Page 31 of 10 Things I Hate About Prom
I tear through the paper like a kid on Christmas Day, Nurse Oatmeal happily taking the scraps into a corner to tear apart. Beneath the paper is a carefully folded scarlet hoodie, my stomachdropping as I realize what it is before I’ve even pulled it out of the bag.
“I forgot that you didn’t have one yet,” Mami says with a squeal as I hold up the Rutgers hoodie. “And I got this one for me!” She pulls another hoodie out from behind her back, the same scarlet shade.Rutgers Momis written across the chest in white cursive font. “We can match on move-in day!”
Flashes of my epic Marco’s celebration come rushing back, the pure elation I’d felt as Joaquin and I reread my Sarah Lawrence letter out loud to Jenny and the line cooks. I’d considered texting Mami then, telling her about my acceptance. But with her heart so set on me going to Rutgers, I knew it was the type of conversation that’d be easier to have in person. But I didn’t expect three days to go by without seeing her.
I also didn’t expect her to buy us matching Rutgers hoodies.
My mouth hangs open in surprise, the truth threatening to tumble out of me at any second. I can see Mami’s smile and the elated glimmer in her eyes. For the first time since I visited the campus, I wonder if Sarah Lawrence is actually worth it—if making my momthisexcited is worth more than a gut feeling. The pure joy I’d felt on Friday sours, dreams of sitting on the lawn discussing Tennessee Williams with friends in between classes morphing into nightmares where I’m somehow even more alone there than I feel here, without either of my best friends or my family to fall back on.
Suddenly, Sarah Lawrence doesn’t seem so perfect.
I press my lips into a tight line, urging my confession to go right back to where it came from. This is the first normal nightwe’ve had together in over a month. Obviously, I’ve missed spending time with Mami, but I didn’t realize just how much until I had her here, sharing dumplings and braiding my hair while watching reality TV. I can’t just ruin the one night I’ve actually felt comfortable in my own house in weeks by telling her I might move to New York instead of staying close by like she and every other member of our family did before her. Bronxville isn’tthatfar, but it’s a whole hell of a lot farther than any of my tías, tíos, and cousins have gone.
Like that afternoon at Marco’s, I’m pushed by an uncontrollable force. A desperate need to grip this moment before it slips away from me. I still have another two weeks until I have to send in the registration deposit to confirm my spot, I tell myself as I hold the hoodie up against my chest. Plenty of time to figure out what I want to do with my future. And when I do, I’ll be honest with Mami. I’ll leave the future for another day to focus on the present.
“Can’t wait,” I reply.
Mami squeals in delight. She pulls on her own hoodie before gesturing for me to try mine on. It’s a perfect fit. She claps her hands as she joins me on the couch again, running a hand along the arm of my sweater. “We’ve gotta send a picture to your abuela.”
We pose for a selfie, making sure the Rutgers signatureRlogo is front and center. My face feels wooden, but the filter Mami applies to the photo makes me into a perfect, dewy angel. She presses a wet kiss to my cheek after sending the photo off to Abuela with the captionNew Scarlet Knight in the family!!!!
“I’m so proud of you, mama,” she whispers, handing me the last dumpling as Mariana and David take over the screen again.
All I can do is smile and shove the dumpling into my mouth before I can ruin the moment. The pork and fried dough feel heavy as bricks in my stomach.
The only thing she should be proud of is what a good liar I’ve become.
Chapter Eleven
My little stunt withCoach Mills’s car makes me an instant hero. An anonymous one, but a hero, nonetheless. For the rest of the week, social media is flooded with pictures and videos of Coach Mills stumbling upon the surprise romantic gesture. Sometimes the Post-its are Photoshopped to includeverynot-safe-for-work compliments, while others just zoom in on the way Coach Mills’s mustache quivered when he spotted his car. It’s the most anyone has ever paid attention to me since the news about me and Danny broke.
Well, notmedirectly.
Still, I’ll gladly take being an antisocial outcast over being the face of Cordero’s latest meme.
“Earth to Ivelisse.” Anna snapping her fingers knocks me out of my zombie trance. “Keep your head up,” she hisses while our history teacher has her back turned. “Unless you want to sign a lease and move into detention permanently.”
Picking my head up takes a Herculean amount of effort. Between detention, frantically trying to finish sets forShrew,and squeezing in closing shifts at Casa Y Cocina, I’m running on fumes. Not to mention the emotional turmoil of decoding my feelings for my best friend and trying to decide where to spend the next four years of my life. My brain isnota pleasant place to be right now.
“Help me, I’m dying,” I mutter just loud enough for her to hear, propping my chin up on my fist and letting my eyes close for juuuuust one second.
“Hey!” Anna snaps, whacking me on the arm when my head starts to droop again. “No more mini naps.”
Along with the warning, she tosses me a can of Raspberry Unicorn from her backpack. My taste buds are still recovering from the one I downed at the pep rally last week, but half-asleep beggars can’t be choosers. When the coast is clear, I crack open the can and savor the sweet, nauseating taste of battery acid and caffeine.
It takes three sips to get me through our last class of the day. When the final bell rings, my entire body is thrumming like the fizz still left in the can, my hands shaking as my body pulses with an ungodly amount of sugar.
“I’ll head over to the auditorium as soon as I’m free,” I tell Anna as we walk toward our lockers, the words coming out a mile a minute. “We’re working on the staircase today, right? Or are we doing lighting cues? Or music cues? Or we could—”
Anna clamps a hand over my mouth. “Slow down, Eager Beaver. We’re not working on anything today.”
A warning siren blares in my ears, the perfectionist in mehyperaware of how many days we have until opening night (not many), and how much work we have to get done (a shit ton). “What? But we still have—”
“Plenty of time to get everything done,” Anna finishes for me. “The glee club needs to use the auditorium today, so we swapped days this week.”
I swallow hard around the lump in my throat. Usually, the glee club claims the auditorium on Fridays, which means Tío Tony will be expecting me to head straight to Casa Y Cocina for my post-detention closing shift tomorrow. There goes two days’ worth of profits.
“But don’t go landing yourself more detention,” Anna adds, waving a warning finger. “You’re lucky sabotaging lover boy’s little mission didn’t earn you another month on your sentencing.”
