Prom-Wrecked

by T. H. Hernandez

  “Of course you didn’t. Everyone picks up empty bottles and sniffs them for no good reason.” The cop is about my height, with a blond ponytail dropping out of her blue hat. Her boots crunch on broken glass as she rushes over and snaps a pair of handcuffs around my wrists.

  “Leave her alone. She’s innocent,” Owen protests, hooking his arm through mine.

  “Step back. You’re obstructing official business,” the cop says, glaring at Owen.

  “I’m not obstructing anything. We’re telling the truth. The bottle was empty. Can’t you do a breathalyzer or something?” Frustrated, Owen throws his arms in the air.

  “Sure, we’ll run a breathalyzer on both of you, as soon as we get to the station.” In a lightning-fast movement, the cop pulls out another set of handcuffs and snaps them on Owen’s wrists. “Let’s go, kids. You can wait with your friends while we sort through the situation and find out which one of you committed aggravated arson, vandalism, and criminal damage.”

  “Friends? Which friends?” Panic rises in my chest.

  “All of them,” the cop says, and she starts to laugh. “We rounded up a big group—a couple of girls fighting over their matching dresses, and the guys with blood on their shirts and swollen lips accusing each other of illegal assault. You can all talk it over and decide which one of you wants to plead guilty to causing thousands of dollars in property damage.”

  Owen’s throat moves when he swallows. “How many of us fit in your jail cell?”

  “Oh, don’t worry, we’ll squeeze you in. You have the right to remain silent…”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Catherine

  Prom night, Eleven thirty P.M.

  Simone is sniffling in the corner of the small holding cell, Hunter’s arms around her as Simone’s dad yells at the officers on the other side of the steel bars.

  “I want my daughter out of here, now. She had no part in whatever went down.” He turns to glare at Hunter. “There’s no legal guilt by association last time I checked.”

  “Until we get to the bottom of what happened tonight, no one is going anywhere. But now that you’re here, we can question your daughter.”

  The officer comes over to unlock the barred door and motions Simone forward. Hunter kisses the side of her head before Simone wipes away her tears and follows the officer out, head down. Picking up the back of my skirt so I don’t trip over the torn hem, I cross the concrete floor to Hunter.

  “Hey.”

  She gives me a wobbly smile. “Hey.”

  “Look, this isn’t on you.”

  “I shouldn’t have jumped Jessa like that.”

  “She threw me to the floor. I still have a bump on my head,” I say, reaching up to gingerly touch the knot.

  “Do you think she’ll ever talk to me again?”

  “Jessa?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood.

  Hunter gives me a brief smile and shakes her head.

  “I think Simone really likes you, so yeah, I think she’ll talk to you again.”

  “I really like her. That night at the party when she was doing shots, she came out to her family. They didn’t take it well. And the look her father just gave me…” She shudders. “Simone must hate me now.”

  “I doubt it. If she went to prom with you against her family’s wishes, she must like you, too.”

  “I’ve never felt this way about a girl before. Sure, I’ve been attracted to them, but Simone is different.”

  “Maybe that’s because Simone is like you. Everyone has tried to put you in a box, define you. You can’t be a lesbian if you’re into guys, too. You can’t be straight if you’re into girls. But Simone gets you in a way others don’t.”

  She lifts her face and stares at me with watery eyes. “You get me.”

  “Because you’re my best friend forever. And even though I love you unconditionally, I don’t know what it’s like to be you. I don’t understand how you feel when other people make fun of you, or dismiss you, or shun you.”

  “But you always stand up for me.”

  “And I always will. Did you call your parents yet?”

  She nods. “Yeah. You?”

  “Yeah. My mom will be here soon, and then all hell will break loose.”

  She glances over my shoulder and gives me a crooked grin. “Well in that case, you better go talk to that boy before she gets here, because those sad puppy eyes are getting to me.”

