Prom Queen, The (Life at Kingston High Book #3) (10 page)

She nodded somberly. “I understand.”

“Just in case you get distracted with your prom queen election, I have decided to select an understudy for your part.” He pointed to Clarisa Wilton now. “Although Clarisa is playing Grandma Tzeitel, I want her to learn the part of Golde too. Is that acceptable to you, Clarisa?”

She nodded eagerly. “No problem!”

He smiled back at Megan, but his eyes were serious. “Just in case.”

For some reason she felt that he’d just raised the stakes on her, or perhaps he’d thrown down the gauntlet. She wasn’t even sure which metaphor was correct. She did know Clarisa was talented and dedicated and might possibly do a better job as Golde. Megan also knew that she really wanted to be in this musical. But she would have to work hard to do so.

L
ook,” Chelsea told Megan on Tuesday afternoon. “I realize you’re overextended.”

“Overextended?” Megan looked up from where she was stuffing her campaign goodies into the pink bag. “What do you mean?”

“She means you’re in over your head,” Lishia said.

“Huh?” Megan zipped the bag closed and stared at her friends.

“You’ve got too much on your plate.” Janelle rolled her eyes.

“So I’m completely taking over the fundraiser,” Chelsea explained. “You’ll still get credit for it, but I just don’t want to take the chance that it could fall apart before we pull it off. It’s too important to the soup kitchen. They’re counting on us.”

“But what does that mean?” Megan frowned. “You’re kicking me out of the fundraiser?”

“No, we’re cutting you some slack,” Janelle told her. “You’ve got your play practice and book club and who knows what else.”

“Don’t worry, we still expect some help from you,” Lishia pointed out. “Just not as much.”

“Like what? What can I do?” Megan asked eagerly.

“If you can spare the time, you can work on the soup bowls,” Lishia told her. “That’s been getting a little overwhelming. The good news is, we’ve got lots of bowls made. We just need to get them glazed and fired. Want to help?”

“Sure.” Megan nodded.

“I’ll have some tasks for you on the night of the event,” Chelsea said. “For starters, it would be nice if you were the greeter. You can give people name tags.”

“And you’re on cleanup crew,” Janelle said wryly.

“Sure.” Megan glanced at the clock. “Whatever. But I gotta run or I’ll be late to practice.”

“I’m off to work on soup bowls,” Lishia said.

“I’ve got to make some phone calls for more donations,” Chelsea told them. “I’ve got a whole new list of possibilities.”

“And I’ve got to edit my article for the newspaper,” Janelle said. “It’s all about the soup kitchen and the fundraiser.”

“Thanks, you guys—for everything.” Megan smiled and waved. “You’re the best.”

She felt guilty as she hurried toward the auditorium. Despite Chelsea’s gracious attitude, she could tell her friends were irked at her. And she supposed they had a right to be. Like Chelsea had said, though, this was an important event. It shouldn’t only be up to Megan to carry it out. After all,
hadn’t it been her idea? That alone was worth something. Or had it been Chelsea’s idea? Suddenly Megan wasn’t so sure. But it was time to change gears. As she hungrily chomped on an apple that she’d remembered to pack, she tried to transform herself into Golde.

Today she planned to stay focused as she said her lines with Tevye and put forth her best effort as they practiced the songs. She’d stayed up late last night watching
Fiddler on the Roof
, rewinding the old VHS tape again and again to go over her opening lines and the songs she had a part in. Now she felt confident and ready. She just hoped she could keep it up.

“You’re doing great today,” Clarisa told Megan as they were taking a break. “Much better than yesterday.”

“Thanks.” Megan peered curiously at her. “But would you be happier if I wasn’t?”

Clarisa laughed. “Not at all. I had the lead in the fall play. It was time to let someone else have the limelight.”

“Really?” Megan was surprised at her generosity.

“Absolutely. Besides, you have a better singing voice than I do.”

“Thanks.”

“And this is your last year of high school,” Clarisa pointed out. “I still have my senior year to look forward to. Maybe I’ll snag the lead in next year’s musical.”

“I’m sure you will.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” Megan nodded eagerly. She was so relieved to see that Clarisa wasn’t threatened by her and that she was so supportive.

“I was surprised you were running for prom queen.” She frowned. “That doesn’t seem like you. What’s up with that?”

Megan felt her cheeks flush slightly, as if she was embarrassed. Or maybe she was just tired from the scene they’d just finished going over. “I . . . uh . . . it’s kind of a long story.”

“Oh?”

“I thought it would be an interesting challenge.”

