Prom Crashers

by Erin Downing

  “There are some hotties, but their gorgeousness is wasted because they’re all band freaks?” Charlie had a tendency toward prejudgment, and assumed all band members were losers. He himself was a drama geek, so go figure.

  “Not what I was thinking,” Sid answered. “What gets me down is the fact that that guy”—she pointed to the drum guy holding the sweaty shorts; the guy was now sniffing them—“probably has a real band he plays with, and actually gets gigs, not just the completely lame mall tea shop.”

  “Do you want to be in that guy’s band?” Charlie’s lip was in a sneer. He buttoned the top button of his tux jacket and pulled at the lapel to straighten it. “Do you want to be like that guy?”

  “No, dumbass, I just want a real gig sometime. How many times do I have to send out my CDs and get rejected before someone other than ‘Teas of the World’ Gary hires me?”

  Charlie shrugged. “Your genius has yet to be realized. You’re going to be huge. If I didn’t believe that, I wouldn’t hang out with you. Simple as that.” He pulled out two pairs of huge, dark sunglasses. “Wear these.”

  Sid studied him. “Oh, come on.”

  “For me.”

  She pulled the sunglasses onto her small, button nose. “Do I look fabulous?”

  Charlie grinned and nodded vigorously. “Like the star that you are.” They walked toward the back of the school, just up the hill from the track. The plan was that Charlie and Sid would try to sneak into Memorial High that afternoon while the doors were unlocked for track practice.

  They had received this suggestion from one of the McDonald’s employees at the mall, who was a junior at Memorial. He told them the school goes into lockdown mode a few hours before prom, so their only hope of getting into the prom was to actually be in the school before prom started. So while Emily and Max attended proms number one and two, Sid and Charlie were assigned the task of sneaking into Memorial High.

  A tall, lean guy in short shorts jogged past them as they neared the back door of the school. He did a double take when he saw their prom wear, then offered them a high five. Charlie raised his arm to reciprocate as Sid scurried forward, catching the door track boy had just exited from with her foot.

  “Nice one,” Charlie said, watching the runner retreat to the field.

  “Must you check everyone out?” Sid teased, grinning.

  “That is so not what I meant,” Charlie insisted. “I was talking about you—good catch on the door.” He squeezed Sid around the middle.

  She shimmied out of his grip and opened the door farther. “After you.”

  They both glanced around. There was no one near the back door of the school, and the track was far enough away that people couldn’t really tell from that distance that they didn’t belong. Quickly and quietly, they slid through the open door and into the darkened school.

  Charlie whistled. “Cute smell.”

  “It smells like crap.” Sid plugged her nose with her fingers. “This school is nasty.”

  The back door of the school had led them into a dark hallway that dead-ended at the gymnasium doors. The locker rooms were on either side of the hallway, their doors propped open. Charlie pulled off his sunglasses and moved toward the gym. “Just one quick peek at how the decorations are coming,” he said, motioning for Sid to join him. Memorial’s prom was being held in the gym that night, so they knew the prom committee and parents would be decorating all afternoon.

  They crept down the hall, studying the posters that lined the wall: CARMEN CAN! VOTE MENDOZA!; PETER FOR PREZ!; VOTE ONCE, VOTE TWICE, VOTE VINCE FOR VICE!; CHRIS FOR PROM KING!

  “People actually campaign for prom king?” Charlie mused, chuckling. “That’s just sad.”

  “Admit it—you would totally do the same if it wasn’t completely classless. Being prom king is your dream come true, no?”

  Charlie shrugged. “I can’t say it wouldn’t feel fantastic. But I would never campaign. I would expect my Midwestern good looks and superhot style to speak for themselves.” Charlie ran his fingers through his hair and straightened his tux again.

  They were just steps away from the gym when they heard voices approaching. “In here,” Sid hissed, pulling Charlie into an unlocked room. They both pressed their ears against the inside of the door, listening to the passersby.

  “… it will be worth it,” Voice One was saying.

  “But you don’t even like her, dude,” Voice Two responded.

