Prom Ever After

by Dona Sarkar, Caridad Ferrer, Deidre Berry

  “I get it.” My free hand rose to his face and cupped his cheek, feeling again all the reasons we’d been such a perfect fit. “You need to do this.”

  The worried expression that had clouded his eyes faded, leaving them the clear, dark amber of a caramel sauce.

  “You, too, huh?”

  I nodded. “New York. Culinary Institute of America.”

  “And Mr. Chef Dude,” he guessed.

  “He’s the best at what he does. And he’s offered to mentor me.”

  I might have expected Eddie to make some snarky comment about the nature of the mentoring, especially given what he’d seen, but once again, he surprised me.

  “Wouldn’t be fair to stay together, would it?”

  I felt tears prick the backs of my eyes. Unlike every other time they’d threatened, I allowed a few to fall as I silently shook my head.

  Taking both my hands in his, he stared down at me. “I am going to miss you so damned much, Peyton.”

  “Me, too.” I gripped his hands tight, the velvet softness of the calla lily brushing against my skin. “You never know what might happen, though.”

  A small smile—the cat’s smile—turned up the edges of his mouth. “No. You never know. After all, I sure as hell never expected to fall in love with you.”

  “Me neither.” For the first time, I was able to say it. “I do love you, you know.”

  The grin broadened. “Dude—of course you do. How could you not?”

  And there he was—the cocky goofball jock on full display, even though his eyes reflected a new, grown-up sadness. The same sadness I could feel in my heart. But this was the right decision. For both of us.

  A slow, sweet song began drifting from the direction of the rooftop lounge.

  The goofy grin faded into a gentle smile that made my heart ache, just a bit more.

  “Dance?” he asked.

  I blinked away the tears and returned his smile, feeling as I did that our story—mine and Eddie’s—wasn’t over yet. Somehow—some way—our paths would cross again.

  Until then, though, we’d have this one last dance.

  * * * * *

  PROM AND

  CIRCUMSTANCE

  Deidre Berry

  Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  One

  DEANNA PARKER

  I was in Mr. Baisden’s fourth-period social studies class the day Principal Ellerbee made the announcement that entirely changed the remainder of my high-school career.

  It was senior year, with only one month left to go before graduation, and like most seventeen-year-olds, I couldn’t wait to put high school in my rearview mirror so that I could get on with the fabulous life I had planned for myself, plans that included attending a prestigious college, followed by law school. After an illustrious career practicing criminal law, the next step in my life plan was to become a criminal-court judge. I’d retire at the ripe old age of fifty-five and then live out my golden years as Supreme Court Justice Deanna Parker.

  Yep, sounded like a good plan to me.

  But life is funny that way. Just when you think you have things all planned out, fate steps in with a monkey wrench and jacks up all of your plans. Just to keep you on your toes, I guess. Or, just to remind you that fate always has the upper hand whether you like it or not.

  Unaware of the meteor that was about to collide with my life in a few short minutes, I sat at my desk anxiously tapping my pen against my notebook as Mr. Baisden gave us the guidelines for his latest assignment, which was worth a whopping 30 percent of our final grade.

  Compare the accomplishments of a historical figure to someone who is currently making a similar impact on today’s society.

  “And,” Mr. Baisden continued, “for this final assignment of the year, you’ll be working in teams of three.”

  My heart sank and I groaned out loud along with the rest of the class.

  I despise group papers. In fact, I hate them so much that I invite whoever invented the concept to take a flying leap off of the highest cliff that they can possibly find.

  Don’t get me wrong, I work well with others. I really do. It’s just that I was striving to keep my grade point average above 4.0 so that I could become valedictorian of the graduating class, and at this stage in the game I would’ve preferred for my fate to be solely in my own hands, instead of partially in the hands of two other people who may have already mentally checked out for the year.

  My heart sank even further when I found out that Mr. Baisden paired me up with Chad Campbell and Shelly Bennett.

  Shelly was one of those moody, goth-punk girls who had the reputation of not being smarter than a fifth grader. She rarely talked and wore all black everything, including lipstick and nail polish. Chad was a fairly smart kid, but he was also top jock of Brookfield High, and I noticed that he didn’t quite seem to know what to do with himself now that the school year was winding down and all of the sports seasons were over. I objected so strongly that I immediately walked up to Mr. Baisden’s desk and quietly pleaded with him for other partners.

  “In the real world you don’t get to choose who you work with, Deanna,” he said in a hushed but stern tone of voice. “Besides, I like for the more advanced students like yourself to work with the ones who are struggling. Look at it as your chance to be a leader and teach.”

  But isn’t that your job? I started to ask, but didn’t, because I realized it was a losing battle.

  As I made my way back to my desk, Mr. Baisden addressed the class: “All right everyone...for the remainder of this hour, I’m going to let you guys break off into your respective groups to brainstorm topics for the assignment.”

  Instantly, a lot of shuffling and desk-scooting went on throughout the room, as kids arranged themselves with their assigned group members.

