Freshman Year & Other Unnatural Disasters

by Meredith Zeitlin

  “No, young lady, it is not.” She lowers her voice and speaks in a dangerously dark tone. “Your friends have been escorted off the premises for smoking marijuana, which as I’m sure you are aware is illegal and, obviously, expressly forbidden at school functions. Now, since you four are still in the ballroom, I will assume that blah blah blah …”

  Oh. My. God.

  Seriously? We’ve been here for fifteen minutes and my date has already been kicked out and possibly arrested? This is very bad. Am I in trouble by association? I’ve never even tried pot! But I had a glass of champagne at Lexi’s. What if they do a Breathalyzer test? What if Shanman makes Robby stand up right now and she finds his flask and he’s kicked off the lacrosse team and we’re all roped together and tossed in the Hudson River?!

  I guess this means I’m not going to get a prom portrait taken with Josh tonight. My mom is not going to like that one bit.

  38

  We do not get arrested. Dr. Shanman harangues us about surrounding ourselves with the right kind of people in the future and then stalks off to go write a report about half the lacrosse team, who were all caught and will probably not be playing a whole lot of lacrosse the last month of school.

  Once Shanman left, Robby practically hyperventilated about his close call; the only reason he wasn’t out there with Josh and the others is because Lexi had gotten so pissed off at him when he pulled the same stunt at the winter formal that he decided to hold off till after dinner to ditch her and go get high. A real romantic, Robby is. Lexi seems to appreciate the gesture, though, as she is now comforting him with a great deal of gusto and smearing of lip gloss on the dance floor.

  Jill excused herself to fill her friends in on the exciting scandal, so I sit with Jen—the other now-dateless girl at my table—and try to find something to talk about. Turns out the only thing we have in common is that we are both sitting alone at the prom.

  I hate to say it, but so far? Prom blows.

  I grab my cell phone and step outside the ballroom to call Em. She picks up after one ring.

  “Hi! So, how’s it going? Do you like Josh? Does everyone love your dress?”

  “Em. You are not going to believe what is happening over here. It’s insane, even for me.”

  I quickly fill her in. When I wrap up the pot saga, she asks, “So, you’re just at the prom by yourself now?”

  “Uh, sort of, yeah. I mean, Lexi is here, obviously, but she’s with Robby. And then there’s the effervescent Julie Nelson, who I think would rather be stuffed inside a suitcase with a scorpion than take me under her wing for the evening.”

  “Should I call JoJo and Cass? Maybe we can—”

  “Well, look who it is,” a familiar voice behind me cuts in. I can practically feel Ben’s ironic grin before I even see it.

  “Sorry, Em—I’ll call you back, okay?” I hang up and turn around.

  Oh, man. Ben looks really, really hot in a tuxedo. Valentina is with him, of course, wearing a beautiful vintage dress that fits her perfectly and different glasses than usual—these have tiny rhinestones on the sides. They both look glamorous and perfect and suddenly I feel like Travis playing dress-up in my mom’s clothes.

  Okay, fine. I will admit it. I totally have a crush on Ben.

  Which is why I have to get out of here immediately.

  “Hey, Ben. Hey, Val, uh … you guys look amazing. I mean, I’d love to chat, but I have to, uh, go find Lexi because, you know, we, uh … came together. So. Yeah.”

  “Hang on a sec—where’s your date? Didn’t you come with Josh Ostfeld?”

  How did he know that? Is it possible Ben has been keeping tabs on me?

  “Oh, yeah, Josh. Uh, he got arrested. I think. I don’t know, actually, but he was definitely removed from the premises.” Good, that’s great. Now they know you’re here without a date. Why don’t you just print up invitations to your pity party and call it a night?

  “Arrested? You’re kidding, right?” Valentina looks stunned. Then she bursts into peals of laughter. “Pay up!” she commands, turning to Ben and holding her hand out, palm up. “I told you someone would get kicked out in the first hour. God, the guys in our class are such tools.”

  She turns back to me. “Thanks, Kelsey—you just made my night!” She puts her hand on Ben’s arm and squeezes it affectionately. “Babe, I’ve gotta go find Zoe and dish. See you in there, okay?” Then she gathers up her awesome full skirt and heads into the ballroom.

