by Dexx Peay
“My son is so handsome.” Mom sobbed behind me.
“Looking like a man,” Dad said. “I remember my senior prom—”
“Dad, no time for memory lane. I have places to go.”
I threw some conditioner in my hair and shook my head letting the curls jump around. I splashed a little cologne on to feel extra fresh.
“Don’t forget the corsage and the tickets, Dylan.” Mom pointed to the dresser, still wiping tears from her eyes. I shuffled around making sure I didn’t forget anything. Mom suggested that I went downstairs to take pictures. She got a few solo shots and some with the family. I had to stop her because she would’ve had me taking pictures all night.
“OK, guys, I have to get going,” I said. We all walked to the front door. I opened it and there it was, a stretch limo waiting for me in front of the house.
“Just like we promised, Dylan.” Dad put his arm on my shoulder. “A limo for prom.”
Marcus and I pulled up to the front of Jessica’s house and walked inside after being greeted.
Jessica walked downstairs.
I waited for the slow motion button to get pressed and the romantic music to creep in from nowhere like the movies. She was stunning with her orange dress that sparkled at the hems and covered everything but her arms. The slit that ran up her right thigh put thoughts in my head that I shouldn’t be thinking with her mom in the same room.
Her hair was pinned up with two curly strands that came down in front to show off that face I couldn’t help stare at. As I walked closer to her, the cherry blossoms started to attack me, knocking me back and pulling me in closer at the same time. This time something was different. I had been around Jessica long enough to know her scent and this time I smelled a hint of vanilla. It was different, but I still liked it.
Chapter 7
Prom
When Dylan and I got to Jessica’s house, I was a bit nervous. I had to repeatedly tell myself over and over again that this was just prom and not my wedding day and technically speaking, Monica wasn’t even my girl anymore. We got out of the limo and rung the doorbell.
“Are you sweating, Marc?” Dylan asked looking over at me as we waited outside.
“OK, so, I’m just a little nervous.” My teeth clattered. A little was nowhere close. It felt like I didn’t put any deodorant on the way my underarms were leaking.
“Come in,” a voice from the inside said.
Dylan gripped my face in his palms. “Hey, relax and calm down, OK. It’s just Monica.”
His touch and words were cooling. I’m not sure if I was still sweating or not, but my skin felt dry. We walked inside as Jessica was walking down the stairs. Dylan sparkled like a firecracker and for a moment, I thought I saw a tear come down his face.
He put the corsage around her wrist when she made it to the last stair and stepped back to admire her. He stroked his chin and grinned. He looked up and her eyes flashed like pearls. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his neck.
I coughed. “Where’s Monica?”
“She’s upstairs finishing her hair. She should be down in just a minute. She looks divine. Wait until you see her,” Jessica said, never taking her eyes off Dylan.
It felt more like hours waiting for her. Dylan was hugged up with Jessica. I sat at the edge of the stairs, skin feeling wet again. A door slammed from upstairs and I stood up. Monica walked out and stood at the top of the stairs. It was her time to shine. As I looked up, the ends of my mouth tugged up forming a smile from ear to ear. I was seeing an angel right in front of me.
Her tan skin shined and reflected off the jewels laced with her turquoise dress that strung up the back, partially exposing it. Her dress hugged her small waist and her heels gave her extra height to her long legs making her almost my height. She wore her hair down. I loved when she wore her hair down. It curled at the ends and rested on the front of her left shoulder. I met her at the end of the staircase and placed the corsage made of blue delphiniums and orchids, held together with a rhinestone-encrusted bracelet around her wrist.
“You’re gorgeous,” I whispered as I took her smooth honey hands into mine. I smiled as she gazed at me, eyes so innocent.
“You should put a tux on more often,” she whispered back.
“OK, guys, time for pictures,” Jessica said.
Dressing up wasn’t really my forte’ so she better make these pictures worth it.
We all pulled out our cameras and spent the next twenty minutes snapping pictures ranging from goofy to couple shots before we left. Jessica told her mom bye, and we all walked outside.
“Wow, you got a limo, Dylan?” Jessica jumped around like a caged monkey. I just knew she was going to break one of her heels.
“Why assume it was me?” Dylan said oh so calmly.
I stood there with my head down and my hand clinging onto Monica’s.
“Wait.” Jessica stopped. “You mean to tell me that foster boy Macchiato over here has enough style and money to afford a limo?”
“He’s been saving the money he earned from work to afford this, OK.” Dylan got instantly annoyed and walked to the limo.
“Can we not start this tonight,” Monica politely said and followed Dylan, letting my hand go. Jessica and I made our way to the limo.
Our theme for prom was “A Night in Hollywood.” We got to the school and had the driver pull up to the entrance where there was a red carpet. The prom committee got some of the underclassmen to be on the sideline flashing photographs as seniors got out of their vehicles. I gazed out the window when the klieg lights roaming in the sky caught my attention.
“Guys,” Dylan said, “let’s end this year off right. Let’s have a great time, dance like no one is watching, and be Hollywood stars tonight.”
