by Megan Stine
“Yeah. But not half as nervous as I am,” I whispered back.
It was total torture waiting all the way through the first act, not knowing if my plan was going to work the way I hoped. I mean, I’d stolen the pants that afternoon and taken them home and sewn up the side seams in both legs—but I kind of had to guess at how much.
What if I’d sewn them too tight, and he couldn’t even get them on?
On the other hand, if they weren’t tight enough, he’d just zip and it would be no big deal.
Out front, the audience was going wild, laughing at all the jokes and hooting and cheering when each song was over. Natalie was chewing up the scenery, overplaying her prissy role as Sergeant Sarah Brown, which was getting a lot of laughs just because it was so not her.
Finally the first-act curtain came down, and everyone crowded backstage to change into their second-act costumes.
“You were awesome!” Becca cooed to Natalie.
“Did you catch how I blew that line about Lieutenant Brannigan, and then covered it up with the racing form joke?” Benny Rancelli said.
“Nicely done,” Jacob joked to Nicely Nicely Johnson.
Funny. There’d been a lot of “nicely” jokes all through rehearsals, but that was the best one, mostly because of the way Jacob said it.
As everyone rushed around backstage, bursting with the excitement of opening night, I felt the first pang of jealousy since the auditions. They were all having a crazy, total blast, and I was just a bystander, watching from the wings.
But my big scene was coming. Oh, yeah. And when my turn came, when I was done playing the role of a lifetime—The Slut of Norton High—I knew I’d be so juiced on it, you couldn’t bring me down with a sledgehammer.
“Carmen, where’s that extra bunny tail?” someone called to me, and I went off to rummage through the costume trunk. On the way, I passed David, who was still trying to get my attention, I could feel it.
“You need anything?” he asked, all Mr. Helpful.
“No thanks.”
“Was the sound okay out front?” he asked.
“How would I know?” I snapped. “I was backstage the whole time.”
“Oh. Yeah. Well, can I talk to you when you . . . ?”
I ran off.
I was almost afraid he was going to take me aside and say he’d changed his mind, that he wanted to go to the prom. Too late, I’d have to tell him. I had other plans now.
Big plans.
Intermission seemed to drag on forever. Even the cast felt it. Everyone was itching to get back onstage and finish the show, and Emily and I were going to explode if we had to wait much longer to pull our pants trick.
Finally Mr. Richards flashed the lights in the lobby, where parents were fake-congratulating each other on how well all the other kids were doing, when all they really wanted was for someone to say how great their own kid was. Of course, no one came back to their seats right away, because they’d been so busy working the crowd, they hadn’t had time to go pee. Plus all the little brothers and sisters were still busy eating donuts that the Student Council sold as a sticky fund-raiser.
The wait was killing me.
But at last Act II started, and I huddled with Emily so we could watch the scenes together, from the wings.
Natalie was really quite good, I had to admit. Not as sincere as I liked, but her voice was amazing, and she did light up the stage. I could see that having a huge audience out there had turned on some inner glow in her, which made her even more captivating.
“This is it,” Emily whispered as Tyler’s first scene in Havana ended and he dashed off the stage. She reached over and squeezed my wrist.
“Did you put them where they’re supposed to be?” I whispered.
She nodded.
We had arranged for Emily to take the sewn-up pants out of the costume closet and hang them on the rack near the screened-off area, just in case Natalie was somehow on to me. She’d been watching me so closely, I was afraid she’d figured it out.
I glanced into the dark back corner. Tyler was behind the screen alone, with no one nearby to help him. It was perfect!
There was a quick scenery change going on onstage, with the lights dimmed. Backstage, everyone was supposed to be silent. No talking allowed.
I walked over to the table at the edge of the screen, where Tyler was supposed to lay his old costume when he took it off. Quickly I scooped it up and carried it far away, to a closet where no one would find it till much later.
Then the lights came up, the whole chorus flooded onto the stage for the Cuban café scene, and Natalie made her entrance.
