Prom Queen of Disaster

by Joseph James Hunt

  “We’re always winners inside,” Bex added. As vice-captain, she liked to say something, anything, once in a while, usually repeating Char.

  “And who are we?” Char asked.

  “Marin Pandas,” we said, at once.

  “Who? Because I know they didn’t hear you.”

  “Marin Pandas,” we went again, raising our voices.

  “I don’t think the group at the back heard.”

  “Marin Pandas!”

  Other groups watched, disturbing their silence and down time.

  We were second up. All groups placing first were going in order, followed by second place and then third. Our time came once again, the nerves had fled, the tension in my stomach was now from laughter.

  Dylan waved the large blue foam finger. He’d written my name in all caps with black marker pen. Almost like he’d planned it from the start, and after telling me he didn’t have one.

  The routine went off without a hitch. We didn’t change it or do anything different, but when it came to an end, we wanted to keep going. We stayed on the mats for a moment to catch our breaths and wave at the crowd.

  Mrs. Jennings stood in the waiting room for us. Her smile beamed, the first that didn’t seem forced, but revealed far too many of the deep wrinkles on her face. “Whoa! You guys did a fantastic job out there! You’ve got this in the bag!”

  Mr. June appeared through the door behind her. “You can say that again!” He laughed. “I’ve already told Principal Sanders about your win. He’s made some room in the trophy case for it.”

  “Think he’ll need to make more room for a second?” Mrs. Jennings laughed.

  “Probably not,” Char said. “We won ours, but competing against college groups we’re not on a level with isn’t really fair. But we won our group.”

  “Did you see Dylan?” Libby tugged my arm. “So cute!”

  “I didn’t think he would,” I laughed.

  “You’re perfect for each other.”

  “I wish Kaleb would’ve done something like that,” Ava said. “He probably would, but with an arm still in a sling, it’s probably difficult.”

  “Could you imagine?” I laughed.

  “I was being serious, Zo.”

  “Yeah, me too, like, could you imagine him doing it?” I said. “Because, you know, he can’t raise his hands above his head.”

  “He’s still hurting.”

  All the groups had now performed. We stood in a group huddle as they called us back to the mats. The judges pulled out all the theatrics. I watched as they positioned confetti cannonsand the judges passed along a golden envelope to Alexa. A microphone was pushed into her hands.

  My mouth ran dry. I butted my lips. We squeezed each other, even Char, who hated physical contact with anyone she wasn’t hooking up with. I could hear her, heavy breathing beside me.

  “Good luck,” I whispered.

  Alexa readied herself on a spot marked on the floor. Cameras poised on both her and all nine of the competing groups. “The winner of the spread in SPIRIT magazine and the $5,000 of the 2015 Golden State Cheer Championship are…” she said, followed by a lifetime of silence. I looked up to see a net holding balloons in place. “College group, the Indigo Tigers from right here in Los Angeles!”

  Confetti canons blasted above our heads and balloons rained down. We were all winners, all nine groups, even though they were the best of the best, we’d all won something.

  “At least it wasn’t one of the middle school groups,” Char said over the noise and excitement from the screaming Indigo Tigers.

  If this was a romance, Dylan would’ve jumped through the crowd and swam to me in the sea of confetti, but this was a cheer competition and spectators weren’t allowed on the competition floor.

  He waved the foam finger around.

  “Love you.” I watched his lips move.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I looked out the window in the hotel room, watching the sun set over the city. Although it was winter, my weather app told me it was 68 °F, still t-shirt weather. I’d picked up my phone to text Dylan when there was a knock at the door.

  “It’s me,” Dylan said.

  The others had gone to check the roof out to make sure it was safe and had lighting. If not, Char had already sweet talked some guy at reception.

  I opened the door to him. “Is the roof open?”

  He nodded. “They stole a key card from a bell boy,” he said, closing the door behind. He pulled me in his arms and walked with me to one of the king beds.

