The Promposal (The Ugly Stepsister Series Book 2)

by Sariah Wilson

  “If UCLA doesn’t have the major you want, why not go to a different school?”

  Ella looked at me like I was stupid. “Because I want to go to UCLA.”

  It had been the school her mother had attended, and Ella had never even considered another university. She’d worked hard not only to get in, but she also had a part-time job to help pay for tuition. When Ella’s mom, Dad’s second wife, had died, Ella had had no other family. So we had taken her in, and she’d seemed to feel like she had to earn her place with us. Dad had told her that was dumb and that he would pay for all her college expenses, because as far as he was concerned, she was his daughter just as much as I was.

  It had been a really emotional experience, but it had also taken a lot of the strain and stress out of Ella’s life.

  Especially the whole not having to get student loans and go into debt for the rest of her life part.

  “Where is Belle? Has anyone seen Belle?”

  I turned to see Victor Kim in a blue-and-gold suit/costume, holding a glass bell jar in his right hand. Was he actually wearing white knee-high tights? His legs were so thin it amazed me that he could walk around on them all day without them breaking. It took me a second to figure out what he was doing.

  “Where is my Beauty?”

  Mindi stood, both hands over her chest, her eyes bigger than any anime character I’d ever seen. “Here I am!”

  He knelt in front of her, offering her the glass-encased crystal rose. “Dearest Belle, will you ‘Be My Guest’ at prom? Because this Beast needs his Beauty by his side.”

  With shaking hands, Mindi took his gift. “Yes! Of course I will!”

  Victor stood and pulled Mindi into a serious kiss among applause, hoots, and hollers. I couldn’t believe what I’d just witnessed. Serious, straitlaced Victor Kim had made an utter fool of himself for the girl he loved.

  He’d given her a literal fairy tale.

  The ugly wave of jealousy that slammed into me made me feel like I was going to be ill.

  After their kiss ended, Mindi rushed over to our table with Victor in tow. “Mattie! Ella! Did you see that? Did you see what Victor, my boyfriend, did?”

  “Kind of hard to miss.”

  She nodded enthusiastically, missing my sarcasm. “Here, look at this!” She handed her rose inside a jar to Ella, who put down her phone to take it. “Beauty and the Beast is my favorite movie ever. Which Victor, my boyfriend, totally remembered. Isn’t he the best?”

  “He’s . . . something.” I tugged on Ella’s arm. “Come on. Sorry, guys, we need to get to class.”

  Ella congratulated them both and handed the rose back to Mindi. “Why are we leaving?” she said after we were out of earshot of the annoyingly happy couple. “We still have like fifteen minutes before lunch ends.”

  “I prefer not to throw up my cookies, thanks.” I’d discovered that promposals weren’t nearly as fun when you despaired of ever getting one. “Plus, I’ve missed enough class today already.”

  “Yeah, I noticed you weren’t in PE today.”

  “That’s because I’m in the Fitness Protection Program. Can’t blow my cover by exercising.”

  Actually, I’d skipped class because I’d decided having your mother publicly disown you to the entire internet should have some kind of side benefit. So I had told Jennifer I needed a break from a couple of classes. She had, predictably, given in after enough begging and pleading. I had spent the time drawing manga, and it had improved my outlook even more.

  Or it had until the Beauty and her Beast fiasco.

  And the fact that we were headed to calculus, also known as the Black Arts of the Devil, didn’t help my annoyed mood.

  Right up until the moment I saw Jake leaning against our classroom door. He grinned at me like nothing was wrong.

  And even though I was frustrated by his recent behavior, my heart still skipped a beat at the fire in his dark brown eyes.

  “There’s my girl. I’ve been looking for you.”

  What did that mean? I’d been where I was supposed to be. In class (mostly) at school. I hadn’t been AWOL the entire day.

  But then he wrapped me up in his arms, and I was again forced to reconsider my stance on hugs. I loved being held by him. It was the safest, warmest, most butterfly-inducing feeling in the whole world.

