The Gay Girl's Guide to Ruining Prom

by Siera Maley

  “You haven’t figured out anything,” I said. “Maybe you should cut your losses and just head home for a nap.” I tapped her forehead with my index finger. “You’re probably a little feverish.”

  She knocked my hand away with a scowl. “It started when we talked to her by the changing rooms.”

  “Talked to who?” I asked. “I didn’t talk to anyone.”

  She continued as though she hadn’t heard me. “I was thinking back on that, and the way you were looking at her, and I thought…there’s no way Chelsea would look at me like that. You could barely make eye contact. You felt guilty, but it was like a regret sort of guilty.”

  “You can read micro-expressions now?”

  “And then I got Alex to open up to me more about everything that happened between you two. She’s always been so guarded about it, like she was embarrassed because of how it all ended. But what she described wasn’t what you told me, Zoey. You made it sound so one-sided.”

  “It was.”

  She ignored me. “So I started thinking back on everything that’d happened. How Alex was totally blindsided when things ended between you guys because she’d been so sure you had feelings for her. And then I thought, hey, what if Alex was telling the truth? What if you actually weren’t heartless after all? I mean, given how much you seemed to care about getting back on good terms with her, you clearly had some sort of feelings for her, right? So then I wondered why you’d end it. And that’s the part I don’t get.”

  I bit my tongue, scowling back at her. “You spend too much time thinking.”

  “Just tell her the truth.”

  I turned around and opened my car door. “No.”

  “So you admit it!” She hurried over to the passenger’s side and got into the car beside me.

  “Get out of my car, Skylar,” I sighed out.

  “Just tell me why you weren’t honest with her, then,” she urged. “Fine, you have some big reason for breaking up with her. Was it your parents? I mean, whatever it was, why not just tell her? Didn’t she deserve that?” She shook her head. “I mean, the stuff she told me, Zoey…She said she could tell it was killing you to end it—”

  “Stop.” I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw hurt.

  “She said she told you she loved you and she knew you felt the same way; she said she begged you to just be honest—”

  “Stop!” I interjected, and this time she fell silent. “Wes asked me to do it.” I was finally at my breaking point. “He asked me to end it. He said he was in love with her, and he asked me to end it for the sake of our friendship. For all four of us.”

  She gaped at me for a moment, then put her face in her hands and shook her head. “Oh, Zoey,” she groaned. “You’re so stupid!”

  “Obviously I’d change it now, given how things turned out,” I bit out, annoyed. “At the time it just seemed like the right thing to do. I was worried my parents would never speak to me again when they found out I liked girls. You guys were all I had. How could I throw that away?”

  She sat back in her seat and exhaled. “So, Wes came to you and outright said that he liked her and that you needed to dump her?”

  “No,” I huffed. “Of course not. It wasn’t like that. He found out about us before you did; he caught us kissing in her room over Thanksgiving break. I saw his face, and…” I sighed. “I wanted to talk to him about it because he avoided me afterward, so a few days later I went over to his house, and he was just really torn up. He said he just needed some time apart and that he was having trouble even looking at me. The guy’s heart was just shattered, Skylar, and it’s his best friend since practically before he learned to read. He pretty much begged me to just let things go back to how they used to be. I didn’t want to lose what the four of us had. What was I supposed to do?”

  “Not what you did,” she said.

  “Well, it wasn’t like it was easy,” I snapped. “But I thought it was the best thing for everyone. I just didn’t know what to say to her. I knew if I told her that I was doing it for Wes she’d kill him and it’d ruin everything. And that even if I left Wes out of it and said I wanted to go back to being friends to like, preserve the group dynamic or something, she’d never buy it and she’d never let me end it, because I was so obvious about how I felt about her. Then I thought if I went really far in the other direction and said it all meant nothing, she’d see through it, but maybe she’d think I had a good reason for lying and would…I don’t know, feel sorry for me and maybe blame it on my parents or something. And then she’d forgive me eventually.” I sighed. “But then she didn’t. It was a stupid plan.”

