It's Our Prom (So Deal With It)

by Julie Anne Peters

  “Forget the car!” Owen yelled. “I can fix the car. I can’t fix you.”

  I swiped at my bloody, snotty nose. “I know you think I’m broken, but I’m not. I’m just me.”

  “I didn’t mean that,” he muttered. “Although this is what I’m afraid of when you flaunt it.”

  I didn’t think they beat me up because I was gay. I mean, I wasn’t even wearing anything with a rainbow on it.

  At that moment the pain in my gut caught up with my brain and I doubled over.

  “What?” Owen placed a hand on my back. “Luke…?”

  “I’m fine,” I wheezed.

  “No, you’re not. I’m taking you to the ER. Change your bloody shirt.”

  Which I couldn’t do. I couldn’t raise my arms over my head without screaming. Owen said, “Just get in the taxi.”

  All I could do was cry, it hurt so bad.

  I know he wanted to call me a sissy, but instead he said, “I’ll kill the bastards. Where did this happen?”

  “I don’t remember. I was in a state of shock.” I didn’t want to tell Owen because he has this scary temper. I’m not afraid of him for nothing.

  It turned out I had bruised ribs and a broken nose. But the doctor was dreamy. As we were leaving the ER, I told Owen, “Guess who the fare was? Mercy Her.”

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  “A band.”

  “Never heard of them.”

  I’d forgotten about the cash Leilani had given me. I pulled it out of my pants pocket. Owen took it and counted. “Fifty-three dollars,” he said. “I hope it was worth it.” He shoved it back at me.

  I take a day off to recover from the trauma. The next morning when I pick up Radhika, I have to recount the whole story to her and her mom. Then, when I pick up Azure, I have to relive it again. Radhika’s all concerned about my health, which is why I love her. Azure doesn’t believe I drove Mercy Her. I show her my cell pics. I honor my vow of silence, though, by making them swear not to tell anyone.

  Even though my nose is bandaged and I have two black eyes, Flacco is totally unsympathetic. She won’t give me an extension on my oral report, even by a day.

  “You shouldn’t have waited until the last day for your presentation,” she tells me. “Since you’re late, I’m going to have to mark you down at least one grade.”

  I consider calling the ACLU, then think, Screw it.

  At play rehearsal the entire cast and crew run up to me and want to know what happened. Some of the girls start crying, and I mean wailing. “I’m okay,” I tell them. “It looks worse than it is.” Which isn’t true, but it’s weird how sympathy can suddenly make you feel a hundred percent better.

  T.J. says, “I can stand in today if you can’t sing.”

  “Nah. I’m fine.” He’s so transparent.

  I get through rehearsal, but just barely.

  Ryan comes up to me after and says, “I’m really sorry this happened to you. It’s why I’m so scared to come out.”

  “I didn’t get beat up because I’m queer. They just wanted a ride in my brother’s limo.”

  Ryan looks doubtful.

  “Look, you can’t let the haters get you down,” I tell him. “There’ll always be people in the world who hate on you for one reason or another. Being openly queer is just being who you are.”

  He gazes into my eyes, and I see how deep down his fear goes. I wish I could reassure him. But my ribs start to ache and I question my own declaration of freedom and independence. No, I don’t. Closets are for mothballs, dammit.

  Shauna says, “Do we really want to let people vote on the theme? Because if we do, we need to give them specific choices. Otherwise, we’ll get asinine write-ins, like… like…”

  “Under the Sea?” Azure says.

  Shauna slit-eyes her.

  As they offer suggestions, I begin a list on my netbook:

  Somewhere Over the Rainbow (Azure)

  Somewhere Over the Monochromatic Rainbow (Me)

  Under the Ocean (Shauna)

  Azure groans.

  Under the Stars (Azure)

  Shooting Stars (Shauna)

  Bollywood (Azure)

  Radhika says, “Please, no.”

  Azure looks embarrassed.

  Swinging on a Star (Me)

  “I like that,” Azure says.

  “Pirates of the Caribbean,” I say.

  Connor goes, “Aargh,” like a pirate.

