Prom-Wrecked

by T. H. Hernandez

  A tear slides from my eye. “I wanted to ask for more, but I never did. I waited, and I wouldn’t have ever said anything if you hadn’t brought it up first.”

  Owen’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “You would have let me go? Even though Cat and I broke up?”

  “I never felt like you were truly mine,” I admit.

  “Why not? We like the same things. Secret video games, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. You’re the only person who’d listen to my backwards prom ideas and not only agree with me, but actually try to make them a reality.” All of a sudden, Owen glances around the gym like he’s seeing it for the first time. “About that. What the hell are you doing in here?”

  “I’m trying to get ready for prom. Mr. Slater’s going to announce the new location today.”

  Owen’s eyes widen, and his mouth falls open. “Today? He’s announcing the gym as the new location?”

  “Yeah, I talked to him about it last week. He said we could have prom in the gym, but I asked him not to announce it right away. I didn’t want to deal with all the questions and everyone telling me I made a total mess of things. So I asked him to keep quiet about it until I was finished with the decorations and setup.”

  After casting another wild look around him, Owen springs to his feet and races toward the exit. “I need to find Catherine.”

  Of course he’s worried about damage control. Everyone knows he’s on the prom committee, and Catherine, too. But I’m past the point of caring anymore. Catherine can blame the gym-prom on me if it makes her feel better. I gather up the last of the decorations, my heart soaring. In a few days, prom will be over. But Owen and I are just starting.

  Chapter Twenty

  Catherin

  The week before prom

  “I can’t wait for Bryan to see me in my dress,” Jessa says, tossing her long dark hair over her shoulder.

  “I can’t wait to see you out of it,” Bryan says, wrapping his arms around her waist.

  Jessa slaps his shoulder and stares up at him from beneath her fake lashes. She had extensions done the other day and tried to get me to go with her, but that’s money I don’t have to spend right now, and I didn’t think she did, either. When I asked her if she finally got a job, she just made a weird face and said her parents wanted to make sure her senior prom experience was the best.

  “Cat,” someone calls from down the hall.

  I spin, searching for whoever it is, and spot Owen rushing toward me, his expression frantic.

  My stomach drops as I wonder what could possibly have gone wrong now. “See you later,” I call to my friends, who aren’t paying any attention to me anyway, and rush to meet Owen.

  “Hey. What’s up? You look freaked.”

  He nods and swallows hard. “So, remember when you told me to tell Riley about how we’re working on getting a new venue?”

  “Yeah…”

  “I didn’t.”

  “What? Why not?”

  He grabs my arm and pulls me into the nearest classroom. Two freshmen are in the back row, collecting their books. One look at me and Owen, and they scramble to get out of the room, their backpacks banging against the desks as they scurry past.

  Owen runs a hand across the top of his head, mussing up his hair. “You got me all messed up by telling me to ask her to prom. I was so distracted with trying to figure out how to tell her about…you know…”

  I lift an eyebrow. “Your feelings for her?”

  “Whatever. I was going to tell her about the stuff your mom’s been working on after that, but she was avoiding me.” He scratches above his ear. “At least I thought she was, but turns out she’s been working in secret, getting another backup prom venue ready without us.”

  “What?” I screech.

  “I know. She’s been decorating the gym by herself, and it looks…awful.”

  My hand flies up to cover my mouth as a mixture of horror and the urge to laugh at the absurdity of this situation fight for dominance. But the dejection playing across Owen’s face and the thought of Riley working her butt off in secret keeps my laughter in check. “Look, I’m not going to say I told you so, but I did. And now you need to go fix this. Fast. Before Slater makes that announcement.”

  “I know. But first I wanted to find out the latest. Have you heard anything final?”

  I pull my phone out of my bag. “Let me call my mom. She was trying to wrap up the vineyard dispute last night. If not, she was going to call the Hamilton Art Museum and see if they would host us. She was there for cocktails last month and said the place is huge.”

  My mom’s phone goes right to voicemail. I leave her a message and send her a text.