“I’m ready.” Jessica had both hands glued to the window, dying to get out the limo.
“But before we get out,” Dylan said. “Let’s take a selfie.”
“Marcus.” Monica tugged my arm. I turned around and Dylan had his phone in the air pointing down at the four of us. I scooted over, and he took a picture. The driver opened the door and we felt like celebrities exiting the limo.
Well, at least I did.
As we walked down the red carpet, the flashing lights blinded me. I held my hand in front my eyes the majority of the time as we walked until we entered the doors of the gym. The school was lit up with more lights and it looked just like Hollywood, not that I have ever been but I’m sure it resembled the décor. The floor was covered with giant star-shaped gold peel-offs with each senior’s names on them. There was a table that had nothing but cheap gold trophies with men holding stars and a massive printout that covered one wall of the Hollywood sign.
“I’ll go find a table for us,” Monica said.
I hope she didn’t feel too out of place here since this wasn’t her class. Last thing I wanted was for her to feel uncomfortable and neglected. “OK,” I responded.
Dylan and I walked around stopping and talking to some of his friends. Jessica went over and talked with her girlfriends.
“Hey, Dylan, over here,” Diana called out from behind us. We both turned around and Diana’s silver designer heels kissed the ground over and over as she made her way to us.
“Hey, Dill Pickle,” she said. “Macchiato.”
“Hi, Diana,” I said.
“Where’s your better half?” she asked Dylan.
“Somewhere around here with her friends,” Dylan said, looking around the crowd of people.
“That’s not like her to just leave you around for other girls to hit on you. So who are you here with tonight, Mr. Marcus?”
“My friend Monica,” I said.
“Friend? So that means you are single? Save me a dance tonight? I’ll find you when the right song comes on. Don’t leave without my dance, Macchiato.”
She walked off switching her hips then glanced back at me. I couldn’t figure out why she was finally talking to me after all these years of bein
g in the same school.
“What was that all about?” I asked.
“I have no clue.” Dylan smirked.
“What was Diana talking to you about?” Monica asked as she walked up behind me.
“Nothing. H—how do you know Diana?”
“Oh please, Marcus, everyone knows who Diana is. I found us a table. Let’s go take a seat.”
We walked over to our table. The seats were director chairs of different colors. People were still coming in as the DJ played all the latest jams. We sat with some of Jessica’s friends and their dates.
“I think everyone is just about here now,” Dylan said.
“Everyone is up on the dance floor. You guys can dance, can’t you?” Monica asked.
“Can we? Marcus do you hear them? Let’s show them how we get down,” Dylan said.
The girls hopped up out of their seats, grabbed us by the hands, and dragged us to the crowded dance floor. We forced our way through all the dancing while bobbing our heads to the beat.
“Let’s see some moves,” Jessica and Monica screamed over the music. Dylan and I both looked at each other as we prepared ourselves. We bounced and rocked as the music crawled under our skin.
“We’re just getting warmed up,” Dylan said.
I grabbed Monica’s hand and pulled her closer as we danced. I had one hand on the center of her back and the other interlocked with hers. My hand transitioned from her back to the side of her waist as I spun her away from me. She giggled into her free hand, and spun back until her body was pressed tightly against mine. I smiled when our eyes connected. The music had everyone feeling alive. Hands waved in the air and voices cheered. The night couldn’t get any better.
“Hey, Marc.” Dylan screamed over the music.
“Yeah, wassup, bro,” I replied.
“Let’s turn it up a notch.”
“You mean Weapon Z?”
Weapon Z was a code we came up with as kids to express when we thought the same thing in any given situation. It came with being best friends and being around each other for so many years. We went with the letter Z because X was so cliché.
“Yeah, Weapon Z.”
We broke away from the girls and cleared the center of the dance floor with just enough room for us to do what we needed to do. I circled around the empty space and pointed to Dylan who was circling and pointing back at me. We broke out in a dance sequence, nothing fancy, just enough to get us some attention. The crowd of classmates went wild and cheered us on. I wasn’t too sure if they were cheering for just Dylan or the both us. Nonetheless, they cheered. The ladies clapped and everyone joined back in for the next hour of dancing.
We went back to our table after almost passing out of constant dancing. At the table, everyone had a ballot in front on them.
“How the hell did I make this damn ballot?” I screamed.
“Just accept it, Marcus, geesh,” Monica said. “I’m voting for you.” She checked the box next to my name.
It was just weird that I would be nominated for anything at this school. In addition to myself, the guys up for Prom King: Trey, Rich, Shawn and of course, Dylan. The nominations for Prom Queen were: Camille, Diana, Amanda, Jessica and Ashley. I voted for Amanda and Dylan.
“Well, tonight, me and Dylan will reign as your king and queen, ladies and gentlemen,” Jessica said, checking her boxes. Everyone else checked their ballots and handed them to the senior class representatives as they walked by.
“I’m going to get us some punch.” Dylan got up from the table and walked off.