  “We need to get serious about this, people,” Mr. Rosen cuts in. “That survey should be posted this week so we can have results by the end of next week.”

  “Over the Moon, Under the Stars,” I think aloud.

  “That’s perfect.” Connor smacks the table.

  It’s not really. He’s just too nice to mention how unoriginal I am. Confirming my suspicion, he adds, “We should leave a blank for people to fill in a theme. They really might have better ideas than ours.”

  Shauna says, “We are going to ask people on the survey about the royal court, right? Do they only want a king and queen? Or do they want a couple of princesses and princes?”

  “And frogs and beasts,” I say.

  “People.” Mr. Rosen rubs his eyes.

  That reminds me of something I’ve been thinking about. Make that obsessing over. “We know not everyone will have a date. How do we encourage singles or friends to come as groups?”

  “They come in groups anyway,” Shauna says.

  Azure corrects her: “They come in cliques.”

  “Would singles sign up on Prom Central?” I ask, meaning me. “Everyone would be able to see that they don’t have dates.”

  The committee seems to ponder the question. Shauna answers, “We could match singles, like on eHarmony.com.”

  Azure coughs.

  “It was just a suggestion,” Shauna snaps.

  “I don’t mean it was a bad idea. My dad uses an online dating service.”

  “Really?” Shauna’s eyes widen. “So did my mom. They advertised, ‘Meet Your Perfect Mate!!!’ She got matched with my current stepdad, who I despise. Now my aunt’s using it.”

  Azure’s eyes bug out. “Is her name Mercedes or Lynda or Cloud?”

  Shauna makes a face. “No.”

  “Thank gawd. Anyway, a lot of people are dying to ask someone to the prom, but are too shy or afraid,” Azure says.

  “What can we do about that?” Shauna asks.

  Radhika answers, “I bet I could write a quickie program where people can connect with others who want to go to prom. Singles could get with groups of other people who share their interests, and shy people could hook up online. I don’t mean hook up, literally.”

  “Actually, that could be cool,” I say.

  “Or a complete disaster,” Shauna mutters.

  “Geez.” Azure throws up her hands.

  “Well, what if you get matched with someone you absolutely hate? Then you’d have to spend the whole evening with them.”

  “It wouldn’t be like a blind date. You’d know who you were going to go with,” I explain to Shauna and Azure.

  “Maybe our theme should be Masquerade Ball, like Luke suggested,” Connor says. “Then everyone could come incognito.”

  Shauna blows out a shallow breath. “I don’t want to wear a costume to my prom.”

  “Fine.” Connor lifts his pack and stands. “I have to get to practice.”

  Radhika gathers her things and says something in Azure’s ear. She rushes out after Connor.

  Azure grimaces at me. I think that means Radhika is going to do the deed.

  Shauna says, “What’s happening?”

  Azure and I say, together, “Nothing.”

  “If everyone could put the questions you want to ask in Google docs by tomorrow,” Azure picks up the discussion, “Radhika or I could get the survey in Prom Central by Friday. Then we’ll make an announcement for people to answer the survey over the weekend, so we’ll have reports by Monday.”

  “We should g
ive people a little more time,” Shauna says.

  I feel Azure tense up. “How’s Wednesday, then?”

  Shauna nods. She says to Azure, “Tell them their answers will be anonymous, even though they have to log on to Prom Central with their student IDs.”

  Mr. Rosen goes, “Groovy, peeps. Why don’t we skip our Monday meeting and wait for the survey results?”

  Shauna says, “I think we should discuss fund-raising. We still don’t have nearly enough money.”

  “That brings me to something else I wanted to talk about,” Azure says. “I think a lot of people don’t go to prom because it costs so much. Which is one of the questions we should ask on the survey: If you wouldn’t go to prom, why not? I bet a lot of people will say it’s too expensive. The tickets alone are seventy-five dollars. I mean, get real. Who can afford that? Then they have to buy prom dresses and rent tuxes. We need to let people know this prom isn’t going to be like that. If they want to come in casual clothes, they can.”

  “People can’t wear jeans to prom!” Shauna cries. “They have to dress up, at least.”

