Prom Diaries: Beauty and Beast meets Groundhog Day

by Taylor Hart

  “Hey.” I waited.

  It got awkward.

  “You creep Shay out.” I blurted out.

  He blinked. “Why do I creep Shay out?”

  A bubble of a giggle started in my throat. “Because this is the exact thing she would warn me about you doing, taking me out in the middle of nowhere, turning off the engine. The next thing you’ll do is lock the doors.”

  Chink.

  I jumped when the doors locked and then I saw his elbow applying pressure to it.

  He laughed. “Okay, I couldn’t contain myself. Sheesh, where is Henry for a laugh when I need him?”

  I giggled and then I giggled some more. After watching him laugh at me laughing it was just a messy kind of thing between us.

  It left us both sucking for air. It felt amazing.

  The moment overtook me and I lightly touched his arm. “And just think, I thought you were going to ask me to prom or tell me something all crazy like somehow you turn invisible and that’s why you hit me in the hallway.” I shook my head, thinking what a crazy day it had turned into.

  Immediately, Drake shifted to sober plainness. He stared at me. “You don’t even know the half of it.” His lip quirked.

  “Right.”

  He nodded. “Right.”

  “Crazy.”

  “Crazy.” He agreed then he lifted an eyebrow. “I would say you’re completely insane if you even mention that again.” His voice had turned softer and he leaned into me.

  I found myself staring at his lips and leaning closer to him. “About prom or about the invisible thing.”

  Gently, he moved my hair out of my face. “Both.”

  My heart took on a mach ten level of panic. For a second, I thought he would kiss me. I thought of how soft his lips would be, how warm. How it would be my first kiss.

  Then he stopped and shook his head, pulling back. He started the engine and flipped a U-turn. “Henry was right, it never turns out well this way.”

  Chapter 8

  Every part of me was on the verge of tasting that chocolate. The kind that you crave, you need. I sucked in a breath. “What are you talking about?” This whole almost-kiss thing had made me jittery and the dull ache in my head had turned sharp again.

  “Nothing.” His jaw was now tight and he seemed angry, like he wanted to fight someone.

  I laughed. A reflexive laugh. “You did fall on me, didn’t you? That was you.”

  He jerked the wheel down Main Street, pushing on the gas and going too fast. “I thought it could be different, but it’s not. You’re not ready.”

  I leaned into him. “What are you talking about?”

  He didn’t respond.

  Now I was angry…and rejected. None of this made sense. “I know that was you in the hallway. I could smell…I mean, you smell like Irish Spring and that’s what I smelled when I fell and hit my head.”

  He whirled to face me. “Why did you come with me tonight?”

  “What?”

  “Why?” he demanded.

  I swallowed. “Because you asked.”

  “Why did you come with me!” he yelled.

  I couldn’t stop myself from telling him the truth. “Because I thought you would ask me to prom.”

  He exhaled loudly and ran a hand through his hair, then flipped it to the side. His hand shook and he looked explosive. “It’s not supposed to be this way.” He slammed his hand down on the steering wheel. “But I can’t do it, I can’t stay away from you.”

  I turned and saw him visibly shaking. “What are you talking about?”

  He took the turn to my house.

  The way he swung his head at my question and the way his eyes seemed almost like they were on fire, thoughts of Shay’s vampire reference shuddered through me. He pulled up in front of my house and slammed on the brakes, throwing both of us forward.

  I braced myself on the dash and glared back at him. “You were there today.” I shook out the words, holding on to the only thing I had; the truth. I didn’t know what prom had to do with any of this insane behavior, but it was all tied together—I could feel it.

  Our eyes locked for a second and then he took in a shaky breath and leaned back, flinging his head to my porch. “Oh, look, how nice, your boyfriend’s here.”

  Chapter 9

  I stood next to Marc and we both watched the black truck pull away, spinning out, rocks flinging.

  Marc crossed his arms. His sandy hair still wet from basketball practice. “I didn’t think much of Drake missing practice, but then again, I didn’t think the two of you really hung out.”

