The Gay Girl's Guide to Ruining Prom

by Siera Maley

  “What, and that makes it okay?” I asked, laughing shortly.

  She shook her head, very obviously mentally kicking herself, and said, “No, of course not. I shouldn’t have said it. Gina got really upset with me over it and she was right to. Sometimes I’m just stupid.”

  “You’re not stupid,” I said, rolling my eyes again.

  “I know it sounds like an excuse, and I’m not saying you should forgive me just because I was drunk, but I would have never made that comment sober, Zoey. I did used to talk like that about other girls, but I’ve never said anything else like that about you. I don’t even know why I said it.” She sucked in a breath and I swallowed hard when I heard that it was shaky. I felt myself weaken a little and immediately tried to cut it off. I had to remember that she was a liar.

  “Even though they probably should, Gina and Marie don’t usually get mad at me over stuff like this,” Chelsea explained. “They’re don’t agree with the way I talk about girls sometimes, but they’re used to it. You wanna know why Gina said it pissed her off this time?”

  I bowed my head and looked down at my feet, biting my tongue. “Sure,” I said stiffly, when it was clear she wouldn’t continue without my permission.

  “She said it was because she could see that things were going really well with you and that I finally had something real, and that if I started doing the same crap as always, I was gonna screw up something that made me happy.” She paused, and then, quieter, added, “She also said that you didn’t deserve it, but I already knew that. Nobody does.”

  “So, what: ‘Sorry, I was drunk; old habits die hard?’” I asked her.

  “I guess I’m just trying to say that my best friend saw through it and understood that I made a mistake, and I hope you do too. The only reason I even assumed we’d sleep together ever, at all, is because I really like you and I really want to, and because I thought you felt the same way. Not because that’s all I want.”

  “But at Prom, specifically,” I clarified. “Because I’m a guarantee. Because every girl you date is just another opportunity for a sure thing, and I’m just another one in a long, long list.”

  “No, that’s not it at all,” she insisted. “I know it looks that way, but it was just a stupid thing I said because that’s what people do at Prom, and I wanted to. We don’t have to do anything. I would never pressure you into anything. I’m not like that; not with anyone, ever. I just want whatever you want.” She let out another shaky breath and then her lips started trembling, and suddenly she was crying and wiping hastily at her eyes, like she was embarrassed to be this upset in front of me. “I’m sorry,” she said through tears. “I know I ruined everything. If I could take it back, I would.”

  “If you were anyone else, it’s a dumb drunken comment and a turn-off and I’d just want an apology, but I look like every stupid girl that thinks she’s the special one the asshole will stop being an asshole for,” I told her, and I knew was crying too. And some part of me was self-aware enough to feel so silly, because this was all supposed to be fake, but the rest of me was sobbing like it was real. “You have no idea how much I wanted to trust you.”

  That self-aware part of me was suddenly struck with the realization that a girl who thought we were in a real relationship was crying in front of me, and here I was, guilting her for a slight that ultimately didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Because truthfully, as much as this hurt, it wasn’t a big deal compared to what I was doing to her. At worst she was pretending to care about me to get into my pants, and still it had taken too much alcohol to get her to even admit it. And here I was, definitely trying to break her heart.

  I could feel myself wavering, watching her apologize in front of me, and as I wiped away the last of my tears, I knew what I was going to choose to believe, and that I wasn’t going to change my mind anymore. I had to believe that there was good in Chelsea and that our conversations had been real. Cole had heard what he’d heard, but Chelsea could really like me and also get drunk and stick her foot in her mouth. I couldn’t fathom that she’d come here to perform some sort of elaborate acting job all in pursuit of tricking me into sleeping with her down the line. She meant this.

  I opened my mouth to forgive her, to tell her that I hated hearing her talk about me like a piece of meat but was willing to look past it. But then I heard Skylar’s voice in my head, going, “Push her, push her, push her.” Skylar, who had very much gotten her heart broken by Chelsea when she’d been a worse person than the one standing in front of me now. And hadn’t that been the plan all along? To take a bad person, make them a good person, and then punish them for it?

