Page 9 of 10 Things I Hate About Prom
Oh no.
“N—”
“Please, Ive,” he begs before I can respond. He even takes it one step further, sliding onto his knees, hands clasped together in prayer to his almighty God: Ivelisse Santos. “I promise, promise,promiseI’ll never ask you for anything else again. And I’ll buy you lunch for a week—two weeks!”
His sales pitch stalls long enough for him to inch closer to me, resting his chin on my knee, gazing up at me with thosesweet bunny eyes. “Pretty please,” he says again, this time barely louder than a whisper.
For the second time in an hour, I feel an overwhelming urge to say no. But turning down your best friend is way harder than turning down someone from chem that you barely know. I’ve already disappointed Joaquin once this month by bailing on our trip. And every year after spring break, we hardly see each other. Baseball season goes into full swing—especially now that they’re moving on to the championships—and I’m usually tied up with running tech for the spring play—a fact he’d reminded me of by praising me as the “master of making magic happen behind the scenes.” Which is correct, but still a dirty move. With Joaquin and Isabella planning to spend this summer in Puerto Rico with their mom, these last few weeks of the year are starting to feel more like a ticking time bomb to goodbye than the most “carefree time of my life.”
Spring break was supposed to be our last hurrah. Neither of us said it, but it was always there in the fine print of the high school rulebook. Everything about us—where we are,whowe are—is going to change in a few months.
This may not be the prom season I imagined, but Joaquin is still a part of it, and at the end of the day that’s the only thing that matters. Weathering the last couple of months of senior year with the person who’s been in my life since the beginning. Even if it means having to help him win over someone I can’t stand.
“Okay.”
Joaquin looks up from his prayer hands, lips parted in shock. “Wait, seriously?”
“Your lack of confidence in me is very insulting.”
Instead of replying, he leaps to his feet, pulling me into a hug tight enough to make me lose my breath.
“You’re the best friend ever, you know that, right?”
“I do,” I reply quietly, patting him on the back and hoping my kindness doesn’t backfire.
Chapter Three
A legion of promelves snuck in over break. They’ve sprinkled glitter glue and confetti over every surface they could find. Thehalls are covered in crepe paper and neon posters advertising nominations for prom court and pre-prom limos that stillneed one more person to make the down payment. One very artful flyer outside the gym asks if anyone has access to a horse-drawn carriage. Somehow every room looks like the aftermath of a tsunami, though the real theatrics haven’t even begun.
By eight a.m. sharp, there’s a crowd forming in the hall outside the cafeteria seconds after the homeroom bell rings, everyone clamoring to get closer to the front.
“Did someone get caught with weed again?” I ask Joaquin as we linger in the back of the crowd. Fortunately, he’s tall enough for the both of us. He can get a bird’s-eye view of the action without even going on his tiptoes. Meanwhile, I have a fantasticview of the dandruff in the hair of the guy in front of me. Since I can’t see what’s going on anyway, I dig out my phone to refresh my email for the third time today, but my inbox is as empty as ever. No emails from Sarah Lawrence.
Joaquin’s fresh tan pales. “Shit…”
Before I can ask him what’s going on, the opening notes of a song I’ve only ever heard in laundry detergent commercials begins to blare over the intercom.
“I believe in miracles…”
Oh no.
I’m able to watch the horror unfold thanks to my dandruff-y friend holding up his phone to record the spectacle.
A boy I vaguely recognize from the basketball team is decked out in a lime-green tracksuit, holding a rose between his teeth and slowly making his way to the real center of attention: Tessa Hernandez.
“Where you from, you sexy thing,”he mouths along with the lyrics unironically, pulling the rose from between his teeth to give to Tessa. Gross.
There’s a smattering of giggles as Tessa accepts the rose with a tight smile before handing it off to one of her minions when he turns his back. The volume of the song dips as he spins back around with a poster board in hand, as glaringly neon green as his outfit. He two-steps his way back to Tessa before sinking down onto one knee, holding up the sign for the eager crowd to see.
I’LL BELIEVE IN MIRACLES IF YOU GO TO PROM WITH ME
The crowd eats it up, gasping and hooting as if we don’t already know how this is going to play out.
To his credit, he does get Tessa to laugh. Whether it’s from amusement or condescension is unclear, though, and in this case, ignorance is his bliss. The crowd leans in as she pushes her freshly highlighted, dark brown hair over her shoulder. Joaquin starts chewing on his thumbnail—a nasty habit I thought he shook off years ago. Even I can’t help holding my breath as Tessa takes a step toward her first suitor of the season. The hall goes completely silent, except for the closing notes of the song and the click of Tessa’s designer ankle boots tapping on the tiled floor. Even through a cracked phone screen I can tell that he’s started to shake as she peers down at him with her signature sly smirk.
“Keep dreaming.”
An outsider might think we’d just found out classes were canceled for the rest of the year with the way everyone loses their minds. Gossip moves faster than the speed of light here—anyone who didn’t see this stunt will know in approximately six seconds.
