As I watch, the Queens decide to flex their supremacy by ignoring us for now. Those who’ve been watching in hopes of witnessing a confrontation go back to milling around the hallway and openly staring at us. We’ll all just have to wait to find out the official royal response.
The three of us stand tall together, smiling and holding our cores open for approach. I’ve been considering using my middle name, Elizabeth, and constructing a whole new identity. One that nobody would ever in a million years associate with the Elf Ucker. Glancing in Amy’s mirror, I tell my reflection, “Nobody will even guess I’m…”
“Shannon!”
The cry comes from behind. Someone recognized my back? That makes no sense. Besides my blonde, over the summer I dropped about ten pounds against my will.
I turn and see it’s Marnie, of course. “Holy crap. Look at you!” She gives me a huge hug. “You look amazing! Did your Mom win the lotto or something?”
All of my Prom Queen Training dissolves. I feel like my old self, happy to see my best friend after a long summer apart. Kelly clears her throat, reminding me that my curved shoulders and enormous goofy grin go against Prom Queen Code. I’ve been the one enforcing “camp rules” all morning and here I am breaking them big time.
“But it’s Marnie,” I whine, and Kelly clucks her tongue.
“Shannon? What’s going on?” Marnie squints at Kelly. “Do I know you?”
“Oh yes, how rude of me. Marns?” I gently hook my arm in hers. “You remember Kelly. Marco?” I gesture in mock ceremony. “And this is Amy. Waller.” Marnie’s eyes widen in surprise.
“Wow. I overheard someone say something about three hot new girls in school,” Marnie says. “Talk about reinventing yourselves.”
“Yeah, we’ve got everyone all a-tizzy,” Kelly says darkly.
Ignoring her, I tell Marnie, “We hung out this summer and sort of started this self-improvement thing.” Thankfully, camp has helped me get way better at lying.
“Well, you guys look amazing,” Marnie says. I read her open stance and the way her smile goes all the way up to her eyes—she’s genuinely happy for me.
I want to tell her all about Prom Queen Camp and learning to read body language and Amy’s amazing singing voice. Not to mention I’m going to be on television! In fact, we’re all going to be on television and are being taped at this very moment. I have to get Marnie talking about herself, quick, before I spill my guts. “How was your summer helping the homeless?”
“Amazing. Sad. Hot. So much work.” She frowns. “Is that a lips logo on your shirt? And why did my emails bounce back saying you were unavailable all summer?” Leave it to Marnie to be the only person on the planet who doesn’t want to talk about her own good deeds.
“Who did you get for science?” I try again, but Marnie just laughs and calls “Tangent,” as she aims her palm to the right.
“But speaking of science, Rick was so bummed he couldn’t hang out with you over the break.”
“You talked to him?” I’d love to say I’ve stopped thinking about the way he looked at me through my rearview mirror by now, but just the mention of his name gets me going. I look around, hoping to glimpse his poor posture. He’ll probably be wearing his traditional first day of school uniform—old jeans with his dirty white BlackSpot sneakers.
“He and James were meeting Mr. Hoovler early this morning,” Marnie says. “They’re determined to rock the State Science Fair for senior year, and today’s the first day they can officially present their project idea to their advisor.”
“Science geeks unite,” Kelly proclaims. I’m surprised she’s still interested in my conversation with Marnie, and for a flash, I worry she’s looking for a way to sabotage me in the competition. Then again, the summer has changed her. She and Raul have gone from smoldering glances to flirty banter to bonding over how ridiculous reality television is. Kelly confessed to Amy and me that it’s the closest she’s allowed herself to get to any guy. Amy thinks Kelly is starting to get over her mother issues, but anyone can see Raul is just healing her with his Latin hotness.
“Excuse me.” A girl who I think I recognize as a junior is standing way outside my personal space in a classic show of respect. “We’re trying to figure out…weren’t you Josie Depola’s big sister?”
“Why, yes.” I turn my smile on full power. “I’m Shannon. And you may also recognize Kelly Marco here, and this is Amy Waller.” If I can’t have a new identity, nobody gets a new identity.
