It's Our Prom (So Deal With It) Read online

  Azure goes, “Uh-huh. Okay. Thank you.” Her face and voice are unreadable. As I pull up to Radhika’s condo, Azure disconnects.

  At the top of her lungs, she screams, “We got it!”

  “How much?” Radhika asks.

  Azure smiles from ear to ear. “Free!”

  Dress rehearsal is an utter disaster. I’d be worried if it wasn’t. At least the Mothball costumes are all sewn and the sets are done. But the Mothballs aren’t in tune and can’t sing loud enough over Mario’s horns. We try adjusting the stage mikes, which seems to help. But then the Mothballs keep tripping over one another because they can’t see over their balls. Whoever’s working the spotlight must be a stand-in because when T.J. enters stage left, the spotlight illuminates stage right. This is supposed to be a comedy, but it’s turning into a parody.

  “It’s okay,” I tell everyone. “Dress rehearsals are supposed to suck. You get out all the bad karma before the real performance.”

  They look as freaked as I feel as we finish the run-through.

  Owen’s getting out of a cab as I pull up at the house. He waits for me at the front door. “The whole fleet is going to need detailing before your prom. Can you help me drive the limos to the detailing shop on Friday night?”

  I just stare at him. Doesn’t he know Friday is my play?

  “What?” he says.

  “Let me in.” I try to squeeze by him, but he blocks my way.

  “I thought you wanted to help with the business. This is what I need help with.”

  “Do you mind?” I push him aside.

  I hate him. He’s so lame. Not that I’d want him to come to my musidramedy. Not that he should care about what’s important in my life.

  That’s how bros roll: in opposite directions.

  AZURE

  I stop at the faculty lounge before our meeting to see if Mr. Rosen’s there. He’s not, but as I’m heading for the art wing, I see him coming toward me. “Mr. Rosen,” I call, hustling toward him. “We got the pavilion.”

  “Excellent,” he says. “I’m proud of you. I’m proud of all of you.”

  “All we have to do is clean the graffiti, and the foundation will pay for utility costs. Isn’t that cool?”

  “It is. I knew you could do it.”

  He walks with me toward Studio 2B; we both stop just outside the door. “I was wondering,” I ask, “if you’d gotten your deposit back from the Ramada? Because we still need a thousand dollars for the band and the photographer.”

  He grimaces. “I haven’t. They called and said they’d refund the money as soon as their insurance pays. I don’t know when that’ll be. Probably not by Saturday.”

  My heart sinks.

  Mrs. Flacco sticks her head out and snaps, “Are you coming, Azure? I need to leave early to supervise detention.” Like a turtle, she pulls her head back in.

  “That’s my cue,” Mr. Rosen says, taking off.

  What a coward, I think.

  When I relay the good news about the pavilion to the committee, they all cheer. “Is everyone willing to help get the pavilion in shape?” I ask. “Because I can’t do it by myself. How do you remove tagging, anyway?”

  “Usually you just paint over it,” Connor says.

  “I don’t think they’ll like that,” I say. “The pavilion is concrete.”

  “Then we might have to rent a power washer and get some special graffiti-removal chemical,” Connor goes.

  “How much does that cost?”

  He shrugs. “We’re still short by, what? A thousand dollars?”

  “Not that much,” I say. “Only, like, nine hundred.” Big diff.

  “Unless we want to rent tables and chairs,” Shauna says. “And we really should.”

  Why is it all about the money?

  Up to this point, Mrs. Flacco hasn’t said a word. I’m sure she’s thinking what I am: you’re out of money, out of time, and out of luck. Give it up. Instead, she stands. “I don’t know how you did it, but a large contribution came in today that’ll pay for everything you want. Just let me know the amount.” She bustles out, leaving a trail of hairspray fumes behind her.

  I turn slowly to Radhika, who’s watching Mrs. Flacco’s retreat like everyone else. Obviously avoiding my eyes.

  Why, Radhika? I want to say.

  But I don’t have to ask. We’ve been friends long enough that I know how her heart works. She’d sacrifice everything for other people’s happiness.

