Page 48 of 10 Things I Hate About Prom
Wasting Joaquin’s money on a promposal that’s bound to be ruined does make the guilt harder to swallow. I try to tell myself it’ll be worth it as I head back toward the bathrooms, where I told Anna I’d meet her after I conspicuously slid away while she waited in line for a turkey leg. Tessa will get the scare of her life, and if I don’t make a total ass out of myself by telling Joaquin how I feel, he’ll still walk away with a prom date by the end of the night.
Except I still have no idea what to say.
“So,” I say to my reflection in the bathroom mirror. “I know we’re best friends and that this might complicate things a little bit. Or a lot. But I…like you. I mean, of course I like you, you’re my best friend, I mean I love you—like, romance movie love, not cousin love. Not that I think you’re like my cousin, I mean—”
No. Nope. Terrible. I take a breath, tap theElmwood Suckssticker on the corner of the bathroom mirror twice for luck, and start again.
“Joaquin. Good evening.”
Fuck no. I sound like a Victorian vampire.
My entire body slumps until my forehead quietly thumps against the mirror.
This is impossible.
How do you sum up over a decade of friendship and two weeks (or, possibly even longer—who knows how long this has been just sitting inside of me) of not-just-friendship feelings into a succinct monologue that’s swoony, complimentary, and not completely embarrassing?
A slam makes me jump, and I momentarily wonder if the answer has come to me via an indoor bolt of lightning. But nope, it’s just a middle-aged blond woman and a toddler with puke down their shirt. I rub at the red spot on my forehead from where I was pressed up against the mirror, suddenly regretting getting that close to it. Nothing in an amusement park is sanitary.
I wait on a bench outside the bathroom for fifteen minutes until Anna returns, turkey leg in hand. “You throw up?” she asks in between wolfish bites.
“No, I’m fine.”
“You sure?” She raises an eyebrow before waving her turkey leg at me. “You don’t exactly look it.”
Fair point. Between running around looking for Jonathan and panicking about having to confess my feelings, I’m not exactly at my best. And since I don’t carry makeup around with me like a rational teenager, and Anna’s on an all-natural kick right now, I’m stuck the way I am. Frizzy baby curls galore thanks to the unexpected spring humidity, and ghostly pale due to my lack of appetite this morning.
You can’t blame me, though. Confessing your love for your best friend is a lot to deal with on a Friday night.
“I’m fine, promise,” I reassure her, wiping my clammy hands on my jeans. “Have you seen Joaquin?”
My texts letting him know we were here went unanswered, which I’d half expected. Joaquin made plans to head over early with the rest of the baseball team to scope things out—serve as the unofficial welcome wagon for any Cordero senior brave enough to skip class.
Anna shakes her head, both of us scanning the crowd. She offers me a bite of her turkey leg, which I decline. Taking a hunk out of a massive piece of roasted meat probably isn’t in my best interest right now.
“Let’s go on some rides first. The lines always get super packed before closing,” Anna proposes, jutting her chin toward the growing line for the Brontosoarus. “We can meet up with him later.”
“No!” I reply too urgently, her sauce-stained mouth tugging into a suspicious frown. Jonathan’s probably almost done with Tessa’s mini-tour of the park, which means Joaquin must be getting into position at the gazebo. I recover quickly, gesturing to Anna’s half-eaten turkey leg. “Finish your meat leg. I’ll find Joaquin and be back in twenty.” Or less. Or more. Depending on how things go.
Anna shoots me a questioning gaze. “First off, I could finish this in two minutes. Tops. Second of all, what’s up?” She crosses her arms, careful to keep her turkey leg a safe distance from her mustard-yellowMercury is in Gatoradecrop top.
“Nothing’s up,” I insist. My attempt to walk past her is swiftly blocked by her standing in my path.
She waves her turkey leg like a weapon, preventing me from making a run for it unless I want to take a bone to the head. “You’ve been acting like you’re a minute away from passing out since I picked you up.”
I exhale slowly. “I need to talk to Joaquin about something.”
Anna’s lips part, and her grip slackens so much her turkey leg almost tumbles to the ground. “You’re gonna tell him,” she says, breathless. Before I can ask what she means, her eyes bulge to the size of the $10 lollipops in the gift shop. “Holy shit, it’s finally happening!”
“What’re you talking about?”
She shoves my shoulder gently. “You’re finally telling him you’re in love with him!”
“I…I…What? How did you know?” I ask in as quiet a whisper as I can muster, worried that one of our classmates overheard her.
“Uh, hello, it’s obvious.”
When I don’t respond with anything except a puzzled expression, she takes the liberty of explaining. “Say whatever you want about how ‘you really are just friends’ and ‘you’d never thought of him that way until now’ or any of the hundreds of other excuses I’m sure you’re trying to come up with right now but know this…” She pauses for dramatic effect. “Whether you knew it or not, you have been head over heels for that boy since the day I met you.”
