The Real Prom Queens of Westfield High (19 page)

Marnie and I hug for a full minute when I arrive, and then she tosses my bag on the couch and drags me directly to the kitchen. There, she teaches me how to mix a green clay mask out of regular household ingredients that aren't part of the “big beauty brainwash machine,” as she puts it. “We need to purify your pores from all that Nőrealique shit.”

“I need to purify my soul after the way I've acted all year.” I laugh as we slap green goop on each other's faces.

“Well, it
was
for a shot at
One! Million! Dollars!
” Marnie says, and I love that she totally nails the cheesy way they announce it on the show.

While our masks dry, the two of us move to her bedroom where she has sewing supplies already laid out on her bed. I almost start crying again at the sight. I'm pretty sure just puffs of air would come out of my tear ducts at this point. As we sew, I talk about Rick and the fact that even the sound of his name fills me with deep regret.

“So, the two of you haven't even spoken since you tried to kiss him?” Marnie asks.

“Honestly, I don't know what I'd even tell him,” I say. “‘Sorry for getting my stupid lipstick on you'?” I flop myself across her bed, bury my face deep in her pillow, and give a cleansing scream.

Then
I remember the clay mask still drying on my face.
I'm the worst friend in the universe.
I raise my head to find smears of green all over Marnie's pillow. “Oh no, I'm so sorry.” I grab a tissue from the nightstand and start scraping the green gunk off her pillowcase.

“Would you please stop that? We do have a washing machine.” She grabs my hand holding the tissue. “And I know Rick really did like you. Maybe he just hates Nőrealique lipstick.”

“Yeah, right,” I say.

“Honestly, Shannon. Since finding out about the show, he blames Nőrealique for turning you into a…um…” She covers her mouth with her hand.

“Turning me into a bitch, right? Rick thinks I'm a total bitch.”

Marnie looks me in the eye, swiping at the clay on my face with a tissue. “Listen, he was really hurt when you started dating Luke.”

I cover my head with my hands. “Why didn't anyone stop me?” I look at Marns. “I mean, besides those times when you tried to stop me.”

Marnie's mom knocks softly on the door. “Girls?” she calls. There are two women here who'd like to talk to Shannon?”

When Marnie opens the door, her mother's eyes are wide. “They're awfully fancy,” she says.

Mickey and Victoria look like a couple of well-dressed mannequins that someone set up in the middle of the homey living room as a prank of some sort. Victoria's body language says she's afraid one of the cross-stitched pillows might jump up and bite her. Mickey's body language says she's flat out pissed.

“Hi, Mickey,” I greet casually. “What brings you to the middle of nowhere?”

Victoria squints at me. “Is that mask one of ours? You know you're only to use Nőrealique products. That includes skin and hair care.”

Marnie gives a loud laugh.

“May I please see Shannon alone for a moment?” Mickey smiles tightly and unclenches her arms as Marnie and her mom obligingly head for the kitchen. Without breaking eye contact with me, Mickey tells Victoria to go outside and keep the car running. Victoria looks happy to escape all of the domestic handmade crafts.

Once we're alone, Mickey looks me up and down in a way that's designed to make me squirm. “You and I need to discuss a certain contractual matter or two.”

I squint at her. “How did you know where to find me?”

She ignores my question with a wave of her hand. “Am I right in assuming you planned to spend the night in this unapproved location?”

“Unapproved?” I look around and wonder if she really finds overstuffed furniture that repulsive.

“Yes,
unapproved
.” Her jaw is tight. “This
Marnie
person didn't even sign her release. Staying here overnight will disqualify you from winning the
One! Million! Dollars!
”

“Disqualify me?” I snort. “How about,
I
quit
?”

“Shannon,” she snaps. “Prom Queens are not quitters.”

“I lost all interest in being a damn Prom Queen.”

I glare at her until she relaxes her shoulders and tries a new approach. “I shouldn't be telling you this.” Her voice lowers conspiringly. “There's going to be a huge twist that will put you, Kelly, and even Amy back into the running for that prize money.”

