Prom King

7

Ollie

Prom Night

“Tighter.” Lorraine pushes out all the air in her lungs, and I try to pull the laces of her corset tighter.

“I really think that’s it,” I say.

She sighs. “Fine, I suppose that’s good.” She reaches insider the top edge of the crimson corset and adjusts her boobs so that they’re practically falling out of it.

I look at myself in the mirror. The dress I ended up choosing is purple, and it’s pretty much the opposite of Lorraine’s. Mine has a lacy collar around the neck and no cleavage. It’s floor length too. I really love the way this dress looks, but I don’t want the attention that Lorraine does. I didn’t even want to come, really. My nose is still healing from the last event I attended with the whole school.

“Ollie, relax. Try to have fun.”

“I will.”

“You could dance with Adam.”

I immediately flush bright red, “That’s not going to happen.”

“Fine. But I’m still saying that you could.” She smirks at me in the mirror. “I promise that we can dance with each other later. Just as soon as I finish dancing with Joey Lancaster. He’s going to notice how fucking sexy I look tonight.” Those last words are more for her than for me.

“I’ll hold you to it,” I say.

“Perfect,” she says, sweeping out the door. “Wish me luck!”

“Luck,” I say softly even though she’s already gone. I run some water over my hands, hesitating. All night people have been asking me how my nose is. If they were just asking me how I’m doing it would be fine. It’s the laughter after they ask that gets me. But Lorraine is right, if I’m already here, I might as well try to go out and enjoy it.

The hallway of the school is dark, and I can hear the music thumping in the gym as I head down the hall. Sasha is in the doorway and I don’t know if I’ve ever seen her look so pissed. I’m thinking about ducking back down the hallway when she spots me. Instantly her entire face changes. “Hi, Ollie!”

I don’t know if I’ve ever heard Sasha say my name before, but it sounds strange. Only people who know me really well call me Ollie. Finishing the length of hallway before I reach the door feels like it takes forever. I’m kind of hoping that I can just go inside and she doesn’t want to talk to me, but of course I don’t have that kind of luck.

She holds something out to me. “Will you sign my yearbook?”

“Uh, now?”

“Of course! When will there be another time with so many of the upperclassmen in one place?”

She has a point, and I take the book and pen from her. Snow days and unexpected repairs to part of the gym pushed our prom back a bit. We’re almost done with classes and everybody’s gotten their yearbooks. I flip to my senior portrait and go to write something, but the pen is sticky. Glancing down at my hand, I see that my fingers are now stained with glittery blue dye. I go ahead and start writing. ‘Happy graduation, wishing you the best.’

“By the way, your pen is leaking,” I say, holding up my hand.

She grabs it and looks closer at my fingers. “Oh god, I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay.” I pull my wrist out of her grasp. Suddenly Lorraine appears at my side and she’s tugging on my arm. “Dance with me!”

I wave bye to Sasha as I’m pulled into the crowd of dancers. “You looked like you could use a rescue,” she says.

“Thank you.”

“No problem. Now I’m going back to dance by Joey.”

She dances away from me and I slip back out of the dancers, keeping an eye out for Sasha so that she doesn’t see that I’m not dancing. I take up a post near the refreshment table and get myself some punch. It’s not lost on me that I’m quite the cliché. But I can’t say that I’m not enjoying it.

I watch from the sidelines as Lorraine finally does get her chance to dance with Joey. The look of sheer joy on her face is one that I will never forget. A couple of times I think that I’m about to be asked to dance, but it’s never me. That’s fine, I like watching everyone. I like seeing the connections form and break and come back together.

And of course, I watch Adam. He dances with a few girls, but also spends a good amount of time on the sidelines. He doesn’t seem like he’s quite comfortable, and I totally get it. I’m not comfortable either.

Later in the night the music stops, and the librarian Mrs. Marsden takes the stage. “It’s about that time everybody! Time for us to find out who’s King and Queen of the prom.” She waves two white envelopes in the air. “First, our King.”