Clarisa nodded with a skeptical expression. “I guess . . .”

“My sister was prom queen during her senior year. I suppose I thought I should at least give it a shot.”

Clarisa still seemed unconvinced.

Now Megan stood taller, remembering Belinda’s lectures on posture. “It was time for me to believe in myself,” she declared. “To take on new things. Like the election and next week’s fundraiser and this musical. I even started a book club.”

“That’s a lot to take on.”

Megan felt a wave of uncertainty now. “I know. And I need to keep my grades up too.”

“Well, good luck with all of that. You make my life sound downright boring.” Clarisa smiled broadly. “But that works for me.”

“Golde,” Jack called from the stage. “You’re next.”

Megan gave Clarisa a weak smile, then she hurried to center stage with script in hand, mentally preparing herself to deliver her next lines. Today she seemed to be more spot-on than Jack, but in the same way he’d been patient with her yesterday, she was patient with him now. Well, in a Golde sort of way.

By the time practice was over, she felt exhausted. Hungry
too. But then she was always hungry. What was new about that?

“You were great today,” Jack told her as they walked out of the auditorium together. “Awesome!”

“Thanks.”

“And Valotti was impressed too.”

“Really?”

“I could see it in his eyes.” Jack nodded. “Yesterday he was wondering if he’d made a mistake casting you as Golde. Today, he was totally confident.”

“Cool.” Megan fished her car keys out of her bag.

“You have a car?”

“Sure.” She smiled at him. “Don’t you?”

He shook his head. “Nope.”

“How do you get home from school?”

“I usually bum a ride.” He chuckled. “And sometimes—don’t tell anyone—but occasionally I have to take the activities bus. Man, that’s a drag.”

“Can I give you a lift?” she offered.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

As they walked to the parking lot, he told her where he lived, and she explained that the car had been her older sister’s. “My mom wanted me to have it during my senior year so I could help with my little sister and be more independent and stuff. It was kind of a trade-off because my mom’s so busy with her job.” She unlocked the door.

“Nice trade-off.”

When they were inside, he examined the plastic gold heart hanging from the mirror. “That’s right. Your sister was prom queen last year. I totally forgot about that.”

“You forgot?” Megan felt slightly offended.

He chuckled as he tucked his backpack down at his feet. “Well, guys don’t usually pay that much attention to that stuff.”

“I bet you know who starred in last year’s musical,” she pointed out.

“That’s different.”

“I guess.”

“I was kinda surprised, Megan. No offense, but you don’t really seem like the prom queen type to me.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” She frowned, but resisting the temptation to check out her image in the mirror, she kept her eyes on the road. Still, was she really that unattractive?

“Maybe it’s because they don’t get it.”

“Don’t get what?” She hit the steering wheel with her fist. “Just because I’m not a slender blonde beauty? Does that mean I’m not fit to be prom queen?”

“No, not at all.” He held up his hands defensively. “I’m not saying that, Megan. It’s just that it seems out of character for you.”

“Out of character? How?”

“I don’t know. I guess I think of a prom queen as kind of an airhead, and I never thought of you as someone like that. You always seemed to have more substance.”

“Really?” She turned to look at him as she stopped for the light. She was surprised to see him studying her carefully.

“Absolutely. You’re a down-to-earth kind of girl.”

“Well, thanks.” She put her gaze back on the traffic light. “I think.”

“I mean that as a compliment. I like girls like that.”

She glanced at him again. His chocolate brown eyes were fixed on her with a look of true appreciation. Then a horn honked behind her and she realized the light had turned green. “Oops.” She put her foot on the accelerator and smiled.

“Anyway, it’s just incongruous.”

“Incongruous?” She wasn’t stupid. She knew what the word meant, but she wasn’t exactly sure what he was insinuating.

“You running for prom queen. It doesn’t really make sense.”

She was tempted to tell him about Pastor Robbie and
Shower of Power
, but that suddenly sounded perfectly ridiculous. Jack would think she was nuts. Instead she gave the explanation she’d given to Clarisa earlier. “I just wanted a challenge,” she told him. “Something that would make me work hard and better myself.”

“Oh?” He still sounded doubtful. “I guess I can sort of get that.”

“Can I make a confession?” She turned to look at him as she stopped for a four-way stop sign.

“Sure.” He nodded eagerly.

“I’ve been having doubts about it too.”

“Ah . . . I can understand that.”

“What if I’ve taken on too much?”

He shrugged, and she realized it was her turn to go.

