Page 5 of The Prom Queen Project
4.2 GPA aside, was I the only idiot who managed to get detention so fast?
I tapped my fingernails against the desk, waiting impatiently for the teacher to arrive. I hunched forward in my seat, slouching as I rested my chin in my hand. How could a teacher be late to their own class? Did the fifteen-minute rule apply when it came to detention? If it did, only six more minutes left until I could leave.
Reaching inside my bag, I pulled out my journal, laying it flat on my desk. I creased open the spine as I stared down at the page.Clarke’s Guide to Winning Prom Queen. I frowned at the name.Kinda lame. I shrugged away the thought as I focused on the seventh step of my plan—Cheer like my life depends on it, and always strive to be the center of attention. Attendingtryouts this Friday is just what I needed to kick-start my journey to win that Prom Queen.
“Ah, you’re here. Good to see you didn’t decide to skip out on detention, Ms. Taylor.”
I snarled when I heard the sound of Mrs. Hawthorne’s voice as she strolled into the classroom as though she wasn’t the one who was late. The wrinkles on her forehead deepened as she stood at the front of the class. Of course, she was assigned to look over detention, because why wouldn’t she be?
“Yeah. I’ve been here since four.” I shrugged.
She narrowed her eyelids until they formed thin slits, her gaze penetrating mine. “And you’ll be here until four forty-five, so here’s your assignment to do in the meantime.”
“Assignment?”
“Did you think you were just going to sit here and twiddle your thumbs for the whole time?”
Uhhh, yes?
“Of course not.” I hastily put my journal away before palming the paper and sliding it toward me.
When I read the instructions, I couldn’t help but groan.
Write a five-paragraph essay about one goal you have during your senior year.
“Get started. You only have…” She pulled her sleeve back and glanced at her watch. “Thirty-two minutes left.”
I plastered a sickeningly sweet smile on my face. She did the same.
Looking down at the worksheet, my face morphed into a scowl. I reached down to grab my purse off the ground and rummaged through the hoard of crumpled papers and textbooks buried deep in my bag until I found a pencil. My focus shifted back to the assignment as I tapped my foot.
Should I say I wanted to become valedictorian?No, I can’t risk someone seeing that.
What about cheer captain?No, that’s just a cop-out. I’m already the captain.
Making lasting memories?Nope. Too cliché.
Welp, that settles it. Becoming Prom Queen, it is.
“Sorry, I’m late to the party. What did I miss?”
The tip of my pencil snapped with a loud crack, leaving nothing more than jagged wood behind. When I looked up at the doorway, none other than Elliot Keller was standing with his backpack thrown over his shoulder as he leaned against the door frame.
Does he always pose like an Abercrombie & Fitch model?
“Mr. Keller, nice of you to finally bless us with your presence.”
He gave a one-finger salute as he walked into the classroom and tossed his bag onto the ground, landing with a loudthunk. What the hell was in that thing?
“And we meet again,” Elliot greeted.
“Sadly.” I huffed.
“There will be time for small talk later. Here’s your assignment, Mr. Keller.” She gave him the same piece of paper she gave me. “If you finish it, I will consider not punishing you for being late.”
Great. Not only was I stuck here with the teacher from hell, but Mr. Bad-boy Douchebag was also here.What the actual fuck?Was the universe trying to conspire against me?
Mrs. Hawthorne sat at her desk and pulled out a book, her eyes immediately glossing over when they connected with the page as though she forgot we were still in the room.
