by Marni Bates
Tim winced. “Okay, I’ve got it. Feel free to stop anytime now.”
“They loved you.” I lowered my voice and leaned in so that I could murmur the last part in his ear. “Almost as much as I do.”
I pulled back a little to see if he had caught on to the fact that I wasn’t joking. I wasn’t tossing out the “L” word just to calm his nerves. I meant it. Absolutely.
That was one of the few parts of our relationship that I didn’t question.
Whether or not I could handle the fame and the intense public scrutiny and the huge life decisions he was making . . . Yeah, those questions kept me up at night. But when I closed my eyes, I always wanted him to be right next to me when I opened them.
Tim squeezed my hand and for a moment I could almost pretend that we were alone.
Until Principal Taylor cleared his throat. “Ahem . . . would either of you like some water? There’s some right next to the—” His face momentarily relaxed with relief when my parents picked that moment to enter the room. He was probably afraid that Tim and I would start kissing. In his office. And then what would he do?
Perform a religious ceremony with a priest, a clove of garlic, and some holy water to rid the room of its gay vibes, probably.
“Would someone please explain why our son has been banned from attending his own prom?” I half expected frost to issue from my dad as he pinned Principal Taylor with an arctic glare.
I enjoyed watching the relief melt right off Mr. Taylor’s face and the fear of my parents slide into place instead.
“Um . . . well, I can understand why you’re upset, but Corey hasn’t been banned from prom. He’s free to attend with all of our other students.”
My mom looked at him suspiciously. “Then why were we hounded by reporters?”
“Me,” Tim said simply, before he released my hand. “They’re here for me. They want to know why I can’t accompany my boyfriend to his school dance.” He glared at Principal Taylor as if daring him to take issue with our relationship.
Apparently, Mr. Taylor hadn’t become a high school principal without developing a sense of self-preservation. He carefully chose his words. “It’s against Smith High School policy to allow unenrolled individuals to attend functions intended for our students.”
I rolled my eyes. “Chelsea Halloway doesn’t go to this school anymore and she’s been nominated for prom court. Want to explain to me how she meets those rules of yours?”
Mr. Taylor cleared his throat. “Chelsea only recently changed school districts after spending three years as a student here. We consider that an extenuating circumstance.”
“Well, my boyfriend is a rock star who never got to attend a prom of his own,” I snapped. “That seems like an extenuating circumstance to me.”
“Easy, tiger,” Tim murmured in my ear, but when I looked at him in disbelief, his smile hitched up a little on the left.
“Smith High School policy also does not support the presence of, ahem, older individuals.”
My dad’s eyes narrowed. “A three-year age gap hardly qualifies Timothy for a senior citizen discount. Unless . . . is there something you’d care to tell us, Tim? Are you secretly in your mid-forties?”
“No, sir.” Tim struggled not to laugh.
“Well, then, I don’t see a problem.”
Principal Taylor sucked in a deep breath. “Smith High School policy—”
My mom crossed her arms. “I seriously doubt that no Smith High School student has ever brought a date from a different high school.”
“Yes, but Mr. Goff is not another student,” Mr. Taylor snapped. “He is a twenty-one-year-old adult who has no business attending a high school function!”
The room fell sickeningly silent as we absorbed his words. Tim instinctively took a step away from me, his shoulders rigid.
My mom’s lips thinned. “It’s not your place to judge my son’s relationship. And if you prohibit either one of these boys from attending your school function, you will be slapped with a discrimination suit faster than you can say, I’m not homophobic.”
“But I’m not homophobic!” Principal Taylor protested indignantly.
My mom smiled coldly. “That wasn’t very convincing. Don’t worry, I’m sure you just need to practice saying it. That lie will come tripping off your tongue in no time.”
“This has nothing to do with Mr. Goff’s, um . . . with his—”
“He’s gay,” my dad said simply. “So is our son. And you can deny it all you like, but if Corey was a straight girl, this never would have reached your attention. You just don’t want to get a reputation for being soft on gays.”