  I turn to follow her gaze to where Jordon is leaning against the far wall, staring at us with a defeated expression. No. Just me. Taking a deep breath, I lift my chin and make my way over to him.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  His eyebrows go up. “Me? Catherine, I’m sorry. I…I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The fight. I shouldn’t have gotten involved. Things only got worse after Desmond and I jumped in. You’re in here because of me.”

  “What? No.” I reach up and brush my fingertips across the bruise marring his beautiful dark eye. “I’m here because I got into a fight with Jessa.”

  His gaze drops to my ripped dress. “Why?”

  “Because I’m pretty sure she found the envelope with the cash in it that Riley dropped, and I called her out on it. Plus, I had the audacity to wear the same dress to prom she did.”

  His mouth drops open, and then he laughs. Hard. Until he catches my expression. “Oh, wait, you’re serious?”

  “Yes. I’m pretty sure she stole the money, and as far as the dress goes, there’s an unwritten rule about such things.”

  “Now I know you’re screwing with me.”

  “I’m really not, but that’s not important. This isn’t your fault. I don’t know whose fault it is. Maybe a little Jessa’s, but also Bryan’s, because he started the fistfight with Owen. Whoever started the fire, and definitely whoever spiked the punch.”

  He reaches out his hands and grips mine in his, pulling me closer. We’re in a jail cell with dozens of our classmates, but somehow all of that fades away until it’s only me and Jordon. He’s solid, safe, and the heat from his body so close to mine erases the goose bumps covering my arms. At least until his dark gaze, serious with intent, locks on mine. Then I get goose bumps for an entirely different reason.

  I move closer to him until I can almost taste his minty breath. Pushing up on my toes, my lips meet his in an explosion that puts the earlier fireworks to shame. My body melts into his as he wraps his arms around me, deepening the kiss. The whistles from around us ruin what should have been a perfect moment, and my cheeks burn hot as I pull back. Why does being near him make me do such impulsive things?

  Jordon doesn’t let me get away, though. He tugs me against his chest and wraps his arms around my shoulders. I burrow against him and drink in his scent, my stomach a mess of fighter-jet sized butterflies and my brain a little fuzzy. Not caring what my classmates think at this point, I stay wrapped in his arms until someone calls my name.

  “Catherine Elizabeth Reed,” Mom says in the tone she reserves for my worst infractions.

  With a sigh, I disengage from Jordon’s embrace and turn to face the music.

  My back presses into the hard chair with only Jordon’s tuxedo jacket draped over my bare shoulders to protect me from the cold metal. Mom’s hands are clasped on the table in front of her. Even though it’s after midnight, she’s dressed in a sharp navy blue skirt and suit jacket with a white pinstriped blouse. Her navy-pump-clad feet are crossed at the ankles as she studies the young officer sitting across from us.

  “My daughter will only answer questions if she gets immunity.”

  “What? I don’t need immunity, Mom—”

  She places her hand on my arm to shut me up. “Do we have a deal?” she asks, never taking her eyes off Officer Brownwell.

  He nods.

  Then for the next hour, I answer all his questions, telling him everything I know for certain. And he assures me he’ll try to contact Mrs. Cleary and
get our deposit back, but like Owen, he doesn’t believe our prom was deliberately sabotaged by anyone. He finally releases us, and after signing all the paperwork, Mom leads the way toward the back exit. I follow, head down. At the end of the hall, she pulls open the door and holds it for me. For whatever reason, that breaks the dam. I burst into tears and begin to blubber, “I’m sorry, Mom, I’m so sorry,” over and over.

  She releases the door and turns toward me. “Whatever for, Catherine?”

  My mouth drops open for a second. “Because”—I wave at the narrow hallway of the police station we’re standing in—“that, everything. You helped us get the prom venue, and then my classmates destroyed it.”

  “Oh, honey.”

  My mom has never called me honey that I can remember. I stop staring at my hands twisting themselves into a pretzel and glance up at her through watery eyes.

  “I’m not happy about what happened tonight. I’ll be doing pro bono work for the vineyard for the rest of my life, but I am so proud of you.”

  “What?”