  “Anything?” Owen asks.

  “Not yet.”

  “I can’t believe I didn’t tell Riley.”

  “Wait…you still haven’t told her?”

  His head drops.

  “You were just in the gym with her. Why didn’t you tell her then?”

  “I don’t know. I’m…we talked about a lot of stuff. I was trying to find the right place to slide it in.”

  “And the moment she told you the gym was the new prom location wasn’t the right one?”

  “Well no, I mean, yeah, but we need to stop Slater first. I was worried he was gonna announce it while I was standing there with her. We need to go talk to him now.”

  “I’ll go with you, but you’re doing all the talking. This is on you for keeping the information from Riley. I’m not owning that.”

  “That’s fair.” He yanks open the door, and we weave our way through the students in the hallway to the office, where Mrs. Whyte is clicking away on her keyboard with overly long fingernails. Each one is painted pure white with a tiny little jewel near the tip.

  She glances up and pushes her glasses into her mess of dark curls. “Can I help you?”

  “Yes, we’re here to see Principal Slater.”

  She glances over her shoulder. “He’s just wrapping up with someone. Have a seat, and I’ll let him know you’re waiting.”

  Owen drops into one of the hideous burnt orange chairs and rests his elbows on the skinny black armrests, his knee bouncing up and down. I remain standing, convinced some freshman has peed on those chairs at one time or another.

  Slater’s office door opens, and a girl walks out, head bent, clutching a folder to her chest. Principal Slater waves two fingers at us, an indication that we’re next. Owen hoists himself up and follows me across the stained linoleum floor to the office.

  Slater gestures toward the chairs across from his desk, and Owen and I take a seat.

  “What can I help you two with?” he asks, chin resting on steepled fingers.

  I glance at Owen, who looks like he’s about to puke, his knees bouncing up and down. Even though I said he had to do the talking, I’m not sure he’s capable of it. “Um, we just found out Riley’s been decorating the gym as our new prom location.”

  His bushy eyebrows meet in the center of his forehead. “Yes, and aren’t you helping her?”

  “She didn’t tell us anything,” Owen says, throwing his hands in the air.

  I take over before he has a complete meltdown. “After the farm was bulldozed, Riley was so upset. She decided prom was off, and with everything that happened, we just…”

  He eyes me with a healthy dose of disdain. “You just what?”

  “We didn’t tell her we were working on something without her,” I whisper.

  “And why not? She is in charge of the prom committee. I don’t understand what you two are up to, but I don’t like it.”

  “No, no,” Owen says, his face redder than I’ve ever seen it. “It’s not like that at all. Riley worked so hard on this…but the last disaster was like the final straw. She just kinda gave up, and I can’t blame her. So we didn’t want to disappoint her again, and we thought—”

  My phone pings loudly. I pull it from my bag, nearly dropping it in the process.

  “It’s from my mom!” The w
idest of smiles splits my face. I turn the phone around so Owen can read the message.

  Mom: Miami Valley Vineyards is available. Looks like you’ll have your prom after all.

  I let out a squeal, and Owen jumps up and down before high-fiving me. He even tries to fist-bump our perplexed principal.

  Mr. Slater leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “Good news?”

  “Very,” I say and show him the message.

  He closes his eyes and tilts his head back, pinching the bridge of his nose, no doubt considering early retirement. Finally he leans forward and levels his gaze at Owen. “Would you like me to take care of informing Miss Hart?”

  Owen clears his throat. “No. I, um, can do that.”

  Slater rubs his upper lip, and I think I see a hint of a smile. “Okay, then. You two better get going so you don’t miss lunch period completely. I’ll hold off on making the announcement until after lunch to give you time to notify Miss Hart.”

  “Thank you, sir,” I say, standing.

  Head down, Owen follows me out. “I’m going to go find Riley.”

  I pat his shoulder. “Good luck.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Riley

  The week before prom

  “What’s going on, fearless committee leader?” Desmond asks when we meet in front of our lockers. “Was there another promtastrophe I don’t know about?”