I laugh. “It's enough of a miracle that the three of us were ever popular at all. Just give it up already.”

“Okay, Shannon. I can understand you're feeling things are hopeless, but let me explain the show's direction.”

“Not interested,” I say as I turn toward the kitchen.
I
should've walked away in the first place.

“There's going to be a viewer vote!” Mickey calls out.

“Don't give a shit!” I shoot back then turn. “Wait, you mean Westfield's seniors aren't even voting for their own Prom Queen?”

“Not unless they call in.” Mickey smiles.

“How much did you pay our school to let you do all of this?”

“That's none of your concern.” Mickey gives a slick grin. “What you should be focused on is the fact that this voting system ups your odds of winning. For three-in-one odds at a million bucks, you'd at least buy a lottery ticket wouldn't you?”

“Keep your lottery ticket. I'm done. I've got my old Advisement Coach back, and she's worth ten million.”

I take another step toward the kitchen, and Mickey calls out ominously, “What about Rick?”

I turn. “What about Rick?”

Mickey places her hands on her hips, opening her body language aggressively and displaying both thumbs. “I didn't want to resort to this, but we have footage of your
Rick
person discussing his science project with his advisor on the first day of school.”

I narrow my eyes. “That's what he was supposed to do.”

“Yes, he was to
start
the discussion of the project on that day, but it is clear from the footage we have on file that Rick and his partner, James, actually began their experiment earlier. If this video were to come to light, they would not only be disqualified from the Pennsylvania State Science Fair, but there would forever be a black mark on their names within the larger science community.”

She's bluffing.
Rick and James banned from science? Impossible. But then, as distracted as I was that first day of school, I do remember they'd already picked pheromones for their project. I wonder if using the wrong wording with Mr. Hoovler could really ruin their whole science geek careers.

I can't believe Mickey is actually trying to blackmail me into staying on her show.

“You're to say nothing to anybody, including this Marnie character,” Mickey warns in a low voice as Marnie comes out of the kitchen.

“Everything okay, Shannon?” she asks me while eyeing Mickey suspiciously.

Mickey's eyes are two drills boring holes in me.
I
can't risk Rick's whole future
. I close my eyes and turn to Marnie. “Sorry. I have to head home. No cameras. No clearance.”

Marnie looks at me in disbelief. “So just quit the damn show already.”

“I'd love to, believe me.” I am mentally pleading with her to figure out that I'm being blackmailed right now. “But I signed all these contracts. I really need to talk to my mother first and find out what my rights are.”

“I can't believe your mom would let you sign a contract that you can't get out of.” Marnie's eyes are narrowed. I know that she can smell the lies on me and wish she would just trust me. But that's way too much to ask of her at this point.

Picking up my overnight bag, I give her a huge hug. “I'll text you,” I whisper, but she still looks angry.

“Thank you for your, er, hospitality.” Mickey gives a nod to Marnie and her mother and turns to go.

“Nőrealique is a tool of the man!” Marnie calls and holds her fist up in the air.

I turn and grin at her as Mickey ushers me briskly out the door.

Once outside, she leads me to my Nőrealique Freus while Marnie watches from the front door. A homemade wreath covered in berries hangs from the center of it. I try to use best friend telepathy to convey the fact that I have to do this for Rick and James and even for sweet, innocent Mr. Hoovler, but Marnie just stands there with her arms crossed.

Before climbing into the slick black SUV where Victoria waits in the passenger seat, Mickey hisses at me, “You
will
act surprised when they announce the big twist in the voting.” She turns away, but then lunges even closer. “And I better not catch you with that girl again. I'm
always
watching.”

With a growl, I fling myself into my Freus, glance in the rearview mirror, and nearly scream at the dried green glops on my face. Then I picture Rick sitting behind me, looking at me
that
way
at the beginning of the summer.

I
have
to
win
him
back.

Something that
real
is worth fighting for.

