He stutters, “Th-that’s okay.”
He’d make a fab drag queen. Those high cheekbones, those luscious lips.
“Is that your dad, Azure?” Shauna points to the cluster of adults in back, who are no doubt spiking their punch.
“Yeah,” she says. “He’s with his crush, Lynda. The one he met online?”
“Ooh. Do I hear wedding bells?” I say.
Azure goes, “I don’t know. He’s not the commitment type.”
Her dad glances our way and waves. Azure ducks her head.
“Is that Flacco?” I ask. “Who’s she with?” My God, she’s wearing a frumpy flowered dress that looks like flocked wallpaper.
“Must be her husband,” Shauna replies.
The thought that someone actually likes Flacco—maybe even loves her—gives me hope for all humankind.
Shauna stands. “I need to get the poetry slam started.” She heads for the stage and waits until Putrid Wixen has finished their song. After Shauna’s announcement, a line forms near the stage. A bunch of these people are the moles, the invisible students who hide out in dark corners of the school. It’s cool that we’ve gotten them to prom. The first person, a girl dressed in black, recites some ragey poem about the apocalypse.
Shauna comes back to the table and says, “God, my feet hurt.” She slips off her shoes and wiggles her toes. “The ticket table told me that they sold more than nine hundred tickets. That’s the most people who’ve ever come to prom in the history of Roosevelt.”
We all high-five.
Azure says, “I have a question: Does anyone know who donated the money?”
I just look at her. She and I both know it was Radhika’s dad.
Shauna says in a lowered voice, “I wasn’t supposed to tell, but Mr. Rosen’s been calling around for sponsors, like, twenty-four/seven. It’s one reason I held off on printing the program—so we could get all the companies listed on back.”
I twist my head around to eye Radhika. She and Mario are playing finger puppets or something.
There’s a program on the table and I pick it up. I scan the sponsors. I don’t see Mr. Dal’s name anywhere.
“We’ll have to get Mr. Rosen a present to thank him,” Shauna says, “Mrs. Flacco, too.”
I groan.
Shauna huffs at me. “She helped us. Whether she knew it or not.”
Which makes us all roll our eyes.
A moment passes, then Ryan says, “You guys did an amazing job on this prom.”
I want to kiss him. In private. All night long.
Azure says, “It didn’t turn out too shabby.”
I add, “I soooooooooo wish we could’ve gotten the Thunder from Down Under.”
“Oh, stop,” Shauna says. “We’ll put it on the list for next year’s prom com.”
Ryan and I leave the group to dance what’s left of the night away.
At the stroke of midnight, Flacco announces that the prom is over. The people who are still here let out a collective moan. I holler, “Conga line,” and everyone grabs someone’s waist. We snake around the pavilion, singing, “Conga, conga, con-ga,” kicking out on the last beat. Even the chaperones and PTSA join in. I see Owen leaning against a column. “Bro. Come on,” I call.
He waves us off. Some people just refuse to be included.
Owen’s limos are parked, ready to transport people to the after-party. This year the party is at Family Fun, an indoor amusement park. The PTSA rented it for the night.
As the band is packing up, I race over to Azure and look for Shauna and Connor. “You guys, we need to get a group pic before the photographer leaves.”
Shauna says, “Find Mr. Rosen and Mrs. Flacco. They should be included.”
Ugh. Her, too? I find Mr. Rosen with his hot date and tell him to meet us under the balloon arch. Flacco is handing checks to the band and the security guard.
“We’re going to get a group photo of the prom com,” I tell her. “And, um, we request your presence.”
She whirls on me and I flinch, like she’s going to take me down.
“Why me?” she asks.
“Because you’re one of us.”
She narrows her eyes.
My voice shakes a little when I add, “Because it’s all about inclusion.”
She doesn’t seem to have a snippy answer for that. She pays the guard, then follows me to the balloons.
Under the arch, we stand and kneel and bunch together to get us all in the shot. The photographer snaps us at different angles. Then I say, “Silly shots.”
We make vertical and horizontal peace signs. We stick out our tongues and cross our eyes. It’s hard to believe, but even Flacco makes a funny face. I go, “Hold me up,” and then jump to splay myself across their outstretched arms. The photographer shows us the digital pictures and we all laugh.