  Chelsea, as though she could read my thoughts, suddenly looked up and said, “If there’s anything I can do to convince you, or fix this…or anything else, I’ll do it. I don’t want to break up.” She sniffed and shook her head, as though she was alarmed at herself for being so upset, too. Then she let out a watery laugh. “I mean, we weren’t even together yet, but…”

  I knew I’d reached an important crossroads tonight. I had an opportunity to take advantage of our first fight and choose Chelsea by letting her go. Or I could choose Skylar, the last friend I had left, by making her stay.

  Everything in me was screaming at me to tell her that there wasn’t anything she could do, to say that it was over, to just put her out of her misery and let her off the hook as easily as possible, even if she wouldn’t realize that was what I was doing. There would be no ruined Prom night, no public humiliation, and no three extra weeks of being lied to. Ending it tonight would be merciful, even if it did mean she found out the truth from Skylar later on. As much as it would hurt me, I knew it was the right thing to do, because even if Chelsea had just wanted to sleep with me initially, it was clear to me that this wasn’t fake. She was invested, and I was winning this game by default, because I was the only one playing.

  Except I wasn’t the only one playing, I realized. I never had been. The only scenario where I won was one where Skylar forgave Chelsea, Chelsea forgave me, and our relationship became real, and that was never going to happen. This competition wasn’t between me and Chelsea; it was between Skylar winning and no one winning, and I was going to keep the winner’s friendship. But even realizing all of that didn’t change the fact that I only had one friend left to keep.

  “Yeah,” I breathed out, and the word felt like a punch in the gut. “Yeah, there’s something you can do.”

  12

  “It was a genius move to leave it open-ended, to be honest.”

  Skylar was back in my room a night later, doing my hair for an impending date with Chelsea while Cole sat in the room with us, going over a page of notes in his lap. I scowled at him in the reflection, hating that he was acting like we were in any way on the same team. I hated that I was going on a date tonight, I hated that I’d let them talk me into it, and worst of all, I hated that I’d have to face Chelsea after last night, knowing how badly I was eventually going to hurt her. “You’re seriously taking notes right now,” I noticed. “You two are a match made in hell.” To Skylar, I added, “It wasn’t a calculated move; I just didn’t have any ideas in the moment.”

  “Frees us up to come up with something, either way,” Cole interjected. Skylar came perilously close to my ear with a hair-straightener and I flinched. “We can brainstorm ideas together sometime soon. Maybe tomorrow?”

  “I’m starting to think he’s more into this than I am,” Skylar mumbled to me. Louder, to Cole, she asked, “What was it that Chelsea did to you, exactly? This girl has beef with everyone, I swear to God.”

  “Got my girlfriend to break up with me for another girl,” Cole said, his eyes not leaving the page in front of him.

  I exchanged a look with Skylar in the mirror and corrected, “She refused to delay the inevitable; they wanted each other.”

  “Oh, her friends!” Skylar realized, then grinned suddenly and glanced over her shoulder at Cole. “Wait, you’re Gina’s loser ex? The one that�
�s still not over her and won’t leave her alone? You should look into getting a hobby.” He gave her a middle finger and she laughed and faced me again.

  “If he wasn’t the size of a twig, she’d probably have a restraining order by now,” I mumbled to her, and she pulled a face and glanced back at him again.

  “Does he have to be here?” she whispered.

  “Yeah, he’s my decoy date,” I explained. “I’m going to pretend to leave with him about ten minutes before Chelsea actually gets here. I told her to park a little bit down the street and that I’ll come to her.”

  “When are you going to tell your parents the truth? Well, re-tell them.”

  “I don’t know anymore. I want to, but I’m scared to find out how they’ll react.”

  Skylar worked on my hair for another moment, thoughtful. Then she perked up and eyed me in the mirror, a slow smile spreading across her lips. “Zoey, I have an idea.”

  “What, would it look better curled?” I asked, twisting and turning my head to get a better look at myself, and she scoffed dismissively.

