Page 35 of The Prom Queen Project
“And what, you think doodling those little cartoons all over your worksheets will get you a high-paying job in corporate litigation?”
“No, but it’s fun.”
A hot puff slipped past my lips. My eyes narrowed at the sight of the smug grin on Elliot’s face. Realizing there was no point in pushing the subject anymore, I finally relented, and the two of us—mainly me—began to dissect the poem.”
‘Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.’
“Okay, right off the bat, what do you think the main themes in this poem are?”
“Death,” he stated plainly.
“No shit, Sherlock, but what exactly—”
A chime pulled me from my thoughts, the words dying on my tongue. I slid my phone closer to me. Meredith’s name popped up alongside a message bubble. I couldn’t stop my eyes rolling to the back of my head. Fourteen hours since I saw her last, and I was still just as upset. I let my fingertips graze the edges of the phone while I contemplated reading what she had sent. Maybe an apology? I tapped the notification.
Meredith and Ryan were starting to sound eerily similar. If one more person called me‘a big girl,’I would lose it.
I slammed my phone on the table.
I was so worried about Meredith’s well-being last night, but she didn’t give a single fuck about me. Should’ve figured that in high school, everyone only really cared about themselves. My jaw tightened. I shook my head from side to side, trying to propel the thoughts out of my mind. I just needed to focus on Homecoming and Prom. I rested my head in my hands.
“Uh, Clarke?”
My head shot up. I had completely forgotten he was here.
“What?”
He gnawed at his bottom lip before he spoke again. “Are we gonna finish or…?”
I stared at my reflection while playing with the hem of my dress as I slightly pivoted from one foot to the other and twisted my hips.
I wore a mid-length sky-blue dress with a three-inch slit up the thigh and thin shoulder straps tied together forming a slender bow. It clung to my body, leaving little room for imagination. I fluffed my curls over my shoulders.Very Rapunzel chic. Sliding the straps of my silver heels over my ankles, I pulled the strings up my calf, wrapping them around each other. Iridescent butterflies that twinkled under direct light were woven into the laces, creating a beautiful cascade of shimmery textures.
Letting out a satisfied hum of approval, I gave one last spin before finally letting myself breathe.I was ready. My satisfaction turned to envy when I realized that most guys only took half a second to get ready. Meanwhile, I was over here huffing and puffing and breaking my back just to feel a fleeting moment of approval from some random undetermined boy who probably thought washing his own ass made him gay. I sighed, my brow furrowing. Clinging to Meredith’s side would be out of the question since she and Mason would probably be joined at the hip. Maybe that was for the best, anyway. I hadn’t even responded to her text earlier. What would I even say to her tonight?
Lifting the strap of my purse over my shoulder, I made my way down the stairs, grasping the banister with all my might.Baby steps, Clarke. Nice and slow. I felt like a baby deer learning to walk. My knees wobbled as a loud whistle rang out. My dad stood next to the front door; his arm draped around my mom. Her mouth was covered with her palm, eyes glistening as she stared at me.
“Well, don’t you look like a million bucks.”
“Dad.” I rolled my eyes.
“You look beautiful, sweetie.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
My dad squinted as he watched me traverse the long and winding staircase. “Do you need some help? You look like a baby deer taking its first steps.”
“Funny, I was thinking the same thing,” I laughed, my shoulders bouncing slightly.
Dad offered his hand and helped me the rest of the way down. He slowly led me to the couch, where the three of us sat down. A deep crease formed on my forehead as I watched him wipe his palms against the denim of his blue jeans. I could see the sweat stains from here. Turning toward my mom, I frowned when I noticed a strained smile plastered on her face.
Oh, boy.
“So, umm…sweetie.” My mom scooted closer to me. “We wanted to talk.”
For the next few minutes, I sat painfully while my parents gave me the ‘safe sex’ speech. My temples throbbed as I listened to them speak.
As soon as they were done, I sprinted to my car, blasting the rowdiest playlist on my phone in an attempt to scrub their words from my brain. The parking lot was packed by the time I reached the school. My steady pace slowed to a halt as I neared the entrance, thoughts of inadequacy filling my head.Had I done enough to win Homecoming Queen?
