It's Our Prom (So Deal With It) Page 7

  Azure makes a sound in the back of her throat.

  “I’m just saying…”

  “And we ended the meeting by discussing the theme,” I cut in.

  Azure says, “Before we discuss the theme, can I bring up a few ideas I had about making this a more alternative prom?”

  Shauna sighs audibly.

  Azure ignores her. “We have to get more people to come, so I think we definitely want a drag show.”

  “What?” Shauna goes.

  “And a karaoke contest.”

  “At a prom?”

  “And a gamers’ competition.”

  “I suppose you’re going to say we don’t need to elect a prom king and queen.”

  Azure shrugs. “Is it really necessary?”

  “Of course it is!” Shauna says. “What’s a prom without royalty?”

  I raise my hand. “Could I be the queen?”

  Shauna shoots me with eye bullets.

  “Luke makes a point,” Azure says.

  “I do?”

  “We don’t need a prom king and queen, unless there are no gender limits.”

  Shauna opens her mouth, then snaps it shut. Under her breath, she mutters, “Whatever.”

  I put in my two cents: “We could have spotlight dances, like they do at the skating rink.”

  “Definitely,” Azure says. “What do you think, Radhika?”

  Up to now Radhika’s been doodling in a notebook, like she’s lost in thought. She glances up. “Whatever you decide is fine with me.” She resumes her doodle.

  “Of course, we’d want strippers in the spotlights,” I continue.

  Connor jumps in, saying, “I like that idea. I can guarantee strippers will get every male in this school to attend prom.”

  “And some females.” Azure grins.

  “Male strippers, too,” I say. “We don’t want to limit anything by gender. We want Chippendales, or the Thunder from Down Under. Then all the girls, not to mention queer boys, will show up.”

  Mr. Rosen goes, “Guys, please. No strippers. We’re getting way off track.”

  “But we still want an alternative prom, right?” Azure goes.

  “Can we talk about the theme?” Shauna says.

  This time Azure sighs heavily.

  “You know I like Under the Sea,” Shauna says. “But I wouldn’t be against something different.”

  Azure says, “I hate Under the Sea. It’s so… prommish. What about something having to do with rainbows, as a symbol of inclusiveness?”

  “A rainbow only means gay,” Shauna says. “And you know it.”

  I sort of have to agree with Shauna. At least, that’s how people would perceive it.

  Mr. Rosen says, “Maybe we should just put the theme up for a vote.”

  “That’s not fair.” Shauna pouts. “It’ll always be them against me.” She scoots back in her chair, grabs her purse, and walks out.

  Girls are so melodramatic. Which might be why I like them.

  Mario, my musician, left me a message on Facebook that he reworked the opening number to add more percussion. He attached a YouTube link. I click on it and watch him at his keyboard. He’s such a cool dude, with his Mohawk and seemingly endless collection of tees with band names. He sings:

  Odor-Eaters

  BO beaters

  Closets are for mothballs.

  Suffocate

  Can’t go straight

  Closets are for mothballs.

  I beam. The lyrics are mine. Mario can’t sing worth shit, but I like his techno take. He’s really into my musidramedy. I can’t wait to hear the Mothballs’ rendition with Mario’s upbeat changes.

  Owen comes in from outside and tosses his chauffeur’s cap onto the coffee table. “How long are you going to be on that thing?” he asks.

  “It’s called a laptop. And what’s it to you?”

  “Dobbs and the guys are coming over to play Texas hold ’em. Just thought I’d let you know,” he says.

  “Why? So I can get lost? I live here, you know.”

  Owen shakes his head. “I’m just saying you might want to work elsewhere.”

  “Elsewhere. Whoa. Big word.”

  He stands there, gazing down at me.

  “What?”

  “You take everything I say wrong.”

  “You want me to make myself scarce. I get it.” I shut my computer and head for my room. At the threshold, I stop. “What do you see in Dobbs?” I ask Owen. “He’s a total loser.”

  Owen pops the tab on a Coke. “We go back to elementary school. He’s always been my wingman.”