  Azure inhales, exhales, then says calmly, “I know where people can get formals for cheap. At the thrift store where I work.”

  “I’m not buying my dress at a thrift—”

  “I don’t care where you buy your dress.” Azure cuts off Shauna. “All the benefits go to Kids with Cancer, so maybe that’ll give people extra incentive to shop there. Some people.”

  Shauna shoots to her feet. I see tears in her eyes as she scoops up her backpack and races out. “Nice going,” I say to Azure.

  “I didn’t mean to imply… She just gets to me. One minute she’s—”

  “Maybe post some pictures on Prom Central of dresses and suits that people can buy,” Mr. Rosen says. “Along with the prices.”

  Azure says, “I was going to.”

  “Are we done?” Mr. Rosen asks, standing. He looks like he wishes he’d never heard the word prom.

  AZURE

  As we’re waiting for Radhika at the Caddie, I tell Luke, “I’m sorry. I’m not judging her, but everything we want to do is wrong in Shauna’s eyes.”

  Luke says, “She does have experience at this. I think we’re making her feel really left out.”

  He said “we,” but it’s clear he meant me.

  I ask Luke, “What did you want to talk to me about when you called the other day?” Just then Radhika comes around the corner of the building and hurries toward us. Her head is down and her hair is covering her face.

  Luke says to me, “Later.” He asks Radhika, “How’d it go?”

  She opens the back door and climbs in. We get in after her. Radhika says, “I never, ever want to hurt someone’s feelings like that again.”

  “He’ll get over it,” I say. “Everyone’s feelings get hurt once in a while.”

  “What did you tell him?” Luke asks.

  I go, “Duh. She told him she wasn’t into him.”

  We drive out of the lot and, to distract Radhika, I say to Luke, “Can we see the pictures of Mercy Her again?” I reach over the seat back.

  Luke digs out his cell and hands it to me. Without warning, Radhika bursts into tears. Luke meets my eyes and I see on his face the alarm that I feel.

  “Connor will be okay,” I say.

  Radhika wails, “I don’t want to go to Yale.”

  Luke swivels his head around. Radhika bends over, crying so hard her pain is palpable.

  What brought this on? I smooth a hand down her back. “Let’s go somewhere to talk. Okay, Radhika?”

  She sort of nods. “Will you call my mom and tell her I’ll be late? Tell her…” She raises her head and sniffles. “I don’t know. Make something up.”

  I still have Luke’s cell in hand, so I scroll through his contacts. He has Radhika first on the list, preceded by three stars. But that’s her cell number. Her home number is under Dal. I call and her mother answers.

  “Hi, Mrs. Dal. This is Azure,” I say. “Would it be okay if Radhika came with me and Luke to check out the pavilion for our prom?”

  Mrs. Dal says sure, that’d be fine, and asks if I know where it is. “Yeah, we printed out directions,” I tell her.

  She asks the question I was hoping she wouldn’t: “Where’s Radhika now? Why didn’t she call me?”

  “Um, she’s in the restroom. Lunch was salmonella stew, and it sort of went right through her.”

  Mrs. Dal hesitates. “If she’s not well, she should come home.”

  “No. She’s okay. She just, you know. She really wants to see the pavilion where you had your prom.”

  Another pause. “All right. But don’t be too late.”

  I hang up.

  “You had to tell her Radhika has the runs?” Luke asks.

  “Well?” I say. “I don’t think fast on my feet.”

  “Or your ass,” Luke says.

  “Shut up.”

  Radhika sobs into her hands. I tell Luke, “Let’s go to my house.”

  As Luke drives, I put my arms around Radhika and she leans into me. “It’s okay.” I caress her head. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She’s crying so hard, she can’t speak. I knew something was wrong. I knew it.

  Dad’s on duty, so we have the place to ourselves. As I remove my muffler and hang it on the coat tree, I say, “I’ll make us some hot tea.” I take Luke’s and Radhika’s coats as well.

