by Erin Downing
Through her teeth, Sid jokingly muttered, “And my payback is that I get to go to prom over and over and over again with you people.”
Max had been mostly silent since they had left Memorial, but broke in suddenly. “You know, tonight gave me an idea.”
The other three looked at him, waiting.
“We have four proms left to crash, plus our own, right?” Emily nodded yes. “How would you guys feel about me chronicling our prom crashing for an article? I think I could definitely sell this somewhere. I’ll make you all sound much prettier and funnier than you actually are, of course.”
“Oh, thanks,” Emily said sarcastically, leaning against her best friend. “But seriously, go for it. It could be a good story. Oddly enough, prom crashing is more normal than your usual pieces, so maybe it stands a chance.” Sid nodded her agreement.
Charlie grinned. “Will you include the part about me winning prom king?” he asked. “Because I did! I won prom king!”
Sid rolled her eyes, leaning her head on the table. “I get the feeling we might be hearing about this forever.”
“So after tonight, we have four proms to go,” Emily said. She had a feeling things would be getting a lot more complicated—their first night of crashing had been relatively easy.
“Are you still excited about finding this guy?” Sid asked.
“Mmm-hmm. If it’s possible, I think I’m actually more excited about my own prom now that I’ve been to these other bizarre proms.”
“You know”—Max grinned, wiggling his eyebrows—“I’m still willing to be your backup date for our prom.”
Emily and Max had agreed years ago to go together if neither of them could find a real date. But Emily always thought going to prom just for the sake of going to prom was a little depressing. She really wanted her nice, long good-night kiss from a sexy tuxedoed date. Max just wasn’t going to give her that.
“Um, yeah.” Emily nodded slowly. “I think I’ll keep holding out for the real thing.”
Max shrugged. “Fine. The offer’s out there….”
Sid and Charlie exchanged a look.
“What?” Emily demanded. Sid just stared back at her.
“That just came out a little harsh, maybe,” Max responded, clearly a little hurt. “I’m not that bad.”
“You know what I mean, right?” Emily looked at him, concerned. She hadn’t meant for her comment to be construed as rude or insulting—just honest.
“Of course. No hurt feelings.” Max took a sip of his sugary water and smiled. “You know I don’t want to go to prom anyway, so whatever.”
“For sure?” Emily inquired again. Now she was worried. He was acting like they hadn’t talked about this a million times. She knew how Max felt about prom.
“For sure,” Max echoed. But suddenly Emily wasn’t so sure she believed him.
Seven
“Big news! F—flaming good news!” Sid came barreling into the Leaf Lounge the next Tuesday night while Emily was sitting at the counter, sharing a muffin with Frank. He had bought a chocolate-chunk muffin, making Emily happier than ever when he offered—as always—to share it.
“She’s a little cutie, isn’t she?” Frank asked Emily under his breath while Sid scooted a stool up to the counter.
“Don’t let her hear you say that,” Emily warned. “She’s not big on little compliments.”
“What am I not big on?” Sid asked. “Where’s Charlie?”
“In back.” Emily ignored her first question. “What’s up?”
Charlie poked his head around the door of the back room, iPod buds in his ears. “Sidney! My knight in shining armor!” He had been “sorting inventory” for the past two hours and came flying out of the back room now, declaring that he “needed a break.” Said break conveniently coincided with Sid’s arrival.
Sid leaned over the counter to grab a clean mug from the dish rack. She filled it with coffee from the thermos next to the register. “Help yourself,” Emily said. “Really.”
Frank chuckled to himself, murmuring, “What a cutie. Such moxie.”
Sid pointedly ignored Frank, then blurted out, “I got a gig!”
“What’s a gig?” Frank asked Emily. “A horse?” He turned to Sid. “You got a horse?”
Emily shook her head at Frank and held a finger to her lips. “Where? When are you playing? I assume we can come, right?”
“That’s the crazy part. It’s this Saturday!” She drumrolled her hands on the countertop. “At the Ridley Prep prom after-party!”
