Prom Queen of Disaster

by Joseph James Hunt

  He closed his eyes and puffed out a sharp breath. “Least I tried. Thought you felt the same.”

  I wagged my finger in his face. “No, you know I didn’t, I love Dylan.” I love Dylan, I repeated internally. Smiling. “Goodnight.”

  My phone buzzed in my denim booty shorts. Three missed calls from Dylan, followed by a stream of texts. I answered his call. “Dylan,” I said.

  “Is everything okay? Where are you at?”

  “I’m fine,” I said. “I needed more water, and sleep.”

  “So you’re in your room?”

  I walked to the bathroom. “Yeah. Yeah. I’m gonna head to bed, you can always get a room key from Char or Ava and come cuddle me.”

  “If that’s what you want,” he said. “I’ll come cuddle you until you’re asleep.”

  The bedroom was dark, all the lights were out. I’d wrapped myself in the comforter and star-fished on the bed. I heard Dylan’s voice, he was speaking to me, but my eyes were only partially open. He rolled me out in the comforter.

  “Comfy?”

  “Very,” I said, trying to roll myself back up.

  He kissed me. “I’ll stay until you sleep,” he said. “Have you been sick again?”

  At that moment, I didn’t know if I had. I was wearing my matching Victoria’s Secret underwear set, but the clothes I’d been wearing had their share of vomit on them. I didn’t even remember undressing. “Yeah, don’t kiss me,” I said, pulling my face at the acidic taste in my mouth.

  He climbed into bed and stroked the side of my face. “That doesn’t bother me.”

  “It should.”

  He continued to stroke my face and hair, hushing me gently to sleep. I’d wrapped an arm around him. I didn’t want him leaving me, moving from the comfort of my side. I wanted him to stay.

  When he moved, my eyes blinked open, I wasn’t awake or alert, but I noticed he was gone. I felt the empty space he’d left and wrapped myself back up in the comforter. Still feeling the cool impression his lips left.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The buzz of my alarm vibrated in my hands. I opened my eyes to see the comforter wrapped around my body. Char and Ava were in the other bed, both snoring, their make-up smudged across their faces. I hauled my ass out of bed. For the most part, I was refreshed, but as I looked at my face in the mirror, I knew that was a lie.

  “Wake up.” I threw the comforter over them. I vaguely remembered them stumbling in.

  “Mom,” Ava grumbled.

  “If you don’t get up, I’m opening the curtains,” I said.

  The bus was set to leave at noon and I was ready for eleven. I scraped back my hair into a ponytail and waited around for everyone else to get ready. They whined and dragged themselves around.

  Char dropped her thick black sun glasses over her eyes. “I do not feel human,” she said, clutching her stomach. “Might throw up!”

  “What even happened?” I asked, sitting at the end of the bed. “I was in bed so early.”

  “They bought too much alcohol,” Ava said.

  “I would never say too much,” Char said. “But I’d agree. So much.”

  “Glad I left.”

  They finished dressing in oversized hoodies and sweatpants before we headed to the lobby for check out. Everyone was already there, waiting with their heads in their hands. Char sat on her suitcase as we waited on the chaperones.

  “Well, they totally fucked,” Char said, pointing at Mr. June and Mrs. Jennings as they stood beside each other in the elevator smiling.

  “What?” I said, cuddling up beside Dylan.

  “You okay?” Dylan asked. “What happened?”

  “Nothing. Well, Mr. June and Mrs. Jennings are sleeping together.”

  Char nodded. “Quentin told us.”

  “She’s so boring,” Ava said. “He can do better.”

  “Into older guys, Ava?” Char snapped her fingers.

  “Wait. Who?” Kaleb asked, joining us in the lobby.

  Ava rolled her eyes. “Nothing.” She planted a kiss on his cheek.

  We managed to get breakfast from the small nook they served from. I made sure to grab an extra sandwich and a huge bag of potato chips for the journey home.

  I sat with my legs up on Dylan’s lap, playing with our hands, holding, and twiddling our fingers. We shared headphones and listened to music together.

  “Are you staying at my house tonight?” I asked. “I know your dad’s still away.”

