Prince Charming

by S. Celi

  “Thanks.” I adjusted my tuxedo and wrinkled my nose as I looked at myself in the mirror. Wearing the tuxedo reminded me too much of the day my mom married David—a day I wanted to forget.

  “The jacket fits better now than it used to,” she said. “Must be all those workouts you’ve been doing up here.”

  I laughed, and smoothed the jacket.

  “You’re not wearing all black either.”

  “So you did notice?”

  “Of course I noticed. I’m your mother. And I think it’s wonderful that you decided to go to prom, and not miss it.” Mom had a gleam in her eye, like this whole moment made her sentimental, or even a little bit sad. Since Dad died, I’d seen that look on her face a few too many times, and I hated it so much.

  “Are Blake and Bruce still here?” I turned my attention to the pile of clothes on my bed. My car keys were in there, somewhere, along with my solo ticket to the prom. At least I knew Mark, Josh, Allison and Nathan would be there. Dread welled up inside me, despite the fact that I kept telling myself Prom couldn’t be too bad, even if I didn’t have Laine as my date.

  “The twins just left.” She nodded at my bed. “Mind if I sit down?”

  “Sure.”

  Even after she sat, she kept her body rigid, as if she had something on her mind and she didn’t know how to begin talking about it. Her eyes followed me as I shook out my tuxedo jacket and put my car keys in my pants pocket.

  “I still can’t believe you are so old now. Senior Prom. And graduation around the corner.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah. Can’t wait for that.”

  She watched me adjust my tie two more times. “Geoff, do you like the life we have now?”

  I frowned, but didn’t look up as the thought crossed my mind that this might be a trick question. Better to be as diplomatic as possible. “It’s great. You seem happy.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I’m not talking about myself. I mean, for you. Do you like our life?” She broke off and took a deep breath. “Of course, I probably don’t have to ask that. I know you hate David.”

  Mom put her hand on my arm and forced me to look at her. “You might not like him, but he likes you. He knows you’re headed for something bigger than this. Something bigger than Robert Hill.” She sighed. “He wants the same thing for the twins, but he doesn’t think they’ll get there. But he knows you will.”

  I gawked at her, confused. “He doesn’t talk to me, except to tell me whatever chores he wants me to do, and when he wants something from me, like tutoring Blake and Bruce. I don’t even think he knows my middle name.”

  Mom tilted her head at me and narrowed her eyes.. “Come on, Geoff. Don’t be so dramatic like that. He knows your full name is Geoffrey Paul Miller.”

  “Whatever. I can’t deal with this right now.” I picked up my jacket from the bed. “It’s almost six forty-five. Dance starts at seven. I should probably go.”

  “Are you mad at me?” She stood up from the bed. “Do you wish I hadn’t married David?”

  “No,” I lied. Then I pulled on my jacket and grabbed my keys.

  “Listen, I know I haven’t been the best mother. I’m sorry.”

  A large sigh escaped my lungs. “You don’t have to be sorry, Mom. It’s fine. I know things were tough when Dad died. I know that. You did the best you could.”

  “You know, you really do look handsome.” She paused as if considering something. “Why don’t you take my BMW?”

  “What?”

  “The BMW.” She blinked at me a few times. “Do you want to drive it to the dance?”

  “Really?” I didn’t even try to hide my excitement.

  “Sure. Why not?”

  “But what if I crash it?”

  “I know you won’t do that, honey.” She motioned for me to follow her down to the garage. Once we got there, she handed me the keys to her black 2012 528i sedan, a fiftieth birthday gift from David. She never let anyone drive the thing, so I didn’t know how to respond as I took the keys. David had professionals wash and wax this car once a week and the sedan had an all leather interior, as well as every option BMW offered. Just riding in it made a person feel rich, and now she wanted me to drive it.

  “Like I said, I know you won’t do anything stupid,” Mom said when she saw my hesitation. “I know the son I raised.”

  “Well . . .” I laughed. “You know, I was thinking later about getting drunk—”

  “You better be trying to be funny.”