  Her eyes soften, and the corners of her mouth tip up. “You’re so much like your father.” Reaching out, she tucks a lock of escaped hair behind my ear. “This was your senior prom, your moment to shine. I know you and Riley used to be inseparable until something made you drift apart, but it was nice to see you working together again on this.” She sighs, dropping her hand to her side. “When your dad and I were in college, we both thought we’d change the world. But I had the chance to clerk for an Ohio state supreme court justice. We both agreed it was an opportunity I couldn’t walk away from. Somehow, I got sucked into the corporate world, when the whole reason I went into law was to help the underprivileged, the disenfranchised, the oppressed.”

  “Wait, what?”

  She lets out a small laugh. “Not the mom you got, eh?”

  “No, Mom, that’s not what I meant. It’s just…you’ve never mentioned that before.”

  “No, I guess I haven’t. Maybe it’s time I remembered why I became a lawyer.”

  I stare at her, unsure I completely understand what’s happening. What she’s saying is so completely different than how I’ve seen her my entire life.

  Mom’s hand rests on mine. “You can’t live my dream for me. You have to live your own. Maybe working as a public defender in Cincinnati is the next chapter in my life.”

  Once again, I realize I don’t know my mom, this woman who gave birth to me then largely left my father to raise me. But the more I learn about her, the more I want to be like her.

  Mom reaches for the door, but I’m not ready to leave yet. “Can I meet you outside? There’s something I want to do first.”

  She studies me before nodding. “Don’t be long. Your dad is waiting up for us.”

  “I won’t. Promise,” I say as I rush back down the hall, my shoes click-clacking on the linoleum tile.

  Outside the holding cell, I look in on my fellow classmates on what will likely be one of the most, if not the most, memorable nights of our lives. I turn to the officer with a ring of keys. “Can you let me back in?”

  “You want in?”

  “Just for a few minutes. There’s something I need to say to someone.” I find Riley across the cell with Owen.

  He opens the door and allows me to enter. I cross the space and stop in front of my childhood friends. “Riley…I’m sorry. About what happened in eighth grade.” I shake my head and feel my eyes burn with unshed tears. “I let other people tell me who I could be friends with. I didn’t have the backbone to stand up to them. I’m not like you. But I want to be. More like you, I mean. To stop listening to everyone else and go after what I want.”

  “Actually, the whole reason I agreed to be in charge of the prom committee was because I wanted to be more like you,” she says. “I told myself that if Catherine Reed ran the prom committee it would be a huge success. And I wanted to prove to myself that I could do something like that, too. But I was afraid everything would turn out to be a big mess. Which it did.”

  “Not a total mess.”

  “True. And I’m still standing, although…” She casts her eyes around the crowded jail cell. “Maybe this isn’t where I wanted to be standing right now. But, if nothing else, it was a night we’ll never forget.”

  “Definitely not.” A smile pulls at my lips. “I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you, too, Cat.” Tears pool in her eyes. “I’ll never forget how you always let me be Supergirl when we acted out our favorite scenes from all the superhero TV shows.”

  “Eh, I always liked being the badass villain.” I turn my attention to the boy who was my other half the past three and a half years, checking out his wrinkled jacket and messed up hair. “You’ll take care of him, won’t you? Because he’s not the best at fending for himself. He never matches his socks. Hair-brushing is also a challenge, although I liked the mussed look.”

  Owen scoffs. “After the last couple of hours, you’re worried about my hair?”

  Riley raises three fingers like in our Girl Scout days. “I solemnly swear, when we’re at college, I will feed him vegetables and make sure his socks match. In the same color family, at least.”

  “That should work.” I start to turn away, then pause. “My mom says if they can prove Jessa took the cash, she’ll need to pay it back in full and spend her last summer before college doing community service. And the police officer we talked to promised to find Mrs. Cleary and make her return our deposit.”

  Riley turns to Owen. “Most of the money Mrs. Cleary stole was yours. You can use it for gas money when you drive us to college in your Jeep.”