“It all seemed good at first, but it’s like there’s so much going on. I guess I’m a little overwhelmed.”

“It’s the next street,” he said. “Left.”

“I mean, I wanted to do this to have some success. But I could end up failing. At everything.”

He laughed. “Oh, I doubt that.”

“Seriously,” she said as she turned down his street. “I don’t even have my dress for the prom yet.”

“It’s the third house on the right. The white one.” He pointed down the street. “Who’s taking you to prom anyway?”

She laughed nervously as she pulled in front of the two-story older home. Tulips were blooming along the walk. “That’s just one more little detail I haven’t figured out.”

“You don’t even have a date for prom yet?”

She shook her head with embarrassment. “So now you know the truth. I’m in over my head. My dress hasn’t arrived. And I don’t even have a date. Some prom queen, eh?”

He laughed loudly. “You’re a brave woman, Megan Bernard.”

“I guess . . . Anyway, I hope I can trust you with all this,” she said a bit uneasily. “I don’t really want the whole school to know.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

She waved goodbye as he got out. As she drove home, she felt slightly hopeful. Unless she was imagining things, Jack seemed to like her. And he seemed surprised to hear she was dateless for prom. Maybe he would think about this and make an offer. Yes, she decided as she pulled into her driveway, that was probably just what he was doing. Perhaps things were looking up. Perhaps she had this more under control than she’d imagined.

As if to confirm this, she was pleasantly surprised to see a FedEx box on the kitchen table—addressed to her. That could mean only one thing, and a day early too! She tossed down her bag and grabbed up the box, happily ripping into it. “My dress!”

“Yeah,” Arianna said as she grabbed a soda from the fridge. “I can’t wait to see it.”

Soon Megan had the box open, and the beautiful satiny gown poured out. The color was a rich, dark pink, just the color of a ripe raspberry. Holding it up to her, Megan ran to the powder room and peered at her image in the mirror.

“Oh, it’s perfect,” she gushed. “Belinda was right. This color does look good on me.”

“It’s really pretty with your dark hair,” Arianna agreed. “Go try it on!”

“Okay.” Megan hurried to her room, stripped off her clothes, and with Arianna sipping on her soda and watching, she pulled the gown over her head. “Help me with the zipper,” she said as she adjusted the dress over her bust and hips.

Arianna set her soda down and came over. After fussing and fidgeting with the zipper for a while, she stopped. “I can’t.”

“Is it broken?”

“It will be if I force it up, Megan. It’s too tight.”

“I know it’s tight,” Megan told her. “That was the plan.”

“But I can’t zip it.”

Megan went over to look at herself in the closet mirror. Somehow the dress didn’t look as good as it had in the powder room. “I’ll hold my stomach in,” Megan suggested. “Try it again.”

“Okay . . .”

But after several tries, it was clear that the zipper was not going up. “How bad is it?” Megan turned to peer at her backside in the mirror and was stunned to see it was about two inches too small.

“Maybe you can wear one of those things Mom wears,”
Arianna suggested. “You know, they hold you in and make you look slimmer.”

Megan turned around to look at the front of the dress again. It really was pretty. The color was perfect. She tried to imagine how it might look if she lost a few more pounds or had the dress let out a bit. It might work.

“I’ll go get one for you to try,” Arianna offered.

“What?”

“Spanx,” Arianna said. “From Mom’s room.”

Before long, Megan had squeezed into one of her mom’s figure-trimming garments and was slipping on the gown again.

“Much closer,” Arianna proclaimed. “You lose a couple more pounds and it might actually zip.”

“But I can barely breathe,” Megan admitted.

Arianna frowned. “Maybe you should send it back.”

Megan studied her image in the mirror. With Mom’s Spanx and the zipper partially up, the dress as well as her figure looked a lot better. “I’m not sure. I mean, Belinda seemed to know what she was doing. She thought this would work. Maybe I should just stick with it.”

“It really is pretty.” Arianna got a barrette from Megan’s dresser and made a clumsy attempt at an updo. “And with your hair up like this”—she grinned—“wow, you look so glamorous.”

“I wonder what kind of jewelry I should wear.”

“Something sparkly, I think.”

Megan was starting to feel lightheaded now. “Unzip me,” she commanded. “I can barely breathe. I think I’m going to pass out.”

Arianna hurried to pull down the zipper. “Maybe you should send it back, Megan.”

Megan peeled off the dress and the incredibly snug undergarment, then took in a deep breath. “Not yet. I want to give myself one more week to lose the weight. I’ll still have plenty of time to send this back and get the next size up.”