  “So you loved her?” Skylar turned to look me in the eye, daring me to lie.

  “Don’t make me answer that,” I groaned, rubbing at my face.

  “She loved you.” That one wasn’t a question. “So, then, you’re being loyal to a guy who’s now dating the girl you dumped to do him a solid. You should tell Alex what he did!”

  “It’s not a good idea,” I mumbled. “She’s been done with me for months and Wes makes her happy. As much as I want to strangle him for turning around and dating her himself, believe me, it’s not worth dredging everything up and ruining a twelve-year friendship over.”

  “She deserves to know,” Skylar insisted. “And for that matter, she deserved to make that choice herself! You know she would’ve chosen you in an instant.”

  “I didn’t want her to have to choose.”

  “Well, she did, and she chose wrong. Look, if you won’t tell her, I will.”

  “You won’t. I’ll never forgive you,” I warned her.

  “I don’t believe you.” She scowled at me. “And I can’t believe you agreed to do this whole Chelsea thing when you knew the truth.” She shook her head and got out of the car, and I scrambled out after her, alarmed and confused.

  “What are you talking about? I seriously don’t understand what Chelsea has to do with this.”

  She sighed and folded her arms across her chest. “Well, I only suggested it because I thought you were this heartless…” she started to say, then sighed again and finished, lamely, “…person. Like her. You let me think you were like that.” I didn’t argue with her there. It was true, and we both knew it. “If I’d known you were still heartbroken over Alex, I never would’ve asked you to do this. And now there’s no undoing it.”

  “I’m over Alex,” I insisted. “I just want to be her friend.”

  She groaned. “It’s not about that! It’s about the fact that you aren’t actually like Chelsea. I thought we were fighting fire with fire. You against Chelsea. I mean, sure, you still have experience, but you’ve fallen for someone before. I thought you were…” She looked embarrassed, and said instead, “I thought you weren’t like that.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t have assumed your best friend was a monster,” I said before I could stop myself.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t have tried so hard to convince me and Alex it was true,” she shot back. “Zoey’s a softy deep down, oh, the horror. We’re supposed to be best friends. Best friends tell each other everything. Best friends tell best friends when they’re falling in love for the first time or when their home lives are fucked up.”

  “Oh, like how you told me all about Chelsea?” I shot back.

  “You know that was different,” she protested. “I told you why I kept her away from you.”

  “Tell me again, then,” I bit out.

  “Because you get everyone you want!” she snapped, and her shout knocked the air right out me. I bit my lip so hard it hurt and breathed in and out for a moment, trying to collect myself. Skylar looked like she might cry. “Everyone. Girls at school, Violet, everyone loves you.”

  “Are you serious? No one loves me.” Just saying the words made me want to cry too, but I forced the tears back so that I could keep going. “You’re my only friend.”

  “You know what I mean,” she argued. “Girls like you. I just wanted someone for myself, and shocker, you’re
doing a better job lying to her than I did being myself, so it looks like I made the right decision.”

  “You wanted this, Skylar,” I reminded her. “It was your idea.”

  “I know. I still want it. But I’m scared you’re going to screw it up.”

  “Well, if I’m so good at lying and pretending, then I just have to keep doing that,” I said, not hiding the bite to my tone. “Nothing has changed. So, if you’re worried that I’ll mess up and then Chelsea won’t like me anymore—”

  “That’s not what I’m worried about,” she interrupted, shaking her head. She wouldn’t meet my eyes as she moved away from me. “I’m worried you’ll like her back.”

  She turned to go, and I was stunned into silence for a moment. Then I remembered what she’d said before about telling Alex what Wes had done. “Please don’t say anything to Alex!” I called after her. She offered me a disappointed look over her shoulder as she left but didn’t say anything more.

  8

  The day after my argument with Skylar, Alex and I nearly ran into each other in the hallway and she sent me the same glare as always. I knew then that Skylar hadn’t said anything. I wondered if she’d found some reason to keep it to herself, or if she was just waiting for the right moment to reveal everything about Wes. Eventually, it occurred to me that maybe Skylar was worried that I’d break off the Chelsea plan if she did anything else to upset me.