  “If I get laid, what do I care? If I pretend to be into her …” They couldn’t hear the next line. But finally the voice boomed out, “…we look too hot together to not win. And when she gets that crown, she’ll be like putty in my arms. Wham, bam, thank you ma’am.” Voice One laughed. He sounded like a major creep.

  “Chris, dude, that’s harsh,” Voice Two said, then laughed. Charlie and Sid could hear the slap of a high five.

  Charlie turned to Sid, mouth agape. “That’s the prick who’s campaigning for prom king—Chris. Sounds like a good guy.”

  “A major jerk, more like.” Sid stated the obvious.

  “I’d like to see that guy taken down,” Charlie mused. “A prick like that doesn’t deserve prom king.” He looked thoughtful. “Hmmm …”

  “Charlie, I’m worried about the look on your face.” Sid lifted her eyebrows. “What are you planning?”

  “No worries, my friend,” Charlie responded. “It’s all good. So, what have we here?” Charlie moved beyond the door and into the room they were using as a hideout.

  “Looks like the teachers’ lounge.”

  “That it does.” Charlie flopped down on the couch in the center of the room. It smelled like old hotdogs and bad breath. He quickly stood up again. “Comfy.”

  “Wanna just hang out in here?” Sid settled into a ratty old chair in the corner of the room. The answer key for a math exam was perched on the arm of the chair. She cast it aside, turning sideways in the chair to rest her legs over the arm.

  They had found their way in. Now they just had to wait and avoid being noticed.

  Going unnoticed was not one of Charlie’s assets. He had a tendency to solicit attention, then milk it for all it was worth. So now, seven hours after sneaking into Memorial High and two hours into the prom, Sid stood at the edge of the gymnasium watching her best friend surrounded by his circle of new best friends.

  Charlie danced and swayed, teaching the girls’ basketball team (who had all arrived at prom together, dressed in identical teal dresses) how to mambo. They thought he was a god.

  Not so much their boyfriends, who all stood against the folded bleachers, glowering. They were whispering to one another, and Sid was pretty sure Charlie was about to be the target of a hostile takeover. The boyfriends wanted their prom dates back.

  Sid checked her watch—five minutes had passed since she got the text from Emily, so she and Max should be arriving at their meeting point in just a few minutes. Sid glanced at Charlie and decided to execute the rendezvous alone. She would give Charlie a few more minutes in the spotlight before pulling him from the mission. Emily only needed a few minutes to look for Ethan, then they could sneak out before Charlie was mauled by angry jocks.

  Sid slipped out the side door of the gym, avoiding notice by any of the teacher aides. She turned a corner and hustled to the door she and Charlie had come in earlier that afternoon. She pressed the bar on the door, releasing the lock, and peeked outside. She could see Emily and Max strolling across the parking lot toward the school.

  “Hey, hot stuffs!” she called, whistling at them as they walked up the hill.

  Max waved. Sid pushed the door the rest of the way open. Max and Emily slipped in and Sid pulled it closed behind them. “Tiny issue,” Sid announced. “You better look for Ethan quickly, because I think our cover is about to be compromised.”

  “What happened?” Emily asked.

  “Go have a look,” Sid answered cryptically.

  Max and Emily followed Sid to the gym, where all three slid in th
rough the side door. Sid had realized early in the night that all the teacher aides were congregating by the main gym entrance off the front lobby of the school, and one of the side entrances (next to the athletic director’s office) was completely unguarded.

  Walking into the gym, the first thing Emily noticed was a huge faux-wooden pirate ship that couples paraded over to enter and exit the prom. The boat was almost ten feet tall and was decorated with twinkling Christmas tree lights that spelled out PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN. She could only imagine that Orlando Bloom would be highly disappointed if he saw this sorry representation of the film.

  The second thing Emily noticed was the huge mob of people in the center of the waxy dance floor. The mob seemed to be chanting something in unison, and she sort of thought it sounded like “Charlie! Charlie! Charlie!”

  She moved toward the mob and realized that it was in fact what they were chanting. Her cousin was propped up on the shoulders of a bunch of girls in teal dresses, who were spinning him around the dance floor. Emily glanced over her shoulder at Sid.

  “I warned you,” Sid said, shrugging.

