Page 5 of The Year I was Almost Prom Queen

“You have one week to prepare for the assembly,” she adds. “I suggest you begin preparations now. A lot of nominees in the past have played a video at the assembly, showing their community service, their competing in sports, their hobbies, it can be anything you want, really. Just please keep your videos under two minutes. And the stage crew will need them by next Thursday to prepare for the assembly on Friday.”

566, 567, 568. What did Mrs. Graidy say about a video? Oh well, I’ll ask Mom about it later. I’m sure she knows everything I need. Heck, she probably already has it planned out for me.

“Being nominated also means you’re required to attend prom,” Mrs. Graidy continues.

My head whips up. What? Between the surprise nomination and the anxiety episode, I hadn’t really given this part much thought. The pit in my stomach seems to be growing.

Vice Principal Graidy smiles. “Although I’m sure that won’t take any convincing at all.”

I can feel the bile rising in the back of my throat. I begin taking slow, deep breaths. I will not throw up again. I will not throw up again.

The other girls all giggle, as if not wanting to go to prom is the most ridiculous thing any of them can fathom. I have successfully avoided dances my entire high school career. Now I’m being informed I have to go to the last one before I can finally graduate and earn my freedom?

“And, of course, you’ll each need a date.”

My head is spinning. I’ve never even been on a date. How am I supposed to get one for the biggest event of the year?

She glances around at our small semicircle. “In the past, a lot of our nominees have gone with each other.” She smiles brightly. “But of course, that’s not a requirement. Talk amongst yourselves. You have five minutes and then you need to get back to class.”

I watch the vice principal walk toward Mrs. Reyes and the two converse by the doors. I can’t help feeling like it has something to do with me.

The minute she walks away, Tessa offers congratulations to the rest of us and waves goodbye before leaving the gym. One of the king nominees follows, shortly after her. Each of the other three girls are clinging to one of the remaining guys, like they’re claiming territory. Henry Cho is the last guy left. He glances around at the other couples, then looks at me. Our eyes lock. I can feel my cheeks warming. Henry is really cute. But I don’t think I’ve ever talked to him before.Please just ask me, I beg inmy head. This is already embarrassing enough without having to scrounge up a date too.

“Sorry, I already have a date.” Henry puts his hands in his pockets and strolls out of the room.

Adika and Kylie both giggle.

“Tragic.”

“Maybe if you bring a breath mint, he’ll reconsider.”

Taylor clutches her stomach and pantomimes throwing up.

I turn and swing my blue Jansport over my shoulder. I blink the tears back and walk toward the gym doors.

I try and push my way past the two teachers, but Mrs. Reyes speaks up. “Oh Emma, Mrs. Graidy and I were just talking and we think you should probably head home and rest.”

“What?”

“Go home and work on that assignment I gave you.” She winks, as though we share a fabulous and fun secret, instead of a device for torture.

“But I…”

“It’s okay,” Mrs. Graidy adds. “Your mom already excused you for the rest of the day. I’m sorry you haven’t been feeling well. That’s really unfortunate timing that we announced nominees on a day when you’re ill.”

I push through the doors and make my way outside. Leave it to Mom to twist the story for her own benefit, to save face. Of course she told people I was already sick. Heaven forbid her awkward daughter have any ungraceful, embarrassing moments. What I can’t believe is that the school is sending me home. I love my classes! And now they’re holding them hostage until I complete this stupid journal? Ugh!

***

“This is so weird.”

I stare at my own reflection in the camera. The look on her face echoes how I feel. This is such a stupid waste of time. I could be studying or reading right now. I lay back on my bed and hold the phone above me. I hit the red button and my mouth goes dry. How do I even start? I stop the recording and take a sip of water.

I don’t feel like sitting at my computer and typing in a journal. That’s reserved for homework and fun, and this is neither. I certainly don’t want to write in a journal with my bare hands like some kind of caveman. I continue to stare at my reflection in the phone, trying to figure out where to start.

I hit record again.

“Dear diary. No that’s stupid.”

Source: www.allfreenovel.com