  The expectation that I would answer him and explain myself really ticked me off. I turned and flung the screen door wide, expecting Marc to follow me. “Whatever.”

  He did follow.

  My father sat at the kitchen table, his glasses perched on his nose, his head bent over a stack of marked papers. He always graded at the table. “I told Marc it was fine to take you to your meeting at the pizza house if you’re feeling okay.” He glanced up and then quickly looked back to the papers he was grading. He hated confrontation, any kind of confrontation, but he was used to Marc and Shay now, so he didn’t worry about our little spats.

  I walked past him to the kitchen and got a glass of water, all jittery and feeling like I wanted to slug someone. Drake had been there. He had fallen into me. He had whispered to me. I was not crazy. He had wanted to kiss me. I could feel it. Dang. This would only prove Shay right. She would think I was just being even more maniacal and stalkerish somehow. I slugged two ibuprofens back with water. The cool liquid helped clear my head and I got down to the real question: why did Drake Davis come to my house twice today?

  Marc appeared in the kitchen looking from my father to me with accusation in his eyes. “Do you want to go with me to the meeting or what?”

  Okay, he liked me that way. How had I not seen this before? I’d been thinking he only liked to hang with me and Shay.

  His lips pinched, like he knew what I was thinking. “Shay said she wanted to meet us there.”

  I gave him a defiant eyebrow raise and knew I would pay for this later. “Shay doesn’t always get what she wants.”

  Chapter 10

  Wednesday

  My phone buzzed, again, and I tapped the screen, ignoring Shay’s call. Her tenth call that morning. I needed to write in my diary.

  Dear Prom Diary,

  Three days until prom. Three days and I don’t know how to tell you that I almost had a date last night with Drake. Well, kind of….

  I’m condensing this story, but here are the nuts and bolts—last night Drake came over after school. He took me for a ride. I thought he would ask me to prom. He acted like he wanted to kiss me. I swear it was just like some teen movie, he pushed my hair out of the way and leaned in…I still get butterflies even thinking about it. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  Shay’s ring sounded through the air. I hit the ignore button and went back to my diary.

  Then he told me Henry knew it wouldn’t work between us. Or something like that. Like it wouldn’t work out. Which is insane. Gosh, I’ve been replaying this over and over in my brain. I’m obsessed, I get in an accident, smell his soap, he comes with Shay to supposedly ‘take her back to school,’ he shows up at my house and takes me on a ride, and then tells me it wouldn’t work out.

  It’s like we’ve skipped the romance and gone right to the breakup. What is that? You don’t skip the romance. It’s the best part. The part my mom would tell me over and over about meeting my dad in college. Where they went for picnics and walks and talked about the future and he ‘adored’ her. Before he got old and wore thick glasses and taught boring math and she got cancer.

  I can’t decide if he wanted to ask me to prom. Now it all feels like maybe I really should go talk to that therapist my dad’s been hounding me about seeing since mom died. Am I going crazy?

  My head throbbed.

  Shay’s ring sounded through the air again. I relented an
d accepted her call. “What?”

  There was hesitation. “No, no, no—you don’t skip the committee meeting and then NOT call me and then have me have to hear about Drake coming over to your house from Marc, who by the way, is moping around like a kicked puppy. No. No. No. Do you know that I could hardly sleep I was so worried about you? I almost ran over to your house in the freezing cold and threw a rock at your window. This is what you’ve turned me into.”

  I could just see her, spinning her blonde locks, her mascara running down her face because she didn’t have the emotional energy to take it off last night before bed.

  “This is not how this week is supposed to go. We have to get ready for prom, everything has to get done!” she wailed.

  I glanced at my clock. Seven-thirty. I still had time to help her. “Fine. I’m coming.”

  I hung up and threw the covers back, simplifying my normal process of getting ready; a quick body shower, second day hair in a braid, and only mascara. I grabbed a granola bar and a Tylenol and said goodbye to my father.

