagan, how did you do?” Evan whispered.

He was sitting at his usual desk behind me, and I plastered on a fake smile as I turned to him. “I did okay,” I replied, brushing off his question before he could dig any deeper. “How about you?”

“I got a B, baby.” He flashed his paper in my direction, showing me his grade.

“That’s amazing, Evan.”

He grinned. “I know, right? It looks like I might not fail English this year after all.”

At least that made one of us.

The bellfinallyrang and I shoved my assignment in my notebook, glad I would never have to look at it again. I used to be quite good at English, but lately I never had the time to put any effort into the subject. I started toward the door, but Mr. Randall stopped me before I could make it out of the room.

“A moment, Miss York?” he said.

I paused by his desk, my eyes nervously flicking in Evan’s direction.

“I’ll meet you outside,” he said, and I nodded. Mr. Randall had that look in his eyes that told me he was preparing to give me a lecture, and I really didn’t want Evan to be there for it. It was bad enough I would have to hear it.

The other students continued to file out of the room, and Mr. Randall waited until the classroom was clear before he started to speak. “This has to be your worst work to date, Teagan.”

I tried to keep a passive face, but my shoulders couldn’t help but slump. “I know it’s not my best,” I admitted. “But the assignment was due the same day as auditions for the play. I didn’t have a chance to focus on it.”

He let out a long breath and shook his head. “You had two weeks to work on it, and auditions are not a good enough excuse. For a student who excels at drama, an analysis ofRomeo and Julietshould be right up your alley.”

My heart dropped at his words.Romeo and Julietwas one of my favorite plays, and I knew he was right. I should have kicked ass at this assignment, and I felt certain I would have done better if I’d had enough time to work on it. But Mr. Randall clearly didn’t understand that free time wasn’t exactly on my side, and I’d spent every moment of it during the last two weeks preparing for my audition.

“Your assignments in this class are always rushed,” he went on. “But, I’ve seen evidence in all of them that you are capable of a deeper level of critical thinking. Unfortunately, it’s never consistent. You don’t check your work, and a lot of your essays are missing a conclusion. Sometimes, I suspect you don’t even read the required texts.”

I was pretty sure most of the kids in class watched the movies instead of reading the books, but I could hardly use that to justify my own crappy grades. I kept my face blank and glanced at the clock. We were five minutes into lunch now, and I wondered how much longer this lecture would go on. Given how disappointed Mr. Randall was, I was guessing it could take a while.

“If you don’t get an A on your next assignment, you’re going to fail my class,” he said.

“What?” The blood drained from my face, and I couldn’t stop my crafted look of indifference from dropping. I knew I was falling behind in English, but I couldn’t believe it had gotten so bad that I was now failing.

He nodded, far too seriously for my liking. “You’ve been getting D’s all semester, and you need to raise your grade dramatically.”

“But there’s no way I’ll ever get that kind of grade,” I said. “And rehearsals are going to start later this week. I’m going to have even less time for homework.”

“If you have time for drama rehearsals, you have time to complete your next assignment to a high standard.”

It was such a teacher’s response. He clearly didn’t understand how important the school play was to me or how little I cared about English in comparison. It’s not like I was going to become a poet once I left school.

“Okay, I’ll do better with the next assignment,” I said, in an attempt to bring the conversation to an end. I had no doubt I’d probably fail again, but there was little point in trying to convince Mr. Randall of that. “Can I go now?”

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