  This would be a perfect time for Ben to say something along the lines of, Gosh, Kelsey. You look so beautiful, I think I will immediately break up with Val and sweep you off to the Riviera for a romantic weekend. I trust you enjoy bouillabaisse?

  “Kelsey, Kelsey, Kelsey. You really know how to find trouble, don’t you?” Ben’s eyes crinkle up as usual. Now I sort of want to punch him.

  “Well, I do what I can to keep you entertained, Ben. No need to thank me—it’s a totally free service. So, yeah. I’ve gotta go.”

  I dash away as fast as I can in my teetering shoes, only glancing back as I’m slipping through the doors of the ballroom. Is it me, or does he look just the tiniest bit perturbed?

  Eh. It’s probably just me.

  When I see that Lexi is now slow-dancing with Robby in a way that definitely does not invite interruption, I make an executive decision to head to the bathroom and collect my thoughts.

  I stand in front of the sinks and look at myself in the mirror. Ugh. This is a total rerun of the night of the Foreign Scarves concert—me, staring at myself in the mirror, wondering what the hell happened.

  I adjust one of the straps on my dress, thinking. This whole year has been ridiculous. First soccer, then fights with my friends, the tragic pictures in the paper, guy disasters, the play … it’s like I’m some kind of magnet for catastrophe! The plan was to live up to my full potential and be awesome and make the world notice me for a change. Well, they noticed all right. What a nightmare.

  I’m thinking that maybe I should just grab my stuff and hightail it back to Brooklyn where I belong when someone comes out of a stall. Of course: it’s Julie Nelson. She’s a bit of a mess and very obviously drunk. She was pre-partying before she got here, from the look of it. I wonder where her friends are.

  “Uh, Julie? Are you … okay?” I ask tentatively.

  “Oh my Goooooooooddddd, why are you following me everywhere? You know, Finkelstein, you think you’re so cool, don’t you? You just do whatever you want and everyone thinks you’re hilarious … well, let me tell you—tell you—” She blanches and puts her hand over her mouth.

  Oh, God. Is she going to puke? I make a move toward her, just in case she needs help.

  “I’m FINE.” She waves me away firmly. “I’m not a freshman, you know, I can hold my liquor. And unlike some people, I—oh, God—”

  She bends over the sink and starts retching. I quickly flip the lock on the bathroom door and run to pull her hair back. Luckily it’s half-up, so she doesn’t get anything on it. She’s breathing heavily and tears are streaming from her eyes, and I have absolutely no idea what to do other than rub her back and pray she just drank too much and will be fine now that she threw most of it up. I really would love to avoid being connected to more than one group of people getting kicked out of prom, if possible.

  I get Julie’s purse off the floor of the stall she was in and fish out her powder compact, which I hand to her. She starts blotting her face with the puff. “You want me to get you some ginger ale or something?” I ask tentatively.

  “No, just … I’m okay now.” Our eyes meet in the mirror. She grabs a tissue and starts wiping away some of the streaked mascara. “Look, I didn’t eat much today, that’s all.” She sniffs and sort of half laughs, half gulps. “You look totally freaked out. Chill, I’m fine.”

  “Okay. Uh, Julie, your dress is kind of—”

  I hear someone knocking on the bathroom door. “Julie? Julie? Are you in there?”

  I unlock and open the door. He
r friends rush past me and swarm around the sinks. “Oh my God, Jules, are you okay? We were so worried!” They all seem kind of wasted themselves, actually. I hope they can hold each other’s hair now, because I would really like to get out of here.

  “Guys, I’m fine! Stop fussing at me,” Julie snaps. She looks up at me in the mirror again. “Well, Finkelstein? You need something?”

  “Uh—nope. No, I’m just going. But, your, um—”

  “Great. Bye.” She gives me a death-ray glare in the mirror. Okay, fine. I can take a hint.

  I back out of the bathroom. I can’t believe that girl! I help her cover up a vomiting episode and she’s still a total bitch to me?

  I guess it’s a shame, really. If only she’d been even a little bit nicer, I would’ve stuck around to tell her that the top of her strapless dress has fallen down and her flesh-colored paste-on bra is totally showing. And she looks ridiculous. Not to mention naked.