  “Yep. I wouldn’t get do something stupid like that.” I smiled as I hugged her small body. She felt so fragile and delicate in my arms, as if I might break her by squeezing too tight. “This is really nice of you. Really nice. No, better than that. Pretty awesome.”

  When I pulled away from the hug, she had a huge grin on her face, too. “Get in. It’s prom night. And it’s a special night.”

  I unlocked the door and sank into the soft leather driver seat. The car still smelled new, even thought she’d owned it for about year, and as I inhaled, a change came over me. Was it confidence? Swagger? I couldn’t tell for sure, but even when I tried to shake it off, the feeling didn’t go away. After a moment, I let it register that I was going to drive this car, this amazing car—even if I wouldn’t be driving the sedan to Laine’s house to pick her up, or to any other hot girl’s house as a consolation. At least it would be a fun ride down to The Syndicate.

  “Just do me a favor,” Mom said, after I clicked the seatbelt in place.

  “What?”

  “Try to give David a chance,” she said. “He’s not that bad.” When I sighed, she leaned over and dusted the shoulder of my tuxedo jacket. “People aren’t so horrible if you just let them show you who they are, honey.”

  Mom shut the car door and waved as she punched the button to open the garage door. I waved back, turned the car on, threw it in reverse, and pulled out of the garage. The engine hummed and responded in a way I’d never felt in any other car. No wonder David and Mom treated this car like a piece of fine art. Even the sound system made music crisper and clearer—at least, to my ears.

  When I glanced in the rear-view mirror about halfway through the drive, I smiled at myself. Might as well try to have fun, since it was Prom night, after all.

  “Can I check you in, Geoff?” asked Ms. Knight, the tenth grade algebra teacher, and a prom chaperone. She smiled up at me from a wide wooden table where she sat next to Mr. Langston. She wore a blue taffeta dress with a beige crochet shrug that highlighted the 100 pounds she needed to lose. He wore an ill-fitting brown suit with a blood-red tie and mustard stain on the collar of his shirt. What a pair.

  “Sure,” I said, taking a prom packet from the table. A brochure listed the dinner menu, small silent auction, and raffle that the Heritage Boosters set up near the dance floor. My eyebrow arched when I realized someone at the prom that night would win a 60-inch flat screen TV at the after prom party.

  “Don’t forget to hand in your vote for King and Queen,” said Mr. Langston. “It’s in the back of the packet.”

  “Okay.”

  “Voting ends at nine p.m.”

  “Let me just hand you my vote now.” A shuffle of the papers showed me the ballot. The names for King and Queen danced and mocked me on the page. Picking Prom Queen was easy, but choosing a king was hard. So I left that space blank.

  “No date tonight?”

  I looked up from the Prom Court list. “Nope.”

  “Lots of people go to proms alone,” said Ms. Knight, and her voice made it obvious she wanted to sound kind and disarming.

  “Sure they do,” I replied as I handed in my vote.

  “Thanks for voting, I see you’re at the table with your friends. Table fifty-six.” She motioned for me to give her my wrist, which she then fastened a light blue wristband around. “Most of them are already here.”

  “Great.”

  I nodded at them both, then walked past the table and down about five stairs. Large round ta
bles of eight surrounded a rectangular dance floor in front of the stage. Long strands of white lights and sparkling stars hung down from the ceiling, no doubt part of the “Prom In the Stars” theme. The decor added to the busy theme of the event space, which was meant to be a throwback to gangsters, Prohibition, art deco and the 1930s. Waiters in red jackets with overstuffed trays dropped off plates of salad to the waiting junior and senior class.

  Table fifty-six sat in the middle of the room, near the back. Josh, Mark and Nathan already sat at the table with their dates. Mark and Nathan had each brought sophomore girls from marching band, but I didn’t know their names. Josh sat next to Allison Nichols, of course. She’d exchanged her black lipstick for a blood red one, and her combat boots for a gray dress with black lace around the hem. In truth, she looked pretty and happy. But I guess prom did that to people.

  “Great to see you, Geoff,” Josh said, and I wondered if I saw a triumphant gleam in his eye. He stood up and clapped me on the back once I reached the table.

