Page 72 of The Year I was Almost Prom Queen

“Yes,” I saying, making a split-second decision. “But not tonight. Not when there’s so much at stake.”

She nods her head and her face turns serious.

“Yes, of course.”

Mom’s hands flit around my face like a hungry hummingbird. I close my eyes and try to calm my racing heart. She paints my eyes, my cheeks, and scrapes something pointy across my eyelids. “Open your eyes so we can do your mascara,” she instructs. I peek them open and to my horror, find a black, bristled torture device closing in. I hate this part. “Open your eyes wide and open your mouth,” she says. I try, but each time she gets near, my eyes squeeze shut involuntarily. Oh, who am I kidding? It’s very voluntary. I don’t want to get poked in the eye!

“Emma!” She huffs. “I can’t do your mascara if you can’t sit still.”

“But it’s scary,” I whimper.

“You are such a toddler.”

We battle back and forth until I have a satisfactory amount of goop, extending from my lashes. I close my eyes again and feel her begin tugging on my hair.

The doorbell rings and we both freeze. My throat goes dry and I have to wipe my palms on the hand towel. “Umm Mom?”

“It will be fine, I’m almost done,” she says. “Just text Ethan and tell him you’ll be another minute.”

My fingers fly over the keys. “K, sent.”

My phone buzzes and I see that Ethan sent me a sobbing gif. I laugh and Mom jerks my head back. “Hold still, I’m almost done.”

True to her word, she finishes my hair in about two minutes. I’m starting to get used to seeing this Barbie doll version of myself in the mirror. I don’t know how women do this every single day. It seems like a lot of work. I take a deep breath and glance at Mom.

She’s grinning at me and nodding her head. “Am I good, or am I good?” she says. “Girl, you are fire!”

“Thanks Mom!”

“Just add it to my tab,” she says, smiling. “Now go.”

I hurry outside and over to Ethan’s waiting car. My phone buzzes right as I’m opening the passenger door. I climb in. “Was that you?” I ask.

Ethan shakes his head. “Not me, but dang you look hot.”

I can feel the blush in my cheeks. “Thanks, so do you.” Ethan looks nice in his slacks and a button up blue shirt that makes his eyes pop.

I glance down at my phone. It’s a text from Mom.

Remember, Ethan has your best chance of

winning. His popularity could be your popularity

if you choose him.

And there it is. Mom and her never-ending agenda. I shake my head and ignore the text. It buzzes again almost instantly. I pull it out and see a text from Dylan.

u should pick A. E is fake.

He acts like it a game.

A really likes u

I shake my head. I’m about to put my phone away, when I remember.

“Oh wait,” I say. “We need a pic.”

I hold up my phone lean closer to Ethan. He puts his arm around me and we both smile.

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