The Prom

by Saundra Mitchell

  There were new protestors yesterday, too, but they were banished to the cornfield across the street. They’re not even from here. They’re from that publicity-sucking church out west that does this for a living. In a way, it’s almost an honor. Hey, we made the big time: national bands of bigots have arrived!

  The best thing about that protest is that the Godspell kids came back in costume after their matinee in Terre Haute. The whole front page of our town newspaper had a picture of biblical figures clowning on the out-of-towners. Video of it ran on all the news stations last night, too, and it’s still trending on Twitter.

  But I admit that some of my sleeplessness was because I was . . . I’m not even sure what the right word is. Afraid is too big. Anxious is close. It’s just that my bones and my body ached, hoping that this time, Alyssa would show up. That everything really would be different.

  Most of my brain was fully engaged: Of course she’s going to show. Everything has changed! It was just this small, silver worm of worry wriggling through me, squeaking, But what if?! But what if?!

  As of this text, in this moment, that worm is dead. Now I’m nervous for a whole new reason, and that’s because it’s prom night. My legendary suit fills me with power, and I leap at the door to throw it open when I hear an engine out front.

  Oops, it’s our neighbor, Mr. Martin, pulling in after his shift at the transmission factory. I wave at him, then hang from the door frame to look down the street.

  I feel Barry and Dee Dee crowd in behind me, and we all watch in breathless anticipation. After approximately five million years, a dark car appears and glides toward us. It’s black and sleek and looks completely out of place in our little neighborhood. It’s perfect!

  “Get back inside,” Dee Dee says. “Act aloof. A little mysterious. Don’t make her think you’re desperate.”

  Of course, the second the limo stops, I bound out of the house. I feel like I could jump over roofs, but guess what? Gravity is still a thing! I can barely jump off the porch, and I bobble when I land. It’s okay, though, because Alyssa throws herself out of the limo and we all but crash into each other in the middle of the yard.

  “You look so good,” she says at the same time I say, “Oh my god, you’re gorgeous.” We babble at each other, and honestly, I have no idea what we’re saying. It’s all just joyful, positive-sounding yammer, punctuated by kisses. In public! In my front yard!

  I don’t think cis, straight people realize how many of our kisses happen out of sight. As magical as it is to hold hands at the movies, it’s incredible to hold hands on the street. A hug in a park, a nuzzle at a concert—even when you’re out in Indiana, those things don’t seem possible.

  They are; they can be—but they’re scary and dangerous, too, because you just never know what the people around you might do when they see it.

  So this? This moment? I can barely breathe. I’m so drunk on sunlight and kisses bathed in them that I actually lose my balance. Alyssa catches me, and then I catch her, because we’re this tangled-up, gloriously clumsy ball of pure emotion right now. There’s glitter in her eye shadow and the taste of strawberry in her lipstick, and I could honestly explode from the feels right now.

  “I have flowers for you,” she says, gesturing at the limo. “I left them in the car.”

  Nobody’s ever bought me flowers before. I swoon and squeeze her hands. “Wait here, I have your corsage.”

  Turning, I bound back into my house (nearly missing the second porch step) and almost careen into Barry. I’m so full of love right now, I could explode, and I throw my arms around him. Hugging him tight, I tell him, “You’d better save me a dance.”

  “As if you even have to ask,” he tells me. He takes my hands and steps back, inspecting me one last time before I leave. His face is flushed, and his smile is so warm. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s on the verge of crying. He suddenly waves a hand to fan his face. “Get out of here, kid. Go get your girl.”

  I rise up on my toes to kiss his cheek, then turn to take the boxed corsage from Nan. She strokes my cheek, and then, like the secret monster she is, pinches it teasingly. “Your curfew is?”

  “Whenever,” I say, giggling.

  “Very good,” Nan says, and sets me free.

  I look to Dee Dee for any last-minute advice, but she’s facedown in pound cake and a box of tissues. I take that as a no, pack myself with zazz, and get the hell out of there. I wave and Dee Dee waves, and then I’m back out the door and down the steps to Alyssa.