“Yes, it’s much better to ride hard on gays,” Tim managed to say with a straight face. Everyone stared at him in disbelief. “Too soon?”
“Um . . . yeah. Way too soon!”
He shrugged. “Just trying to lighten the mood. None of us wants a lawsuit.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” my mom retorted.
“Prom would be over by the time we even filed the lawsuit. So I’m hoping we can come up with some kind of arrangement that works for everyone.”
Principal Taylor nodded vigorously, probably because he was picturing the kind of high-power attorneys that a celebrity like Timothy Goff could afford. “What do you have in mind?”
“Considering that my band was approached by the Smith High School prom committee, I’m assuming that the student body still wants me to perform.”
Yeah, that is a pretty safe assumption considering that his last U.S. tour had sold out in a matter of minutes—eighteen of them, to be precise.
“I was also under the impression that there was no age restrictions for the performers. So Corey and I will arrive together, I will play with my band, and then we will go. No Smith High School regulations will be broken, and I will get to enjoy prom with my boyfriend. We all leave happy.”
I had to admit, as far as compromises went . . . it wasn’t the worst idea.
At least Tim would be able to go to the stupid event without any lawyers having to file briefs or take deposition statements or any of that crap. We would be able to attend my high school prom together—almost.
Since I still wasn’t entirely sure I even wanted to go to the dance, having my boyfriend negotiate the terms of my attendance with my high school principal was . . . kind of weird. Especially because now I was even more locked into showing up. I could hardly have my boyfriend go through all of this trouble just to suggest that we do something else entirely.
“That sounds manageable to me.” Principal Taylor adjusted his tie once more. “I will be sure to update the school board and tell them that we’ve resolved the issue.”
“Great.” Tim glanced down at his watch and winced. “Corey, I’ve got soundcheck in an hour at the Rose Garden. But I’ll see you on Friday. I’ll be the one with the limo and the corsage.” He did a demented half wave to my parents so he wouldn’t have to exchange any hugs in my principal’s office, and tugged open the door.
Darryl was there in an instant.
Of course. We couldn’t even discuss prom together without having Tim’s security guard lurking right outside. Then again, there were two police officers hanging around the waiting room so that they could see me safely back to my car.
“Friday,” Tim repeated, shooting me one last sizzling look before he made his exit.
I could hardly wait.
Chapter 6
Now that Spencer King is dating freshman Isobel Peters (Seriously. A freshman. Someone must be reaching for low-hanging fruit.), it appears that this year there won’t be one power couple for prom—unless Patrick Bradford and his new lady love, Steffani Larson, win over the student body.
Hey, it could happen. Considering the sudden geeky addition to Spencer’s life . . . crazier things have happened.
—from “Predicting Prom”
by Lisa Anne Montgomery
Published by The Smithsonian
“Are you out
of your freaking mind? You don’t even like Chelsea Halloway!”
Mackenzie glanced up at me sheepishly from her bedroom floor. “Wow, Corey. Way to give me a heads-up. You know there is this thing called knocking. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”
“There are also these places called mental institutions. Girls who create posters for their boyfriend’s ex-girlfriends should probably live there.”
She tried to wipe her hands off on her jeans, but succeeded only in sending glitter flying everywhere. “It’s not that weird.”
“Chelsea Halloway for Prom Queen,” I read aloud. “Seriously, Mackenzie? You can’t post these up at school.”
Mackenzie shook her head. “No way. I’ve put too much time and effort and . . . glitter into these things not to use them. And I have a very small window of opportunity here. Just because I got Chelsea’s name on the prom ballot doesn’t mean anyone will actually vote for her.”
Careful to avoid any airborne sparkles, I sat cross-legged and checked out her work. The signs looked like they had been created by a well-intentioned preschooler, but I decided to keep that thought to myself.
“Want to tell me why you’re campaigning for a girl who single-handedly made your life a living hell for three years?”
