Page 23 of 10 Things I Hate About Prom
Isabella doesn’t grace him with a reply, just her middle finger.
“Shouldn’t you be in class?” I ask her with a raised brow.
“Oh, young child. That’s not how college works,” she singsongs, twirling a lock of her newly dyed bright red hair. “My next class isn’t until four.” She rolls onto her stomach, propping her phone up on a pillow. “Heard you got busted.”
“Yeah, because ofhim.” I pinch Joaquin’s arm.
“Next time my brother’s being a useless simp, you should—”
“Anyway,”Joaquin interjects, releasing his hold on me. “Isabella was just saying that she’ll be home in three weeks.”
“Freedom!” Isabella exclaims. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back just in time to embarrass the two of you on your way to prom.”
“Gee, thanks,” Joaquin replies. “Don’t you have new people to terrorize?”
“Nope.” She pops thep.“You’re top of my ‘people to annoy’list.”
“Bye, Iz,” Joaquin says in a deadpan voice. “Tell Mami I’ll talk to her later.”
“Byyyyyye. Don’t get any more detention for acting like a—”
Joaquin hangs up the call before Isabella can finish. I note a photo of him, Isabella, and Mrs.Romero at the beach last summer, each with a Fudgsicle, on his home screen. Up until they both left last summer, he’d always kept his home screen as whatever the default option was. In the upper right corner is a widget counting down to his flight to San Juan. Fifty-seven days to go.
He catches me holding back a laugh. “Don’t.”
“Well, maybe next time don’t try to prompose to Tessa with highly flammable substances and your sister won’t have any ammo to use against you.”
Instead of cracking a joke, he keeps his eyes on the road as he pulls out of the lot. Tension simmers between us, something I’m definitely not used to. We can both take a joke, and the rose incident is fair game…right?
Then why does it feel like I just slapped him in the face?
Guilt comes rushing back in the silence. I should tell him. Be honest about what happened at the pep rally even if I’m not ready for the inevitable questions he’ll ask. Like why I did it, and why the thought of him and Tessa together makes me nauseous.
“Are cupcakes flammable?” he asks finally.
“What?”
His brow scrunches in thought, one hand staying on the wheel while the other rubs his chin. “What if I did something with cupcakes? Like…spelled out ‘You + Me = Prom’ or…something better. No way that’ll catch on fire, right?”
“I mean, not unless you put candles in it,” I reply, earning me an appreciative nod. “But someone tried asking her with cookies on Tuesday.”
Anything involving food has been done. Including an assortment of candy apples spelling out Tessa’s miles-long full government name. Joaquin groans, turning his attention back to the road. For the rest of the drive, I let him use me as a sounding board, throwing out idea after idea and me throwing out problem after problem, my stomach sinking with each one I shoot down.
His ideas aren’t terrible per se. I just can’t shake the nagging voice telling me that Joaquin going to prom with Tessa is a monumentally bad plan. I’ve been possessed, a voice that sounds eerily like mine killing all of Joaquin’s ideas like pesky flies. By the time we make it to Marco’s, he’s so drained from brainstorming, he flops into our favorite booth like he’s nothing but dead weight.
“You kids are out early,” Jenny, Marco’s oldest waitress, says as she sets down place mats and utensils in front of us. “If you’re playing hooky and need an excuse for your principal, just give me the word,” she adds with a wink. After over a decade of us coming here, Jenny is basically family. Joaquin and I are both too straitlaced to cut class, but it’s good to know we have an ally in delinquency if we need one.
“Half day,” I explain. Joaquin, still catatonic from all the brain power he exerted on promposal ideas, stays slumped in his seat.
“The usual?” Jenny eyes Joaquin suspiciously. “Extra bacon?”
“Yes, please,” I respond on our behalf. Maybe some extra strips of crispy bacon are what he needs to get back his strength. “Coffee instead of slushies today, though.”
We could both use some caffeine.
When Jenny comes back ten minutes later with our breakfast sandwiches and coffees, Joaquin doesn’t immediately lunge for his and wolf it down in less than a minute like he usually does. Things aredire.
“Wanna try hitting that slushie place in Hamilton that we missed? I’ve got a few hours until I have to head in for my shift,” I propose around my first ravenous bite. Unlike him, I can’t control my hunger. “Our brains need a break.”