  “Are you feeling better?” he asked, holding his briefcase and a stack of papers. He focused on me.

  I leaned up and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “I’m good, thanks, Dad.”

  After coaxing Shay to get ready and hurrying off to school and listening to her rant at me the whole time, I made it to English Lit before the second bell rang. I fell into my seat, enjoying a moment of respite.

  Until I saw Marc’s face. The tormented face that I’d seen after they’d lost basketball games. I didn’t even know how to broach the topic of him liking me, me not liking him, the weirdness that now existed between us because he saw me get out of Drake’s truck.

  So I didn’t say anything.

  Mr. Klam came to the front of class. He tugged on his mustache and held Romeo and Juliet out in front of him. “I want to know what you guys think of the way Romeo and Juliet fell in love. Apply it to modern day, to what you all are going through.”

  Chirp. Chirp. Where are crickets when you need them?

  After a few uncomfortable moments, he turned to Marc. “Mr. Smith, what do you think?”

  Marc didn’t change his tormented face. He glanced over at me. “I think it’s a crock of crap.”

  This got some students to laugh.

  “Really?” Mr. Klam smiled. “Pray tell.”

  I turned away. I couldn’t look at him.

  “Well, first of all, if you really love someone, it’s because you know them. And they know you. You remember how they were Annie in fourth grade play and you remember their birthday. You know them. You know they are klutzy, but you find it endearing. You know what they are angry about and you want to heal them. You stand next to her when her mother died.” His voice took on a sad, sorrowful tone.

  Mr. Klam’s face went from to teachery to pity. They all knew. The whole school knew about my mom, there’d been fundraisers and news articles and now I looked around the room and noticed averted faces.

  Mr. Klam squinted at Marc and moved around his podium. “Okay, well…”

  I cleared my throat. “Wait. I have an opinion, too.”

  Mr. Klam nodded to me. “What do you think, Ms. O’Connell?”

  My heart thudded and I didn’t know what to do, except make a rebuttal. “I think sometimes there’s this thing between people. It’s exciting and terrifying. Like jumping off the top of the ropes course. You have to go with it. You have to give it a chance, no matter what anyone says. My mother used to tell me about the first time she saw my father, she knew. She knew he was the one for her. He looked at her and there was this whirling feeling inside of her, like something had shifted.”

  I didn’t realize tears were falling down my cheeks until I felt the moisture drip onto my arm. Quickly, I wiped the tears and then felt stupid. I knew my face was red. “Sorry.” I got up and ran from the room. Down the hall in the direction opposite of the bathrooms. There was nowhere to hide.

  “Lacy!”

  I turned back and Marc was chasing me, tears on his own face, torture still in his eyes. “Wait!”

  I stopped. I could barely catch my breath, my heart ramped up to a speed well over my target heart rate.

  He was at my side, reaching for me with his arms, then pulling me into a hug.

  I succumbed and more tears rushed out of me. Tears of embarrassment, shame, humiliation, guilt. Tears that I wasn’t allowed to share with Marc because I’d caused him pain. Because he wanted something I couldn’t give to him.

  “Hey.” He pulled back, searching my face, a small smile at the corner of his lips. “It’s okay.”

  I thought of all the times he’d said those exact words before. All the times in the last year that he’d hung out with Shay and me. All the times he’d sat next to my parents’ bed, holding a magazine while I lay there, her picture next to me—broken. All the times he’d made me laugh. I’d taken advantage of him. “I can’t.” I pulled away.

  “Oh, no,” he pulled me back into a hug. “I made things weird, okay? I did that.” He stroked a hand down the back of my head.

  It was ridiculous and silly and totally something that was not appropriate for this situation, but all I could think about was how he smelled different than Drake. He wore cologne, something with a fruity kind of musky smell. It was good, but I’d never really noticed until this moment. He had loved me. He had shown me so many times.

  He pulled back, again and smiled, all the torment gone. “Lacy, look, I’m not stupid, okay? I know you…I’ve seen how you’ve looked at him lately. I’ve heard whispers between you and Shay.”