  “Where have you been?” I asked, and watched as some of the light in his eyes died.

  “Around.”

  Not an answer, but he didn’t seem inclined to say more. Which frustrated me.

  “Let’s go grab our seats,” he said, holding his hand out to me.

  I wouldn’t say no to that! His large hand enclosed mine, and I couldn’t help but happy sigh. I followed him into the classroom, and it was only then that I noticed Ella wasn’t with us. I wondered where she had disappeared off to.

  Jake ran his thumb along the inside of my wrist after we’d sat down, and my entire arm went limp in response. He winked at me. “Looks like I make you feel weak.”

  “If you must know, it’s this classroom. I think I’m getting math-related physical disorders. Like fibromyalgebra.”

  Encouraged by his laughter, I kept talking. “I’ve also self-diagnosed a possible arithmia. And percentile dysfunction.”

  “I hear they make a pill for that.”

  I wished they made a pill for passing calculus. It would make my life so much easier.

  The bell rang, and the other students filed into the classroom, chatting as they took their seats. Our teacher, Ms. Elias, began to talk over us as she passed out sheets of paper. “Today we’re having a pop quiz.” I was one of the people who groaned in response to her news. “Multiple choice. Or in your case, Mr. McIver, multiple guess. This quiz is something of a review and will cover some trig, some geometry, and a bit of probability and statistics.”

  Jake handed my quiz to me. He mouthed the words “good luck” before facing front.

  The instructions at the top of the quiz told us to show our work. The first question was about finding the cosine. I wished I could tell math to grow up and solve its own problems. Or that a cosine was what you did to a bank check and not something I would ever, ever use in my real life and, thus, did not need to find it.

  I worked my way through the first two problems, filling in the bubble next to what I hoped was the right answer.

  When I got to the third question, I put my pencil down. It read:

  3. Jonah Peterson wants to ask Amy Feldman to the prom. There is a 100 percent chance that he went to a lot of effort to get Ms. Elias to hand out a fake pop quiz. He predicts that there is at least an 85 percent chance that Amy will like his promposal and will say yes. What is the probability that Jonah and Amy will go to the prom together?

  I looked up to see a nervous Jonah standing at the front of the classroom, clutching a single pink rose.

  “A hundred percent!” Amy said from the front row, running up to Jonah and throwing her arms around his neck. More applause and “aws” from the female members of the class. I looked at Jake, wondering if any of this had inspired him.

  Or at least reminded him.

  But instead of watching Jonah and Amy get their picture taken by multiple people, Jake looked at his phone intently. Something was bothering him.

  I’d spent all this time impatiently waiting for him to step up. Life was too short, and mothers pretended like you weren’t real. I should ask about prom and whatever else was going on with him instead of hoping things would just work themselves out.

  “That was some promposal, huh?”

  Jake made the sound he made when he wanted to pretend like he was listening to me but actually wasn’t.

  I said his name, waiting for his eyes to meet mine. His eyes flashed with what looked like worry, followed by irritation.

  “About prom . . .”

  He let out a sigh of exasperation. “Prom is not that big a deal. It’s just one dance. I can’t believe how everyone’s acting like it’s the most important t
hing in the whole world.”

  It felt like he’d just verbally slapped me. For a moment I sat there in stunned silence. “It’s important to me.”

  “Not everything’s about you, Mattie. I have to go.”

  Go? He just got here!

  He stood up, grabbing his backpack and ignoring Ms. Elias telling him to take his seat. He left the classroom without even glancing back at me.

  Jake had called me Mattie. Since we’d become official, he never called me Mattie. Ever.

  Something big was going on. Something bigger than even the prom.

  I hated that I didn’t know what it was.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  My dad requested that I do the dishes after dinner. Something about it building character, which was the kind of thing parents said when they wanted you to do housework for free. Why even bother paying our housekeeper if he was going to make me do everything? I tried not to take my frustration out on the plates. It wasn’t their fault my father was in one of his “improve the children” moods or that Jake had snapped at me the way that he had.