Ridley Prep was one of the smallest schools in the area, with only about forty seniors. So far, the only thing Emily knew about the Ridley prom was that the highlight of the night was always the after-party. Everyone went to the same party, and it was usually held at a downtown hot spot. Ridley Prep was known around town for its ultra-cool hipster reputation, and Emily and Charlie had been trying to figure out the best way in.
Charlie climbed up on the counter and leaned over to give Sid a big hug. “That’s so great, babe!”
Frank stood up from his stool, patting Sid on the shoulder. “Good luck with your ’gig.’” He chuckled, making quotes in the air. “Gig,” he muttered as he strolled out the front door.
“Wow, Sid, that’s incredible,” Emily said. “How did they find you?”
“The president of their student council heard my music on MySpace. He IMed me a few days ago, I sent him a CD, and I guess he must have liked it. They have a couple of bands lined up, and Ivm second to go on.”
“Can we come? Please please please please please!” Charlie hopped down from the counter.
“I was thinking I do sort of need stagehands, right?” Sid asked, winking. “I could use some help with setup, sound checks, that sort of thing. I think we can figure out a way to get you guys in. So prom number five is taken care of.”
“That’s fantastic.” Emily smiled happily. “You have your first real, live, non—Leaf Lounge gig. I’m so impressed.”
“Thanks.” Sid raked her fingers through her short, choppy hair. “Aw, shucks, now you’re embarrassing me.”
A customer came through the front of the coffee shop. Charlie quickly grabbed a dish towel and pretended to be drying mugs. He looked at Emily, nodding his head in the direction of the customer at the front counter. She sighed and moved forward to take the person’s order.
After preparing a large latte, she turned back to the side counter where Sid was sitting. Charlie was squatting in a corner under the counter, hiding. “You will do anything and everything to get out of work, won’t you?” She pushed him gently, causing him to lose his balance and topple onto the nasty floor.
He flicked a dishtowel at her butt, then stood up to say, “So if we have an in at prom number five, we just need to figure out number four and we’ll be all set for this weekend. My tux is clean, I’m in good health, it’s all good. Now we just need to get into Jefferson.”
“That’s the problem—we have to get into Jefferson.” Thomas Jefferson’s prom was to be held that Friday night at the Legends Ballroom, and Jefferson’s school events were famously well guarded. Emily knew they wouldn’t be able to sneak in. Joey Frank, a movie star who was originally from one of the nearby suburbs, was a senior at Thomas Jefferson (though most of his course work was done via independent study from L.A.). Apparently he had invited his current costar, Simone Rocha, to be his prom date. Everyone was desperate to get into the school’s prom to catch a glimpse of the Hollywood couple in action.
Thomas Jefferson had scheduled their prom for Friday night, rather than Saturday, to better accommodate Joey’s filming schedule. (He was due back in L.A. on Saturday afternoon for reshoots.) Which meant Emily and her friends could focus on one prom each night that weekend—if they could get into Friday night’s event.
“What if we try the sneak-in-before-prom thing again?’ Charlie suggested.
Emily shook her head. “Not gonna happen. The Legends Ballroom opens when the caterers and staff arri
ve for the event. There’s no side entrance—we’ll be way too obvious.”
“I could try to have one of those crazy Charlie’s Angels masks made that would turn me into Joey Frank. I’m sure they won’t fault Joey for ‘forgetting’ his ticket.”
“Yeah, no problem, Charlie,” Emily responded. “I’m sure those are easy to come by. We could try to rappel in—hook up a wire that would string us down from the roof and through a window? That would be fun.”
Charlie laughed. “Oh, and that’s so much more reasonable than one of those masks?”
Sid suddenly knocked her palm against the counter. “I have an idea.”
Charlie and Emily stared at her, waiting.
“Remember my cousin Sam?” Sid turned to Charlie expectantly.
“Floss-in-public Sam?”
“Yes, Charlie, Sam is the cousin who flossed his teeth while you were in the car. I know it was gross—get over it. Anyway, Sam’s friend Jeremy has asked me out, like, a hundred times. And I think he goes to Thomas Jefferson. I would maybe be willing to try to get an invite to his prom. But there would be a condition, obviously.”