Mackenzie rolled her eyes. “You’re exaggerating. Chelsea didn’t even know I existed for most of that time. And now that she’s going to a different high school and has a new boyfriend and y’know—”
“Isn’t trying to convince Logan to dump you?” I suggested.
Mackenzie winced. “Right. Well, now that she’s not doing that anymore, we’re actually almost . . . friends.”
“Bullshit.” I crossed my arms and waited for the truth to come bubbling out of her. Mackenzie has never been particularly good at keeping her own secrets, especially around me.
“Okay, ‘friends’ might be overstating it a little. We aren’t enemies, though.”
“And for that she gets campaign posters?” I tapped one of the glittery signs for emphasis. “I don’t think so.”
“Who else do you think is a contender for the crown?” Mackenzie demanded. “If Fake or Bake wins, one of them will only become more obnoxious—if that’s even possible. And if by some fluke, I get a pity nomination because of the whole YouTube thing . . . that’s even worse!”
“I don’t know why you’re so against the idea,” I said honestly. “I think you’d make a great monarch. Long live, Mackenzie.” I pretended to raise a goblet of wine. “Queen of the Geeks!”
Mackenzie laughed. “Thanks, but no thanks. Did you know there is a special dance for the king and queen? Seriously. They rule the dance floor while everyone else gawks at them. That’s way too much pressure for me. I’d much rather dance with Logan when nobody is paying any attention to my moves.”
I could understand that. If I thought I could avoid all the openmouthed stares by creating a few posters, I’d be coated from head to toe in glitter too. Although I suspected that the decoration on my posters wouldn’t look disturbingly like a cross between an octopus and a unicorn.
I picked up a glue bottle to test that theory.
“Do you, uh . . . ever wish you weren’t dating Logan?” I asked nonchalantly, as if that were a perfectly normal question. “If the two of you weren’t a couple, you wouldn’t have to be dealing with all of this.” My gesture nearly splattered glue everywhere.
“Sure.”
I jerked my head up as I searched her familiar brown eyes for any sign that she was messing with me.
“Seriously?”
Mackenzie laughed. “Of course, I do! Every time someone gives me a slow once-over and then shakes their head because they still can’t figure out what Logan could possibly see in me . . . that hurts. And yeah, my life would be a whole lot simpler without him. I’d have more time for my homework, that’s for sure.” She glanced ruefully at a stack of textbooks that were piled precariously on top of her desk. “It would be easier to catch up with Jane. Although now that she’s busy running The Wordsmith and dating Scott, that might be wishful thinking.”
“So then why don’t you do it?” I sprinkled some pink glitter onto the petals of the flower I had outlined in glue. It wasn’t half bad.
Mackenzie looked at me like I’d lost my freaking mind. “Off the top of my head? Because he makes me laugh and he doesn’t care that I’m America’s Most Awkward Girl. He wants to be with me, even when I make a complete idiot out of myself in front of his ex-girlfriend . . . even when I’m a total wreck after seeing my dad. And I don’t want to change him either. Not his dyslexia, or his popularity, or even his past with Chelsea freaking Halloway.” She glanced away from the rose taking shape on my poster and then glared at what I assumed was a horribly misshapen heart on hers. “Don’t you feel that way about Tim?”
“Tim never dated Chelsea freaking Halloway,” I said evasively. “I’m pretty sure he’d have mentioned her by now if he did.”
Mackenzie laughed. “Probably. Although the two of them would have the most insanely beautiful children the world has ever seen.”
I had no trouble picturing a little toddler with Chelsea’s huge blue eyes and Tim’s thick jet-black hair. Fast forward a few years and the kid would probably be ruling the preschool through sheer force of will—when not crawling the red carpet, of course.
“Okay, so I will never suggest using her as a surrogate,” I said, pretending to really have to think it through. “I can live with that.”
Mackenzie nodded. “The human race thanks you. But seriously . . . how are things with Tim?”