Junior girl’s body language indicates she’s fighting off physical shock. Marnie puts an arm around her waist, ready in case she needs assistance. Nodding dumbly, the girl scrambles off to her waiting cluster of friends. They dip their heads together as she talks animatedly, then collectively they turn to stare at us with gaping expressions. I imagine their dramatic reactions being played over and over when the show airs.
I close my locker smoothly, give Marnie an air kiss with a loud mwaaa, and head to my first class, confident news of us will spread school-wide by third period.
Or sooner.
***
“Well, if it isn’t Shannon Depola.” The slick voice slides over me as I put my first-period books in my locker. “What’d you do this summer? Rob a bank?”
I turn to see Grace Douglas scanning my expensive outfit up and down. I face her and give my best practiced smile, showing my teeth evenly and allowing my eyes to crinkle just enough to seem genuine. Maybe I’ll be chosen to join the Alpha Queens.
Grace wrinkles her nose. “Too bad you couldn’t accessorize with a new personality.” Or not.
I spread my stance and put my hands on my hips, fingers forward, showcasing my crotch. I know it sounds silly, but it’s a clear way to display power and aggression. “Too bad you’re not fooling anyone with those knock-off Limano pumps.” Prom Queen Camp taught us a thing or two about spotting designer knock-offs, and it turns out Grace has been fooling folks for years with her imposter-wear.
She stands with her jaw slack enough to part her lips. Evidence of astonishment. I’m pretty shocked myself. We practiced bitchy put-downs over the summer, but I had no idea I was capable of zinging Grace Douglas so effectively. I suppress the urge to giggle as a few gawkers stop to watch.
Grace’s victim body language shifts to aggressor so fast it’s terrifying. I continue to mime confidence as my eyes dart around for the best escape route.
“You may have just pulled your head out of a vat of bleach,” Grace says icily, “but you’d best remember who you’re speaking to, because last year just called and it wants its biggest nobody back.”
Technically, I was only the third biggest nobody.
I step backward as Grace leans in for the kill. “Did you honestly expect anyone to be impressed by some lame makeover that won’t last into next week?”
“Hi, Shannon. Love your hair.” Kristan Bowman has precision timing. I give Grace a smug look, hoping the hidden cameras are catching every second.
“Don’t waste your breath, Kristan,” Grace says. “This bitch will be off the radar by sixth period tomorrow.” She hooks her arm in Kristan’s and guides her away, calling to me over her shoulder, “I just realized you must be all dressed up for a special date…” She turns and walks backward a few paces as she gives the game-over blow, “Elf Ucker!”
“I don’t have a…date with…elf…,” I say lamely as Grace cackles in victory. She launches into an off-key rendition of “We Wish You a Tiny Pecker” as she drags Kristan down the hallway.
Mickey and Victoria have gravely underestimated the innate evilness of our school’s reigning Alpha Queen. My hatred for Grace burns with reignited passion. I glance around, hoping the cameras didn’t capture that after all, and spot Marnie staring at me.
“Shannon! What happened to you?”
“What?” I hold up my palms innocently.
“You changed this summer.” She pulls me aside. “Maybe you lost too much weight or something and it’s making you act out.”
“Marnie, please, I’m not acting out.” I smile at a random group of girls walking by.
“You just picked a fight with Grace Douglas,” she says. “That’s not something you do. That’s not something anyone does.”
“Well, maybe it’s something I do now. You know I have a valid reason to hate her.”
Marnie shakes her head. “Your hatred shouldn’t be what directs you, Shannon.”
I fold my arms. “She started in on me and I had to fight back.”
“Defending yourself is great,” she says. “But put-downs are not a competitive sport.” I don’t correct her even though I have literally hours of training that contradict that statement. Finally, Marnie backs away. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you later in class.”
“Sure.” I smile. “We’ll catch up then.”
Except that, here’s the thing—I’m not going to be in any of Marnie’s classes. Mickey and I decided that all the new extra-curricular “popular girl” activities I’ll be enrolled in will make my advanced class-load too much to handle. We also decided that dropping all my advanced classes for my senior year is a minor detail my mother doesn’t need to know about.