  “If no one has anything to do right now, can we take a drive to the pavilion to check it out again?” I ask.

  Shauna says, “I have to call… you know who.” She pulls out her cell.

  Connor goes, “I have my car, so I’ll meet you there.”

  Radhika says quietly, “I can’t. My mother asked me to come home right after school.”

  She’s making that up.

  I meet Luke’s eyes and know he’s thinking the same thing I am: She doesn’t want a public confrontation about the money, and I guess I can’t blame her.

  “Do you want me to drop you off?” Luke asks Radhika.

  “No. I’ll call my mother. She won’t mind picking me up here.”

  “It’s no problem….”

  She gathers her stuff and leaves. I want to run after her so bad.

  On the way to the pavilion, Shauna says, “I’m taking the prom program to the printer tonight. How many copies should I have them print? I know we’ve sold three hundred and some tickets.”

  “Is that all?”

  “It’s more people than attended last year,” she says.

  I’m disappointed. I really expected more. “Have them print a thousand,” I tell her. “Just in case.”

  Shauna arches her eyebrows at me.

  “Positive thinking,” I go. I don’t add, To pull this off in four days, we’re going to need a miracle. We’re going to need miracles raining down on us every day.

  Shauna says, “I’ll put the pavilion’s address on Prom Central. And I think we should make an announcement about it tomorrow. Luke?”

  “At your service,” he goes.

  Connor’s already at the pavilion when we arrive, peeking through the peephole. “Let’s take down one of these planks to see what the inside looks like,” he says.

  It’s nailed onto a frame and we can’t even loosen it. Connor says, “I think I have some tools in my trunk. Maybe a tire iron.” He returns to his car and Shauna peeps through the hole. I grab Luke by the shirtsleeve and pull him aside, out of Shauna’s range of hearing. “Why did you tell Connor to text Shauna that he was going with someone else to prom?”

  Luke goes, “Huh?”

  “I can understand if he didn’t want to go with her, but he should’ve told her in person. He really hurt her feelings.”

  Luke frowns. “I never told him to text her. I just suggested he tell her he was going with someone else.”

  I glare him down. I want to believe him. I want to….

  “How could you even go there?” he says. “Do you think I’m that callous?”

  I don’t answer.

  “Thanks. Thanks a lot.” He stomps away from me. He whirls around and barks, “For your information, it’s your fault Radhika’s not coming to prom.”

  “Why is it my fault?”

  “Because you should’ve asked her. You chickenshit.”

  “I did ask her. As a friend, even, so she wouldn’t be shocked and appalled by the truth. She said there was nothing anyone could say or do to make her come.”

  Connor appears at my side. “Radhika’s not coming to prom?”

  “No!” we both raise our voices at him. Then Luke says, “Give me the tire iron.”

  I cover my head, expecting him to crack my skull with it. I deserve it; I never should’ve doubted him. He’s the most sensitive guy I know when it comes to girls’ feelings.

  Connor says, “I asked Radhika to go to prom with me and she said no. I figured she was going with someone else.”

  I loo
k over and see that Shauna’s listening in on our conversation. I expect her to burst into tears, but she doesn’t. She just turns away without a word.

  Luke rips off the plywood in one yank. It opens up the pavilion like a doorway to heaven. I gasp.

  Luke enters and goes, “OMG.” The whole inside is like a swirling mural, plaster walls painted with carousel zebras and elephants and giraffes.

  Connor steps inside. “It’s awesome,” he says.

  “It is,” I breathe, wandering toward the middle.

  “I’m going to take some pictures and send them to Radhika,” Connor says. “Do you think that’ll change her mind about coming?”

  From across the pavilion floor, Shauna says, “It won’t hurt to try.”

  Connor snaps away with his cell while the rest of us walk around the perimeter.

  It’s mystical and magical.

  Shauna says, “We should’ve gone with a carousel theme.”

  I agree. But how could we have known?

  She adds, “Oh, well. Once we get the twinkling lights and the rainbow balloons in here, it’ll be cool.”