  I looked down, ashamed. “I never meant to hurt you.”

  He tilted my chin up and grinned. “I know that. I…I can’t say I didn’t want you to…that I wasn’t waiting for you to notice me, I was. But, I am still your friend and I am going to ask you to the prom. I know Shay has told you. She mentioned it.” He rolled his eyes and his cheeks flushed. “But, I don’t think Mr. Wonderful is going to ask you, do you? So why not go with me?”

  The way he said ‘Mr. Wonderful’ with slight contempt left a nervous pulse buzzing through me. I didn’t respond.

  He took one of my hands and gently squeezed it. “I meant what I said in class. I’ve been in your life a long time. We’ve been friends for more years then we can count. Doesn’t that matter? We could…you could give this a try?”

  Hope. Hope lay in the puddles of his pale green eyes.

  I thought how if I went to prom without a date Shay would make me do her bidding girl all night like some indentured servant. Plus, I did like Marc and he was right, we had always been friends. Before any of this weirdness. I squeezed his hand back and then dropped it. “I guess we could—”

  “Lacy, why don’t you tell him you’ve already been asked?”

  I flung myself back.

  Drake.

  There he stood. In dark jeans, a black t-shirt, his head tilted to the side, his dark brown hair slightly mussed and gorgeous. He flashed his white teeth and nodded at me. “We’re working on those cardboard people tonight for Shay, right?”

  My heart stuttered, hiccupped, almost completely stopped. Here he was, the boy I actually had been writing a stupid diary about—claiming he’d asked me to prom. “Uhh.”

  Marc let out a scoff and then shook his head. He released my hand and gave me the most wicked glare I’d ever seen, the kind that told me any hopes of having a friendship with him were now lost. “Whatever.” He hesitated in front of Drake, both of them keeping their chest out and giving the kind of body language that said there would be a fight later because of this.

  Marc stalked back to class.

  Since all the breath had gone out of me, I sucked in, stumbling back and holding onto the wall.

  Drake grinned, the beautiful curved lines of his face lifting into something glorious. “Well…” he said, waiting for my answer.

  This kind of stuff didn’t happen to me. I was the girl that followed the student body pres
ident around, that read too many books, played tennis, and sat in with her parents at night. I was the girl that had fun, but often wished my life contained something more. That I would have my own Edward.

  “Lacy?” Drake took a step closer, closing the gap between us. “Will you do me the honor of going to prom with me?”

  It was something out of a book, the official way he asked, like he was asking for my hand in marriage.

  I nervous laughed.

  A dimple appeared in his left cheek as he slowly reached for my hand. “Please.”

  Hot and cold chills erupted through me when he took my hand. I knew. I knew that I was going to tick Shay off something fierce, that I was going to hurt Marc deeply, and…I would be going to prom with Drake Davis. “Yes.”

  Chapter 11

  “Are you freaking kidding me?” Shay slammed her bag of books down on our lunch table and gave me a look that said she really would kill me if she thought she could get away with it.

  I pushed my salad around with my fork and avoided her eyes, satisfied with the nervous thrum of my heartbeat. Drake. Drake. Drake.

  She slumped down next to me and tugged out a brown paper bag and a water bottle. “Do you have any idea what this has done to me? Do you have any idea what this does to me every, single, time?”

  I still refused to look at her. She thought she needed an energy flush, I needed the flush.

  “Hey!” she yelled at me.

  I jerked my head up and cocked an eyebrow back at her. “Stop it, Shay.” I used my mother’s tone. The one she’d used if she wanted to stop one of my fits.

  Shay held an apple in her hand and looked as if she would squeeze it into sauce in one terrifying act. She pulled in a slow breath. “You have no idea what you’ve done. You two always mess it up!”

  I shook my head at her, worried that the stress of this prom planning and her nervous anxieties were simply getting the better of her. “Shay,” I said calmly, lowering my voice. “You’ve got to stop. Please.”