  Max and Sid stood on the edge of the dance floor, keeping an eye on Charlie while Emily made a few rounds through the gym.

  The gym was crowded and dim, making it hard to see faces clearly. At one point Emily thought she spotted Ethan, but as soon as the guy in question turned, she realized it was definitely not him. Emily weaved through groups of people, smiling whenever anyone looked at her curiously. Her heart sank every time she passed another Ethan-less group. Yes, it was only prom number three, but she still couldn’t help but feel disappointed. She wanted to see him again.

  After a few minutes of fruitless searching, she returned to Max and Sid, who were now fighting each other with plastic swords they had found on the punch table.

  “Ladies and gentlemen!” An adult voice called out over a squawky mic, squealing over the din of the dance floor. “Ladies! Gentlemen! Your attention please!” A mousy woman was standing atop the pirate ship, waving her arms madly in the air. She was wearing an off-the-shoulder dress that looked dangerously close to ripping.

  Parent volunteers should not dress up to chaperone the prom. It was wrong on so many levels.

  “Folks, listen up!” mousy, off-the-shoulder mom screeched through her mic. “It’s time to crown our prom king and queen!”

  The noise in the gym quickly quieted down. The DJ lowered the music to a soft hum. One of the basketball girls’ dates entered Charlie’s circle and wrapped his arms around the waist of one of the tallest girls in the circle. “Chriiiis,” she squealed, pushing him away.

  Chris—the prom king candidate whose sexist comments had been haunting Sid all afternoon—was a huge, beefy sort of guy. He looked like an overripe tomato now that his face was flushed with the embarrassment of being shrugged off by his date. He chuckled to mask the awkward moment, then more loosely draped an arm over his date’s shoulder. She pointedly ignored him, but didn’t push him away.

  Charlie’s face was flushed and shiny from dancing. He hugged all the teal girls before heading across the gym floor to join his friends near the punch table. Emily and Max greeted him, then all four stood on the side of the gym, listening to the parent chaperone drone on and on about what a great four years it had been, blah, blah, blah, and how she was so proud of everyone for their accomplishments. She looked like she was primed for a good, long cry.

  “Now the moment you’ve all been waiting for,” she said happily. “The crowning of this year’s prom queen and king!” She motioned to one of the teacher aides, who was wearing a pirate hat. The teacher aide stepped forward and held up a cardboard circle with a red arrow stuck to it.

  “What the hell?” Sid muttered to Emily under her breath.

  “As always,” the teacher aide shouted over the crowd, “the votes will be tabulated by our patented applause meter.”

  “Oh, come on,” Emily murmured back. “This has to be a joke.”

  Max was shaking with laughter. “Too good to be true,” he concluded.

  The parent chaperone tapped her mic with three loud thumps to quiet the crowd. “Kids. Keep it down.” She held up a clipboard. “Nominations have been collected all evening by Frances, your favorite cafeteria manager. Thank you, Frances.” Mousy mom nodded to a maybe-man-maybe-woman near the door. She or he nodded back. “The nominations for this year’s prom queen are: Shiloh, Jordan, and Britney C.”

  Three of the teal girls, including Chris’s date, squealed and bounced with glee.

  “By a show of applause, who would like to see Shiloh crowned?” A handful of people cheered and clapped. The teacher holding the applause meter moved the arrow to the center of the dial. A perky blond girl bowed her head and smiled.

  “Jordan?” The room exploded with applause and hoots. The applause meter was adjusted so the arrow was almost all the way at the other side of the dial. Chris grabbed his slender, willowy date and planted a kiss on her mouth. She pushed him off.

  “And Britney?” A slightly less exuberant roar came from the crowd, including a few of the boyfriends who were leaning against the bleachers. The arrow was moved to the middle of the dial.

  “Jordan, congratulations!” The mom squealed with delight as Jordan ran toward Charlie.

  Charlie gave her a huge hug and shouted, “You go, girl! Get your crown!” Jordan walked toward the pirate ship and climbed the plank. She was handed a crown and a bouquet of lilies.

  “Congratulations, Jordan,” mousy mom repeated earnestly. “And now, we’ll find out who will be your king. The nominations for this year’s prom king are”—she consulted her clipboard—“Shawn, Chris, and Charlie!”