We only have a few weeks before prom and there's a big assembly in the auditorium for all the Westfield High seniors. Kelly, Amy, and I stand onstage with huge fake smiles as our classmates are commanded to “Settle down now.”

With a flourish, Victoria strides onstage and makes the announcement, “For the first time in Westfield High history, students will not be voting for their own Prom Queen.” With an enormous grin, she flings her arms wide and proclaims, “America will!”

I act as surprised as I'm able, and Amy actually gives a small jump as if the news just goosed her in the butt. The room erupts with squeals and clapping which isn't really what I was expecting. I figured our classmates would be pissed to hear the election is being outsourced to a bunch of strangers. Then again, I suppose having our prom televised
live!
will mean more opportunities to win the new holy grail of adolescence. Airtime.

My fake surprise turns into actual surprise when Grace, Deena, and Kristan stride out from behind a curtain and move beside us onstage. The three of them look colorful and showy and have obviously been treated to Nőrealique extreme makeovers.

Victoria announces, “And in our other surprise twist…Grace Douglas, Deena McKinnley, and Kristan Bowman will be joining in the race for the crown! Each will have her own call-in number at the
live!
finale at the prom!” Victoria practically levitates with enthusiasm. “That's right, these former Alpha Queens will have a shot at winning that
One! Million! Dollars!
”

I notice Grace, Deena, and Kristan are all wearing lips logo pins now too. The three of them face off as if to confront Kelly, Amy, and me onstage. It's a little cheesy, like, what does Victoria expect? That we'll start grabbing hair weaves and clawing each other's eyes out?

I scan the crowd, trying to find Marnie. I tried to call her from my bathroom last night and left a message about Mickey blackmailing me, but she didn't respond. Now I'm afraid she'll think I'm staying on the show because I have better odds of winning the money with America making the decision.

“Nőrealique is a tool of the man!!” I spot her right away, standing in the back of the auditorium with her fist in the air. Getting her protest on, she chants, “Nőrealique is a tool of the man! Nőreal—”

Nobody joins in, and Marnie is tackled by a guy dressed in all black who comes out of nowhere. “Hey!” I yell and head to the edge of the stage, but more men dressed in black appear and hustle the six of us behind the curtains.

“I'll see you all at prom,” Victoria announces gaily to the crowd as if a student hadn't just been silenced by force. “Be sure to look your best, because the cameras will be rolling!”

The show must have been planning the voting twist for a while, because within a day of the assembly, the giant Nőrealique big-lipped TV in the lobby includes dramatic, windblown shots of Grace, Deena, and Kristan turning and posing for the camera. They look fresh and natural, especially compared to the tired shots of me, Kelly, and Amy that everyone sees in their sleep by now.

The Queens start campaigning right away. Deena proves that sometimes a few curves can be a good thing as she adopts a sexy '50s pin-up style of dressing. Plus, she's grown her hair into a smooth, short style so you can't even see her scalp tattoo anymore. Kristan pulls herself together and adopts a waxing and bleaching routine that's better suited to her body's needs. And with Luke back on her arm, Grace has that tiara directly in her crosshairs.

I send a text to Marnie telling her how proud I am for her demonstration of rebellion during the assembly.

Marnie: They've taken over our mindspace!

Me: Westfield High had its price and I guess Nőrealique paid it.

Marnie: Sold out by our own school.

Me: I need to find a way to fix this.

Marnie: There are some things that are beyond fixable.

I need to find a way to try.

***

Things on
Wannabes
start building up for the
live!
finale at the prom. They even air a recap show of previously unseen footage. None of it is as earth-shatteringly original as the teasers made it out to be. But the recap does give them an excuse to air my mortifying runway fall twenty-six more times.

As my flailing descent is being shown for the fourteenth time onscreen, I look over and catch Josie laughing silently. When she sees I'm watching her, she sucks in her lips and shrugs apologetically. The clip plays again. Onscreen, my arms pinwheel madly as my body flies off the runway ass first. I look ridiculous.