  I click my tongue. “Maybe it’s time to fly solo. Birds of a feather…”

  Owen narrows his eyes. “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing.” It just flew out of my mouth.

  I shut my bedroom door behind me.

  Sometimes I think I have Owen pegged, and other times… What we have is a failure to communicate. Or in his case, medicate.

  I lie on my bed and fire up my laptop again. Linking to the Oasis chat room, I see that it’s fairly active. There’s a group of bisexual guys on Oasis who chat every night. I haven’t contributed much lately. I’ve been busy with school and the musidramedy. One guy wants to know if we feel it’s cheating to date a girl and a guy at the same time.

  I’ve wondered that myself. I could see myself falling in love with two people at once; let’s say, for instance, Ra-dhika and Connor. But I don’t think either of them would be too keen on sharing.

  As if reading my mind, one guy responds,

  if they don’t care, i think it’s ok 4 u 2 date both of them. u should tell them tho.

  I agree—about the honesty.

  Another guy writes:

  I don’t believe in it. I want to be in an exclusive relationship. Period.

  I agree with that, too. Identifying as bisexual can be confusing and messy. I write,

  just b yourself, dude. and b honest. that’s what counts.

  Owen asked me once about my sex life. His comment was, “If you plan to bring a guy here, let me know so I can clear out.”

  “What about a girl?” I asked.

  He didn’t answer.

  No worries, bro, I wanted to tell him. I’m still a virgin.

  Last year I had a long-distance relationship with this guy named Seamus. He lived in Sydney. As in Australia. Not a lot of touchy-feely with an LDR. He totally broke my heart when he told me he was going back to his ex, who also lived in Sydney. I got the feeling he only used me to make his ex jealous. That hurt like hell. I’m so ready to be in love for real. Which I am. Now all I need to do is let Ra-dhika in on the secret.

  AZURE

  We walk into the Holiday Inn and Connor pinches his nose. “Anyone bring their Speedos?”

  The stench of chlorine is overpowering, since the swimming pool is right outside the lobby. “Maybe we could put up Glade air fresheners,” I suggest.

  Luke and Connor look at me.

  “It was a joke.”

  Luke says, “Our theme could be Finding Nemo.”

  Connor adds, “Finding Nemo Under the Sea.”

  We all crack up. I know it’s not nice to make fun of Shauna, but she makes it so easy.

  “I don’t think we even have to look at their ballroom. Do you guys?” I say.

  We turn and head out the way we came in. As we veer toward Luke’s Caddie, I tell them, “That’s the last hotel on the list.”

  “What are we going to do?” Luke says as we all get in the car.

  No one has any ideas.

  We drive out of the parking lot and Connor points up the street. “There’s a Starbucks. Let’s get something to eat or drink. My treat.”

  Luke pulls into the strip mall and we pile out. Even though the breeze is brisk, the sun is warm, so we sit on the patio with our drinks and sandwiches and muffins. “What about rec centers?” Connor says.

  “They probably reek of chlorine, too,” I say. “Not to mention locker rooms.”


  Luke inhales deeply. “I love the musky smell of gym shorts.”

  Connor says, “You would. The theme could be Athlete’s Footloose.”

  Luke giggles and I groan.

  “Oh, come on.” Connor elbows me. “It wasn’t that bad.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “It was.”

  We all eat and drink for a while, then Connor’s watch beeps. “Crap. I need to get to work.”

  “Where do you work?” Luke asks.

  Connor makes a face. “Sonic.”

  “No way,” Luke says.

  “Way. Just got the job. Don’t hold it against me. I had to learn how to skate.” He crumples his sandwich wrapper and stuffs it into his cup, then takes all our trash to the can.

  As we’re driving to Sonic to drop off Connor, he says, “Have either of you talked to Radhika since Thursday?”

  “Yeah,” we both say.

  “Did she mention anything about me?”

  Luke cuts a look my way.

  “No,” I say. “Why?”

  “I asked her to prom and she said she’d get back to me. But she hasn’t.”