I began creating a long stem for the rose and then added thorns. Lots and lots of thorns. “In the wise words of Facebook: It’s complicated.”
“Yeah? Well, why don’t you talk and we’ll try to uncomplicate it.”
That was the reason I had driven to Mackenzie’s house, but now I wasn’t sure I wanted to speak. Hanging out with one of my best friends was comforting. Just the two of us.
It was so easy to pretend that nothing had changed.
“I don’t know, Mackenzie!” The words tumbled out in a rush. “I have no freaking clue, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? Tim just does things and then he expects me to get onboard with them. I kept telling myself the problem was that we were long-distance or that we could never get alone time together . . . but I think it’s me. Or maybe it’s him. I don’t know anymore.”
“Wow,” Mackenzie said. “Okay. Here’s a crazy idea: Have you tried talking to him about this?”
I squirted way too much glue onto one of the posters, leaving a goopy mess that rivaled Mackenzie’s ugliest attempts at flowers. “When exactly do you think I should bring it up?” I growled sarcastically. “Right after he said he wanted to uproot the band to Portland for me? Or maybe in the principal’s office when he negotiated our prom experience in front of my parents. I know, I should totally bring all of this up at prom. Nothing like getting into a huge fight in front of the entire school.”
“Are you so sure you’d get into a huge fight?” Mackenzie asked tentatively. “He loves you, Corey. There’s got to be a way to work this out.”
“Do you know how to call off the paparazzi constantly hounding us? Because if you do, I’m all ears.”
Mackenzie grabbed my hand, preventing me from sprinkling blue glitter on the blob and forcing me to meet her eyes. I instantly wished I hadn’t glanced up, because the concern in them was almost too much for me.
“If you can’t handle the rock star lifestyle, there is no shame in that,” Mackenzie said quietly. “Not everyone is cut out for a life in the spotlight. Trust me, I get it. Just like not everyone can handle a relationship with someone in the military. It doesn’t mean you don’t love him.”
“I thought love was supposed to triumph over everything.”
Mackenzie nodded, but her smile twisted with sympathy at the bitter words. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean the timing can’t suck.”
I rubbed my face absentmindedly wit
h my hand, realizing too late that I’d just coated myself in glitter. “God, I can’t believe I’m acting like this! Remember when we mocked kids who thought they met the love of their life in high school? When exactly did I become one of those idiots?”
Mackenzie laughed. “Hey, right there with you. Sometimes I still glance at Logan and think, Um . . . sorry. When exactly did he fall for me? Can someone explain how that happened?” She gestured at the posters sprawled out at our feet. “I’m making prom posters for Chelsea Halloway! I think it’s safe to say that nothing has turned out the way I expected.”
“You really think you’ll be together with Logan in college?” I felt like a jerk for even asking the question, for putting voice to a fear that probably crept in whenever she poured over college brochures.
She shrugged. “I hope so. But even if we’re not . . . it won’t change the way I feel about him right now. That’s enough for me.”
I laughed hoarsely. “Okay, who are you and what have you done to my geeky best friend?”
Mackenzie grinned, dipped her finger in a thick puddle of glue, and swiped the tip of her nose with it. “How’s that? Recognize me now?”
“Nope, but I think you’re getting closer.”
She nodded and released red glitter, except instead of coating the tip of her nose, she accidentally breathed some of it in. “Oh crap. Bad life decision. Very bad life decision!” Mackenzie managed to say as her nostrils flared wildly. “You don’t have to laugh quite that hard at me, you jerk!”
But I did.
“I love you, Mackenzie.”
She looked like an elementary school kid who had gotten a bit overenthusiastic with a Valentine’s Day project, but she accepted my statement with a nod.
“I love you too. Always have, always will. Now, will you please help me finish these stupid posters?”
Yeah, that I could handle.
Chapter 7
Nominating the prom court has never been so contentious at Smith High School! In years past, it was accepted that students would simply vote for their friends. Now the school is covered with posters for members of the junior class—one of whom doesn’t even go to this school!