But for the first time, instead of feeling blinded by humiliation, my face cracks into a smile.

When they repeat the clip yet again in slow motion, I watch my wrists flap and my face twist in surprise, and I actually give a small snort through my nose. Josie stares at me a moment before giving a squeal of glee and adding her laughter to mine.

I guess it's a sibling's job to help us learn to laugh at ourselves. Josie smiles. “Well, at least you won't be known as the Elf Ucker ever again.”

“Yup, from now on, I'm just that chick who ate it on the runway at Prom Queen Camp.” We start laughing again, and I decide to quit trying to flee from embarrassment now, before an even
more
humiliating version of reality finds me.

I've been waiting for them to air my pass at Rick in the science lab, but I guess they decide that's more humiliation than one girl should have to endure. Or maybe they just don't want to show someone wiping off their lipstick in disgust.

Now that Deena, Kristan, and Grace are included in the audience vote for Prom Queen, they join us at our next practice for our
live!
prom performance. Amy, Kelly, and I have been practicing all year long, and now the three of them are jumping in less than two weeks before Prom.

The routine we've been perfecting ad nauseam consists of Amy singing like a superstar, with Kelly and I as her backup singers-slash-dancers. Or, more accurately, lip-syncers-slash-sway-and-snappers with a few twists and kicks thrown in for good measure. I've worked hard trying to keep up with Kelly, whose sways, snaps, twists, and kicks are quite excellent I assure you.

“Girls?” Victoria faces us, holding her arm around a thin, well-groomed man with an impish face and completely bald head. “This…is Anthony!” Except she says his name like “Aaaaaan-tho-neeee.” I glance at Kelly in time to see her face fall.
Where's Raaauuul?
I wonder.

“We've run into a bit of a problem with Raul.” Victoria says his name flat. “He's being investigated for having a relationship with a minor that shows a conflict of interest.” She looks pointedly at Kelly.

“
Alleged
relationship,” Kelly corrects.

“Regardless, our legal team uncovered a felony charge from his youth that he tried to cover up.”

“His juvenile records were supposed to be sealed,” Kelly says.

“Still…” Victoria shakes her head in condemnation.

Kelly shouts, “When he turns twenty-three, they're getting expunged, okay? Raul is
not
some sort of criminal!”

“
Any
way,” Victoria goes on with her game-show host voice, “we are
very
lucky to have Anthony here from the popular show…” She pauses and raises her arms for dramatic effect. “
Make
Me
A
Star!
” At our non-reactions, she throws her hands down. “Come on, am I the only person who watches that one?”

Anthony looks crushed, but once we reshoot the scene with the six of us displaying a proper level of joy and awe at his presence, he recovers quickly. Anthony has Raul's enthusiasm times twelve, but none of his Latin hotness. With flamboyant gestures, he explains he has some
fabulous
ideas for our song and dance number.

Each of us has a fresh talent tryout, since apparently they neglected to show Anthony the recorded evidence that I cannot sing or dance. Kelly blows the dancing almost as bad as I do. I'm not sure if it's on purpose to protest Raul's absence or if she's genuinely too upset to dance without him. But aside from Amy nailing her song, Grace, Kristan, and Deena basically come off as fresher, more talented versions of us.

Anthony claps. “Okay, okay, people.” Gesturing to Kelly and me, he announces, “You and you are out.” Giving a hug to Deena and Kristan in turn, he squeals, “You and
you
are in.” And with that, Kelly and I are released from performing backup for the stupid song we've been forced to practice for months. Deena gives us a smug look of victory, but Kristan actually apologizes.

“So now we don't have to do anything for the show?” Kelly seems relieved.

“Oh, yes, you must do something,” Anthony insists. “America will be voting during the fabulous
live!
prom recording, so you each need to get equal camera time—even if we
did
have to watch you three bitch it out all season. Oops, did I say that out loud?” Anthony covers his mouth mockingly as Grace and Deena laugh like a couple of drunks.

“This sucks,” Kelly grouses.