  He nodded. “I’ll need some clothes for school.”

  “Sure, I’ll tell my mom.”

  He pulled my hand to his mouth and kissed it. “I parked my car at school. We can go from there to my house.”

  I nodded along, texting my mom. “How long’s your dad outta town for?”

  “Until tomorrow, but back in Tahoe for Thanksgiving.”

  “You going with him?”

  He shook his head. “He’s hasn’t even asked me.” The tension in his hand, all sweaty. “I’s fine with me.” He laughed.

  “Stay for thanksgiving,” I said. “It’s better than staying with your dad.”

  “And your mom makes the best dinners,” he said.

  My mom always made the best Thanksgiving dinners. For the past few years, Dylan would come to Thanksgiving with us, mostly through choice. If he spent it with his dad, he would’ve been too busy to cook, and he never saw his mom, not since he was younger, he believed he was an accident, sometimes when we were alone, he’d tell me he wanted to live with her. I’d offered to go with him, but we never picked up the same conversation.

  The ride back home dragged. We made a pit stop, seeing the same dusty town in daylight. It was a whole lot blander in color, dull browns and washed-out oranges.

  “Dust bowl city,” I snorted, looking out the window.

  Another three hours on the bus and we were back in Marin County. It was 7 PM when we reached the school parking lot. I stretched my legs after getting off the coach, followed by Dylan. He wrapped his arms around me and yawned.

  “Are we going my house” he asked.

  “Grab my bag first.” I threw my arms in the direction of the bus, as the driver unloaded bags from the luggage hold.

  He laughed. “Got it.”

  Kaleb stood alone awkwardly, as we headed for Dylan’s car.

  “Come with us,” Dylan said. We were all going to the same place anyway.

  “Really? Yeah. Thanks, Dylan.” Kaleb high-fived him.

  “Yeah, get in!”

  Kaleb and I waited in the car while Dylan grabbed his things from the house. We sat in blissful silence for all of three second.

  “See you didn’t choke,” he said.

  “What?” I rolled my eyes at him through the rear-view mirror.

  “On the vomit.”

  “God no,” I said. “Why?”

  He laughed, poking his head through from the back seat. “When I saw you, you were in no state to look after yourself.”

  “You don’t know how to look after yourself. You’re living at my house.”

  He laughed it off. “Your mom is nicer, that’s why.”

  “My mom doesn’t know you, that’s why.”

  Dylan walked back out. He threw his bag into the trunk of the car before climbing back into the driver seat. He planted a hand on my knee and kissed me. “Do you still have my hair stuff at your house?”

  “If you left it.”

  My mom waited for us on the front steps. She wore her flowery apron, dusting her hands on it as she welcomed me in with a squeezing hug.

  “Tell me everything,” she said, pulling me into the house. I dropped my bag in the hall and let her guide me into the kitchen. “I made chicken and dips.”

  “Make enough for everyone?” I asked.

  “I breaded them all by hand, enough for everyone.”

  Maddie sat at the dining room table, waiting on us. In the center was a large dipping platter and enough chicken to feed a family of twelve, with left overs fo
r the dog.

  “Where’s dad?”

  “Phoenix. His connecting flight was delayed, yadda—yadda, but he should be home for the morning,” she said, rubbing my back. She welcomed Dylan and Kaleb in. “If you need anything washing before school, just tell me and I’ll have it ready.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Jensen,” they both said at once.

  My mom giggled. “You know full well to call me Jennifer.”

  We all needed an early night after the excitement we’d been through. I forgot I’d left my room in a mess before school on Friday. I threw everything from my floor into my dresser, finally opening the door to Dylan.

  “I don’t know why you do this every time,” he said.

  I pulled the elastic from my hair and took a deep breath. “It was a mess. I don’t want to see my room like yours.”

  “What’s stopping me from making your room a mess?” he laughed, bouncing on my bed. “Your house always feels more like a home anyway.” He sat, going quiet. I wasn’t sure if he wanted me to reply. I smiled and closed the door.