  I manage a weak smile. “Not this week.”

  “Then why haven’t you said anything about prom? Carrie’s worried. She can’t afford to lose money on a dress that’s not returnable.” When I don’t immediately answer, he taps my shoulder. “Riley? Tell me you’re handling this.”

  “It’s still on, in some form.” I focus on spinning my combination lock like it’s the first day of middle school and I can’t quite remember how the code works. I’m about to reveal the gym location news when I hear Owen yelling my name. Glancing over my shoulder, I see him running toward me, arms circling like propellers. “You’ll find out soon enough, Des. Mr. Slater’s making an announcement later today.”

  The bell rings, and I slam my locker closed. “I’ve gotta go.”

  Desmond jerks his chin in Owen’s direction. “Don’t you want to talk to him?”

  “I’m late, and Madame Jones still gives out detentions. She doesn’t care if you’re a senior and about to graduate.” I wave to Owen. “Tell him to send me a text.”

  Desmond huffs. “Now I’m your messenger?”

  “No, you’re my friend.” After squeezing his shoulder, I take off, flying down the hallway and into AP French just as the bell rings. At exactly two o’clock, Principal Slater buzzes over the school-wide intercom.

  “Attention, seniors, I have some important information to share.” Everyone in class pauses to listen. “Due to the recent sale of the Cleary farm, we needed to relocate this year’s prom. I’m happy to announce that we’ve secured an alternate site.”

  “The gym,” I whisper. “Just say it.”

  “The Miami Valley Vineyards.”

  The entire class gasps. Me included.

  “We’ll see you on Saturday at eight o’clock for a wonderful night.” The intercom clicks off.

  Everyone turns to me and starts to clap. I scrape back my chair, jump to my feet, and point at the intercom. “He’s wrong. It’s in the gym.”

  “No way, Riley,” Jane says. “Slater would never let us destroy his precious gym.” She jumps out of her seat and gives me a hug. “This is awesome. Thanks for working so hard to make our prom the best ever.”

  “It’s not the best,” I insist, stepping back. “It’s the worst.”

  “Mademoiselle Hart, are you okay?” Madame Jones calls to me from the front of the class. “Do you need a minute?”

  “Yes. Oui.” I squeeze a breath out of my tight chest. “Several.”

  Madame Jones writes me a hall pass, and I head for the administration wing. As I turn the corner, Owen barrels through the door of his science class, calling my name.

  I walk faster. “I need to talk to Slater.”

  He groans and starts to run. “Riley. Wait up.”

  Realization hits me. I freeze. “Did you know?”

  Owen throws his arm around my shoulders, hugging me tight. “About the change? I knew it might be possible, but Catherine’s mom just texted her an hour ago. Mrs. Reed was working on a potential new location. I didn’t want you to be disappointed if it didn’t work out, so I wanted to wait until we were sure to tell you about it.” Pausing for a breath, he turns me to face him. “I didn’t know about your plan to use the gym. You never said anything to the rest of the committee about it.”

  I open and close my mouth a few times before I manage to say something. “No, it’s great. You and Cat found the perfect location. Together.”

  Owen looks confused. “Why are you saying that? C’mon, Riley, you know that’s not what I meant. And our Project Morp wouldn’t even exist if you hadn’t done most of the organizing and planning.”

  I fling my shoulders back and pull away from him. “But you and Cat saved the day, not me.”

  Thanks to her mother’s connections, Catherine Reed will be remembered as the girl who saved prom. When did she decide she cared enough to get involved? When she realized Owen liked me? And really, does it matter at this point? The winery is even nicer than the stuffy old country club where past proms have been held.

  But she’s still Catherine, my ex-best friend. Owen’s ex-girlfriend. In some ways, she’s always been better than me, and no matter what I do I’ll never measure up to her perfection.

  I leave Owen standing in the middle of the hallway, ignoring his attempts to call me back.