She tears open the envelope and pulls out a piece of paper. Immediately she breaks into a wide smile. “Adam Carlisle!”

The gym bursts into cheers, and I join them. It’s not surprising to me at all that Adam is prom king. He’s gorgeous and the star of the basketball team, and tonight the tuxedo that he’s wearing makes me feel faint, the same way they say that Victorian ladies swoon. I wish that I could be the one standing up with him, the one that gets to dance with him. But that won’t happen, because I don’t even think half the people in this room know that I’m here. Adam certainly doesn’t.

He makes his way to the stage and gets crowned. His smile lights up the room and he waves to the crowd in a mock gesture of a king to his kingdom, and everybody laughs.

“And now for the queen.” She tears open the second envelope, but she doesn’t break into a smile this time. Instead she looks confused. “Well, this is a surprise. Olivia Mitchell!”

I freeze. What?

The entire gym goes silent, so that all you can hear is the pop song in the background. And then the whispers start, and people looking around for me. Oh god. Someone spots me and a path forms between the stage and me . Adam looks confused, and a spike of pain goes through my chest. I mean, I never expected to be voted queen, but the fact that he thinks I couldn’t or shouldn’t be…hurts.

Someone next to me whispers, “Olivia, go.”

I find myself walking slowly towards the stage even though I can’t feel my feet. This can’t possibly be right, can it? Did my wish that I could dance with Adam as his queen somehow reach the universe? I look around and everyone seems as confused as I am. They’re staring and whispering, and I think I might be sick.

But then I look at Adam again, and he smiles. It’s a miracle, and I find myself smiling back. Because if this is true, it’s everything I’ve ever wanted and the best moment of my life. Stepping onto the stage, I cross to Mrs. Marsden, who puts the silver tiara on my head. “Everyone give it up for our King and Queen, Adam and Olivia!” There’s half-hearted clapping from the crowd. “They’ll now have their first dance.”

Adam takes my hand and I can’t breathe. “Ready to dance?” he asks softly.

“Yeah.”

>   We move off of the stage and into the middle of the dance floor where everyone has formed a circle, and we’re in the center spotlight. I can’t believe this is actually happening. Adam pulls me close, puts a hand on my waist, and if I wasn’t sure that I would kill myself for missing this moment, I think I would faint.

“Stop!” An angry voice comes from across the gym, and then Sasha barges into the circle followed closely by Mr. Andrews, another of the chaperones. She’s looking straight at me, and I recognize that same burning anger I saw in the hallway earlier. “Olivia Mitchell is not prom queen.”

I just blink at her. “What?”

“She cheated. She switched her name in the envelope. It’s supposed to be me.”

Still on stage, Mrs. Marsden clears her throat into the microphone. “That’s a serious accusation, Sasha. Do you have proof?”

Sasha scoffs, walking over to the stage. “Of course I do. Look at the way the name on that paper is written. That blue ink.”

“What about it?”

The way she’s looking at me, now I know how a bug feels that’s about to be stepped on. “I saw her coming from the hallway near the offices earlier, and I saw something else.” She comes to me and rips my hand out of Adam’s, holding it up for people to see. Suddenly I understand and I’m lightheaded. I really do think I might pass out. The blue ink is still on my fingers from when I signed her book. Lorraine pulled me onto the dance floor and I didn’t go back to the bathroom to wash it off. She set me up.

“See?” Sasha says, a smug smile on her face. “She wrote her name herself.”

Mr. Andrews looks uncomfortable, but he steps forward. “I’m sorry, Olivia, but I wrote Sasha’s name myself, and I did it in black ink.”

“It’s not true,” I say.

“What was that?” She asks.

I swallow, trying to hold myself together. I’m flushed and shaking and I can feel tears dangerously close. This isn’t the way this is supposed to happen. “It’s not true. You asked me to sign your yearbook with that pen.” I look at Mr. Andrews. “Look at her yearbook. You’ll see that I’m right.”