  “Not about your hair; about Chelsea. I know what we can make her do.” At that, Cole looked up and eyed her curiously. “What if…” she led slowly, building suspense, “…we make her tell your parents she’s your girlfriend.”

  “Absolutely not,” I said at the same time that Cole exclaimed, “That’s perfect!”

  “No,” I repeated, upset that she’d even suggested it. “That’s not happening. Skylar, do you have any idea what they could do to me?”

  “Last time they were so tame I didn’t even realize they hadn’t accepted it,” she argued.

  “Because they hadn’t accepted it!” I replied, astounded. “Skylar. They’ve spent months thinking it’s a phase I’m going to grow out of. And now they think I’ve grown out of it. They’re going to freak harder than last time when they realize they’re right back to square one.”

  “You don’t know that,” Skylar insisted. “My parents were a little weird at first, too, but—”

  “My parents aren’t your parents,” I interrupted. “It’s not happening. It’s not an option. It’s not on the table. It’s not even in the kitchen.”

  Cole, at last, spoke up. “What if we just make Chelsea think she’s going to tell them?”

  I let out a heavy breath and grit my teeth, but he had Skylar’s full attention now. “How would that work?” she asked.

  “It’s simple: Zoey tells Chelsea that she’ll believe Chelsea’s in it for real if she comes to dinner and they come out as a couple together. Chelsea agrees, dresses nice, has to sit through this whole nerve-wracking dinner opposite a couple of homophobes who don’t know she’s dating their daughter, thinking Zoey’s going to tell them at the end of the dinner and knowing that shit might hit the fan. Then Zoey ‘chickens out.’” He put air quotes around his last two words. “She’d have basically agreed to it and gotten bailed out when Zoey changed her mind. That’ll really test her.”

  “Who does this benefit?” I asked. “Your little scenario would actually be hell on earth for me, and you want me to go through that just to make her squirm?”

  “Don’t you want to know if she really means anything she says?” Cole asked. “I mean, you’ve put all this time in. This is the ultimate commitment. You’re asking her to be your girlfriend and to face your parents with you.”

  “We had a plan to have her meet them as my friend first,” I started, but he scoffed and cut me off.

  “So what? Ditch the plan. Make her prove she’s in it for the long haul. And I don’t think it’s as hard as you’re making it out to be; you’ll know the whole time you aren’t actually going to tell them.”

  “You aren’t gay!” I exclaimed, appalled. “You don’t know what the hell is and isn’t hard about it! Skylar.” I turned to her, looking for backup, and instead she gave me an uncertain look.

  “Well, it is a good idea, if you could do it. And it’s true that you wouldn’t actually have to tell them anything.”

  “This isn’t okay,” I insisted. “I’m breaking her heart on Prom night. I’m doing everything you guys want me to, everything we planned to do from the very beginning, Skylar. I’m going on a date I don’t have to go on just to keep her attached to me. You’re asking me to put myself through something horrible just to make her suffer through it too.”

  “Okay, but you have to remember what type of person she is,” Skylar reminded me. “I know she pulled out the waterworks for you yesterday, but that doesn’t change what she did to me or what she said about you, and it doesn’t change that you’re my best friend and you promised to get back at her.” I wanted to protest that I’d never promised anything, but she was still talking. “And honestly, if you didn’t want your parents to freak out, you shouldn’t have gone back into the closet in the first place, you know.” I swallowed hard and tried to speak again, but her attention moved to Cole. “If she doesn’t want to do it, we’ll shelf it for now.”

  “Forever,” I piped up at last, feeling tears welling up in my eyes. Skylar didn’t give any indication that she’d heard me, and we all fell silent again as she went back to doing my hair.

  I asked Chelsea to keep things simple for our date, so we picked up some takeout, drove out to the park near her house, sat in the backseat of her car, and ate together. I could barely get anything down, my stomach was in so many knots after the conversation in my bedroom.

  “Remember that one night we came here together,” Chelsea reminded me, looking out at the baseball fields fondly. “When we sat back here, and you made me spill my guts for layers of clothing? It wasn’t that long ago, but it feels like forever.”