  “Are you going away for Christmas?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe a cabin on Lake Tahoe,” he said. “Something about skiing. Rather spend it here with you though,”

  I crawled up next to him on the bed. “I know you would,” I said. “But we still have our New Year’s kiss.”

  Although we kissed all the time, there was something special about kissing at the stroke of midnight. We’d done it for the past two years, and we’d always have a picture taken, mainly because a selfie would’ve been too conceited.

  “That’s my favourite time to kiss you,” he said.

  My parents didn’t mind Dylan sleeping over. They trusted me, and they already thought of him as part of the family. They were more trusting than some of my other friend’s parents, some wouldn’t let boys in the house or be alone in the same room.

  I slept, midway through a film on my laptop. I let him choose because when I last picked it was Magic Mike, and I’m sure he didn’t realize it was about male strippers when it began, but he chose an X-Men film.

  A rasp of knocks hit the door. “Zo, honey!” my mom called. “Your dad’s making pancakes, get up before he goes to bed.” I heard her wholesome chuckle as she walked away to knock on Maddie’s door.

  Dylan stretched an arm around me. He yawned. “Morning.”

  “Morning,” I said, kissing him on the end of his nose. “My dad’s making pancakes. We should probably get up.”

  “Ooh,” he said. “Love pancakes.” He moved and wrapped a leg around me to where I could feel him poking me through his shorts. I was more than used to it by now, the first few times it happened, I laid still in bed, wondering what to do. Now, I realized it was a sign of a good night’s rest, at least for Dylan.

  “Are we gonna get up then?”

  “I just—need—to—” there was a pause as his entire body cracked and popped in his twists. “That’s perfect.”

  My dad stood over a pan in the kitchen. We had a skillet over the stove, perfectly slick to make pancakes on. It was a non-stick and when my dad wasn’t working, pancakes were made daily.

  Kaleb and Maddie were already at the table wolfing down plates of pancakes in Nutella and strawberries.

  “Morning you two,” we were welcomed.

  “Banana and chocolate?” Dad asked, already flipping a pancake. “What about you, Dylan?”

  “Just strawberries for me,” he said.

  “Ah! These are freshly grown in the greenhouse out back,” he said.

  My dad’s pride and joy, other than my sister and I, was his greenhouse. It was beside the small in-ground swimming pool, a full circle, but at the moment, there was a cover to stop leaves falling in. From October, my mom would usually stop the filter and pack it up until March, around my birthday.

  “Sweet! When did you pick them?” Dylan said.

  “The other morning, they’re still fresh,” he said. “That’s the beauty of strawberries, four to six weeks.” He kissed his fingers.

  Breakfast was always the most important meal of the day, my parents stressed that enough. She’d also packed us all lunches, she knew how much I hated school lunches on a Monday, and she labeled our paper lunch bags with hearts and kisses.

  “I’ve packed you ham salad sandwiches, some fresh fruit, and even a little yogurt,” she said.

  Dylan drove us to school, with Kaleb in the back like a third wheel, but at that point it wasn’t awkward, although the eye contact and silence between the two of us was extremely awkward. I hoped nobody noticed.

  “Do you have practice tonight?” Dylan asked as he drove.

  I shook my head. “No, thank God,” I said. “Think we’ve practiced too much.”

  “It paid off,” Kaleb laughed.

  “There’s going to be school spirit,” Dylan mocked. “Ready, okay!”

  He would do that, if we ever argued, or said something he thought might offend me, he’d do that and I couldn’t feel annoyed or angry. “You should’ve tried out,” I said. “It’s not too late.”

  “It is if I wanna get a scholarship,” he said.

  “You’re really getting a scholarship,” Kaleb asked.

  “Yeah, well, coach hinted about it.”

  I bit my bottom lip. “And I cannot wait for college together.”

  “Where do you plan on going?” Dylan asked Kaleb.

  I could see Kaleb roll his eyes. “If I even get the grades to graduate,” he said. “They’re planning on putting me on for a GED, that way I can go to some community college or at least get a job.”

  “How much schooling did you even have?” Dylan asked.

  Kaleb shrugged off the question.