As people pass by, they shout things like, “Guys! Best prom ever.”
I waggle a victory sign at them. Or is it the Texas Longhorns? Whatever.
“Everyone’s coming to the after-party, right?” I say.
“I want to say good-bye to my mom and dad first,” Radhika replies.
“Yeah,” Azure says. “I should let my dad know that a broken curfew on this night of nights will result in no penal code enforcements.” She takes Desirae’s hand. “Oh, Luke,” she says, “tell Owen thanks for giving everyone free rides all night.”
“What?” I ask. “There’s no way he’s doing that.”
“Is too. He’s both A-1 and Stan’s Sedan. All rides are free.”
Something’s not kosher. “People were complaining to me about how expensive my brother’s service was. Every carload had to come up with three hundred bucks.”
Azure’s jaw drops. “My ride was free. He told me all the rides were free.”
I turn to see Owen talking to Dobbs. I storm over there and hear Dobbs say, “I’ll take this group of booger eaters.” He leads them to his limo.
“Owen,” I say, “did you know one of your drivers—at least one of them—is charging three hundred bucks per carload?” And I think I know who.
Owen stares at me. Then his gaze shifts to Dobbs’s limo.
Dobbs backs up to leave, but Owen smacks the hood, hard. The limo stops. Owen goes around and opens the driver’s-side door. “Get out,” he orders.
“Why?” Dobbs says.
“Get out!”
Dobbs cranks the ignition off and steps out.
“How many, Dobbs? How many fares did you charge?”
He glances at me, then back at Owen. “All of them. Do you know how much you’re losing tonight by giving free rides? I’m saving your ass, dude. Someone has to.”
“I told you the fares were free tonight,” Owen says.
“Yeah, well, I need the money, even if you don’t. They’re just a bunch of kids. What do they know?”
Both of Owen’s fists ball. I think—I hope—he’s going to pound Dobbs into dog meat. In a flash, he reaches up and removes Dobbs’s chauffeur’s cap.
“Give me the money.” Owen holds out an open palm. “Every cent you stole.”
“Dude, it’s not stealing. It’s business.”
“Is that what you call it? You’ve been stealing from me for years. Did you think I didn’t know, Dobbs? Did you think I was stupid? Give me the goddamn money!” Owen yells.
“All right.” Dobbs holds up his hands defensively. He pulls an envelope from his uniform pocket.
Owen grabs it and looks inside. He says, “All of it.”
“That’s all—”
Owen snags Dobbs’s jacket and searches the inside pockets. He finds another envelope stuffed with cash. He says, “You’re fired.”
“Oh, come on….”
“Luke.” Owen turns to me. He hands me the chauffeur’s cap and the cash. “See if you can figure out who paid this a-hole and get them their money back.” Then he adds, “And Dobbs’s limo is yours for the night.”
My eyes bulge at Ryan. Plans are alre
ady formulating in my sex-crazed brain.
I say to Owen, “Could we switch caps? Because, like, this one has Dobbs’s DNA all over it. I don’t want my kids to be genetic slimeballs.”
Owen switches caps.
“Excuse me, maggot.” I push past Dobbs and hold the passenger door open for Ryan.
Owen starts back to his own limo.
“Owen,” Dobbs calls to him. “How am I supposed to get home?”
Owen says, “Call a cab.”
AZURE
I wake to the sound of Dad clunking around in the kitchen, and I hear a woman’s voice. The aroma of cinnamon rolls wafting up the hallway is heavenly and my stomach growls, but I decide to give Dad and Lynda a few minutes alone. It was dawn by the time I got home, and Dad had left a note on the pantry door, like he knew the first place I’d go would be in search of food.
“You were the belle of the ball,” he wrote. “I hope you know you make me proud.”
I wrote him back: “You make me proud, too. Just don’t get offed in the line of duty.”
I lie in bed, listening to the rain pounding on the window. Thankfully, the clouds didn’t roll in until after the prom.
I replay every second, every moment, every feeling and emotion from last night. I have to be at work in an hour and I’ll probably be late, but that’s okay. I deserve to give myself time to devour this delicious slice of life.