  We kissed before I pushed him back on the bed. I jumped up and sat on his chest, looking into his eyes. They were ocean blue globes. I pushed my face close to his and kissed him again.

  “Prom night is gonna be magic,” he said.

  “When I’m prom queen and you’re the king,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I’ve already given myself to you.”

  “Zo,” he said, turning me on my side to lay beside him. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

  We stared into each other’s eyes. My heart thumped through my chest, it forced me to press my lips hard against him. I held them there, attached to him.

  “Zo, are you in here?” Char said, walking in.

  We stayed, laid opposite each other, smiling. “Yeah, over here.”

  Char sat at the end of the bed. “First, get a room,” she said. “Second, did you?”

  “What? No!” I jumped up, laughing.

  “Good, you’re too pure, Zo.” Dylan sat up and Char punched him in the arm. “Don’t take advantage of her,” she said to him.

  “Couldn’t even if I tried,” he sniggered.

  I grabbed his hand. They were clammy in mine.

  “Everyone is headed up to the rooftop,” Char said, “so, take a cold shower and come join us.”

  I finished getting dressed while Dylan and Char headed to the rooftop. I’d bought a strappy white top with a dip-dye fringe, alongside some denim booty shorts and a flower headband. It was my Los Angeles Instagram fantasy.

  The elevator dinged as I called for it. The doors opened wide to Mila, Heather and Brittany. They climbed out as I walked in.

  “Have fun at your party, Zoey,” Mila said.

  “You too,” I said, in politeness as the elevator doors closed behind.

  They opened up again on the second floor. Quentin and Ant were stood holding hands. I accidentally bit my lip and gasped. They dropped each other’s hands and blushed.

  “Zo,” Quentin said, pressing the button for the rooftop.

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t tell anyone,” he said. “It’s still a secret.”

  Ant sucked on a sharp breath. “I’m not out—out.”

  I shook my head and smiled. “Love who you love,” I said. “As long as they don’t replace prom queen with two kings, even though you’re cute as hell.”

  “Didn’t think you wanted that,” Quentin said.

  “What girl doesn’t?”

  They laughed as the elevator doors opened up to the rooftop.

  “You’ve got my vote,” Ant said with a breath of relief.

  Hannah and her boyfriend Max were the first people I saw. She sat on his lap in one of the poolside chairs, drinking beers. They were incredibly cute, for the longest time, I thought Hannah and Libby were lesbians, mainly because they’d been best friends since pre-school, and often described as too close, but to see them without each other was strange.

  “Zo, come over here, let’s take a selfie,” Dylan shouted. He stood looking out over the city.

  I searched myself for my phone. I remembered last having it to text my mom, and Instagramming the picture I’d taken. But it was already in my hand.

  I pulled up to Dylan’s side. “We’d have to go to the beach to see a sunset like this back home,” I said.

  “We should do that more often.”

  During summer after Junior year, we used to always go to the beach, it was secluded. The person driving wouldn’t be able to drink
, but we’d camped out a few times in large tents our parents hadn’t used, but bought with the best intentions.

  “I’d like that.”

  Dylan had grabbed me a beer. “There,” he said, popping a straw into the bottle neck.

  It put an instant smile on my face. “What else do they have?”

  “Mr. June’s coming up every 30 minutes to check on us, so we only brought a few things up,” he said. “We also have solo cups in the room, Benny’s gone to grab some.”

  “Anything that doesn’t taste like perfume or piss?” I laughed.

  “That’s alcohol!”

  Mr. June came to visit on cue for the first few half hours, slowly, we could tell he was getting drunk. Each time, he’d take a beer, or two from the pile after counting them and advising us we couldn’t possibly drink that many. He was celebrating just as much as we were. The final time he came up was after we’d ordered eleven pizzas to the hotel.

  I sat on Dylan’s lap in a chair around the pool. I’d had two drinks, chased with water. I took pictures, like the cute couple everyone believed us to be, hashtagging the high heavens out of the pictures on social media. Maybe that was my platform for prom queen?