  Owen slings his arm around Riley’s shoulders. “I can’t wait.”

  Nodding, I look between Riley and Owen. “You two belong together. I think you always did, in some way.”

  Riley blushes. “Thanks.” Her gaze drifts behind me, and I turn to find Jordon approaching.

  “Hey,” he says. “What are you doing back in here? Did you take a plea deal for the rest of us?”

  “Ha, you wish. No, I needed to talk to…a friend.”

  He takes my hand and pulls me from the others, wrapping an arm around my waist. His gaze connects with mine, and without another word to me, he begins singing the first line from “100 Years” by Five for Fighting. The song is beautiful and so perfectly captures everything I’m feeling in this moment. I fight a lump in my throat to join in. By the second verse, most of our classmates have paired up and are dancing to the slow, soulful song about a life that passes in the blink of an eye.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Riley

  The morning after prom

  Owen and I are the last two offenders, sitting on a sticky bench bolted to the floor of the empty cell.

  “I think this is a bad sign,” I say, my voice bouncing off the cement walls.

  Owen shoves a hand through his hair. “I hope not.” His hand finds mine. “Can I ask you a question? When did you start to notice me as more than your gaming friend?”

  I lean into him, and my eyes fall closed as the final trace of his cologne blocks out the stale odor of the jail cell clinging to my dress. “I think I liked you before we started playing video games together. I signed up for Immortal Quest because it was easier to talk to you through the game. Next thing I know, I was hooked, and it wasn’t only because I got to battle aliens with virtual swords.”

  He drops a kiss on the top of my head, which hits me like a jolt of caffeine. Picking my head up from his shoulder, I run a hand through his hair, pressing closer until our lips meet.

  “Hart. Locklear. Your parents are here.” Before we become too involved, a bleary-eyed cop with long, dark sideburns unlocks the cell and slides the door open. Owen’s mom and my dad appear, both of them gasping at the sight of me and Owen making out. I spring to my feet and push my hair back from my face. The cop motions for us to step forward, granting our freedom. Owen wraps his hand around mine as we walk toward the exit.

>   “Even though we ended up in jail, I still think it was an awesome prom,” I whisper.

  Dad gives me a mandatory parental lecture, but the tone is half-hearted at best. Apparently, he waited two hours before I was processed and spit out. Fighting a smile, he studies my mugshot, which is stapled to my release form. He seems to be enjoying my pain, and if nothing else, he has a fun story to rehash every time I call him from college next year.

  I step out of the police station, still wearing my blue prom dress, blinking at the bright sun peaking over the pine trees in the park across the street. Owen breaks away from his mother and joins me, his tie hanging loose and his jacket unbuttoned. We’re a mismatched pair after starting out the previous night with different partners.

  “See you later, Riley and Owen.” Desmond lets go of Carrie long enough to wave to us. He proved his love to her last night, sticking by her side and refusing medical attention while she hyperventilated over being in jail, though his black eye looked uglier by the hour.

  “Put some ice on that shiner, Des,” Owen calls back.

  Owen’s mom intercepts my dad, and they commiserate over their middle-of-the-night phone calls asking them to pick up their kids in jail. Mrs. Locklear’s laughter breaks through the crisp morning chill as she tells my dad about Owen’s description of the forty of us huddled together in the holding cell, shaking in our tuxes and gowns.

  “Your mom is taking this pretty well,” I say, squeezing Owen’s hand. “My mother is probably at home, crying over her daughter’s criminal record. At least Catherine’s mom got the charges dropped and we’ll still be able to go to college.”

  Owen’s mouth twitches into a smile. “Nothing’s stopping me from spending next year with you, even if we wind up in a halfway house for recovering prom offenders.”

  One aisle over, Catherine and Mrs. Reed stand in front of their SUV, talking to Hunter’s dad. I call Catherine’s name. She turns toward us as I drag Owen over to her.

  “I forgot to say thank you for your help,” I tell her. “You found the new location and made sure prom wasn’t canceled.”