Right before the lead singer packed up her guitar, I asked if she knew Mercy Her’s “Now’s the Time.” She said she loved that song, and that she could probably fake it well enough. I led Desi out to the middle of the pavilion floor and said, “I believe this is our dance.”
So cool, dancing in the dark, under the carousel dome.
Desi. Who’d have thought?
I roll over and the first thing I see is my tote bag of party favors. I dump it on the bed. We got a set of rainbow-colored pens with the Roosevelt High logo, a flash-drive keychain, a photo cube, a candle in a tin, and a car air freshener. Not a bad haul. On my nightstand is a stack of photos Desi and I took in the photo booth at Family Fun. Ooh, yeah. Some of these are not for Facebook.
Also in the tote is the program. Shauna did a gorgeous job on it. I’m sliding it back into the tote when I see the back page. Holy macaroni, as Mr. Rosen would say. We had, like, forty or fifty sponsors. Mr. Rosen really worked his butt off. One company on the list catches my eye: Fred Flacco’s Fish and Chips. That couldn’t possibly be…. There’s even a twenty-percent-off coupon.
I shake my head. You never know about people.
Something Shauna said comes back to me: One day you look at a person and they’re all hot, then the next day, they’re cold as ice. Except in the case of Desi; with her, the complete opposite is true. Her good-night kiss lingers on my lips. Make that a good-morning kiss. The first of many to come.
My calendar is next to my bed and I rip off the page. My affirmation for April 17 makes me smile from the inside out. I’m keeping it with my prom memorabilia forever and ever. It reads: “Open your eyes to every possibility in life.”
Have I been blind? More like blinded by my misplaced love for Radhika. One word swirls around in my brain: opportunity. I think Dad’s wrong, and Radhika, too. There’s a chance that opportunity knocks more than once. You should never close that door.
IT’S OUR PROM (SO DEAL WITH IT)
Questions for Discussion
1. Have you ever crushed on someone you shouldn’t, such as a best friend or someone else’s girlfriend or boyfriend? What did you do? Do you wish you’d handled it differently?
2. Do you think it was fair for Azure to insist that Luke and Radhika join the prom planning committee with her? Why or why not?
3. How would you describe Luke’s relationship with his brother, Owen, when the book opens? How does their relationship change over the course of the novel? How do you think Owen could be more supportive of Luke?
4. Discuss Radhika’s relationship with her parents. What do you think of the way Radhika deals with their high expectations? Have you ever felt a similar pressure?
5. Azure’s first impressions of Shauna are negative, and vice versa. Do their opinions of each other change as they spend more time together? In what ways? Have you ever judged someone before you truly got to know him or her? What happened?
6. Azure has trouble with her dad’s online dating. Why? Have you ever disapproved of something your parents did? Were you able to talk to them about it? Did you gain a deeper understanding of their needs?
7. Do you think Radhika should follow her dream and join the Peace Corps after high school or is attending college a better choice? What do you think about her final decision?
8. Do you feel the efforts of the prom committee were worthwhile? Would you have taken the risks that they took?
9. What is your opinion of the way the prom committee raised money for the prom? What would you have done in the same way? What would you have done differently? Have you ever had to raise money for a dance or school organization?
10. Would you attend an alternative prom? Why or why not?
ALSO BY JULIE ANNE PETERS:
Between Mom and Jo
Define “Normal”
grl2grl
Keeping You a Secret
Luna
Pretend You Love Me
She Loves You, She Loves You Not…
CONTENTS
WELCOME
DEDICATION
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LUKE
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LUKE
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LUKE
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LUKE
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LUKE
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LUKE
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LUKE
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LUKE
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LUKE
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LUKE
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LUKE
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LUKE
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LUKE
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LUKE
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LUKE
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LUKE
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LUKE
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LUKE
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LUKE
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LUKE
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LUKE
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QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
ALSO BY JULIE ANNE PETERS
COPYRIGHT
Copyright
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Copyright © 2012 by Julie Anne Peters
Questions for Discussion copyright © 2012 by Little, Brown and Company
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
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First ebook edition: April 2012
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The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.
ISBN 978-0-316-20308-1
et
It's Our Prom (So Deal With It) Page 24