  “We should have a disco ball,” Luke says.

  We all laugh. Then the laughter dies and, in a wistful sigh, we all go, “Yeah.”

  “I’ll see if the decorations committee has enough money left over,” Shauna says. “In fact, I’ll call Mollie right now.” There’s a park bench outside the pavilion, and Shauna goes over to sit, her cell to her ear.

  My eyes drift to the ceiling of the pavilion, where the mural of carnival animals continues. It’s like the Sistine Chapel. I can’t help moving in a circle to take it all in.

  As I’m twirling, I hear a snatch of conversation from the corner. It’s Luke, ragging on Connor about texting Shauna and not manning up. Connor’s hanging his head. He glances over at Shauna, out on the bench, and then heads her way.

  Luke eyes me briefly, and looks away.

  He’s making this extra hard, and I guess I deserve it. I approach him. “I’m sorry about assuming you told Connor to text Shauna,” I say. “I’m sorry about Radhika, too. I didn’t know you liked her.”

  “Loved her. Still do. And I didn’t know you felt the same way.”

  We’re both quiet for a minute, then Luke says, “I hope this hasn’t destroyed our friendship.”

  Tears well in my eyes. He holds out a fist to bump and when I knock my knuckles against his, he pulls me in for a hug.

  Connor comes back and says, “It’s getting dark. We better put the plywood back up. The tagging’s pretty bad on the west side, so I’ll call and see how much it’ll cost to rent a power washer. What’s the most we can spend?”

  I tell him, “Just assume the money’s available.”

  My cell rings the minute I step into the house. It’s Shauna. “You won’t believe what happened back there,” she says.

  I already know, but I play along. “What?”

  “Connor asked me to prom.”

  “What?”

  “Can you believe it? First he apologized for texting me a rejection, then he said he’d like to take me after all.” Shauna laughs.

  I laugh, but it sounds as forced as it is.

  “Of course I said no,” Shauna says. “Not only because I have a date—”

  “You do?” Oops. Do I sound shocked?

  Shauna says, “I used Radhika’s matching program, and it works!”

  Wow. “Sweet,” I say.

  “I know. I’m so excited. It’s weird. I can’t believe I ever liked Connor. You know how one day you think someone is so hot, then the next day you look at him and go, What did I ever see in you?”

  I’ve known that feeling in the past, for sure.

  Shauna says, “I better go get our programs ordered. See you tomorrow.”

  LUKE

  I know I should eat before the play. My stomach’s too jittery, though. Besides, the only thing in the fridge is an old carton of Chinese takeout and—you guessed it—Coke. Owen’s out, hopefully on a cougar run. Just as I’m leaving, my cell rings. It’s Owen. I debate whether to answer or not, and decide I’m already too stressed to deal with him.

  He doesn’t leave a message. As I’m climbing into my Caddie, a text arrives from him:

  Running late. See you there. Break a leg.

  I sit and stare at the message for a long time. What was all that about detailing the limos? Did he want it to be a surprise that he was coming? I’m surprised, all right. I’m totally freaked. Yeah, I want him to acknowledge my existence. But after he sees this play he’ll know the real story of my life. Then we’ll have to deal with each other on a different level. Like, man to man.

  Almost everyone’s backstage when I get there. Mario’s warming up on his horns. The Mothballs are zipping up their costumes, chittering away like cheese balls. The lighting crew is huddled in a corner, making notes on the script. I hurry over to them and say, “Remember to keep the spotlight on T.J. at all times.”

  I see T.J. standing next to Britny, peeking out at the audience.

  I rush over to him. “Remember, if you forget your lines, I’ll be stage left to cue you.”

  He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Then his face pales. His knees must go weak because he slides down the wall.

  I squat in front of him. “T.J., get a grip.”

  “I can’t do it, man.” His voice is raspy. He covers his mouth, shoots to his feet, and races off toward the restroom.

  OMG. Okay, okay. Plan B. What’s Plan B? I’m back to playing the lead. Ryan. Ryan can step in for T.J. He did a good job the day of dress rehearsal.

