Kallie laughs. “Who cares, it’s still hilarious.”
“Well,” I say, “like you said, you’re fun, she’s not. Let’s stop worrying about her.”
“You’re right. I’m like Beyoncé and she’s Be-yawn-cé.”
I cough into the phone. “Ahem. Can we get back to me for a second? Who are you talking about? Who said they’d vote for me?” As soon as the words come out, I get a pit in my stomach. “It’s not a joke, is it? No one’s trying to Maisey Mouse me are they?” I laugh, but in all seriousness, I need her confirmation.
“Oh Christ, Bree, get real. Who else? Chip said he was voting for you too. But don’t say anything. It’s not a secret that he’s still psycho over you, but he made me swear not to say anything. I promised on my grandmother’s grave.”
“So basically, Nana’s going to die now because you have more allegiance to me than to Chip? I’m honored, but damn, I’m gonna miss your Nana.”
We laugh, and Kallie says, “Oh hell no, I was swearing on my dad’s mom. She died when I was two.”
Laughing with Kallie sends a wave of guilt into my stomach. These are the times I wish I had her to talk to about my parents’ divorce. Instead, I tell her I’ll talk to her tomorrow.
TWO
It’s Friday morning—the day we’re supposed to find out who’s on Prom Court. Kallie’s called me every night stressing about it. She’s worried that Todd will be nominated and not her. And the angelically evil Molly will sink her fake nail tips back into him. I tell her in a hundred different ways that Molly sucks, but she’s still sweating it.
I meet Kallie at the locker we share on the west end first thing in the morning. She’s dressed in her Friday best. Her tall military-style boots look shined, like her jet-black hair, waving like a waterfall onto a drop-dead maybe-a-little-too-hot-for-school black and red striped dress.
“Me-yow. You didn’t tell me we were going all out today,” I say.
“Dressed to impress, girl! I’ve got to be ready in case I’m not in. Todd needs to know that I’m hot—Prom Queen or not.”
“Well, I’m dressed for my special occasion too. School.”
“You look cute no matter what you wear. Besides, you did get dressed up. You matched your shoes to your shirt and they’re not mismatched today.”
I squint, looking down at my tight yellow Elvis T-shirt, black jeans, and two yellow sneakers. “You’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Maybe you were thinking that since you’re almost a legal adult, you should stop wearing two different shoe colors on Fridays?”
“Nope, that’s not it. It was definitely a mistake. Too much of your Baby Promma Drama on my mind.”
“Yeah right. I think you’re trying to sex it up since you-know-who was practically all over you in class yesterday.”
The warning bell rings, leaving me just enough time to squeeze Kallie’s hand and beg her not to make a big deal out of it in class.
“Of course not, I’m cool. I got your back.”
We jog down the hall together and I tell her if I don’t catch her in-between classes, I’ll see her in last period where we’ll await her fate and my demise.
During Business Math, I chastise myself for getting so wrapped up in things that shouldn’t matter. Like how Dad used to get all worked up over a hall light being left on. I feel like an idiot for worrying about these nominations when I want to be the kind of girl who’s above all this stuff. But here I am worried about Kallie getting in, who she would or wouldn’t be in with, and of course I’m worried about myself. Sure, I’ve daydreamed about the high I’d be on if by some apocalyptic miracle I’m nominated, but I know it’s highly unlikely. The other stupid thought churning through my head is how to act when my name is not announced. It’s like the MTV or Academy Awards when the camera cuts to the losers. All those awkward stretched smiles accompanied by courtesy hand clapping. I’ll have to pretend my ass off that it doesn’t matter and I forgot I was a contender anyway. All day I imagine different scenarios and practice my nonchalant look.
As the bell rings to start Language Arts, Mr. Norderick almost closes the door on my sneaker. “Just in time Ms. Hughes, just in time.”
I do a quick sweep of the class to check for Kallie and Sean. Score. I walk over to the seat with Kallie’s notebook on it. She whisper mumbles something to me about thanking God and moral support.
“Seat’s taken,” says Justin in a southern drawl. I can’t place it but I know it’s another cheesy movie line. I roll my eyes and face forward.
Justin flicks my hair with a pencil. “Your hair smells so good today Jennaaay, like a box of chocolates.” Oh. Forrest Gump. He really needs to start watching some movies from this century.
Kallie leans into the aisle. “Dude, if you can smell her hair from your desk, I’m filing a restraining order.”