  Charlie looked around the room. Chris was shaking hands with another guy, but there didn’t seem to be a third guy in the room. “Is that me?” he turned to Emily, grinning.

  Emily shrugged. “Sort of looks that way, doesn’t it?”

  The teal girls all ran toward Charlie and surrounded him with hugs and cheers.

  Chris did not look happy.

  “Can I hear a round of applause for those of you who want to see Shawn crowned as your king?” A group of abnormally tall guys cheered and whooped—Shawn must be a basketball player, Emily surmised.

  “And Chris?” All the guys who were slumped along the bleachers shouted and stomped. Chris bowed.

  “Charlie?” The teal girls screamed and shouted and raised their fists in the air. So did half the other people in the room. The cardboard applause meter said it all—Charlie was the new Memorial High Prom King.

  Charlie jogged toward the pirate ship, waving and grinning ear to ear. He collected his plastic-and-rhinestone crown and gave Jordan a quick hug. The two of them promenaded across the pirate ship together, waving at the crowd below. Everyone was cheering as “You’re Beautiful” began to play in the background. Charlie and Jordan descended to the gym floor and mamboed through their inaugural dance.

  It wasn’t until Charlie dipped his queen at the end of the song that he noticed the posse of large, imposing jocks (led by Chris) approaching the dance floor.

  Luckily Sid noticed the pack at the same time and was able to quickly alert Emily and Max. The three of them ran together toward the dance floor, grabbing Charlie by the arms, then ran as fast as they could around the pirate ship, through the halls, and out the school’s back door. They didn’t stop running until they got to Charlie’s Volvo in the parking lot.

  “Get in,” Emily panted. “We can come back for Max’s car!”

  All four jumped in the Volvo and erupted in a fit of laughter. As Charlie drove out of the lot, they could see Chris and his gang emerging from the school’s front doors. Charlie pulled his crown off his head and waved it out the window at Chris. “I’ll take care of the crown! You take care of your girl!” he called, then replaced it on his head and sped off toward the freeway.

  Charlie was still wearing the crown later that night in a corner booth at Burrito Jack’s. “My greatest g
oal in life has been accomplished,” he declared, rubbing his thumb over the crown’s rhinestones. “I am the prom king!”

  “It’s not even your own school,” Sid said, dunking a chip in salsa. “Does that count?”

  “Of course it counts,” Emily answered for her cousin. “I say it’s worth double because it’s not your school.”

  “Agreed,” Max said, pouring a packet of sugar into his glass of water.

  Charlie sighed and leaned back into the puffy booth. “I wish Marco could have been there to see me tonight.” Charlie was smiling, but Emily could tell he really missed his boyfriend. “Man, I would have loved to see the look on his face. Me as prom king? He’ll never believe it.”

  Sid was first to respond. “He’ll believe it,” she said simply. She was drawing little dragons on the paper tablecloth with a purple crayon. She looked up from her art to say, “He does know you, right? It’s not as if this is so unexpected.”

  “But it wasn’t even my own prom.” He turned to Sid. “What if I win prom king at South and he’s not there?”

  “Is it desirable to win?” Sid scoffed. She drew horns on her creation.

  “Uh.” Charlie widened his eyes. “Yeah. Why are you and Marco both so negative about prom? Because my best friend and my boyfriend are both ditching me, I’m stuck going to our prom with Natasha Fine.” He paused. Charlie had earlier that week agreed to go to South’s prom with one of his drama club leading ladies. “Admittedly, Natasha Fine dresses well and is really fun, but still … not Marco.”

  “Charlie,” Emily interrupted, “does Marco know you want him to go? Have you asked him?” She reached across the table to draw a green flame coming out of Sid’s dragon’s mouth.

  “Not as such.”

  “Then it’s your own damn fault,” Sid retorted.

  “Too late now, isn’t it?” Charlie responded snippily. “I’m going with Natasha, and we will look fine.” He faux-pouted. “Marco’s payback will be my detailed phone account of each and every prom. Every last, cheesy detail. He will learn to love prom.”