  “Well, does anyone have any ideas?” I asked Shelly and Chad, poised to take notes on my laptop. I waited for a response that never came. Instead, Shelly just sat there doodling on a sheet of notebook paper, while Chad played some kind of video game on his cell phone. It must be a good one, because he hadn’t bothered to look away from the screen once.

  Mr. Baisden must have felt a teensy bit guilty about the predicament he’d put me in, because he tapped Chad on the shoulder and said, “This assignment is critical, so put the phone away and get focused, son.”

  Chad sighed, placed his phone on his desk and just sat there with the blankest of expressions.

  Okaayyy...

  Chad and Shelly’s lack of interest confirmed that I was in for a bumpy ride with these two geniuses. As I looked at them, trying to get them to engage in the process, I could almost see the dust clouds blowing through their heads. And one thing became crystal clear: if we were going to get an A on this paper that was worth 30 percent of our final grade, then I had to accept that most of the work was going to be on my shoulders.

  So there I was, deep in thought, trying to come up with an A-worthy idea, when Principal Ellerbee’s voice came blasting through the PA system, breaking my concentration.

  “Good afternoon, Brookfield student body... It is my pleasure to announce the nominees for this year’s senior-prom court...”

  “Oh, goody!” I muttered sarcastically. As I said that, I looked around the room and noticed that some of the other girls in class were giddy with anticipation, and a couple of them even had their fingers crossed.

&nbs
p; But not this girl. At the time, I couldn’t have cared less about the actual prom itself, let alone who could possibly be crowned prom queen. The way I saw it, prom was just another idiotic high-school ritual designed to bestow even more love and adoration onto the popular kids who already think they’re better than everyone else. My mind was preoccupied with other, more important things, like the fact that it was early May and I still hadn’t received an acceptance letter from any of the five colleges that I had applied to.

  “The prom king nominees are...Chad Campbell...Justin Reynolds...Manny Gomez...and Jamal Davis...”

  No surprises there, I thought. All of those guys were extremely popular and were constantly being nominated for stuff like homecoming court, student body president and things of that nature.

  I looked over at Chad to give him a thumbs-up, but he looked so nonchalant, I wasn’t sure if he’d even heard that he had just been nominated for prom king.

  Principal Ellerbee’s announcement was temporarily interrupted by the piercing sound of audio feedback, caused by being too close to the microphone.

  “Ah, come on!” Tanya Walker said impatiently, as if she fully expected to hear her name called.

  “Sorry about that, everyone,” Principal Ellerbee continued. “And the nominees for prom queen are...Aubrey Garrett...Judy Reeves...Tiffany Boyd...and Deanna Parker. Congratulations to all the prom nominees!”

  “DEANNA PARKER?” My classmates shouted in unison, most of them looking just as surprised and confused as I felt. Me? Nominated for prom queen? No. Freakin’. Way.

  AUBREY GARRETT

  Right after Principal Ellerbee said “Aubrey Garrett...” my home-economics class exploded with loud cheers and applause. Even my home-economics teacher, Mrs. Cowell, was thrilled for me. “Way to go, Aubrey!” she said cheerfully, and gave me a pat on the back. That really meant a lot coming from her, because I’ve never seen Mrs. Cowell get hyped about anything other than a nice roll of cloth that she’d gotten for a good price down at the Jo-Ann Fabric store.

  My entire high-school career had been storybook-perfect, and now I had the chance to wrap it all up on the highest note of all: prom queen of Brookfield High. In my opinion, being named prom queen is the highest honor a girl can receive. But more important than the crown itself is winning what comes along with it, which is respect, prestige and confirmation that you are the number-one queen bee of the entire school, and all the other girls need to bow down and pay homage.

  Yay for me! And “yay” for my boyfriend, Chad, for being nominated for prom king. If we both managed to win, it would be the coolest thing ever.

  For the rest of the school day, Brookfield High was all abuzz with the news that I had a 99.9 percent chance of becoming the school’s next prom queen. Out in the halls, everyone I passed congratulated me as if I had already won, and at my locker between fourth and fifth periods, my best friends Mia, Jessica and Kimberly greeted me with a swarm of hugs.

  “Those other chicks are so beat up from the feet up, they don’t stand a chance!” Jessica said, giving me a high five.

  “That’s right, Aubrey,” Mia added. “You might as well be running unopposed, because clearly, you already have this thing in the bag!”

  Not bragging or anything, but Mia was right. Out of all the other nominees, I was the one with prom royalty flowing through my veins. Being prom queen is a Garrett family tradition that goes back several generations. My older sister, Angela, my Mom, my aunts and my grandmother were all prom queens when they were in high school, so naturally it was expected that I would bring home another family crown to add to the collection.

  I was happy about the nomination, but I can’t say that I was all that surprised. I’d been named homecoming queen back in the fall, and the way it goes at our school, whoever wins homecoming is practically an automatic shoo-in when it comes to prom.

  What did surprise me about the prom queen nominations is who the other nominees turned out to be. Tiffany Boyd, Judy Reeves and Deanna Parker. Really?

  Obviously, someone had just pulled off one of the greatest pranks in Brookfield history, because I just couldn’t take any of those three girls seriously.