  I try to escape school without notice, but people are chanting my name as I pass by, cheering like I’m some miracle worker. They’re patting my back, squeezing my shoulder. Even Catherine’s friend Hannah hugs me.

  I’m such a fraud, taking the credit for this. And I can’t help but wonder why Catherine isn’t telling everyone that she was really the person who saved prom—she and Owen. If everyone knew the truth, she’d easily lock up the Prom Queen vote.

  My phone vibrates against my hip, but I don’t bother looking at it, just chuck it in the cup holder as I drive home.

  “How’s the decorating?” Mom asks when she wraps up her daily photo-editing session and stops by my room. I’m sitting in front of a blank screen, wondering if I should just retire Evil Skater Girl for good. A few clicks and she’d be history.

  “Turns out, all those new decorations I made are worthless. Catherine Reed’s mother found us a new location. Better than anything I came up with.”

  Standing in the doorway, Mom eyes me sympathetically. “This is good news, right? Not something that should have us sulking in a dark bedroom alone?”

  “Yes, but…it’s just the way everything went down. Like she and Owen didn’t trust me to find a solution, so they swept in and took care of it themselves.” Which is what I expected when I started down this whole path of saving prom. It just took longer than I thought to arrive at the endgame. “They let me work on the gym-prom and never told me about their plans.”

  “They knew you were setting up a gym-prom?”

  “I didn’t tell them specifics. But it was clear that I was working on something.” Wasn’t it? I spin my chair around to face Mom. “They could have come to me first. I was supposed to be running the committee.” And Owen, at least, was supposed to be my friend.

  A buzzing sound emerges from the pocket of my denim jacket, thrown on the bed. Mom and I both jump. She pulls out my phone and holds it up.

  “I think your date wants to talk to you.” She hands me the phone and disappears.

  “Hey, Jordon,” I say.

  “Hey…um, Catherine asked me to call you. She wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

  “Really? She specifically asked you…to call me?” My voice breaks. “Tell her I’m fine.”

  “She feels bad about a
ll the work you were doing behind the scenes. I think she was trying to be helpful, but Owen didn’t want to get your hopes up and crush them again if Mrs. Reed didn’t come through for us.” Jordon pauses to clear his throat. “Anyway, I’m checking in to make sure we’re still on for our date. What color is your dress? I need to order flowers, right?”

  His relative calmness makes me second-guess myself. Am I being too petty? The prom is on, and it’s not in the gym. Isn’t that all I really wanted to accomplish? Who cares if it wasn’t me who got the job done?

  “My dress is sky blue. Lighter than Sarah. I can snap a close-up of the material and text it to you. Thanks for asking.” My jaw clenches, but I manage to grit out one last sentence. “And tell Catherine I appreciate her help.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Riley

  Prom night, Seven P.M.

  Prom day passes in a blur of preparations. Although I’m not involved at all with the new prom venue, Owen claims there’s not much to be done. The owner of the winery offered to go above and beyond to make sure everything turns out nice because they’re dealing with some sort of bad press over a cancelled event. I still need to count the ticket sales and make sure we have enough money to cover the few vendors who aren’t donating their services in return for Catherine’s promise of free publicity. When I finally pull out my gown, running my hand over the light blue chiffon skirt and silver-beaded bodice, a mixture of relief and excitement builds inside me. After all the ups and downs of the past two months, prom is a reality. I should be overjoyed, but I’m nervous, too. Standing in front of the mirror, touching up my makeup, my hands shake as I apply mascara. I need to wipe off my first attempt and start over.

  “What time is Jordon picking you up?” Mom asks as she zips the back of my dress.

  “Seven o’clock. You’re not thinking about following us with a camera strapped to the hood of your car, right?”

  Mom laughs. “I promise not to intrude on your date. But don’t worry, the pictures will be beautiful. I set up the photo booth in front of the dogwood trees at the entrance to the vineyard. Dad showed two juniors in the photography club how to work the equipment. They’ll upload everything at the end of the night so you and your friends can look at all the images on my website.”