  “Yeah, you too.” Despite my misery, I meant it, so I added a smile as I took my seat next to Josh, and tried to ignore the empty one next to me that sat as a constant reminder of the date I had never asked to join me. Not that it mattered. Laine already had a date—Evan—everyone knew it, and that information played over and over and over again in my head, as if it wanted to taunt me. Even worse, when I looked up from my wilted salad covered in ranch dressing, I noticed I had a direct line of sight to her table.

  Damn it.

  Josh tossed me a look that I caught in my peripheral vision, and right away I knew he’d seen her, too. Across the room, Laine threw her head back and laughed at something Jillian had said in her ear. There she went again, always laughing. Always smiling. Always out of reach, this time with her hair piled on top of her head, and a glittering crystal tucked into the hairstyle. She also wore a large rhinestone necklace and a black strapless dress. I couldn’t tell if it was long or short. It didn’t really matter.

  “Man,” Josh muttered. “You really do have it so bad for her.”

  “We’ve already established that.” I turned back to the salad and stabbed a cherry tomato with my fork.

  “Like I’ve said before. Girls like that don’t go for guys like us. Ever. It’s not in their DNA.”

  “Real optimistic, bro.”

  “Just don’t want you to get hurt. Again.”

  I looked up from the salad and shot him a withering look. “She’s not going to hurt me. Again.”

  “She’s taken. That’s all.”

  “Who’s taken?” asked Allison, a piece of dinner roll poised to enter her mouth.

  “No one,” I told her. “No one at all.”

  Allison gave me one of those looks that made me think she knew who I was talking about anyway.

  “Would you like your entree?” asked a waitress who stood next to my left. I jumped at her voice; I hadn’t even noticed she stood there.

  “Uh, sure,” I said.

  She sat down a plate of chicken masala on a bed of risotto.

  “Mm, chicken,” I said. “Looks delicious.”

  “Almost as delicious as Laine,” Josh replied. I kicked him under the table, and he choked on his food. “I mean, as delicious as you, Allison.”

  She sniffed. “Whatever.”

  Ms. Knight took the stage an hour later as the waiters passed around chocolate cake desserts with raspberry compote drizzle. Someone who didn’t know her might have said she looked tipsy, but I knew better. She was the kind of teacher who went around saying things like “I’m high on life,” and “Happiness is my high!”

  Prom night brought out the best in a woman like her.

  “Good evening, junior and senior class.” The microphone she spoke into had distorted the sound, so her voice sounded scratchy and far away. The fat rolls spilled out of her dress and threatened to swallow the mic whole, taking it somewhere no one in that room wanted to go. That alone kept my attention. “Are you all having a great night at prom?”

  Everyone clapped and answered her with a collective yell.

  “Well, I’m glad to hear it! Every one of you looks so adorable in your outfits! Just like little cakes!” She took a few steps across the stage to make sure she addressed everyone. “And things only will get better, because the night has just started! Who’s ready to elect your Prom King and Queen?”

  Did she really need to ask that question?

  Mr. Langston walked up on the stage with a gold envelope, and presented it to her as the room erupted again in a round of applause and hollers from my classmates. In Mr. Langston’s other hand he held two crowns, one for a girl, and one for guy. He leaned into the microphone, just a few inches from Ms. Knight’s breasts. “The results are in! Are you ready?”

  More cheers came from the crowd, and my eyes found Laine’s. She smiled at me, and my heart jumped to my throat. Out of my peripheral vision, Mr. Langston lifted up the envelope and opened it with an awkward flourish.

  “Your Prom King is . . . drumroll please…. Evan Carpenter!”

  Some things about high school were just so predictable. Insert eye roll.

  “Why did we even vote?” Josh wondered aloud as the room broke into loud applause.

  “Exactly,” Allison muttered.

  Evan pushed back his chair, and danced his way to the stage, as if he owned the room. His face looked redder than usual, and when he reached Ms. Knight, he kissed her on the cheek with a loud smack. Then he knelt so that Mr. Langston could place the cheap crown on his head.