  Oh, well. I’m sure one of her wasted friends will notice.

  39

  I’m heading to the table to get my wrap, say a quick good-bye to Lexi, and see if I can make it home in time to catch the new SNL when I feel my phone vibrating inside my clutch. I take it out and flip it open to see a text from Em. It says, WE’RE HERE! COME TO THE ELEVATOR!

  Huh?

  I toss my wrap and purse back on the table and make my way through dancing loons until I get to the double doors of the ballroom. I feel like I’ve walked about twelve miles in these damned heels—and for what? Sigh. I go out to the hallway by the elevator bank. It’s empty, of course—everyone arrived by now and went inside. What the heck did Em mean?

  I’m about to go back for my phone to call her when the elevator doors open. And there they are, all dressed up: my three besties in the whole frickin’ world. Em is wearing the dress from her cousin’s sweet sixteen last year. Cass and JoJo are both wearing gowns that may have once belonged to JoJo’s mom. They look weird, but fabulous.

  “How did you guys get in here?!” I shriek after we have a massive group hug. “You don’t have prom invitations—didn’t they check?”

  “I made a coupla calls,” JoJo explains, obviously pleased with herself. “Turns out the concierge used to belong to a nudist colony my parents were into a few years ago. I offered to bring a few pictures with me, and he said not to bother because there’d be no problem at all if we just came on up to meet you. Wasn’t that nice?”

  “You guys are so, so awesome. I can’t believe you came all the way here!”

  “Well, we heard you needed a date,” Cass says, linking her arm through mine.

  “Oh, God. I was just about to leave, actually.”

  “Kelsey, this is your first prom! You can’t leave early!” Em insists. “Besides, have you even danced yet?”

  “I haven’t done anything yet except march around in these horrible pinchy shoes you made me buy and hold Julie Nelson’s hair while she puked. I haven’t even had dinner!”

  The girls and I go back into the ballroom, toss our stuff down on the empty seats at my table, and hit the dance floor. Five feet away from me, Ned Garman is whispering something in Julie Nelson’s ear that, based on the look of horror on his face and her freaked-out reaction, has to be: “Holy shit, your dress fell down! Fix it, quick!”

  What a lovely, lovely turn the evening has taken.

  . . .

  After a while, my feet are actually ready to fall off. I leave my friends bouncing around to Beyoncé and limp over to the nearest empty table, plop down in a seat, and slip the horrible heels off. Oh, glorious relief! I help myself to some water. Whoever was sitting here left a gorgeous antique-looking purse on the table. I pick it up to admire it more closely, and the clasp pops open. Crap. A cell phone and lipstick fall out, which I quickly put back inside. The other item is more interesting. It’s a digital camera—an expensive-looking one, I see when I take it out of its case. Which normally I wouldn’t do, but this particular camera case has a sticker on it. A label, really, that reads, in big letters: PROPERTY OF THE REFLECTOR. Underneath that is a smaller sticker with the school’s address in case someone finds it.

  Interesting. Very, very interesting.

  That’s when I notice the prom invitations that were underneath the bag. Of course—it’s Val’s purse. I should’ve guessed, since it goes perfectly with her dress. And this invitation must be Ben’s. Ben … the photographer. And huge liar, apparently.

  I knew it. I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! I’m not sure when exactly I knew it, but I totally did. I can’t believe this—where the heck is that jerk?

  I get up, not even bothering to put on my shoes, determined to find that sneaky camera jockey and read him the riot act. Giant submission file indeed. Ha—it was him all along! And why? Why would he purposely take all those awful pictures of me? Did Julie Nelson hire him? To reiterate: WHYYYYY??

  I don’t see him anywhere on the dance floor. He and Val must have stepped outside for a mid-prom makeout party. Well, this time, I won’t mind interrupting at all, thank you very much!

  I march back out through the double doors. There are a few kids and one chaperone on a cell phone, but no Ben or Val. Aha! I hear voices over by the elevators. It must be them. Determined to give that scoundrel Ben a piece of my mind without getting sidetracked for once by his crinkly eyes, or snarky smile, or anything else, I march over to them.