“Tyler,” Darren whispered. “You’re on.”
“Shit!”
Emily and I had to cover our mouths to keep from giggling loudly.
There was a long, long pause, while the orchestra vamped, waiting for Tyler to make his entrance from stage left. We quickly slipped around back, so we could watch from the wings on stage right.
Finally he came out, walking funny, sort of spreading his legs wide, trying to keep his pants from falling down. Almost instantly, someone in the audience tittered. Then a key light hit him just right, and everyone could see that his pants weren’t zipped all the way.
It was like a volcano erupting, the way the laughter just happened, loud and immediate. Natalie gasped, looked horrified, and promptly forgot her next line. Darren prompted her from the wings, but she couldn’t really hear him over the laughter, so she just sort of improvised. She was supposed to say, “You’re a full-time sinner,” but it came out, “You’re such a big, big sinner,” while staring at his crotch the whole time.
After that, there was no putting the brakes on this train wreck. People tried to stop laughing, because it was painfully obvious that something had gone wrong and his costume was not supposed to fit him like something a male stripper would mail order.
But when an audience loses it, I guess it’s hard to get them back under control.
People were laughing so hard during their big kiss that Natalie got nervous and teetered in her high shoes, nearly falling over. And I guess all the commotion made David nervous, because he then missed a lighting cue and turned the bright white lights on for Tyler’s exit.
All in all, it was a memorable night at the theater.
Emily and I danced around backstage, celebrating silently. I couldn’t believe how well it had worked! Tyler, the guy who couldn’t keep his pants on long enough to act like a decent boyfriend. Ha!
But the best line of the evening was spoken after the final curtain came down, when I heard Natalie say to Tyler, “Get a bigger pair of pants or go on a diet by tomorrow, buster. Because if you ruin that scene again, you’re dead.”
Okay, I thought. My revenge plans were working!
One down, and one to go.
Chapter 19
I have to admit it: Fun has a price.
After my triumphant revenge against Tyler Thursday night, there were a lot of Carmen haters out there. For one, Mr. Richards wasn’t too thrilled with me. He knew it was me, even though he couldn’t prove anything.
He called me aside Thursday night after some of the postperformance buzz died down.
“Carmen, I don’t know what happened to Tyler’s costume, but it seriously marred the performance, as I’m sure you know.” I winced. His voice and face were filled with major disappointment. “Do you think you can get it fixed before tomorrow night?”
“For sure,” I squeaked, my voice tiny and guilty and apologetic.
He spun around without saying anything else, leaving me to soak up his silent wrath.
Of course Tyler was a hater, too. I could feel him wanting to strangle me for bringing all that humiliation and ruining his big scene, but he didn’t dare say anything to me. He knew he didn’t have the moral high ground.
I think Natalie wanted to kill me, and at the same time admired me a little more for what I’d done, when she finally figured out it was me. I mean, she’s s
uch a predator, she doesn’t respect anyone who’s so weak they won’t fight for what they want. My ratings went up with her just for pulling off such a crazy stunt.
The rest of the cast picked sides as the night wore on, with about half of them hating me just because they were friends with Natalie, and the other half pretty much in my court, I’m not sure why. Maybe they were beginning to figure out that I had a good reason for what I did. I think Emily helped, by spreading the true story about Tyler to some of the actors backstage.
Ariel was on my side, of course. She gave me a secret smile when I went up to her after the play to congratulate her on her performance. I threw my arms around her, gave her a big hug, and handed her a really pretty bouquet of flowers, wrapped in cellophane and tied with blue and silver ribbons, the color of her costume.
“Wow,” she said, beaming at the flowers. “Thanks. My parents didn’t even bring me flowers.”
“They probably didn’t know they were supposed to,” I said. How could they? No one else in the family had ever been in a high school play before.
Friday was the last performance—Norton only did two, which seemed like a shame after all that work—and the love scene went off without laughs from the audience, although two boys from the chorus couldn’t help giggling when Natalie said her line about how Tyler was a sinner.