Emily nodded. “Of course. What is it?” Sid’s upcoming gig had made her overly generous. The old Sid would never have volunteered to ask out someone she’d already rejected. That was not her style.
“You would have to double with me, Em. If I can get us dates, are you in?”
“Of course.”
“Let me see what I can do.”
Emily spent half her lunch period the next day staring at Gina Morgenthal’s table in the cafeteria. Gina Morgenthal had been one of Emily’s best friends from fourth through eighth grade, but as soon as they’d hit high school, Gina had gone all loud and cheer-leadery, and they hadn’t really spoken since. Emily was still slightly fascinated by her, though, and had always wondered what had happened to break them apart.
It wasn’t like Emily was totally out of the in crowd. But she knew she didn’t fit into Gina’s new world, with its wedged sandals and—if she were being honest—hoochy shirts.
That day, Gina had laid eleven Seventeen magazine spreads out on her lunch table, with a selection of prom dresses for her friends to admire and comment on. They were all actually sighing over a lavender satin slip dress.
“Jealous?” Max asked from across the table. He had a bite of pizza in his mouth, a piece of which slipped out when he spoke. He plucked the piece of crust off his shirt and popped it onto his tray. He smiled, which made little dimples appear in his cheeks. His smiles were contagious.
“Jealous about what?” she asked, grabbing his pizza from his plate and taking a bite off the side he hadn’t eaten off yet. Her salad tasted like yard waste, and she had left it untouched on the edge of the table since three minutes into their lunch period.
“Prom. Our prom.” Max gestured to Gina and her friends, huddled around the magazine clippings across the room.
“No. Why should I be?” A defensive tone crept into her voice. “I have two weekends of proms to crash before our prom—so there’s still a chance I might find my date.”
Max raised his hands in a surrender motion. “Sheesh. I was just asking because you’ve been staring at Gina Morgenthal’s virtual prom dress buffet for the last ten minutes. It just seems like you’re a little … well, jealous.”
Emily groaned, relaxing her forehead onto her fists on the table. “I don’t know why I’m staring. Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’m a little bummed about prom. I guess I always thought I’d be dating someone who would pick me up in a limo and meet my parents and take pictures, and we’d dance and laugh and maybe kiss next to the buffet table.”
“A kiss next to the buffet table?” Max asked, dimples appearing again. “Sounds romantic.”
“You know what I mean. I just thought things would be different.”
Max reached across the table and set the rest of his pizza on Emily’s tray. “Will cold mystery-meat pizza help?”
Emily lifted her head and faux-pouted. “Yes, I think it will. Thank you.” She took a bite out of the slice of pizza, but set it down again as Lauren Ellstrom—student council president and certified hottie—walked past their table. She watched Max’s gaze shift from her pizza to Lauren’s approaching boobs. Emily was embarrassed for him. It was fully obvious.
Just as Emily opened her mouth to comment on his less-than-subtle staring, Lauren stopped short, just steps from their table. “Hey, Max,” Lauren cooed. Emily was the one staring now. When did my best friend become friends with Lauren?
“Hey, Lauren.” Max flushed red. “Thanks again for last week.”
“No problemo, babe. Thank you for asking me. It was fun hanging out with you.”
“You too,” Max smiled, dimpling again. Emily got a sick feeling in her stomach. Lauren?
“Hey,” Lauren said, leaning in toward Max, “do you have a date for prom yet?”
“Prom? No.” Max was acting goofy. Emily wanted to slap him.
“Reeeeally?” Lauren smiled broadly. “Good to know.” She smiled at both Emily and Max, then retreated to her own table.
Emily turned to Max, who was fiddling with a crumble of pizza crust on his tray. “What was that all about?”
“Lauren?” Max asked, still fiddling. “Nothing. She just helped me with a story idea. It was fun. She’s cool.”