  There’s Valentina. She’s smiling and holding hands with someone. That someone is tucking a lock of hair behind Val’s ear for her in a very romantic way. But it is definitely not Ben.

  It’s JoJo.

  40

  I stop dead in my tracks. JoJo sees me and turns white. Val, who was saying something, trails off and drops JoJo’s hand. We all stand there for a second in total silence.

  “I, um … I’m just gonna go … oh, God.” Val shoots a worried look at JoJo and bolts past me. JoJo turns to me, looking totally panicked.

  “Kels, I, okay, um … this is so not … well, okay. Um, I’m gay. I wanted to tell you before, but I wasn’t sure … if … Uh, Kelsey?”

  I start laughing. I can’t help it. I start laughing so hard I can’t stop, and I feel terrible because this is supposed to be a serious, important moment, one I’ve been preparing to be supportive for since the summer, but of all the ways I thought it would happen, this was never even on my radar. I’m laughing so hard that I start to choke, and JoJo has to pound me on the back till I can breathe again. In the middle of her coming-out speech. Brilliant.

  I take a deep breath and straighten up. JoJo is looking at me like she’s scared of what I’m going to say. Oh, no!

  “JoJo,” I say quickly, “I’m so sorry I laughed. It’s not funny, it’s just—we know. I mean, I know, we all know—we’ve been waiting for you to tell us all year!”

  “You have? But …” Now a smile is spreading on JoJo’s face. “Why didn’t you say anything? I’ve been trying to tell you for months!”

  “We didn’t want to rush you!”

  “Oh, for the love of … well, so does this mean you’re cool with it?”

  “JoJo, of course! Don’t be ridiculous!”

  JoJo slides down the wall and sits on the floor. I do the same. She lets out a huge breath. “I’m so relieved. I mean, I don’t know why I thought you wouldn’t—I just … I don’t know. It seems stupid now.”

  “It’s not stupid,” I assure her. “It’s a big deal. I mean, it isn’t, but … you know.”

  “Yeah.”

  We sit there for a second. Then I say, “Wait a second. So … is Val … ?”

  “Oh my God, Kels, I’ve wanted to tell you about that for ages, too—she’s not Ben’s girlfriend!”

  “Yeah, I sort of figured that out, thanks. So … what are they, then?”

  “They’ve been best friends since forever. But I couldn’t tell you without, you know … but he really likes you! He thought you were so cute and funny when you came into the office all pissed off that day … I tried to g
ive you hints about it, but you didn’t—”

  “JoJo, he does not like me. This is what I’ve been trying to tell you the whole time! He is the photographer for the paper. I just found his camera and came out here to rip him a new one. He’s been taking all those awful pictures of me all year! On purpose!”

  “Kels, no.” JoJo gets serious. “The first ones were totally a coincidence, and he felt really bad, seriously. So then he took that picture of you from the awards assembly and thought you’d be so happy, but he didn’t notice the tooth thing … he really was trying to be nice! And he was so bummed out when he thought you were into that Sam idiot, and he told Val you’ve been avoiding him since then, and I knew it was because you felt dumb, but …”

  My head is spinning, trying to take this all in. “So, wait. Slow down. When did you meet Valentina? I’m so lost.”

  “At the party we went to with Lexi. The night you made up with Cass. The night—”

  “And all this time you knew? JoJo! I may have to kill you.”

  “I know, I know, but how do you think I feel? I wanted you to get together with Ben so bad and obviously tell you about my—about Val … but—”

  “Okay. Okay. So, is that it, then?” I stand up and haul JoJo to her feet. “Have you told me everything? You aren’t also becoming a Buddhist, or a vegan, or a man, or anything else life-changing? Today, anyway?”

  “Not that I’m aware of, no.”

  “Okay, great. In that case … I’ll see you later.”

  Then I run for the ballroom doors.

  Once back inside, I scan the dance floor. No Ben. Tables? No Ben. Then I spot him, talking to an obviously distressed Valentina, in the corner near the dessert buffet.

  Mmm. Dessert. But this is no time for distractions.

  I take a deep breath, toss my fantastic (and still bouncy!) hair over my shoulder, and walk up to them.

  Valentina looks like she’s about to burst into tears. “Listen, Kelsey, I’m so, so—”