After the show, the whole cast and stage crew went to Garrity’s Hole for the cast party. Garrity’s was a cool party space—a big warehouse with a huge back room where they had a pool table, several big sports TVs, and a bunch of couches and tables. We all hung out in the back room drinking soda and eating slices of pizza while MTV blasted on one of the big TVs.
The place was jammin’.
“Is this crazy or what?” Emily said, beaming at me as she swigged her soda. “I mean, we’ll be up all night, and tomorrow’s the prom. We won’t get any sleep for two days. It’s insane.”
She looked deliriously happy.
“We can sleep when we get to college,” I said.
“Right.” She took another swig and started moving to the music that was blasting from MTV on one of the big TVs.
“You want to dance?” Benny Rancelli asked her.
Emily looked so shocked, I thought she was going to spit cola all over his blue Abercrombie sweater. “Me?”
“You.”
He started dancing, bumping hips with her, and she shot me a look like she never wanted this night to end, ever. Forget the prom—she was partying now like there was no tomorrow.
Could you blame her? I mean, she was going to New York for her callback on American Superstar, and she was looking so hot, guys were starting to notice her for the first time in her life.
I scanned the room, looking for someone else to talk to. I finally spotted Ariel hanging with Samantha Bekins, who was marginally in Natalie’s crowd. I made my way over to them.
“You were fabulous again tonight,” I said to Ariel.
“Thanks! Everyone said the costumes were so great. You did an amazing job with them.” She cleared her throat, as if to say, with most of them, anyway.
“I had fun,” I said, meaning it in more ways than one. “And I’m not done yet.”
“Oh, wow, don’t tell me you meant it about having nothing else to lose, Carmen.”
I smiled like a Cheshire cat. Let her wonder, I decided. It would be better this way.
“Carmen, I mean, you do have something to lose . . .”
“Yeah. I could lose it, couldn’t I? Why not? Everyone thinks I already have.”
She looked shocked, and I had to struggle not to burst out laughing.
“Just wait and see,” I said, my eyes dancing with the secret.
I got up and sort of shimmied through the room, making my way over to the buffet table to grab a slice of pizza. On the way, I checked out the room. Tyler was moping in a corner, obviously feeling sorry for himself because he hadn’t gotten the huge applause and standing O he was used to getting. It seemed like his confidence had been shaken after Thursday night, and he didn’t bring the same megawatt charisma on Friday that he usually had. Plus Natalie was ignoring him, dancing with some cute guy on the tech crew, like she wanted to shake the whole embarrassing scene out of her system.
I looked back at Tyler to see if he was watching her, but he wasn’t. Instead, his eyes met mine, and he gave me an almost pleading look . . .
What was that? Regret? Apology? Or just plain horniness?
Who cares? I thought. Too late. He was a jerk, and I was moving on.
I grabbed the last piece of veggie pizza and was just taking a big gooey bite when David tapped me on the shoulder.
“No, you can’t cut in,” I said with my mouth full. “My pizza and I are having this dance alone.”
David laughed, then his face got all serious. Like he wasn’t sure if I was joking because I forgave him for rejecting me . . . or I was being serious and didn’t want him to interrupt my alone time with my slice.
He looked so clueless, it made me laugh. With my mouth full.
I grabbed a napkin, shook my head, and set the pizza down.
“What?” I said, half angry at him, half amused.
“Can I talk to you?” He was shouting because it was really noisy in there.
“You are,” I said.
“Oh, yeah. Right.” He almost shuffled his feet, he was so nervous. “Well, I just wanted to tell you . . . I mean, I really like you, and I never wanted to hurt your feelings . . .”
“Uh-huh.” I crossed my arms over my chest. I didn’t feel like making this easier for him.
“But when you asked me to the prom, I freaked because I’m just not . . . I mean, I haven’t dated that many girls . . . and I don’t know if I’m ready for the kind of heavy . . .”
