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Then her face lights up and I can practically see the lightbulb above her head. “I’ve got it,” she says, clapping her hands together. “You like homework, right Emma?”
I shrug again. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Okay, here’s your assignment. I want you to go home and start a journal.”
Sensing I am about to protest, Mrs. Reyes puts her hand up to stop me. “You don’t have to share it with another soul. Not even me. But I want you to talk out everything that happened in the assembly this morning. Get out all your feelings and emotions. That way you don’t have to speak to another human about it, but you’ll still be getting the disease out in the open. Okay?”
She smiles, looking very pleased with her own brilliance.
“So…just write it all down? Or what?”
Mrs. Reyes nods, her smile widening. “Write it, type it, record a voice memo, or do a video on your phone. It doesn’t matter. Just find a way to journal your thoughts. Then I’ll check in with you in a couple days and we can discuss how it’s going. Okay?”
Reluctantly, I nod. Fine. I can do that if it will get her off my back.
“Okay,” I concede. “I’ll do it as soon as I get home.” I stand and pick up my bag. “Can I go now?”
“Not so fast, Chica, Mrs. Graidy and the other nominees are waiting for you in the gym. They need to go over some prom rules with you.”
My stomach lurches. Seriously? She’s going to make me go back in there?
Mrs. Reyes stands and gently takes me by the arm. Her talons softly press against my skin. “Come on,” she says, trying to force her enthusiasm on me. “I’ll walk you there.”
I can feel the eyes following me as we walk down the hall. The whispers attack my ears from all sides. I hug my books tighter against my chest. I hear the name “vom queen” being passed around. Oh good, it seems to be sticking.
When Mrs. Reyes opens the door, I glance up at the bleachers. I can see the janitor grumbling as he cleans up my mess. My face grows hot again. There’s a small group of students in the center of the gym floor, standing around talking. I feel like a pig being forced to slaughter as the councilor urges me toward the group. She then pushes me into the center of the potential prom queens. “Have fun!” she calls, and she leaves me there. Forget trauma, I’m going to have abandonment issues.
I force a small smile. The other four girls glare at me. I’m taller than most of them, except Tessa, yet I feel like a small child as they all look down their pointed noses at me. They’re intermingled with the five prom king nominees. They seemed to be having a great time until I appeared, halting the conversation.
The vice principal glances at me and subconsciously takes a step back. The other kids snicker.
I hear Taylor whisper, “Vom queen.”
Kill me now.
One of the king nominees stands beside me. “Hi Emma,” he says.
My body tingles with heat. He knows my name?!
Taylor quickly moves to his other side and loops her arm through his.
“Wouldn’t it be amazing if we went to prom together?” she coos. “You are totally going to be prom king, and I think we all know I stand the best chance of being queen. Wouldn’t that just be perfect if we were dates too?” She bats her eyelashes at him and I’m reminded of a cobra, luring in her prey before she strikes.
Before he can respond, the vice principal clears her throat.
“Alright, I need all my nominees to pay attention.”
The chatter dies down and the girls all stare at her eagerly.
“First of all, congratulations on being nominated,” she says, clapping her hands together. “Every teacher and senior in the school could only nominate two people. And you had to receive at least two teacher nominations and three student nominations to even be considered. To have made it this far, you should all be very proud of yourselves.” She claps for us until we all join in. I pat my leg with one hand, with as much enthusiasm as I can muster.
“For the next three weeks, I expect the ten of you to represent this school. The other students will be watching for who they want to vote for, so set a good example.”
I look down at the wood grain on the floor and begin counting lines in my head.
“You’ll need to make sure you have a dress or a suit for our upcoming prom assembly, where you’ll officially introduce yourselves to the school. And you may want to start thinking now about what you’ll say.”
450, 451, 452. Maybe if I focus on the numbers, I can keep my anxiety at bay.