  I decided to concentrate on my plans for tomorrow. I was going to see Kenyetta, my tutee. It had (obviously) been Ella’s idea for me to volunteer as a tutor. Supposedly for my college applications, but mostly to try and become a better person. “You have no idea how good it feels to be selfless!” had been her sales pitch, and I’d done it just to humor her.

  I’d thought I would hate it, but I didn’t. It also turned out that I wasn’t as noble and selfless as Ella had hoped for. I decided I was somewhat selfish because I loved the high I got from helping others.

  Not to mention that it so often made my other problems fade away. They seemed so much smaller when I focused on somebody else who needed me.

  I hoped that was still true.

  “What’s going on with you?” Ella entered the kitchen and stopped short when she saw the expression on my face.

  “Other than the illegal child labor currently taking place? My boyfriend told me the prom isn’t that big of a deal. Just a dance.” I pushed a couple of buttons on the dishwasher, not sure which one made it run. I decided on the Start button and slammed the door shut.

  Ella let out a gasp. “It’s the pinnacle of your student presidential career!”

  At least someone got it. “Exactly. Thank you!”

  “What is wrong with guys? Why don’t they get this? And you have to add detergent.”

  Holy Buddha. I found one of the little rectangle detergents thingies under the sink and added it to the dishwasher, throwing it in the bottom. I didn’t know if it went there or not, but now it wasn’t my problem.

  “You’re supposed to take the wrapper off,” she told me.

  I shrugged. The dishwasher could figure it out. It was one of those smart kinds, right?

  Ella lifted up a stack of papers my dad had left on the table.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “I can’t find my phone.”

  I pulled my own phone out of my pocket. Where I had no missed calls or texts from Jake. “Want me to call it?”

  “It must be dead because I tried that already. Which is weird because it was fully charged this morning and should still have some juice.”

  “Did you turn it off?”

  She made an expression liked I’d just asked her if she tortured sick puppies in her spare time. “I never turn it off. My entire life is on there. My course schedule for next year, my calendar, all my prom to-dos, my homework assignments, everything.”

  “When’s the last time you remember having it?”

  Ella opened the fridge and peered between Jennifer’s health food. I couldn’t blame her for looking in such a weird spot. When Dad was distracted, as he usually was, he tended to do strange things. Like stick cell phones next to kombucha.

  “I know I didn’t have it at cheer practice because I wanted to film London doing her backflips to show her how she twists to one side, and I couldn’t find it.”

  “Cheer practice?” I echoed. “Aren’t you done with that?”

  “I was helping to run the clinic for the girls who want to try out for next year’s team.”

  Of course she was.

  Ella grabbed her purse and dumped the entire contents onto the kitchen table.

  “See? Doesn’t that feel better? Making a mess?” I asked, but Ella ignored me. I was always trying to get her to come over to the noncleaning side, but she loved things being spotless. She sifted through the dumped out contents, but it was plain that her phone wasn’t in her purse.

  “Maybe I left it at school. I’ll check with the office tomorrow to see if anyone’s turned it in.” She let out a sigh of defeat and sat down. “Now what?”

  I shrugged one shoulder. “We could watch a movie.”

  “I’m pretty sure I’ve seen all the movies.” Her grumpy demeanor was so unlike her.

  “All the movies?”

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m very industrious.”

  It couldn’t have been too bad if Ella could still joke with me. “We could sit and talk about how much our boyfriends suck.”

  She shook her head. “A movie. Something to make me forget about”—she waved her hand around—“all this other stuff. We can even watch a John Hughes one.”

  “Seriously?” Ella loved horror movies and almost never watched rom-coms with me. “You are the best, you know that?”

  “Sometimes. And you should take this as proof of how much I love you that I’m going to watch another one of your uber-romantic movies. Again.” She stood up and linked her arm through mine. “Which one do you want to watch?”