Monica reached out for my hand then moved in closer to clinch my arm. “You know,” she said, admiring the dance. “I’m really happy you brought me here tonight.”
“Cause I had all the ladies lined up waiting for me to ask them to prom,” I said jokingly.
“I’m serious, Marcus. I wish you would realize how special you really are.”
“Let’s be honest, nobody at this school wants Macchiato on their arm in a prom picture.”
“I do,” she said finally giving my face some attention.
I smiled.
“It’s nice to know that I can still come in and save the day,” she said.
“Here you guys go. Drinks on me.” Dylan came back, indirectly changing the mood.
“Guys, I love this song. We have to all dance,” Monica said.
It was a slow song. Didn’t know how I’d feel dancing so close and slow with her. Wish I could read her mind so I knew exactly how she felt about me in that moment. I gulped down my punch and the four of us walked slowly over to the dance floor. Dylan grabbed Jessica by the waist and spun her into him as they slow danced. I hesitated for a moment before I made a move onto Monica, but she was already wrapping her arms around my neck before I fully processed my thought.
My knees buckled, but I caught myself before I collapsed.
I put my arms around her waist but was too hesitant to move close. There was enough space separating us that a small child could easily walk between the two of us.
“Argh,” I grunted as someone bumped me closer to Monica.
It was Dylan.
Her chestnut colored eyes that tightened slightly at the ends sparkled as I got closer. We both laughed awkwardly. It felt like magic in the air as we danced, our eyes enjoying a lustful conversation. Then I heard a loud voice that snapped me back into reality.
“OK, OK, OK, I don’t want to interrupt you guys from all the dancing and fun, but it is time to announce your prom king and queen,” Samantha, our class President announced. Everyone rushed off the floor and made their way back to their tables, all excited to see who would be crowned.
“Now, are you guys ready?” Samantha said. The room cheered.
“Your senior class prom king this year is — can I get a drum roll please….” She fumbled with the paper and looked at it with slight shock and disbelief. Then she smiled. A name slowly rolled off her tongue. “Marcus … Peterson … Marcus Peterson congratulations. Please come to the stage!”
This had to be a mistake.
I didn’t want to get up.
It was weird.
I’d never won anything.
Ever.
“Marc, would you get up,” Dylan said as he pushed me out my seat. I got up and walked cautiously to the stage. Samantha put a sash and crown on me then handed me a scepter. I smiled and people finally started to clap.
“And now for your prom queen. Well, this is no shocker,” said Samantha. “Congratulations Jessica Davis! Please make your way to the stage.”
How is this even possible? I asked myself. The one person in this school who I absolutely couldn’t stand now shared this moment with me. Everyone had their eyes on the stage. The room was so quiet anyone could hear my heartbeat if they listened closely. I could tell everyone was just as shocked as I was.
Jessica arrogantly waltzed her way to the stage, knowing for a fact she would win. My chest pounded making it difficult to breath when I caught her eyes piercing me as she walked on the stage. Samantha crowned her, handed her flowers and announced that we would share the next dance.
What? I yelped.
Before I knew it, the lights went dim and the spotlight hit us. The crowd continued to stare as we walked to the center of the gym. The DJ played our prom song and we both started to move slowly.
Out of rhythm.
“Well this is awkward. You guys can get a little closer and, I dunno, actually touch each other,” Samantha said slightly annoyed over the microphone.
I didn’t want this and it was no question she didn’t either. She glared at me with devilish eyes as we stood in front of each other moving in opposite directions making sure not to touch one another. My head dropped down while I moved, not wanting to look up at her or anybody for that matter.
“Thanks for ruining my night, foster boy Macchiato,” she whispered. “You’ll never be anything more than Dylan’s—little—shadow.” Her words were like poisonous gas.
I stopped moving, shot her this look of disgust and walked back to my table. By then, everyone had begun to gather on the floor to dance.
“Where’s your date?” Diana asked as she took a seat next to me. “You look sad. You shouldn’t be sad, you’re prom king … ohh, it’s because you had to dance with the wicked witch. Yeah, I would hate life too.”
“I’ll be fine.” I looked up and saw Dylan and Monica dancing together.
“That should have been me up there as prom queen,” Diana said as her eyes followed the crown across the dance floor.
“That shouldn’t have been me up there as prom king,” I said despondently.
“Don’t say that. It should have been us.”
“Would you like to dance, Diana?”
“Well, I do like this song. Yes, I would love to dance with you, Mr. Marcus.” I grabbed her hand and led her to the dance floor. We laughed and talked a little as we danced over the next few songs. She was a good listener and I managed not to stutter over my words.
“These shoes have no purpose for being worn over long periods of time. Can we sit this next song out?” Diana asked.
I glanced down and her shoes looked like they could be classified as a deadly weapon. “Sure,” I said. Monica and Dylan were at the table talking when we got back.
“You guys tired too?” Monica asked.
“Yes, girl,” said Diana. We all sat and talked for a few minutes until Hurricane Jessica interrupted us.