  Still, she was short with me in classes and we were both content to barely speak at lunch. I knew she was still angry at me, and I was scared that if I opened my mouth and said the wrong thing, she’d go straight to Alex and everything would unravel.

  She caught up to me at my locker at the end of the day and asked me brusquely, “What are you doing tomorrow?” Chelsea had invited me over for the second Saturday in a row. This time it would just be me, Chelsea, Gina, and Marie. They were spending the night, and I was welcome to as well. Her parents would be home this time.

  “I’m going to Chelsea’s,” I replied honestly.

  “Do you have a plan?”

  I turned to her, annoyed. “Yeah. I’m the expert on girls, after all. I just lie my way straight into their pants. It’s a gift.”

  She pressed her back into the locker and clutched at the books in her arms, looking frustrated. “That’s not what I said.”

  “You might as well have.”

  She seemed to want to argue, but let it go in favor of telling me, “Well, I haven’t decided what to say to Alex yet.”

  “You know what the right thing to do is.” I swapped books in and out of my locker without looking at her.

  “Yeah, I do. And it’ll hurt all three of my friends. That’s what’s making it difficult.”

  “You’re forgetting that she’s happy now,” I reminded her. “The right thing to do is to let her be happy.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re so blind.” Before I could argue, she pushed off of her locker and asked, “Keep me updated on Chelsea, please. I want to know what happens this weekend.”

  “I’m not doing it anymore if you tell Alex the truth,” I said quickly, before she could leave. I felt relieved as soon as I’d gotten the words out, aware that the threat would keep her from saying anything.

  She narrowed her eyes at me and only said, “Until just now I thought you were doing all of this for me. At least that was what I was planning on telling Alex, anyway. But maybe I don’t know my best friend after all.”

  I watched her walk away, then, completely aware that she’d just matched my threat with one of her own.

  “I’m sleeping over at Chelsea’s, if that’s alright with you,” I told my parents Saturday evening, while they were preparing dinner together. “We’re ordering pizza, I think, so don’t make anything for me. I’m on my way out now.”

  Mom looked up from setting the table and smiled. “Alright. No boys allowed! Especially that one from the other day. Cole, was it?”

  “Cole,” Dad confirmed from the kitchen.

  “There won’t be any boys,” I said, trying hard to keep my tone even. I shouldered the backpack I’d stuffed with my overnight things and went for the door. “Bye.”

  Gina and Marie were already over at Chelsea’s when I arrived, I knew, because I pulled up behind the car they’d driven. It was plastered with bumper stickers supporting equality, saving various endangered animals, and the Democratic party. I parked behind it and grabbed my things from the passenger’s seat.

  Chelsea’s mom answered the door with a grin. “Hey there, Zoey! Wow, you haven’t aged a day.”

  “Um. Thanks?” I replied. I heard footsteps hurriedly ascending the basement steps and then Chelsea appeared, looking embarrassed.

  “Hey,” she greeted me. I offered her a shy wave as I stepped inside, unsure how to act around her mom. I didn’t know how much her parents knew about our relationship, but I guessed it had to be very little, given that they’d approved the sleepover in the first place. Then I wondered how much they knew about what Chelsea was really like.

  “The pizza should be here soon,” her mom told us, “and Zoey, we’ve got you all set up on one of the basement couches with Gina for when you girls go to sleep tonight.” She sent Chelsea a warning look and Chelsea rolled her eyes at the unspoken message. I couldn’t help but raise my eyebrows, surprised at having been proven wrong.

  “Okay, Mom.”

  She grabbed my arm and tugged me toward the stairs, and I followed obediently. As we reached the basement, I couldn’t help but ask, “I don’t look like a twelve-year-old, do I?”

  She replied with a short laugh, evidently having written the question off as a joke. It had been, but only partially. I didn’t really understand parents most of the time.