  I feel my throat tighten. Luke sounds like he’s gasping for air. Does she like Connor? She’d confide something so personal to me, wouldn’t she? We drive up to the Sonic and Connor gets out. Before he shuts the door, he says, “If Radhika asks you guys what she should do, tell her to say yes.” He grins.

  Luke backs out before Connor can even step away from the car.

  Luke and I turn to each other. In unison, we go, “He asked her to prom!”

  I pull my cell from my bag and call her. “Voice mail,” I say to Luke. I write a text for her to call me ASAP, but I don’t send it. I decide I want to talk to her in person.

  I look at Luke and see that his jaw’s set. “What do you know about this?”

  “About what?” he goes.

  “You know what. Connor and Radhika.”

  “What makes you think I know anything?”

  He doesn’t meet my eyes. He’s lying, or he’s holding something back, which is the same as lying. What’s going on, and why are both Luke and Radhika keeping things from me? I’ve never been a paranoid person, but now I know what it feels like.

  Her cell goes to VM every time I call. “Grr.” I punch it off for the hundredth time. I wait for her to call, but she never does. All night long I’m awake, tossing, turning, stewing up a maelstrom in my mind. I have no right to be mad at Connor, or frustrated with Luke or Radhika for not communicating, when I’m the one keeping the biggest secret of all. Why didn’t I ask her to prom first? Why don’t I just tell her how I feel? How does she feel about Connor? Does she like him?

  I don’t want to go there, but I can’t help thinking that if she does like Connor, it’s a good thing I’ve kept my mouth shut.

  LUKE

  I call Radhika as soon as I pull into the drive at home. VM. VM again. Owen’s got his head under the hood of Black Panther. I’m surprised he even knows how to unlatch the hood, so I wander over.

  “Do me a favor and turn over the ignition,” he says. He’s slipping the dipstick back in the slot and he’s got his hand on the distributor cap.

  “Um, you might want to—”

  “Just do it.”

  The guy has a death wish. Sliding into the front seat, I twist the key and brace for sparks. There’s a thunk when Owen’s head slams against the open hood. He yells, “Shit!” He jumps around going, “Shit, shit, shit.”

  The human hand is a mighty electrical conductor. He flaps his hand, folding and unfolding it.

  I get out of the limo. “You okay?”

  “Do I look okay?”

  I don’t answer that. And I don’t hide my smirk.

  Owen says, “It stalled on Pena Boulevard and I missed a fare into Denver from the airport.”

  “I told you the carburetor in this limo needed work, did I not?” The last time he allowed me to park Black Panther in the garage, I could feel it running rough. I was surprised at the time that he even let me drive it ten feet.

  “Yeah, I should’ve listened.” He unfurls his fingers. “So fix it.” He grabs his Coke off the ground and stalks into the house.

  I smile. He hates that his queer bro is a gearhead. Because then, of course, that makes me the manly man around here.

  I call Radhika three or four more times, and each time her line either is busy or goes straight to VM. Then I call Azure and her cell’s busy. Maybe she got through to Radhika. I’m dying to know what Radhika said to Connor. Dying, I tell you. On a whim, I check my e-mail and see that Mom sent me a message. She said she deposited a hundred dollars in my account. I already assumed that because she does it every other Friday. I guess she just wanted me to know she didn’t forget. I feel like a jackass getting an allowance at my age, but if Owen would let me drive or pay me for anything I do around here, I could contribute to expenses. Since he’s never asked for rent, I suspect Mom’s paying him directly.

  Except he’d never take money from Mom and Dad. He’s spent too many years trying to prove his worth to them.

  Mom wrote, “We’ll be Skyping you two on Wednesday at 4:00 PM your time. Please tell Owen to be home if he’s not working.”

  If I tell Owen, he’ll be working.

  I check my Facebook and Radhika’s not online. Because she’s talking to Azure, probably. It’s not fair. If they’re talking, why don’t they conference me in, the way we used to? I want to know what she’s going to tell Connor. If she hasn’t decided, I can make up a list of hideous offenses he’s committed. Something. Anything. I’m desperate here.