  The wrist corsage matches Alyssa’s dress, lavender ribbon with white and lavender carnations. When I put it on her, she looks at it like I pulled out a bracelet from Tiffany or something. There are too many people tearing up right now, and it’s going to make me cry, too.

  “It’s perfect,” Alyssa says.

  “I’m glad you like it,” I say.

  And then, because we can, because we’re in the middle of my lawn, because we fought our way up a mountain to get here, because she’s beautiful, because I can, I kiss her again and linger so long on the petal softness of her lips. I’m alive with spark and fire, and I tighten my hands on her waist.

  “You ready to do this?”

  “So ready,” she says, her dark eyes gleaming.

  And just like that, we jump in the limo and drive off into our own personal sunset—which in this case just happens to be our prom.

  I never wanted much. Just to hold Alyssa’s hand and walk through those gym doors and wrap my arms around her waist while she wraps hers around my neck. To dance slow to fast songs and take pictures under a hand-painted photo booth banner.

  All I ever wanted was to watch the lights sparkle across her skin and share a cup of truly regrettable punch in an overheated gym.

  And tonight, it happens. This is more than I dared wish for; it’s epic, and there’s room for everyone. Room for kids from my school. For kids from far away. For gay kids and lesbian kids, pan kids and bi kids. Ace kids are here, and trans kids, too. Nonbinary kids and cis kids. Straight kids and questioning kids and queer kids. It’s a whole new family, and we’re all coming out for our own big night.

  We built a prom for everyone. And with those cameras watching across the street, we’re showing the world that it can be done. Godspell escorts meet kids in the parking lot: nobody walks in alone. We stream into the gym and the marquee tents; we take selfies and fill plates and cringe as we sip the inescapable nuclear punch.

  The beat of the drum urges us to take to the floor, and we do, and we move like nobody’s watching. When the music blares, nobody cares who you’re with. And all those miserable people across the street, still protesting? I’m sure they can feel the bass; they have to feel the joy.

  And me? I just wanted to dance with Alyssa. Alyssa Greene, church picnic flirt and student council president. We made it here, and here we are. Under the lights, under the stars, under the disco ball, under the tents, out in the parking lot, up and down the street, everywhere in Edgewater, Indiana, and wherever you’re from, too—let’s go.

  It’s time to dance.

  Broadway Score! scores a chat with Dee Dee Allen and Barry Glickman at the office of their newest endeavor, PROM FOR EVERYONE!

  (cont. from this page)

  . . . a handsomely appointed office in the Flatiron, though not one that affords a view. The space is interior but bright, with photos on the wall from the prom they held last year in Edgewater, Indiana, after a gay teen there went viral with her story of discrimination. Glickman, with his trademark bombast, can hardly sit still in his Aeron chair. Allen sits on the edge of the desk, arranged and ready for a photo at any moment. Their mood can best be described as ebullient.

  BS!: So you were booed at the school and the monster truck rally. What happened next?

  BG: A tragedy. An absolute travesty. An abomination!

  DA: They threw a fa
ke prom for our girl and shattered her delicate little heart. We were gutted. I barely slept for days.

  BS!: I can imagine. But then Emma posted that incredible video, and support came pouring in from all over the world. I know I watched it at least a hundred times.

  BG: I still get verklempt thinking about it.

  DA: I mean, what a star turn! She racked up millions of views practically overnight. We were going to get her booked on Kimmel, but with numbers like that . . .

  BG: She did end up doing Kimmel, with Alyssa.

  DA: She did. She did. [She looks away for a moment.] I can’t remember the last time I did Kimmel.

  BG: Fourth of never, darling.

  [They laugh.]

  BS!: After the video went massively viral, you put together a prom for everyone. You made Emma’s wish come true.

  DA: We spared no expense.

  BG: Alyssa Greene, Emma’s sweetheart, was the architect. Definitely the brains of the operation.

  DA: But money makes the world go round, as they say! And boy, did we make it go around!

  BS!: Which leads us to today. You’ve opened the PROM FOR EVERYONE organization. That’s a nonprofit group you created to host more inclusive dances nationwide. Where will you be opening the doors next?