“At least you have skills,” I say. “You can do some sort of painting or dance or
something
. What the hell am I supposed to do? Plunge off a runway? It's the only thing I seem to be good at.”

Kelly snorts a quick laugh, but Amy puts her arm around me. “Don't say that about yourself. You're very talented.”

Kelly says, “Yeah, we just don't know at what yet.”

I have sudden inspiration and call to Anthony, “Hey, can I maybe sew a craft as my talent?”

“I've worked with Liza Minnelli and now I'm running the freakin' 4-H?” Anthony says. “Perhaps you'd like to display your prize hog?” He waves me off. “Do whatever you please. I must get back to my
real
talent now. Ready, girls?” He claps quickly and goes back to shouting “fabulous” at Kristan and Deena who are stretching and doing high leg lifts. Clearly, as Amy's backups, their job will be trying to upstage her.

Grace gives me an unattractive snarl and turns to Kelly. “You want to have a walk-off on the runway on Prom Night?” She sounds like she's challenging Kelly to a duel to the death.

“You're kidding, right?” Kelly looks at her as if she's just asked for a sleepover.

“Well, we've got to do something,” Grace says. “Are you afraid my fierce walk will shame you?”

Victoria must be eavesdropping, because she comes prancing over, grinning like a deranged beauty queen. Which, of course, she is. She hugs Grace, which is really strange to watch since it's the first time Victoria has shown any sign of human affection. “What a fabulously
fabulous
idea!” she says. “Our sponsor will provide all of the designer outfits, of course. A runway competition promoting Nőrealique Fashion! You're
fabulous
!” Anthony's
fabulouses
seem to be rubbing off on her.

“No way am I doing modeling as my talent.” Kelly shakes her head. “I'll paint a picture or something and show it like Shannon.”

Victoria frowns. “That's not a tiara-worthy attitude, Kelly.”

Anthony calls out, “Start counting down the days, girls! Prom's less than two weeks away!”

I sigh.
Fabulous
.

***

“I need to find a way to convince Rick I've changed.” I'm talking to Marnie on my cell phone, and my butt is sore from sitting in the bathtub. Marnie and I decided that if Rick found out about the blackmail, he'd try to convince me to quit the show. But he cannot appreciate the level of ugly Nőrealique is capable of. Marnie casually asked James a few questions about the science fair, and she's pretty sure they didn't break any rules. Unfortunately, we've witnessed the ways a little crafty editing can alter reality, and neither one of us wants to risk the boys' future.

“Well, I don't know that you've
totally
changed,” Marnie teases me.

“Um, I'm supposed to be out campaigning for call-in votes right now,” I tell her as I shift to grab my scissors. “Instead I'm hiding in my bathtub. I've definitely changed.”

“I hear you moving around,” Marnie says. “What the heck are you working on anyway?”

I can't tell Marnie what I'm really doing and bite my lip as I eye the stack of prom magazines piled high on the sink. Fashion porn.

Victoria has been on my ass about how much time I'm spending in the bathroom and threatened me with breach of contract for hiding from the cameras. A part of me would love to see that court case, with the prosecutor trying to prove what I was and wasn't doing on the toilet. But to keep the peace, I started bringing piles of magazines in with me as a cover.

“Oh, I'm just looking through magazines, finding the perfect prom dress,” I tell Marnie my patented lie.

“Oh, sure, you've changed,” she laughs. “I'm working on sewing my dress myself.”

I wince involuntarily at that image and immediately want to slap myself.
I
wonder
how
long
it
takes
to
undo
an
entire
year
of
thinking
like
a
Prom
Queen.

I lean over and grab a magazine off the top of the stack so I'm not lying about looking through them. “Some of these pictures of people standing around pretending to laugh make the prom seem like agony.”

Marnie chuckles as I flip the pages loudly into the phone. And then I stop. And I gasp.

“What is it?”

I fold the magazine open to the page. It's a Nőrealique ad. And I'm in it. “I'm an advertisement!” I burst.