  I don’t have anything personal against any of them, it’s just that we’re all really different. First of all, Tiffany Boyd was a female jock who dressed like a boy and had the nickname “Baby Shaq” because of her height and imposing physique. Not only was Tiffany the tallest girl in school, she was the tallest student, period. Tiffany was cool in my book. We had a lot of mutual friends and often ended up at the same parties, but to be honest, she isn’t exactly what you’d call prom-queen material.

  Secondly, Judy Reeves, also known around school as “Judy Cootie,” has a face full of acne and braces caked with whatever she had to eat that day. Ever since elementary school, Judy’s had this unquenchable thirst to be popular and will do just about anything for attention and recognition. Her attempts to dress and act cool are laughable, almost always fail and only result in making her the butt of even more jokes, and that’s exactly what her nomination appeared to be—a joke.

  And then there’s Deanna Parker. I really don’t know that much about the girl besides the fact that she wears these huge, Steve Urkel-style glasses, and constantly goes out of her way to show everybody how smart she is. Kids like Deanna annoy me with the way they sit at the front of every class, and are always first to raise their hands to ask or answer a question. People only know of Deanna around school because she participates in all the nerd activities like debate and science club, where she’s always winning some competition or award, but when it comes to a social life, she doesn’t have one, as far as I can tell.

  Deanna and I were actually kinda cool for about ten minutes during sophomore year. I tried to befriend her and bring her into my circle, but it just didn’t work out. I liked her initially, but we just didn’t have enough in common to maintain a friendship.

  For instance, I think everyone should always leave the house looking like they’re ready to hit the red carpet, with hair, makeup and outfit—done! Deanna obviously doesn’t share my point of view because she keeps her hair pulled back in a ponytail, and jeans and flip-flops are her standard, everyday uniform. Shallow? Maybe...but it’s totally not my fault that I was dropped as a baby into a pool of awesomeness and glitter. My mom won Miss Texas back in 1993 and happens to be a former Dallas Cowboys cheerleader, so I got my fabulousness from her, and learned early in life that image is everything.

  But anyway, back to Deanna. To her credit, she has a decent personality and would look a lot like Kelly Rowland if she put in the time and effort. When we first met, I saw potential in her and tried to help up her swag game, but you can only help those who want to be helped. Deanna was obviously content with going around looking like a lost cause, so I just had to let go and let God.

  So, that was my competition, in a nutshell. If it’s true that snagging the prom-queen title is nothing but a popularity contest, then out of the four girls in the running I was slated to win this thing by a landslide. I’ve heard that you should never count your doughnuts before the yeast rises, but I think it’s safe to say that the election is just a mere formality. I mean, unless there’s some sort of glitch in the matrix, there’s just no way that I can lose.

  DEANNA PARKER

  I kept thinking: Nah...it can’t be. There must be some mistake! And then I remembered that every year, four girls are nominated for prom queen, and at least one of the nominations is considered a joke to the rest of the student body. So after getting over the initial shock of being nominated, I laughed long and hard, because I figured I was the one who had been selected for the gag. Then when I found out that my friends April, Kristen and Trish went behind my back and collected the fifty signatures that were necessary to land me on the ballot for prom queen, I laughed even harder.

  “Ha-ha. Funny!” I told them during
Spanish class, where they confessed what they’d done. “The joke is on me. Now can we please get on with life?”

  “No, the joke isn’t on you,” Trish said sincerely. “We didn’t put you on the ballot because we thought it was funny, we did it because you actually do deserve to be prom queen.”

  “And since you’ve been all work and no play, we were hoping that the nomination would be the spark you need to finally start enjoying senior year,” Kristen added.

  “Look, I appreciate what you guys tried to do, so I’ll attend prom if my dad lets me, but I’m not entertaining the shenanigans of running for prom queen,” I said. “That’s just not gonna happen.”

  “And why not?” April asked, more than a little annoyed with me. “No girl in her right mind would turn her nose up at the prospect of being prom queen.”

  “Then obviously you don’t know me very well, because if you did, you’d know that I find the whole thing so petty and so...high school,” I said.

  “Hello!” Trish sang out. “In case you haven’t noticed, you’re in high school, and while you’re here, you should start doing things that only high school kids get to do, like go to prom, and be silly, and have fun.”

  “And run for prom queen,” April added.

  “That’s right, Deanna,” Kristen said. “It’s time to let your hair down and be carefree, because this time next year we’ll be off in the real world with real responsibilities, and I just don’t want any of us to look back on these days and regret not taking full advantage of the opportunity to go out with a bang.”

  “Face it, Deanna, it’s time to come out of that comfort zone of yours and live a little,” Trish told me. “You only have one life to live so you might as well do it big!”

  Mr. Martinez walked past our desks and casually said, “I think you should go for it, Deanna,” which surprised us all because we had no idea he’d overheard our conversation.

  “Yeah, Deanna, go for it!” Kristen said excitedly. Then they all started chanting, “Go for it! Go for it! Go for it!” over and over again, as if that was supposed to make me change my mind. It didn’t.