  From the pizza box at my side, I fed Dylan a slice of pepperoni, taking a bite for myself. Now that the competition was over, I was eating carbs without fear, especially chowing down on the pizza crusts.

  “Mm,” I sighed heavily into Dylan’s lap. “Delicious.”

  Char rushed over. “Zo!” She grabbed my arm and pulling me from Dylan’s lap. “I need your advice, and you have to be brutally honest.”

  I swallowing the pizza, nodding. “Sure. Whatever you need.”

  “Benny said he loves me.” She took a deep breath and pressed on her chest. “I didn’t say it back. Now I can’t say it back without it being weird.”

  I took her drink and guzzled it hard. “Whoa.” It was strong. I felt like telling her she’d never loved anything in her life, I doubt she even loved her mom if it wasn’t for her car.

  “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

  “No, do you love him?” I asked.

  She shrugged, taking the cup from me. “I don’t know.”

  “Does his smile give you butterflies?”

  “No, but his touch does,” she laughed. “I’m more of a physical person.”

  I nodded along with her. “Physical relationships are good,” I said, speaking from no experience of having any other relationship but the one with Dylan. “I think, they need to be emotional too, there needs to be a balance,” I said, this time, speaking from my mom’s Danielle Steel books.

  “But you and Dylan aren’t physical, like, really physical,” she said with a sudden cough of laughter. “Sorry, not like that, just the sex thing.”

  It was always about the sex thing.

  “I think if you get really really drunk, you’ll just tell him, and it won’t be awkward,” I said. I gave her a slight hug and a pat on the back. “Drink up!”

  She tipped the cup up into her mouth. “You’re a good friend, Zo.”

  I sat back on Dylan’s lap. He’d grabbed two solo cup. “What’s in this?”

  “You can’t ask that,” he said. “It’s a solo cup.” He took a sip handing it over. “It’s safe.”

  “I know it’s safe,” I said. “But will I like it?” I took a sip. A fuzzy warmth warped my tongue, it tickled and tingled my body.

  I was three drinks in, dancing around the pool. Dylan danced with me from behind. I turned and pushed him to a chair as I found myself giving him a lap dance, not by choice, by influence, but it was liberating.

  “Ten seconds!” one of the girls shouted. I didn’t look to see who, but I stopped. It felt like a countdown on New Year’s eve.

  “Nine!”

  “What is it?” I asked Dylan, sitting on his lap.

  “Eight!”

  “Quentin’s birthday,” he said.

  “Seven!”

  “Shit, yeah,” I laughed.

  “Six!”

  I pulled away and turned to the crowd, all facing Quentin. My eyes focused and refocused around the shapes. I didn’t fully process what happened next. I felt Dylan’s arm tug at me as I dropped to the stone floor with a fire burning through my throat.

  I vomited in the pool. I almost reached in to splash myself before my entire body was pulled back and on my feet. “Are you okay?” Dylan’s echoing voice asked.

  “Zero!”

  I clenched my stomach and groaned, sitting back in the deck chair.

  “Happy Birthday, Quentin!”

  “H–h–happy birthday,” I chuckled to myself. I thought I’d had water between each drink, although clear liquids can change from water to vodka quite easily, especially when you’re not paying attention.

  “Water,” Dylan said, handing me a bottle from the cooler.

  He left me for a moment, kissing my forehead. I had just vomited after all, so I didn’t blame him for not wanting to kiss me. I stood for a second, no recollection of whether he’d asked me to stay.

  The elevator dinged and the door opened. The fluorescence orange light was welcoming, like a beacon. I found myself inside, pushing all the buttons.

  “Zoey?” I heard, as the elevator doors opened.

  I picked myself from slouching against the inside of the elevator. “Yeah?” I said, aligning myself to see properly. Brittany stood in front of me. Either she was swaying or I was.

  “Are you okay?” she reached out for my arm.

  “I’m fine,” I said, but I couldn’t push her. I stumbled at best, and she caught me on her arms. “Let go.”