Fortunately, Mom’s been pretty distracted since I got back from camp. Josie and I suspect she’s seeing someone, but our mother has never been very open about her dating life. Which is probably for the best because, Yuck.
Amy shows up, opens her locker, and immediately starts preening. I give her a subtle elbow prod. We’re supposed to portray the perfect balance of looking good without seeming to care. Prom Queens do not primp too much in public.
I spot Rick’s hunched figure striding in our direction.
My heart spasms as I grab Amy’s locker door and hijack her mirror, pawing at my Blonde. With a hmpf, she shuts the door in my face and strides away, leaving me no choice but to face Rick half primped. His eyebrows jump at my seductive, open-lipped smile, and he flashes his loopy grin.
“Hey there.” I shift my body to inviting without even thinking about it. My feet turn toward him as I tilt my head to the left and make dreamy eye contact. I’m playing with a strand of my hair when I realize what I’m doing and clear my throat. No need to use my flirt training with Rick.
“Quilting all summer can really change a person, huh?” he says. I nod with a fake smile as I run through a catalogue of reasons why he might think I’ve been quilting all summer. Got it. I told him that.
Rick has moved into my personal space and his pupils are dilated, a sure sign that he likes what he’s seeing. Except he isn’t looking at my outfit or even my blonde hair. He’s looking directly into my eyes. Looking at me. He gives me a crooked smile, and I notice the sun has lightened the ends of his hair over the summer.
“So,” he says, “about that very small gathering…”
“Just the two of us?” I ask, leaning toward him. Scanning my face with his blue eyes, he slowly leans in. Is he seriously going to kiss me? Right here in front of everyone? And I remember the cameras. And I hesitate.
And then the bell rings.
I look around and see we’re alone in the hallway. And late for class.
“Oops, late for science.” He grins, seeming content to stand staring at me for the rest of the period—and FYI, science is his very most favorite subject.
“Oh yeah,” I say. “Marnie told me you and James have a cool project already started for the fair.”
“Technically we just started this morning.” He winks and my insides dip. “It’s against state rules to start early.”
“What’s your project on?”
“Very top secret stuff.” He holds a finger to his lips, and I stare at them distractedly until they ask, “What class do you have now?”
“Oh, um…” I fumble my schedule out of my pink leather Nőrealique clutch. “I’m in room 125 for Spanish.”
“I’ll walk you.” He puts his arm out in mock formality, and I take it playfully.
“Won’t you be late for science?” I ask. “Oh, but wait, you already met with Mr. Hoovler. This morning? Um, about your project?” Why am I acting like a spaz? A whole summer of Prom Queen training shot to hell.
“My, aren’t you up on all the juicy gossip.” He bumps me teasingly with his shoulder. “Oh, but you have got to check out the new science wing! So much better than the antique collection of broken Bunsen burners we used to have. There are digital microscopes, Shannon. Digital! Some makeup company donated everything, Nosealette or something.”
“Nőrealique,” I correct.
“Yeah, that’s it. Their logo’s on everything.” He laughs. “It’s silly, all these kissy lips everywhere.”
“Maybe they’re trying to encourage more girls to pursue science?” I give him the line I’ve been fed.
“Well, either way, I’m loving the new equipment! It’ll help me and James kick ass with our project.”
“So, do I even get a hint about this big secret project you’ll be kicking ass on?” We arrive at the door to the Spanish room, and Rick unhooks our arms and cradles my hand in his. A flash of warmth runs through me as he leans in slowly. He’s about to kiss me for real.
I tip my head upward and close my eyes as my lips tingle with raw anticipation. I feel my hair being brushed away from my ear and Rick’s warm breath on my cheek as he whispers, “Pheromones.”
I breathe out a soft, “Oh,” as I open my eyes to him smiling and backing away. He flashes me another wink and turns toward the new, sponsor-infused Science Wing. I sigh, admiring his butt a moment before turning the handle and walking into Spanish class.