  “Mhmm,” I forced out, trying to will myself to swallow a mouthful of food. Chelsea eyed me with concern.

  “Thanks for agreeing to this,” she said. “I was surprised you did. I wanted more of a chance to talk.”

  “Last night was stupid,” I mumbled. “I know you didn’t mean it. Don’t worry about it.”

  “No, it wasn’t. I was an ass, and you were right. I’m not stupid and being drunk isn’t an excuse.” She took a deep breath and set her food aside. “After we talked, I really thought about why I said that stuff. Why I made Prom all about sex. I think I’m more comfortable acting that way because if I’m not invested, I can’t get hurt. And I think a part of me wishes I wasn’t invested in you, because it scares me how much you could hurt me. When I made that comment…it was like if I convinced my friends I didn’t care, somehow I’d convince myself and it would just be true. But we’re so far past that now. Gina didn’t believe it and neither did I.”

  I bit my lip and didn’t say anything to that, feeling the guilty weight in my chest growing heavier. Chelsea kept going.

  “When we got into that fight and I thought maybe it was over, it just made me even more sure that I really, really care, even if sometimes I wish I didn’t. And the more I thought about it afterward, the more I realized how much it scares me to just…trust someone not to hurt me. I’ve never been able to do that before.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” was all I could think to say. It was the only truthful thing I could tell her that she’d want to hear. I wanted to tell her that she’d been right to be worried and that what she’d said about me was nothing compared to what I was planning to do to her. But thinking of Skylar kept my mouth shut.

  “I know. And I do really want to make it up to you however I can.”

  “You don’t have to make it up to me,” I said, but she just shook her head.

  “I want to, so whatever—”

  “Chelsea,” I interjected tiredly. “Stop.” She fell silent, uncomfortable, and looked away. I felt bad for snapping at her but didn’t know how to comfort her when I was feeling so low myself. “Honestly,” I said at last, “the best way to make it up to me right now is to be the one person who doesn’t want anything from me. Even if that something is a way to do something for me.”

  She nodded and picked
at her food for a moment. “So is this about your parents?”

  “No. Yes. I don’t know. Kind of, I guess.”

  “I wish I knew how to help,” she said. “I know I got lucky with mine.”

  “It’s my friends, too. Friend.” I shook my head and wiped at my eyes, feeling the tears already coming. I hated that I was doing this in front of her, because I definitely didn’t deserve her comfort right now, but I couldn’t stop myself. “My only friend.”

  “Hey…” I felt her take my food off of my lap. She set it aside with her own food, then scooted closer to me and rubbed at my arms. “I get really lonely sometimes, too. But you have more than one friend.”

  “I seriously don’t,” I told her, shaking my head. I almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of having just one friend in a school of thousands, but it didn’t seem appropriate given the tears streaming down my cheeks. “When I broke up with my ex, I lost all but one. And it’s just really hard keeping up with her sometimes.”

  Chelsea’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “I just feel like she wants a lot from me right now. She’s just pushing me and…I don’t want to do the stuff she wants me to do, but I don’t want to lose her, either, and I feel like I will if I say no.” I knew I was walking a fine line, talking to Chelsea about herself like this, but I was completely out of people to talk to.

  “She sounds like a bitch,” Chelsea admitted, and it caught me so off-guard that this time I did laugh.

  “Yeah, she kind of can be sometimes,” I conceded, and Chelsea smiled back at me. “But I think she’s just hurting. I know people lash out when they’re hurt and say and do things they don’t mean. I wouldn’t want anyone to judge me for what I did when I was most hurt.” I thought that over for a moment, and then amended, “Well, actually, almost everyone did do that, and now I have one friend.” Chelsea bit down on her lip in an abysmal attempt to hold back a smile, and I held her gaze for a moment, then silently felt myself begin to shake with laughter. “It’s okay,” I said through a laugh when Chelsea cracked too. “It’s okay, it’s kind of funny.”