It was too painful; I had to stop him. “Never mind,” I said, putting a hand on his arm. “You don’t have to apologize. Everyone else thinks I’m a slut, so why not you?”
“No.” He shook his head. “No, I don’t think you’re a slut.”
“Okay. Well, I’m not. But when you see me tomorrow night, you might start to wonder.”
“About tomorrow night . . .” he started to say.
I interrupted him before he could ask me. “Listen, I’m going to the prom with Emily. But if you want to meet us there, I’d love to hang out with you.”
“Really?” He looked so grateful.
“Yeah. Just don’t be surprised if you see me doing some stuff that I wouldn’t normally do.”
He looked confused, but I didn’t care. “Okay.”
I couldn’t wait for tomorrow night. My plan was going to work, I just knew it.
Yeah. It was going to be a prom night to remember, that was for sure—and I was going to make sure no one else forgot it, either. Not for a long, long time.
Chapter 20
“Carmen? Are you still up there?” my mom called up the steps to the studio early Saturday afternoon. “I have lunch ready.”
“Yeah, Mom.” I called back. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
I’d been up in the studio since early that morning, working on some modifications to my prom dress. Not that it wasn’t already finished—I’d finished sewing it three days ago.
But now that I was planning to do what I was planning to do . . . I needed to change the dress a little. Make it even hotter. Lower the neckline even more. Cut a large slit up the side, so I’d be showing tons more thigh. And make sure it was supertight across my butt, so guys wouldn’t be able to take their eyes off it . . . or, uh . . . me.
Sex it up a little, in other words. Not that I wanted to look cheap on prom night. Just available.
I had almost finished the last, most tedious and time-consuming part, lowering the neckline, which required sewing all those tiny beads on again, and I was trying it on to make sure the neckline was right, staring at myself in the full-length wall mirror, when I heard footsteps.
“Don’t come up, Mom, I’ll . . .”
B
ut she was already there. “Oh!” she shrieked.
“Uh . . . hi,” I said. “I look pretty hot, don’t I?”
My mom narrowed her dark eyes at me and crossed her arms over her stocky chest. She’s little, like I am, but she’s a force to be reckoned with.
“Carmen, what are you doing?”
“You know what I’m doing, Mom. Working on my prom dress.”
“No, I mean, what are you doing wearing something that shows half your thigh and nearly all of your bosom?” she said firmly.
“Mom, it’s my senior prom. Don’t give me grief, okay?”
“Give me an answer, Carmen. And don’t tell me all the girls will be dressed like this.”
I certainly hope not, I thought.
“Look, Mom, it’s more like a costume than a dress. Everyone does that these days—dresses up in wild stuff that you wouldn’t really wear if it weren’t prom.”
She looked skeptical. It’s hard to pull one over on her.
“Mom, please. You’ve got to trust me. I’m not going to do anything wrong.”
She let out a deep sigh and went back downstairs.
When Mom was gone, I slipped out of the dress and back into my sweats. I glanced out the window at Molly’s house. She was heavy into prom prep, too, and apparently she’d bought two dresses, because she kept trying on one and then the other, back and forth, trying to decide which one to wear.
Primp all you want, I thought, staring at Molly. You won’t be able to hang on to Joey tonight—not after he sees what I can offer him.
Chapter 21
“Wow.” Ryan Marciolla’s mouth dropped open when he saw me step out of the car at Nicko’s, the fanciest restaurant in town and the only place to be seen on prom night for the traditional preprom dinner. He gazed, mesmerized, at my R-rated, too-hot-for-prime-time dress. “Wow.”
“Hi, Ryan,” I said, breezing past him with Emily. We both were totally aware that we were arriving kind of late and were making an entrance that everyone would notice.
I’d planned the whole evening around this entrance—I wanted to make sure Joey saw me looking so hot I sizzled. My hair was cascading all over the place, but actually, so was Emily’s. We’d both gone to the new Aveda Concept Salon at the mall and had Roderick (not his real name) do our hair. As it turned out, Roderick only had one good hair idea, but it was killer.