Mrs. Laconi turns from the chalkboard and says, “Gracias por llegar mi Reina,” which basically means, “Thank you for joining us, your highness.”
Maybe I’m giving off queenly vibes already.
Mrs. Laconi’s smile turns acidic. “¡Siéntate en el asiento y no llegues tarde a mi classe nunca más!” Which, loosely translated, means something along the lines of, “Now get your ass in a chair and don’t be late to my class again!”
So much for my royal vibes.
As the class laughs at Mrs. Laconi’s cleverness, I sink into the closest empty desk. Verbal sparring with Grace is one thing, but getting bested by my middle-aged Spanish teacher will not help me get elected Prom Queen. I sit back, determined not to cause any more disruptions, as my mind begins to replay my most recent look from Rick.
***
The onscreen version of that look plays on the television in our living room. Experiencing it as I stand shoulder to shoulder with Victoria and Mom is somewhat less exhilarating.
Victoria showed up an hour after I got home, handed me my sizable weekly wardrobe allowance, and explained she’d be acting as my Social Advisement Coach now that school has started. When Mom asked what her qualifications were, Victoria assured her that in addition to her vast reality show experience, she’ll be consulting with a panel of experts regularly and passing their advice on to me at our weekly meetings.
“We’re more like a Social Advisement Coach Committee.” Just what I need. My very own SAC Committee.
Victoria’s gaze is stern as she asks me, “What do you plan to do about this Rick character?”
“He seems nice enough,” Mom says. “I just don’t know if now’s a good time for you to have a serious boyfriend.” I resist the urge to call her out for being a hypocrite since I heard her singing an off-key love song in the shower the other day.
Victoria says sharply. “Our experts have reviewed his file, and we do not believe there’s any benefit to your entering a relationship with this boy.”
“Rick and I are just friends.” I think of the way he looks at me and feel obligated to add, “Mostly.”
Mom moves to the couch. “You’re only in high school. You don’t want to narrow your options for the future…”
“Mom, stop,” I cut her off. “One conversation in the hallway at school does not mean I’ll end up a pregnant teen like y—” I stop at the look of horror
on her face. All three of us glance at the ceiling where a camera is watching. Victoria seems pleased by my near tangent, but when our mother/daughter moment doesn’t escalate into a scream-fest, she asks if she can talk to me alone.
“Fine,” Mom says. “I need to talk to Kate before I head out anyway.”
“Who are you going out with, Mom? Anyone I know?”
Her face turns red, and I want to tell her about Larry’s trick to stop blushing. Finally, she says, “I’m meeting a friend. His name is Thomas.”
I smile. “Why didn’t you just say so?”
Mom heads to her study and shuts the door. Probably so she can talk privately with Aunt Kate about me acting like a giant hormone. I feel bad and remind myself to keep my aggression aimed at Grace and the Alpha Queens from now on.
Once Victoria has me to herself, she turns all business. “Now then, we are quite pleased with your peer’s response to your new Per-style-ality™ and use of body language. Grace Douglas is obviously a problem but you handled yourself fairly well. Good start.” She nods and goes on. “But, if you want an honest shot at winning the One! Million! Dollars! you are going to need a lot of help.” She looks grave. “Your embarking on a committed relationship is not the problem. In fact, studies show that 92 percent of all Prom Queens have boyfriends at the time of their coronation.”
“So Rick and I…”
She holds up a hand. “The problem is with this particular boy.” She points to the screen, still paused on Rick’s face. His mouth is frozen in an awkward midsentence twist and his eyes are half-closed. I snort a small laugh. It’s just like him to look so super-dorky.
Victoria continues with her relationship statistics. “Of those 92 percent, the varsity quarterback is the most common romantic companion, with 58 percent of Prom Queens dating the captain of the football team.” I wonder who on earth is compiling all this data.
She points the remote toward the television and replaces Rick’s pre-sneeze-like features with a shot of me walking down the hallway toward my locker. It was taken right as I left Spanish class, and I have to admit my makeover looks great on camera.
The Real Prom Queens of Westfield High Page 9