Emily nodded. But watching Max smile as he pushed crumbs around his tray, she couldn’t stop a jealous, possessive sort of feeling from creeping from her stomach into her throat. She had never had to deal with Max dating, or even being interested in anyone—and she wasn’t sure she was ready to start. She didn’t like to share.
The sound of her ring tone broke through her jealousy, relieving her of having to think about why she was feeling the way she was feeling. She grabbed her phone out of her pocket. A text message was flashing on her screen. It was from Sid:
We’re in at Jefferson. You’re going with
a guy named Danny. Call me asap,
there’s a catch.
✭
“Hey, it’s Emily Bronson.” Silence hung on the other side of the phone. During a superquick call between sixth and seventh period, Sid had given Emily the name and number of her Friday prom date, and told her she should make nice and call him. But now Emily was thinking maybe Sid had given her the wrong number. Emily kept talking. “Your prom date? Sidney Martinez’s friend?”
“Greetings, Emily Bronson.” Silence.
Okaaaay, Emily thought, raising her eyebrows. Out loud she said, “How are you, Danny?”
“Well, Emily Bronson. I’m doing well.” More silence.
“Greeeeat. So, I just wanted to call and figure out our plan for Friday. I was thinking we would just maybe meet up at the ballroom?”
“Think again, Emily Bronson.” Okay, freak, Emily thought. You’re starting to creep me out.
“No?” she asked. “Do you need me to pick you up?”
“In a sense,” Danny said, getting weirder by the minute. If this guy didn’t know Sid’s cousin, she would swear he was psycho. Thank God they were doubling. “You’ll need to come to my house to get ready and have our portraits done.”
“Oh, pictures,” Emily said, groaning.
“No, Emily Bronson.” Danny’s diction was frighteningly crisp. “Portraits, not pictures.”
“Uh-huh, yeah.” Emily wasn’t sure this date was going to be worth it. She wrapped up the conversation as quickly as she could, getting Danny’s address and agreeing to meet him at his house at six on Friday. “By the way, I’m wearing pink.” Emily figured she should throw him a bone. Danny didn’t sound like they type of guy who would be great at picking out a corsage.
“We’ll see about that, Emily Bronson,” Danny said, then Emily heard a click. Their conversation was over.
Eight
Emily’s suspicions were confirmed when she turned up at Danny’s house that Friday night. She had made a mistake agreeing to this date. The first warning sign was the bus
t of Shakespeare sitting on one of the branches of the apple tree in Danny’s front yard.
The second was the garden gnome collection. Garden gnomes had always freaked her out.
The third warning sign—the one that was accompanied by whistles and bells and sirens—came when she knocked on the door and met Danny live and in person. She should have run screaming as soon as she’d met her date, but she politely stuck around. She figured she couldn’t really leave before Sid got there—she wouldn’t leave her friend to go it alone. And she did want to get into Jefferson’s prom. It could be Ethan’s school.
If nothing else, based on Danny’s first impression, this stood to be the most amusing crashing target yet. Sid was right—there was definitely a “catch.”
The catch was that Danny intended to go to prom dressed in a white wig and tails. For real. Not as a joke. He looked just like a teenage George Washington.
In their first five minutes together, Emily learned that Danny was the president of Thomas Jefferson’s drama club and, because he apparently took his thespian reputation very seriously, felt the need to show up at prom in full costume.
Emily was mortified.
But even though things seemed bad when she met Danny and saw his outfit—and realized she would be going to prom with that guy, the one everyone else would be whispering about—things quickly spiraled into much worse. Danny expected his date—Emily—to coordinate her look with his. He had rented a matching costume for her.
The tag on the rental bag said “Victorian Lady.” She wanted to crawl under one of the garden gnomes in the yard and hide. It was that bad.
Sid arrived, date in tow, at Danny’s house while Emily was in Danny’s upstairs bathroom changing. Emily had protested and fought and refused to put on the costume, but Danny’s heart was set on going to prom as one half of a thespian couple. He told Emily that if she refused the “Victorian Lady” costume, she could forget about going to the prom. He then crossed his arms and tapped his foot.
She was left very little choice.