  Allison giggled. “That crown looks so tiny on his huge head.”

  “It’s really bad,” I said. “Looks like a crown from Burger King.”

  “Are you ready to hear who will be Prom Queen?” Ms. Knight asked, once Evan had stepped to the side.

  Again, I wondered why the school had even bothered to vote on this. I could have elected the Prom Queen back when we’d all been freshman. Things never changed at Heritage High School. Whoever a person was to their classmates by seventh grade, they were that very same person to their classmates here, on prom night. No one ever broke out of place in the caste system. No one.

  “Your Prom Queen is . . .” Ms. Knight opened the envelope, and her eyes widened in mock surprise. “Laine Phillips!”

  Laine stood up from her table, as the room erupted into cheers once again. She should have known she would win, but the goofy grin on her face told me that, no matter how much anyone else expected it, she never did. Not for a second. Happiness and surprise radiated from her, and even I clapped as she made her way up the stage to take her place next to Evan. Once she had the silver and rhinestone crown on her head, she reminded me of a frosted Barbie doll.

  “She so gorgeous you wish you could hate her, but then she’s so nice that you just can’t,” Allison said, as Evan and Laine posed for photos destined to take a place on the front page of the school newspaper and their own yearbook spread. “Everyone just loves her.”

  “Yep, they do,” Josh replied. “Especially Geoff, here.”

  I hit him once on the arm with the back of my hand, and shot him a warning look. “Shut up.”

  Too late. A smug smile floated across Allison’s face. “He’s still in love with her, just like the rest of the school.”

  “I’m not in love with her,” I protested, my voice rising in urgency. “I’m not in love with her!”

  “It’s okay.” Allison nodded at the stage where Evan and Laine had just started their dance together as King and Queen. “Everyone is. It’s just a shame she won’t ever stop dating Evan.”

  Heritage High’s PTA, staff, and the parents of students prided themselves on giving the best they could, but that didn’t mean a good DJ for the biggest event of the school year. Some things just weren’t in the budget. Instead, we danced to an iPod playlist piped through the speakers, but I think I was the only one who noticed. Or who even really cared. Everyone else looked content to pack the rectangular parquet floor,
and sweat away in fancy pastel dresses and rented tuxedos.

  About an hour into the dancing, most of the girls ditched their shoes, and many of the guys wore patches of sweat on their backs. They yelled comments back and forth to each other and took hundreds of photos on their cell phones for Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook accounts.

  “This music sucks,” Allison said as “Electric Boogie” began. All around our small group of friends, the crowd spread out to perform the line dance that accompanied the music. A longtime staple of weddings, bar mitzvahs, and school dances, almost everyone at Heritage knew that dance better than they wanted to admit. Funny, how a song like that had so much staying power.

  “Come on,” Josh said, as he fell in line with the crowd. “A school dance isn’t a dance without this song.”

  “Whatever, I can’t stand it,” Allison replied. “I’m going to the ladies room.” She smiled at both of us and disappeared into the crowd.

  “It is kinda . . . well . . .” I said to Josh, but then I broke off, because some commotion diagonal from us on the dance floor caught my eye. In fact, what I saw brought me to a total halt.

  Both Evan and Laine had stopped dancing. A deep frown cut canyons on her face, and she narrowed her eyes as she spoke to him. Anyone who saw her would have known she was angry. Evan said a few words to her and swayed a little, still wearing the cheap crown on his head. Unsatisfied, she pulled him off the dance floor through the rows of tables, and over to a dark corner near the banquet hall exit, away from everyone else and behind a large sign with the prom theme painted on it. No one followed them, but that didn’t really surprise me. The crush of students and music created chaos on the dance floor, as my classmates snapped photos of each other with their cell phones, danced in large groups, and laughed, as if this was the last night of their lives. They were all having too much fun to notice the argument.

  And that argument reignited once Evan and Laine made it behind that poster. From where I stood, I watched them yell, their faces inches from each other. Evan’s face turned so red that I wondered if it would turn purple before long. Laine looked like she might cry at any moment. I stared at them until curiosity took over every cell in my body. “I wonder what—”