  The walk to the entrance doors of school was met with congratulations by everyone. Inside the hallways, colorful streamers draped from the ceiling tiles, and giant banners printing our win at the Golden State Cheer Championship. It was impressive what they’d done overnight, but they’d probably done this when they heard about our win on Saturday.

  The principal’s aide spoke over the PA. “Our winning cheerleaders will be performing their routine for the school tomorrow afternoon, right before you all enjoy your half-week off over the Thanksgiving period.”

  “Tomorrow?” Dylan asked me, nudging my arm.

  “Not that I’ve been told,” I said.

  “And a reminder, police officers will be around the hallways today, co-operate with them to the best of your ability, they’re still conducting their investigation, so do your due diligence.”

  “Due diligence,” Dylan laughed. “They need to arrest someone already.”

  I glanced at Kaleb, hoping to see something to resemble what he’d done, but he continued walking to his locker.

  “I think they will,” I said.

  “I hate what happened to you,” he said. “If you’d had more, who knows what could’ve happened.” He tugged on my arm and kissed me.

  Char walked right past us, letting out a heavy sigh.

  “Char?” I called out.

  “Oh, Zo,” she said, turning her head slightly. “I’ve got to see Mr. June. Talk later.”

  I waved her off. “Weird.”

  “She’s probably going to plead her final case, god knows she still believes it was Mila who spiked the punch,” he laughed, putting away books into his locker. “For all we know, it might not have even been a student here.”

  Ava locked her arm in mine. “Why’s Char being weird?” she asked. “She hasn’t texted all night, have you seen her?”

  “Yeah, she just went to see Mr. June,” I said. “You know how she is, she’s probably too busy putting in her application for scholarships after the win.”

  “Uh, you’re so right, Zo,” Ava said. “Gotta love ya and leave ya.”

  It was midday when we were called to the auditorium. I shuffled in to sit beside Dylan and Ava. Char was still off preoccupied somewhere. Nobody had seen her all day. Officer Gerrard and Officer Renner st
ood on stage, clearing their throats.

  “We have good news,” Officer Gerrard announced. “We’ve had a person come forward to claim responsibility for the event.”

  “Char?” I mumbled, looking around. “Where’s Char?” I asked Ava.

  “What?” she gasped. “Was it her?”

  “Guys, sorry I’m late,” Char said, sitting on the end of the aisle. I finally had my breath back. I would’ve punched her in the arm if she hadn’t been so far away. “Ugh, I’ll explain later.”

  “A student you may know already, Jackson Catlett. A student, already suspended from school for indecent behaviour,” Officer Renner continued. “As for the witch hunt you’d all created, you can stop.”

  I knew it wasn’t, but I still couldn’t say anything. The more I thought about it, the more doubt I had it could’ve been anyone, I’d been spiked. And so far, all confrontations with Kaleb went nowhere fast.

  Dylan collected my hand from the seats below. He squeezed and pulled me from thought. “At least they’ve found them.”

  “He was in my art class,” I said.

  I couldn’t put a face to his name. He was rarely ever at school, from what I did know, a stoner, probably skipping most of his classes. Although I did remember him being expelled for spray painting nude pictures of Principal Sanders on the wall outside the art department last semester of Junior year.

  Principals Sanders took to the stage. He coughed down the microphone. “Okay,” he began. “As much as I know you all wanted justice, there’s nothing we can do in this matter, we have to keep this in the hands of the law now. Jackson Catlett is now no longer a student here with immediate effect.”

  “Again,” Officer Gerrard spoke. “We must advise you that underage drinking is illegal, and it can get you into serious trouble.”

  “Oops,” Ava laughed.

  “Glad Mr. June doesn’t believe that,” I said.

  “I think anywhere but here, Mr. June would be happy with,” Ava said.

  Dylan laughed. “You think?”

  “More or less told us,” I said. “Who’d want to teach high school cheer and gym for the rest of their life?”

  The comments Char would say went through my mind; her remarks were usually catty, something about seeing Mrs. Jennings would’ve come up, that was a definite, mainly because we didn’t know if she was married or not, or she if she dressed like that on purpose. “What was on the sweater she wore today?” I laughed.