  “Not Pretty in Pink.” That was mostly about going to the prom. “And definitely not Sixteen Candles.”

  “Agreed.”

  I did not need the reminder of Jake’s former romantic gestures.

  The next day I sat in my US history class, wanting to stab out my eardrums so that I could no longer listen to the inane presentation on the Revolutionary War by Scott and Mercedes. They made it so boring I wished the British had won just so that this presentation would never have happened.

  I watched the clock, and I swear the second hand was going backward.

  Then finally, finally, finally they finished, and I let out a long sigh of relief. Ms. Robinson stood up and said, “Er, thank you, Scott and Mercedes, for that . . . for that presentation. We have about fifteen minutes left, so we’re going to break up into our small groups to work on the finishing touches for your presentations. If you’ve already presented, you can spend the rest of class reading quietly in your seat.”

  Ella and I hadn’t gone yet, and she pulled a desk next to me so that we could talk about Pearl Harbor.

  We’d been assigned our topic, and the irony of the name of the Japanese invasion during World War II having the same name as my mom was not lost on me.

  That prickly neck feeling was back, and I looked up to see Mercedes with a malicious look in her eyes. I mean, more so than normal. She gave me a weird grin, again like she knew something I didn’t and was enjoying the evilness of whatever she’d done.

  It made me nervous.

  Which was probably the whole point. To psych me out and upset me. Determined not to let her do it, I looked at the notebook Ella had pulled out of her backpack, filled with our notes about the battle.

  Despite my resolution, the uneasy feeling remained.

  “Why are you fidgeting like that?”

  I gestured toward Mercedes. “Just wondering when she’s going to unhinge her jaw and finish us off.”

  As if she had eyes in the back of her horns, Mercedes again turned around to stare. Only this time she got up and walked toward us. At the last second, she veered off to the right to sharpen her pencil.

  “Nice outfit, Mattie.”

  Buddha give me strength. Past experience taught me that she didn’t actually mean what she’d just said. I glanced down at what I was wearing. Dark jeans and a black T-shirt because it was
casual Friday and I didn’t have to wear that stupid uniform. And it wasn’t like she had room to talk. She wore a tight, red leather miniskirt and a practically see-through sheer white top. At least my clothes did what they were supposed to do. Clothe me.

  Her nasal tone interrupted my thoughts. “Whose funeral are you going to?”

  Was that all she had? “Haven’t decided yet. Don’t worry, though. You’re still at the top of the list.”

  She continued to grind her pencil. “You know, I haven’t seen Jake’s promposal. Is there trouble in paradise?”

  “If there is, it’s because the snake just entered the garden.” My chill retort did not reflect the turmoil raging just below the surface. Of course she would point out my lack of a promposal. How did she know exactly where to twist her knife?

  That made Mercedes stop sharpening. “So in this scenario, I’m the devil?”

  “If the cloven hoof fits.”

  She let out a little laugh, shaking her long blonde hair from one side to the other. She removed her pencil from the device, now worn down to a little nub. “Do you know what I hate?”

  “Since you’re Lord of the Underworld? Probably kittens. And laughter. All that is goodness and light. Maybe that there’s a black gaping maw where your soul should be.”

  Mercedes cut me off before I could continue. “People who think they can get whatever they want. When it’s not true. You can’t get whatever you want.”

  I would have laughed if I hadn’t been trying to figure out what she was so mad about. I mean, I had Jake. I did get what I wanted. That wasn’t really open for discussion.

  And why was she glaring at Ella, too?

  It was one thing to come after me, but I wasn’t about to let her start in on my doelike sister. “Okay, Mercedes, we’re done. I can’t pretend to have a conversation with someone who puts the u in stupid.”

  “In case you hadn’t noticed,” she snapped, “there’s an i in stupid, too.”

  I stayed quiet until realization dawned on her face, and then she stomped back to her seat. She made it all too easy sometimes.

  “What did you do to make her mad?” I asked my sister.