It's Our Prom (So Deal With It)

by Julie Anne Peters

  Mr. Gerardi lumbers into the room. The expression on his face makes him look like a bear on the prowl. “What’s going on?” he booms.

  Flacco juts her chin at us. “Ask them.”

  Silence.

  “Well?” Mr. Gerardi asks.

  Azure speaks up. “You told me to put on an alternative prom, and that’s what we’re doing.”

  “A toned-down alternative prom,” Mr. Gerardi says.

  “They lied.” Flacco’s voice is like a whip. “They plan to go ahead with their original prom, even after they were told it was unacceptable. Here, look at this.” She flaps the printout at Mr. Gerardi.

  Mr. Gerardi scans the sheet and hands it back to Flacco. “You have to remove the items specified by the PTSA.”

  “Why?” Azure cries. “It’s our prom. You said so.”

  “It’s the school’s prom, and you’re making a mockery of it,” Flacco fairly shrieks.

  Mr. Gerardi folds his fullback-gone-flabby frame into a chair. “Tell me how many people have bought tickets.”

  Shauna’s keeping track of that. She says, “Sixty-two. But a lot more people on the survey said they’re coming, and almost everyone buys tickets at the front door. I know a bunch more people will come as soon as they see all the fun activities we have planned.”

  Flacco says, “It won’t matter if the whole school comes. You won’t break even with the ticket price at twenty-five dollars.”

  Mr. Gerardi asks, “Who lowered the price to twenty-five dollars? It’s usually seventy-five, isn’t it?”

  I look around the table. Azure answers, “We all agreed that more people would come if the price was lower. I mean, come on. Who can afford seventy-five dollars for a dance?”

  “People who plan ahead for prom,” Flacco snaps.

  Right. Like we open a savings account in kindergarten.

  With a glare, Flacco continues, “I’d still like to know how I’m getting one version of the prom online and everyone else is getting another.”

  None of us would ever rat out Radhika. But knowing her, she’d throw herself under the bus for us. “I did it,” Shauna says. “I created two files.”

  “No. I did,” Azure goes.

  “I did it,” Connor says.

  “Enough.” Mr. Gerardi holds up a hand.

  I hate being left out. “I’m the only one with a netbook; I did it.”

  “They didn’t do it. I did,” Radhika says. “They’re just trying to protect me. It was all my idea.”

  “You?” Mr. Gerardi says, sounding shocked.

  “But we all agreed to it,” Connor speaks up. “It wasn’t just Radhika.”

  Flacco says, “But how did you manage? Unless—”

  I’m close enough to feel the tinder ignite under her.

  “You had to know my faculty ID.”

  That’s my cue. I stand and say, “I have to get back to play practice.”

  Flacco and Mr. Gerardi shout, “Sit down!”

  I flop back into my chair.

  “You stole it,” Flacco says. She riffles through her bag.

  “We didn’t steal anything,” Azure says. “We might have copied it down….”

  “When?” No one answers her and she screeches, “When?”

  Connor mumbles, “During the fire drill.”

  Mrs. Flacco’s face turns purple. “You should all be expelled! Expel them!” She aims a witchy finger at us.

  “Let me get this straight.” Mr. Gerardi crosses his arms on the table. “You stole Mrs. Flacco’s ID—”

  “Borrowed,” Azure says.

  “Then you set up a fake website to deceive her. Is that the gist of it?”

  None of us can deny the truth. Images flash through my mind. I wonder how I’ll look in a prison-orange jumpsuit.

  Mr. Gerardi pushes back from the table and gets up. “I’ll speak with you all momentarily. Mrs. Flacco, please come with me.”

  She stomps out like the nazi she is.

  I clunk my head on the table. “Kill me now.”

  Shauna says, “What can they do?”

  “Expel us,” Connor replies. “I’m sorry, but if an expulsion is on my record, I’ll lose my soccer scholarship.”

  “BFD,” Azure says.

  Connor scowls at her. “It may not mean anything to you, but it’s my whole future.”

  Out in the hall I hear Flacco and Mr. Gerardi debating. Make that her shouting at him. The door opens and Mr. Gerardi enters. Alone. He says, “I’m canceling the prom.”