  “You’re drunk,” she said. “I’ll take you to your room.”

  She held me up on my feet as I looked for my room key. I found my phone. In the reflection, my hair stuck to my face and a few strands in my mouth. I picked them out, as Brittany took my arm again. “I don’t have my room key.” I reached again in my pocket and pulled it out.

  “There you have it.” She led me out of the elevator and into the corridor of the 9th floor. “Which room?” she asked, and I didn’t even know. I shrugged, my body weight dropped from side-to-side.

  “I’ll find it,” I said, pulling away from her and holding out the key in front of me.

  “No,” she said. “We were friends at one point, Zoey, and I never stopped being your friend. I’ll take you to my room to sober you up, otherwise, you’ll end up bumping into someone, or worse the hotel throws you out.”

  I didn’t object. I let her guide me. Inside her hotel room sat on the beds were Mila and Heather. I dropped to my knees and crawled to the bathroom. It was the same layout as our room, part of me believed it was our room, except when I looked back out, all three of their faces stared back at me.

  “You okay in there?” I heard them shout, and whispering between that, but every time my throat wretched to throw up, all my senses silenced them.

  I finally finished. Laying face up, staring at the tiles on the bathroom ceiling.

  “Zoey?” Brittany knocked on the bathroom door. “Are you feeling better?”

  “Yeah,” I croaked from the back of my throat.

  They’d passed me water and towels. “You’re nice,” I said.

  “Thanks,” I heard Mila say. “If you could pass that on to Char as well.”

  My eyes rolled, a spontaneous reaction. “I’m not her keeper.”

  “She’s a pain in the ass,” Mila said.

  “She tried to get us expelled,” Heather chimed in.

  I hauled myself together from the toilet seat. Pressing to flush as I stood. “Who do you think did it?”

  “Her,” Mila laughed.

  “No, seriously,” I said. “She doesn’t have access to the chem lab, she wasn’t beside the table all night, so who did it?”

  “Was it you, Zoey?” Mila asked. I could see behind the mist in my eyes she was smiling. “It was, wasn’t it?”

  “Ugh, no, I hate chem,” I said. “If it was a chemical
paint solution from the art studio, then fine, might have been me, but if you’re not forgetting, I was affected by the punch.”

  I stumbled to the bathroom door where Brittany balanced me at the shoulders. “Drink more water,” I heard her and watched her lips.

  “I don’t think you’ve got a problem with drinking yourself stupid,” Mila said. “You’re doing such a great job all on your own.”

  “You’re a grade A bitch too, y’know,” I said. “Well, have fun!”

  I threw my body weight with me as I strutted to the door. I checked myself for my phone and keycard before leaving. All in order, I sucked a deep breath before leaving, flipping them off as I left the room. “Bye bitches!”

  I walked out and collided face first with Kaleb. He pushed me against the wall as I stumbled to the floor.

  “Zo.” He grabbed for me.

  “Ugh, what do you want?” I’d been trying my best to avoid him, to forget about who he was and why he was here.

  “Why aren’t you up there?” he asked, pulling me to my feet. “Who’s room is that?”

  I shrugged. “I need water.”

  “They have water upstairs,” he said. “Are you going back up?”

  “I’m going to bed,” I said, throwing my room key at him.

  He laughed. “Which room?”

  “909?” I shrugged.

  “We can try,” he said, tucking me under his arm in support.

  “Why aren’t you drinking?” I asked.

  He smiled and sighed. “Not supposed to drink with these painkillers. I don’t want to get worse, or hurt myself,” he said. “Plus, your mom’s been real kind and I appreciate that.”

  “So, are you going to move out?”

  “You really hate me, don’t you?”

  “Hate is a strong word,” I fumbled. “I don’t hate you, I just don’t like you, and I have no reason to.”

  He walked me in a line to my room, swiping the room key.

  “Do you want me to get you some water?” he asked.

  “Give you a reason to come in and try kiss me again?” I laughed.