  DA: Iowa.

  BG: Idaho.

  DA: Another corn-fed backwater hamlet. It’s charming; they have one stoplight!

  BS!: And after that?

  BG: Proms across America. Everywhere Broadway goes in a bus, we’ll be there right behind. And we’re also working on a little something . . .

  DA: We’re writing our own show!

  [They speak over each other, but after a moment, Glickman speaks for both of them.]

  BG: We are, in fact, writing our own show. We’ve got most of the book done; we have feelers out for just the right composer. In our wildest dreams, Casey Nicholaw comes in for choreography and direction.

  BS!: That sounds incredible. What’s the show about?

  DA: Our journey to Indiana and back again, the agonies, the ecstasies—we’ll play ourselves, of course.

  BG: We’re thinking about calling it THE PROM!

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  This is the happiest project I’ve worked on, and I’m honored that I got to be the one to bring Emma and Alyssa’s side of the story to the page. That never would have happened without the amazing show that Bob Martin, Chad Beguelin, and Matthew Sklar brought to Broadway, and then trusted me with in prose; thank you.

  I owe many thanks to Caitlin Kinnunen and Isabelle McCalla, Brooks Ashmanskas, and Beth Leavel, whose chemistry and performances informed every word I wrote; thank you. Heartfelt thanks to the entire team at Viking and at The Prom for coming together to make this book happen. It’s been a privilege and an honor!

  All my love and thanks to my brilliant editor Dana Leydig, who thought of me for this project, and ran through the gauntlet with me. You once said Ravenclaw and Slytherin are a very dangerous mix; we’re also a mix that gets stuff done!

  Finally, thank you, thank you, thank you to my agent, Jim McCarthy, who has been regularly making my dreams come true since 2012. Thank you for this, thank you for everything we’ve already done together, and thank you for the future I see more clearly because of you.

  —Saundra Mitchell

  We would like to thank Casey Nicholaw for his leadership, Dori Berinstein and Bill Damaschke for their intestinal fortitude, Jack Viertel for his cleverness, Izzy McCalla for her humanity, Brooks Ashmanskas for his audacity, Beth Leavel for her belt, Angie Schworer for her legs, Chris Sieber for his hair, Caitlin Kinnunen for her overall, unwavering Caitlin-ness, and Saundra Mitchell for connecting with our show so deeply, and filling in the blanks so brilliantly. Additionally, we would like to thank Cait Hoyt and Erin Malone for making the deal and Dana Leydig and Eileen Kreit from Penguin Random House for making it real.

  —Bob Martin, Chad Beguelin, & Matthew Sklar

  The producers of The Prom musical, Dori Berinstein, Bill Damaschke, and Jack Lane, would like to acknowledge Broadway show conceiver Jack Viertel; director/choreographer Casey Nicholaw; show creators Bob Martin, Chad Beguelin, and Matthew Sklar; the spectacular cast of The Prom; and our entire Prom family behind the curtain. We’d also like to thank general managers Aaron Lustbader, Lane Marsh, and Nick Ginsberg, and our Prom co-producers and investors. A million thanks also to our house and company management team, including Marc Borsak and Alex Wolfe as well as Kenny Nunez and the crew at the Longacre Theater. Thank you to Clint Bond, Meghan Dixon, and the team at On the Rialto; Polk & Co., including Matt Polk, Colgan McNeil, and Kelly Stotmeister; the Situation team, led by Damian Bazadona, Pippa Bexon, and Rian Durham; and our AKA family, including Scott Moore and Jacob Matsumiya. And a special thanks to the wonderful Rose Polidoro.

  Turn the page for more about the musical, the show creators, and the cast of The Prom!

  Notes from Co-Writer Bob Martin on The Prom: the musical

  May 2010. Chad, Matt, Casey Nicholaw, and I meet with Jack Viertel, venerable producer/writer/artistic director and all around musical theatre guru. Casey has brought us here to the Jujamcyn offices on West 44th street because Jack has an idea he wants to pitch. “A small town girl tries to take her same sex partner to the prom, but the school won’t let her. A bunch of Broadway performers come down to fix things. They make it much worse.” I’m paraphrasing, but that’s how I remember it. Jack pitched us, in a few words, the premise for a rollicking musical comedy with heart; a show rooted in a harsh sociopolitical reality, but littered with ridiculous characters doing stupid things. We said yes.