  AZURE

  The words echo in my head, and not Mr. Gerardi’s: There’s nothing you could say or do that could make me change my mind.

  That’s a definite no from Radhika. I curl up on the sofa and smother my face in a pillow. The tears begin in my gut and erupt like a volcano. All this time I thought I had a chance. Stupid.

  I feel arms snaking around me, and then Dad’s holding me against him. He presses my head against his chest and goes, “Shh. It’s all right.”

  “No, it’s not.” I wail like a baby.

  He lets me cry it out. I hope to God Lynda isn’t with him, but then I think, Screw it if she is.

  “Girl troubles?” he asks.

  I sniffle and he reaches for a tissue on the coffee table. “How’d you know?” I blow my nose.

  “The only time you ever cry is when your heart gets broken.”

  That makes me cry even harder.

  He holds and rocks me until I get myself under control. Enough to breathe again, at least. Lynda isn’t here, so I ask, “What do you want for dinner? I can make you a gourmet grilled cheese sandwich.”

  He smiles. “How about I order a pizza?”

  He calls Domino’s while I blow my nose a hundred more times. While Dad is changing out of his blues, I sit at the counter, thinking about everything but Radhika. Or trying to. I’ve ruined our senior year. Not only are we not getting an alternative prom, we’re not going to have any prom at all. If I hadn’t been so hell-bent on adding all those ridiculous activities to a dance, none of this would’ve happened.

  Dad comes in dressed in his sweats. “They canceled the prom today,” I tell him.

  “What? They can’t do that.”

  “They can and did.”

  He pulls up a stool next to me. “What are you going to do about it?”

  “Get stoned.”

  He gives me a look.

  “Not like that. When people find out it was my idea to have an alternative prom, which resulted in no prom at all, they’re going to stone me to death.”

  “Azure…”

  “I mean it.”

  For some reason, I remember a lesson from the civil rights movement. “Is it legal to have a sit-in? Or a walkout?”

  “Where?” he asks.

  “At school.”

  “I don’t see why not. As long as it’s peaceful. Tell me more about why your prom got canceled.”

  I was afraid he’d ask that. I explain about “borrowing” Mrs. Flacco’s ID. “I know we were wrong to trick her, but we couldn’t think of any other way.”

  The pizza arrives and we sit in the living room, eating and watching TV. I wonder if anyone would walk out. I mean, it’s only the stupid prom. But then, people will do anything to get out of class.

  A prom protest. It might be a first in history. I’d go down as either the dumbest person on the planet or an iconic figure at Roosevelt High.

  It’s supposed to be in the low seventies, so I wear shorts and a tee. “Radhika had a dentist appointment this morning,” Luke says first thing.

  Why didn’t she call me? Unless she thinks the protest is a terrible idea and she doesn’t want any part of it. Or me. “I wrote to the committee on Google docs, but no one wrote back,” I tell Luke.

  “Maybe that’s a sign you shouldn’t do this,” he says.

  “Does that mean you’re not coming?”

  He doesn’t reply.

  Without his and Radhika’s support, I feel naked and insec
ure.

  “Guess what I found out?” he says. “Gabe and Haley broke up.”

  I could give a rat’s ass.

  “Guess what else?” he says. “Gabe’s been hanging around Radhika before play practice, and calling her at night. Supposedly about homework. I think he’s the other person who asked her to prom. And from the way he looks, she turned him down, too. You still have a chance.”

  Tears well in my eyes, but I choke them back. “She’s not going. You heard her. And anyway, there won’t be a prom if this protest fails. The walkout is planned for noon on the front lawn, so will you text and tweet everyone you know? Tell them to keep it a secret, as much as possible.”

  He exhales a long sigh, like I’m asking him for the sun and the moon and most of the planets. Or like this is for my own personal gain. Which, okay, I guess it is. But it’s not only for me. It’s for the entire senior class. Doesn’t he get that?

  As I’m loading up my books for my morning classes, I call Shauna. I’m surprised she didn’t respond to my Google docs message, but then she probably blames me, too, for getting the prom canceled. Is a protest with only one person still a protest?