  Gina and Marie were already waiting in the basement. The TV was on but they were talking over it. When they caught sight of us, Gina threw her arms into the air and Marie waved excitedly at us. “Hey!” Gina called out. “She’s arrived!”

  “Chels was just telling us an interesting story,” Marie filled me in as I took a seat on the couch next to theirs. Then she smirked at me.

  Chelsea sat down beside me and warned her with a swift, “Don’t.”

  Gina cracked up and gestured to the closet by the hallway. “We heard you two have some history.”

  “Some adorable history,” Marie supplied helpfully.

  “It is not adorable,” Chelsea insisted. “It’s actually a little embarrassing.” She nudged me. “Tell them.”

  “It’s kind of adorable,” I played along.

  “See? You’re the only one who thinks it’s embarrassing,” said Gina. I looked at Chelsea and saw her roll her eyes. Then I faced Gina and Marie again, eager to pitch in on the teasing.

  “Did she tell you about how when she first tried to kiss me she—?” I began, and promptly found Chelsea’s hand on my mouth while she gripped my bicep with her other hand. She looked at me, half-amused, half-panicked, and shook her head.

  “Don’t you dare,” she warned, but the corners of her lips quirked upward and I knew she wasn’t serious. “I have a reputation to uphold, here.”

  “Oh, come on. Let her tell us if you’re a good kisser,” Marie joked.

  “Has she improved at all?” Gina added.

  I tried to speak and Chelsea’s hand muffled the sound. Gina leaned over and swatted her arm away, and Chelsea released me, looking defeated.

  “I wouldn’t know,” I addressed Gina with a shrug. Both girls looked like their eyes might bug out of their heads.

  “You’re kidding,” Marie said flatly. Chelsea’s expression was hard to read next to me, but she didn’t seem bothered.

  “Oh, we’re getting that out of the way tonight,” Gina vowed. “Actually, let’s do it right now. Go on. Give us a show.” She waved her hand at us as though motioning for us to proceed.

  “She’s joking,” Chelsea elaborated unnecessarily. Then, to her friends, she asked, “What do you guys have against taking things slow, anyway?�
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  “Oh, we have no issues with that,” replied Gina. The implication was clear. I shot Chelsea a questioning look, and she frowned a little, avoiding my eyes to stare back at Gina and Marie. “Sorry,” Gina added defensively a moment later, clearly aware that she’d revealed something she wasn’t meant to.

  The doorbell rang, and Marie, sensing the newly awkward atmosphere, sprang from the couch and announced, “Pizza!”

  “We’ll go get that,” Gina rushed to say, and they left the basement, hand-in-hand, muttering something under their breath to each other.

  “Sorry,” Chelsea said to me when they were gone. “They can be…a lot.”

  “I remember.” I fixed her with a smile and nudged her arm with my hand. “Have a good week?”

  “It crawled by,” she admitted. “I was excited for this.”

  “So who’s swapping beds with whom tonight?” I half-joked, and she grinned at me.

  “I told Gina and Marie they could share my bed. We’re on the couches. I figured that’s what you’d rather do.”

  “So chivalrous,” I teased, though I was pleasantly surprised and genuinely grateful.

  “Are you shocked?” she asked me.

  “No,” I lied. “You haven’t pushed me yet.”

  She smiled and reached out to lace her fingers with mine. “Want to know a secret?” she asked me. I looked down at our hands and studied the blue polish on her nails as her thumb slid over mine. I nodded and looked back up at her. She used her free hand to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear and I felt Fake Zoey’s stomach flip a little. “I really don’t want to screw this up.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that, and I couldn’t handle looking her in the eyes for longer than a second or two, so my gaze dropped down to our hands again. Finally, I said, “I don’t want you to, either.”

  I heard her shift slightly, and then felt her eyes on my face again. “I know you’re not dumb,” she said, “and people—Gina and Cole and everyone—aren’t exactly subtle with the stuff they say about me. But it’s different with you.”