Page 29 of 10 Things I Hate About Prom
Joaquin comes tumbling out of the locker room with pinkcheeks and fear in his eyes. His jaw drops as he takes in the Post-it-covered car, making him stand out against the backdrop of his amused teammates.
Once he’s able to pull his attention away from the spectacle, he searches the lot.
Searches for me.
Our eyes lock for a fraction of a second, his finding mine after I step out from behind the ticket booth. Time moves in slow motion as he mouths,“What did you—”
I glance back at the car. Half the notes having fallen off by now, spelling outP OMinstead ofPROM?Not crowd-worthy if you ask me, but maybe the bar for entertainment is astoundingly low.
Then I spot it. A bumper sticker on the back of the car that readsElmwood’s #1coach three years running.
Fuuuuuuuuuuu—
“All right, very funny,” Coach Mills bellows, starting a slow clap as he steps out onto the lot.
Joaquin rockets to attention, like a soldier awaiting command. The bright red whistle around Coach Mills’s neck glistens in the sun, blinding me even from twenty feet away. “Got your laughs in?” He halts in front of the car, arms crossed sternly. “Now, who did it?”
Snickers and giggles break out among the crowd, but no one steps forward. Tessa stands at the center of the cheerleading pack, covering her giggles behind an immaculate French-manicured hand.
“So, think you’re slick enough to pull this stunt but not own upto it?” Coach Mills taunts, making sure to stare directly into the eyes of every single member of his team as he scans the crowd.
A hush falls across the lot. I hold my breath as I watch Coach Mills examine the car again and turn back to the crowd with a disapproving grimace.
“Fine by me, then. Since whoever thinks I have”—he plucks a Post-it off the car—“ ‘thick, luscious hair’ ”—the team struggles to hold in their laughter as their bald-as-an-egg coach waves the slip of paper—“doesn’t want to own up, how about ten laps before we get started today, huh? Seem fair enough?”
Laughter quickly dissolves into groans. Danny sucks his teeth and faces the rest of the team with a scowl. “C’mon, who did it?”
Joaquin bristles, picking at a scab on his elbow. Staying calm under pressure is supposed to be his strong suit but keeping cool on the field and keeping cool at the risk of punishment is a whole other ballgame.
Guilt guides me as I walk toward the crowd. I’m the only one who can save the team and come out mostly unscathed. Coach Mills can’t rip me to shreds for screwing up what, for all he knows, was a genuine attempt at a promposal.
“Fine, laps it is, then,” Coach announces before I can sacrifice myself. He blows the whistle around his neck, earning winces from everyone within a fifty-foot radius. “Let’s move!”
The baseball team scatters like ants, some jogging over to the field to get a head start on their punishment laps while others go back to the locker room to finish changing.
“Sorry you had to see that, Ivelisse.” Coach Mills tips his cap to me before corralling those headed to the field, alternatingbetween clapping and blowing his whistle to get the boys into gear. I bite my lip, considering going after him and explaining before ultimately deciding to head inside to find Joaquin instead.
Before the cloud of BO and Axe body spray in the hall outside the locker room can drown me, someone grabs my arm and pulls me to safety. The familiar scent of Joaquin’s Irish Spring body wash and coconut curl gel washes over me like a balm.
“I’m so sorry,” I blurt out the second I’m sure we’re alone, the words tumbling out of me faster than I can keep up with them. “I swear I had no idea that was Coach Mills’s car. I was looking for a black Prius, and that was the first thing I saw, and…”
The panic and nerves are real, even if the excuse isn’t. It’s not a complete lie, though. Ididn’tmean to pick Coach Mills. My plan for light chaos exploded into a full-blown catastrophe.
“You missed the hot-pink steering wheel?” he asks with a frown.
“I…I didn’t see it,” I choke out. “I was too busy—”
“It’s fine, Ive,” Joaquin cuts me off, his voice firm but gentle. Disappointed, but still so kind I forget to feel guilty for a second or two. He sighs, brushing his hair out of his face. “It was an accident.”
Right. An accident.
“It’s not too late for me to go tell Coach Mills. Save you guys the extra laps.”
Joaquin shakes his head. “I’m not landing you any more detention.”
A promposal martyr, running extra laps in the name of saving me from spending the rest of senior year in detention. Speaking of which…
“I should probably go.” I avoid checking the clock on the wall over his shoulder. Knowing how little time I have to make it to detention will just make me sweat more than I already am. “I’m sorry again, Quin.”