  My stomach churns cottage cheese all morning; then, about five minutes to twelve, I excuse myself from class early, sprint to the restroom, and barf. It actually makes me feel better. As I splash cold water on my face, I hear thunderous footsteps in the hall, and when I exit, I’m almost trampled to death. It’s weird, like a herd of zombies marching to a silent call, because no one is speaking or smiling or anything. I get sucked in and carried away by the crowd.

  The sight outside is eerie. The whole student body is gathered on the lawn, just standing there, gazing at the front door. Concrete steps lead up to a curved outdoor entrance, where I stop and stand. Alone.

  I swallow hard. “Hey, everyone,” I call. My voice trembles. I cup my hands over my mouth. “I guess you heard the prom was canceled.”

  There’s no reaction. All at once a bullhorn is thrust in my hand and Connor’s standing to my right. “Thought you might need this,” he says. “We have to get it back to Coach’s office before he figures out who took it.”

  He gives me a crooked smile. It’s hard to be mad at him right now.

  I hold the bullhorn up to my mouth and nothing happens. Connor shows me the On button. “In case you hadn’t heard,” my voice booms, “your prom was canceled. But I guess you know that, since you’re here.”

  Rumbling boos arise from the crowd.

  Radhika and Luke materialize beside me. I want to hug her, and him, too. “That’s right.” I feel my confidence grow. “Your prom.” I turn to Radhika. “Do you want to take over?” Please, I pray.

  “You’re doing great,” she says. “Hurry, though. The wolves are closing in.” I glance back and a bunch of faculty are storming out the door. Mrs. Flacco is leading the pack.

  I press the On button again. “All we wanted to do was give you guys a prom that represented you. We wanted to include everyone, not just the popular people, or the ones who could afford to go.”

  “Yeah!” someone yells from the back.

  “So we added activities, like karaoke and a poetry slam and a drag show and Wii competition. Things you voted for.”

  Now a lot of people are chatting among themselves. The same person in back yells, “Yeah!”

  Mrs. Flacco grabs the bullhorn out of my hand. “Go back to class,” she orders. “You’re all suspended.”

  Connor sucks in a gasp, and I think Luke’s about to faint.

  “You don’t have the authority to suspend us,” Radhika says.

  Is she right? I can practically feel steam rising off Mrs. Flacco. Someone snatches the bullhorn away from Mrs. Flacco and hands it back to me.

  It’s Shauna. She tosses me a smile.

  Mrs. Flacco stalks back into the building. The other faculty members mill around, waiting to see what happens, I guess.

  My voice echoes as I call out, “Do you want a prom?”

  “Yeah!” more than one voice calls.

  “Are we going to let them cancel our prom?”

  “No!” people shout.

  “It’s our prom,” I say. “If we want it, we need to let our voices be heard.”

  Luke leans into the bullhorn and starts chanting, “We want our prom. We want our prom.” Everyone picks up the chorus, and fists punch the air.

  All the voices ringing in unison sound as beautiful as a Sunday choir. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a lady in heels marching up the sidewalk. Shauna clutches my arm, saying, “Oh my God, hide me.”

  It’s Mrs. Creighton. We shield Shauna between us as her mother hustles by and into the building.

  Shauna says, “What’s she doing here? I swear I didn’t say anything.”

  I believe her. The chanting goes on for another few minutes, until Mr. Gerardi comes out. He stares at me for a prolonged moment, then extends his hand. I give him the bullhorn.

  “Everyone return to class or lunch or wherever you were.”

  There’s grumbling, and I see most people waiting for our—my—lead. I cup my hands around my mouth and holler, “This isn’t over.” Then I have a brainstorm. “Everyone sit.”

  Almost simultaneously, the whole school sits on the front lawn.

  Mr. Gerardi turns a fiery glare on me. “To my office. All of you.”

  As we follow Mr. Gerardi in, Luke does a flippant dance move that makes people laugh.

  Inside, phones are ringing off the hook. All three secretaries are fielding calls, and I see Shauna’s mom in Mr. Gerardi’s office. When we walk in, she yells at him, “I paid two hundred and fifty dollars for my daughter’s dress, on sale, and I can’t return it!”

  Mr. Gerardi says, “I understand your problem, Mrs. Creighton.”