  November 2018. We open on Broadway. Quite a bit happened in those eight years. Yes, a musical was written and rewritten, workshopped, choreographed, staged, and re-staged. But more significantly, the sociopolitical context in which the show was conceived changed dramatically. There was actually a point early on in development when we thought that the show might no longer be relevant. Lots of progress was being made, particularity in the area of LGBTQIA+ rights, and there was a general sense of optimism in the air. Well, incidents of the kind described in the libretto continued to happen, and then a contentious, bitter election split the country in half. Suddenly people found themselves on either side of a vast, unbridgeable cultural divide. Our show seemed more relevant than ever.

  Perhaps that’s why the army of people involved in shepherding The Prom from premise to Broadway show are so passionate about it. We are all desperately in need of hope. We all feel Emma’s pain when she realizes that the whole town has conspired against her, we all cry when Barry dances with joy in his motel room after being told he is finally going to prom, and we all struggle with Mrs. Greene as she tries to see her daughter for who she is instead of who she wants her to be. The cast, the crew, everyone around the production table, we’re all a mess after every run-through, because the show is filled with painfully relatable truths. In the end, The Prom is about how a small, rickety bridge is built in Edgewater, Indiana, between two sides of the culture wars. We hope that those who see The Prom, and those who listen to the recording, will laugh and cry and get inspired to build something of their own.

  —Bob Martin

  The following are excerpts from an interview conducted by cast member Josh Lamon with the creative team of Bob Martin, Chad Beguelin, and Matthew Sklar during a launch event for The Prom in New York City.

  JOSH LAMON: From your perspective as a lyricist, as co–book writer, what has the show been like going through the changes from day one around the table, to the labs and Atlanta, to now?

  CHAD BEGUELIN: It’s changed so much. I think the biggest change, I mean, we’re constantly tweaking it and working on it, but the world sort of changed. We were thinking that the world has gotten so much more accepting and wondering if this was as relevant, and then the election happened, and
it suddenly became so important and so relevant. All of these things we thought we were past—suddenly the show took on this new level of immediacy. I couldn’t predict that would happen. It’s been a great journey and having this great cast has been so much fun for all of us to write for. It’s been great.

  We were really concentrating on this last pass of the script and the score to make sure that we didn’t show the other side to be completely caricatures. We wanted to make sure that everyone was dealt with fairly—these people just had different beliefs and they had to work through them throughout the show.

  JOSH LAMON: One of my favorite things about The Prom is that it is hilarious but also serious. We are talking about an actual story that happened.

  BOB MARTIN: Several actually. It’s based on several incidents that happened and continue to happen across this wonderful country.

  JOSH LAMON: What was it like tackling the comedy versus the serious material?

  BOB MARTIN: I like the combination of making potentially unpalatable truths easier to take when they’re surrounded by people like you. You’re the sugar that makes the medicine go down easily. I think what’s really interesting about this show is that people cry, but it’s an extremely funny show. As you can see there’s a mixture of very broad comedy and the very grounded, serious story at the heart of it all. It was remarkable to have people come up to us after the show and be so moved. I had this woman come with her head down and confess that she was the mother depicted in the story, with tears in her eyes making this confession to us. I think it is a very moving show for that very reason.

  JOSH LAMON: What was unique about this process for you?

  MATTHEW SKLAR: Well, it’s one of the first times I’ve ever really written something completely original from the ground up. Anything else I’ve ever written has had some kind of source material. So this was a great opportunity, and I just love working with these guys [Chad Beguelin and Bob Martin] and with Casey [Nicholaw]. I think we all bring out the best in each other. The story is just so moving. Once we started outlining the story, seeing where it was going, and figuring out where the songs would go, it felt like both sides complemented each other—the comedy and the dramatic aspect of it. It’s been a joy to work on.