  “Forget what I just said,” I tell the lighting crew. “Keep that spotlight on me.”

  “Ryan!” I shout. “Has anyone seen Ryan?”

  I run around calling for Ryan and finally find him talking to the stage crew. They’re all dressed in black. They’ll be closing in the closet walls.

  “Ryan, T.J. has stage fright, so I need you to play his part.”

  “I… I…” Blood fills his cheeks.

  “Please.” I grasp his shoulders. “I need you.”

  He gulps and looks at me long and hard. He shakes his head. I squeeze his upper arms and say, “You’ll be fab. Just think of it like another practice.” With an auditorium full of people watching your every move and judging you, I don’t add.

  He wanders off to hair and makeup seeming dazed. If he faints, I may have to play both roles. Which, I guess, would add to the humor.

  Britny races up to me. “Have you seen how many people are here?” she asks. She starts flapping her arms like a baby bird. “I’m going to throw up.”

  Not her, too. “Do it now,” I tell her. “Before we go onstage.”

  She sprints off. I peek around the curtain behind the set. The auditorium is standing room only. I hope Owen’s in back, where he can’t see or hear.

  Miss Wells appears out of nowhere. “Luke,” she says, “are you ready to start? It’s getting late.”

  I gather everyone together in a group and say, “This is it. No matter how it goes—and it’s going to be awesome—I want you to know, you guys rock.”

  The first act is flawless. People laugh where they’re supposed to. I even hear a few sniffles at the end, when I come out to Mom and Dad. The second act is all about my love life. Britny’s great in the role of Haley, my only GF—so far. Then I had the LDR with Seamus, who used me. My best work in this act is in the bluesy love songs I wrote. The Mothballs are my backup singers and dancers.

  The last scene is futuristic, because it hasn’t happened yet. I fantasize that someday it will, though. I was hoping it’d be with Radhika, but since that’s not to be, I changed the script.

  Ryan recites T.J.’s line: “I never thought I’d find you.”

  My line: “I’ve been searching the universe.”

  Ryan: “Leaping from star to star.”

  Me: “Falling to Earth.”

  Ryan: “Questioning my worth.”

  Me:
“There’s no question about it: I love you.”

  Ryan stands there looking at me for a long moment. I panic. He’s forgotten his line. The last line of the play.

  I see him raise his right hand, then feel it scoop the back of my head. He takes a step forward and kisses me. Softly at first. Then he wraps his arms around my waist and presses his lips to mine. I lose myself in time and space. In the distance, I hear hooting and hollering. People in the audience are standing and clapping.

  The spotlight extinguishes and the curtain closes. Ryan pulls away as the cast and crew come out onstage. The curtain opens and we take a bow. Someone pushes me forward and puts a bouquet of flowers in my arms.

  The applause seems to last an eternity. All I care about is finding Ryan. Where is he?

  The curtain closes and I dodge through the mob. “Ryan!” He’s folding the set.

  He stops and I take his hand. “I’ve heard of ad-libbing. But ad-lipping?”

  He smiles shyly.

  I’m not aware of the curtain opening again or the spotlight finding me. I just hold Ryan and kiss him until the roaring of the crowd is a symphonie fantastique.

  AZURE

  Location? Check.

  Theme? Check.

  Band? Check.

  Photographer? Check.

  Traditional activities? Check.

  Alternative activities? Check.

  What am I missing?

  Taking the love of my life to my senior prom. Empty box where check should be.

  Dad knocks on my door and I tell him to come in. I’m trying to decide if I should wear the hat veil up or down. Down, I think. He whistles.

  If I could whistle, I’d return the compliment. He’s dressed in a black suit with a pink shirt. Only my dad can pull off pink and look macho. “I thought you’d be wearing your uniform. You know, to frisk people on the way in.”

  Dad says, “Your teacher called and told me the school was going to provide security.”

  How did Mrs. Flacco know I’d volunteered my dad? It must’ve been in Luke’s notes.