  They disappear into the living room while I put on a teapot of water and stick a pan of pizza rolls in the microwave. As I join them in the living room I hear Radhika say, “Connor was so great. He told me good luck at Yale, and that’s when…” She hiccups a sob. “I just couldn’t keep it in anymore.”

  Luke says, “You never had to. Not with us. Have you told your parents?”

  I don’t hear Radhika’s answer. Probably because she can’t stop crying. It breaks my heart to hear and feel her pain. We sit on either side of her and try to calm her down. The microwave dings, so I get up for the pizza rolls. I bring them in on a plate, which I set on the coffee table.

  Luke pops a pizza roll in his mouth and flaps with both hands, going, “H-h-hot.”

  I take Radhika’s hand. “Have you told your parents?”

  She shakes her head no.

  “If you don’t go to Yale, where would you go?” Luke asks.

  Radhika swipes her nose. “Nowhere. I don’t want to go to college.”

  Luke and I gape at each other.

  “At all?” he says.

  “I’m tired of school. I’m sick of studying all the time, and I’m even sicker of my parents always telling me what to do. I’m eighteen. I can make my own choices and decisions.”

  “Of course you can,” I say. “So what do you want to do?”

  Before she can answer, the teapot whistles and I jump up to make a pot of apricot tea—Radhika’s favorite. When I return, Luke’s offering Radhika a pizza roll and she’s declining. I pass her a mug.

  “You could take a gap year,” I say.

  “Yeah,” Luke agrees. “Travel or something.”

  “Or just stay here.” Where I’ll be.

  “I’ve been thinking about joining the Peace Corps,” she says. “Making myself useful to the world.”

  “That’s an awesome idea,” Luke goes. “I know this guy who joined the Red Cross and went to help rebuild in Haiti.”

  Radhika sips her tea, gazing off into the shadows. She sets down her mug and says, “My parents will never allow it.”

  “But it’s your life,” I say. “It’s your choice.”

  She turns to me. “Tell them that.”

  We talk awhile, until Radhika’s composed and Luke has her laughing as he’s tossing pizza rolls in the air and making her catch them in her mouth. Once the pizza rolls are gone, Radhika says, “I better get home.”

  On the way back from her condo, Luke says what I’m thinking: “Holy shit. Did you have any idea?”

  “No. I thought she was st
oked. Although she hasn’t really talked much about it.” I just figured she didn’t want to constantly remind us how much smarter she was than us, which she totally wouldn’t do. It makes me feel inadequate for being so out of touch with her. “I hope her parents don’t kill her. She’s going to have to tell them sometime.”

  “Or suck it up and go to Yale,” Luke says. “Which I can see her doing just to please them.”

  He’s right. It’s so Radhika.

  “It’s so not fair,” I say.

  I see Dad pass my bedroom door, heading for his room to change out of his blues.

  “Hey,” I call to him from my bed as I pull out an earbud. “Back up.”

  He returns. I prop myself on an elbow. “I’m working Saturday morning, so we’ll have to postpone our handball game.” We play handball every Saturday unless one of us has to work.

  “No problemo,” he says in a yawn.

  “We can go Sunday,” I tell him. “After church.”

  I’ve been trying to get him to come to church with me, but he’s not into the concept of a higher power, and I’d never push him.

  “I forgot to ask,” I add. “How was the opera?”

  “You won’t believe this,” Dad says, “but I actually enjoyed it.”

  I clutch my chest like I’m having a heart attack.

  “I liked her. We laughed a lot.”

  “During Tosca? I didn’t think it was a comedy.”

  He makes a face, then disappears down the hall. I follow behind and say, “Hypothetical. Let’s say I was accepted into a prestigious Ivy League college.”

  Dad pivots and makes the same heart attack gesture I did.

  I smack him on the arm.

  “Then let’s say I decided not to go,” I continue.

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Because I wanted to join the Peace Corps instead. Change the world. You know?”

  “I’d say you were crazy.” He enters his room.

  I linger in the doorway. “Why? I’d be doing important work.”

  “Sure you would,” he says. “But passing up an opportunity like that would be pretty stupid. And I assume you’re not stupid if you got into an Ivy League school. You must’ve worked your butt off.”