  While I’m waiting to get through, I comment on all my friends’ comments on FB. We have a separate page for Closets Are for Mothballs, and a few members of the cast have written on the wall. “Cool script change,” Gabe wrote. Three people liked his comment. I have one message I don’t even have to read, since I know the gist. T.J., who plays my second BF in the play, wants a bigger role. More lines. A song. He’s such a play hog. I’ve already expanded our scenes together, even though I have most of the lines. But that’s only fitting; it’s my story. I reply to his message, “I’ll think about it.” Which I won’t.

  I send a message to Ryan, thanking him for taking charge last week. I pause at his profile. He’s changed his picture. He’s got this Justin Bieber-ish hairdo, and his pic’s in black-and-white. Very arty. I check out his albums. He has one labeled “Who Am I?” and it’s full of artwork. Most of the pieces are abstract, disjointed, like he’s searching, exploring himself. Full of color, though, and mesmerizing.

  I understand. I’ve been there.

  My cell rings and I lunge for it. It’s Azure. “What’d Radhika say?”

  “I thought you were talking to her.”

  “I wasn’t. Every time I called it went to VM.” We’re both quiet for a minute.

  Azure asks, “What do you know about her and Connor? I know you know something.”

  “We saw him at Sonic a couple of weekends ago. Not working. Hanging with his friends. It was that Saturday I asked you to come to the movies with us….”

  “Which I would have if you’d told me Radhika was going.”

  Oops. My bad.

  “Anyway, they talked. Sounded like they hadn’t seen each other in a while. She said they’d been friends since they were both in swaddling clothes. He said, ‘I’ll call you.’ ”

  “Huh,” Azure says.

  “Yeah. Huh.”

  Azure hesitates. “Is that all?”

  “Would I lie to you?”

  She doesn’t reply. “There’s other stuff she’s not telling us,” she says. “I can feel it.”

  “Why? Doesn’t she trust us? What’d we do?”

  “I don’t know. I thought we told each other pretty much everything. Of course, some things are personal and private.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like, I don’t tell you everything I’m thinking and feeling. But it’s not because I don’t trust
you. I just think some things are…”

  “Personal and private.” I’m dying to tell her how I feel about Radhika, but if there’s stuff she’s not telling me…

  Azure says, “Did I mention my dad is computer-dating?”

  “OMG. No. Where? E-Harm-Me?”

  “No, this other site. I’m not sure what it’s called, but he went out with a woman named Mercedes, a lawyer.”

  “Ooh. Dish, girl.”

  “I couldn’t get anything out of him, except that she talked a lot. And drank a lot. And I only got that much by hand gestures. You know, blah blah. Knock back a few?”

  I picture it in my mind and giggle.

  “Did he Taser her and cuff her to the bedposts?” I ask.

  Azure puffs out a breath of disgust. “You’re talking about my dad. I’m sure he was a perfect gentleman. He has two more matches,” she adds. “Hopefully, one of them will work out.”

  “Do you want your dad to get remarried?” I ask her.

  “I don’t care. I just want him to be happy.”

  “I hear you. We should all be happy.”

  “Amen to that,” she says.

  AZURE

  I’m the last one to the prom com meeting because I fell asleep in Poli Sci and had to stay late to copy the notes from the whiteboard. All day I’ve been comatose because of my lack of sleep.

  Radhika’s head is lowered as I rush in and take my seat next to her.

  I think we’re discussing the location again, or still, because Connor goes, “My dad suggested country clubs, so I called a few and they’re either booked or cost as much as the Taj Mahal.”

  I key into my phone: Are you going to prom with Connor? I show the message to Radhika.

  Radhika reads it, keys a short reply, and slides the cell back to me.

  No, she wrote.

  My heart leaps to the ceiling.

  She takes the cell back and writes: but i haven’t told him yet, so please don’t say anything

  Like I would. I zip a quick text off to Luke because it’s only fair that he’s filled in, then stuff my cell in my bag and concentrate on the discussion, as much as possible. The message seems to perk Luke up.