  “No, I don’t think you do. Prom is a once-in-a-lifetime event, and you’re stealing the memory from Shauna. From all these kids.”

  Shauna glances at me, wide-eyed.

  Every light on Mr. Gerardi’s phone is flashing, and the secretaries are saying, “I’ll let Mr. Gerardi know how you feel.” One adds, “Sir, there’s no need to use that kind of language with me.”

  Mr. Gerardi’s eyes meet mine and I cross my arms. He motions us all inside his office and shuts the door. Shauna’s mom snakes an arm around Shauna’s waist, pulling her in close.

  Mr. Gerardi says, “As you can see, I’ve been getting calls about the prom from angry parents all morning.”

  “Not to mention how mad the students are,” I say.

  Mr. Gerardi tips up his blinds to view the sea of students out on the grass.

  Luke goes, “One word: angry mob.”

  Mr. Gerardi turns back to us and says, “I’ve reconsidered. You can have a prom.”

  “Yes!” we all cheer.

  “But it’ll have to be a traditional prom.”

  I don’t know where the courage comes from, but I say, “No deal.”

  The room goes quiet.

  “It’s our prom, on our terms. We want karaoke, a drag show, a poetry slam, and everything else we planned for the alternative prom.”

  “Azure…” he says.

  “Okay, maybe not the car show, since we’d have to get a license. It’ll be night, anyway. I’m willing to compromise on the tatting and piercing, too. But that’s all.”

  With the bunch of us crammed in here, it’s hot. Or maybe it’s the intimidation factor, because Mr. Gerardi pulls a hankie out of his pocket to dab at the sweat beads on his forehead. “You win,” he says. “Have your prom.”

  Just then Mrs. Flacco opens the door and bursts into the room. “What’s going on?”

  “One more thing,” I say. “We want Mr. Rosen back.”

  LUKE

  The triumph turns Azure into a lesbian avenger. God help us.

  “We still have to raise money for the music, photographer, programs, and whatever else,” she says as we head out to end the sit-in. “We’ll need an approximate count for food and dri
nks. I don’t even know how to vote on royalty.”

  “Leave that to me,” Shauna tells her. “By the way, you were awesome in there.”

  Everyone claps Azure on the back. I go to give her a squeeze around the shoulders, but she shakes me off. “What are you waiting for?” she asks. “We have nine days!”

  Mr. Rosen is lingering in the foyer after the final straggler comes in from outside. “Hey, Mr. Rosen,” I say. “We got Flacco fired and you back on board. O Captain! My Captain!” I salute.

  He looks at each one of us. “I appreciate your vote of confidence,” he says, “but I don’t have time. I’m really sorry.”

  Does that mean he’s not coming back? We’re going to be stuck with Flacco to the end?

  Traitor. How could he leave us with her?

  Speaking of witch, Shauna’s mom bustles out of Mr. Gerardi’s office. She slows to a stop and says, “You still don’t have enough money to put on this prom. You’d better work fast.” Then she flies off on her broomstick.

  Radhika asks, “How much do we need?”

  Azure and I say together, “Nothing.”

  Azure adds, “We’ve got it covered. We’ll make it.”

  Radhika gives her a knowing look.

  Azure says, “I just need to ask Mr. Gerardi if we can hold the silent auction tomorrow night. See you guys later.”

  Mr. Rosen, who’s still standing there, says to Shauna, “Can you stop by after your lunch period and see me?”

  “What about?” she asks. I don’t hear his answer because I’m mentally erasing him from my favorite-teachers list. Plus, the click-click-clicking of Mrs. Creighton’s high heels all the way to the front door is distracting. I can see where Shauna gets her fierce.

  I fully expect to be physically and verbally accosted at rehearsal when I announce that I’ve written a new scene. It’s near the end of Act Two, where I go back into the closet. If I’d never come out in the first place, I might’ve gotten the girl of my dreams to go to prom with me. Which is wishful thinking, I know. If Radhika was into me, she would’ve said yes. Still, the scene is relevant. I know a lot of people who’ve regretted coming out. It’s like a pit stop in the process. It doesn’t usually last long because, in the end, what you gain by coming out is so much more than what you lose.