Page 13 of 10 Things I Hate About Prom
Building sets isn’t a meaningless extracurricular for either of us. Unlike me, Anna has a set-in-stone future and a one-way ticket to study drama at NYU. We both know there’s a distinct difference between the people behind the stage and the ones onit.
Even so, Anna doesn’t seem convinced.
Before either of us can say anything else, the drama kids come barreling into the auditorium in a flurry of iced coffees and show tunes. Neither of us moves at first, eyes locked on one another until the drama supervisor starts barking out orders.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Anna mumbles, leaving me to pick up the pieces of Joaquin’s mess.
Chapter Four
There aren’t many itemson my senior year bucket list, and getting up at 6:00a.m. to set up roses in the senior parking lot definitely isn’t one of them.
At least Joaquin comes bearing breakfast.
“Caramel iced coffee with skim milk,” he says in lieu of a greeting when I make it to his driveway, rubbing sleep crust out of my eyes. “Upgraded to a large as a special thank-you.”
“You’re too kind,” I reply, though the statement lacks enthusiasm. It’s too early to be anything other than exhausted.
“Andthis”—he pauses to hold up a foil-wrapped breakfast sandwich—“is because I like you.”
I lunge for the sandwich like I haven’t eaten in weeks, inhaling the intoxicating aroma of grease, melted cheese, and bacon. “From Marco’s?”
Marco’s may be the greasiest place within fifty miles, but their food is a religious experience. They’re not afraid to smothertheir fries in every type of cheese known to man, and a single sip of their coffee could make you bulletproof. And, most importantly, their cherry and piña colada slushies currently have an iron grip on the top slot of our ranking list. It’s a hot spot for truckers like Papi, who first brought us there when we were six, just a few months before he and Mami split and he disappeared to Florida.
“What am I, a monster?” he replies with a roll of his eyes. “Of course it’s from Marco’s.”
Any annoyance over his inhumane call time melts away when I take my first bite, all gooey, cheesy goodness and perfect crispy bacon. It’s impossible to stay angry when you’re eating a Marco’s sandwich. All that’s missing is a piña colada slushie, but I can understand his reluctance to give me a cup full of sugar at six in the morning. I’d crash by fourth period AP Lit.
The sandwich is gone in record time, nothing left but a crumpled foil wrapper when we pull up to Cordero twenty minutes later. I was able to stash the roses in the drama club’s prop closet instead of lugging them home on the bus. With everything we need already at school, and my keys to the auditorium in my bag, I was able to buy us an extra half hour of sleep.
“This is spooky,” I say as we make our way back from the auditorium. I’ve never seen the lot so empty before.
Having your own parking spot is a mark of pride that most Cordero seniors takeveryseriously. Some graffiti their names onto their assigned spots on the first day of class while others spend months creating intricate murals dedicated to their senior year. Anna designed a galaxy on hers, complete withglow-in-the-dark paint. Joaquin, on the other hand, just wrote his name in plain, boring white.
Tessa’s parking space is impossible to miss, though. Her name is written in hot-pink bubble letters, messages from her various admirers scrawled in every color of the rainbow with chalk paint.
“You’re sure you want to do this?” I ask Joaquin as we struggle to hold the bouquets of roses we’ve just grabbed from the auditorium’s cramped storage closet. They’re still in surprisingly good condition.
“Totally,” Joaquin replies a little too quickly.
Sweat dots his brow and the collar of his shirt.
“You just look a little…nervous.”
And that’s what’s so concerning—he’snevernervous. It’s part of what makes him such a fantastic baseball player. He never lets the unexpected throw him off his game.
Joaquin is the cool cucumber, the level head to my chaos. The one who always reminds me that the things I’m worried about are valid but stuck in my mind. If he wasn’t so set on becoming an electrician, he’d make an excellent therapist. I guess therapists have their days, too, because he seems to be moments away from popping like a balloon.
“No, nope, all good here,” he rushes out, and starts working on laying his bundle of roses across Tessa’s parking spot. He flits back and forth between thePhe’s constructing to the mostly finishedMat lightning speed.
I set down my stack of roses and block Joaquin’s path. He’s too preoccupied with counting the roses to notice, walking rightinto me and nearly toppling both of us over. It does the trick of getting him to meet my eye long enough to hold him steady.
“Hey,” I say, gripping his arms once I’ve caught my balance. “Talk to me. Because right now you’re in Energizer Bunny mode, and it’s kind of freaking me out.”
He exhales slowly, taking the time to push his damp curls out of his eyes. “Right, sorry,” he mumbles, and shakes his head. “Thishasto be perfect, and it feels like I’m already running out of time, and what if she hates it and—”
“If she doesn’t love it, then she doesn’t deserve you,” I interrupt before he can finish, squeezing his shoulders. “You’re amazing, Quin. And anyone who can’t see that is an absolute dumbass.”
He snorts, and such a gross sound has never sounded so charming. “You’re pretty amazing too.”
