The Promposal Read online

  I heard Allison and Vanessa shrieking and squealing somewhere behind us as they accepted their promposals, all while being filmed.

  “Listen to them,” Ella said with a sigh. “We won’t be that lame, will we?”

  “Oh, please. Of course we will be. If we were horses, they would have to shoot us.” We would both be giddy and just as squealy and excited.

  If it ever happened.

  I caught our reflection in the front door. Ella and I looked like total opposites. Where she was petite, blonde, blue-eyed, and perfect looking, I was tall, curvy, green-eyed (literally, that was not a metaphorical statement), and currently sporting blue-purple hair. I claimed it was inspired by a specific pop star in her music video, but the truth was that the prom colors were purple and silver, and I wanted to match.

  See? Super lame. Somebody would have to put me out of my misery.

  “You know, it is the twenty-first century. You could just ask Jake,” Ella told me, causing me to almost trip over my own feet. Sexist as it might have seemed, girls did not do promposals at Malibu Prep. There had been a few who asked a guy to go, but then he still had to do something elaborate in front of everyone if he accepted. It was viewed as, like, a kind of consolation prize. There was no way I could ask Jake and still maintain some level of dignity.

  “I’ll get on that as soon as you ask Trent.”

  She gave me a look. “Be serious.”

  Ha. “Hey, pot, the kettle wanted me to remind you what color you are.”

  I heard a strange sound, like someone had just poured a huge bag of M&M’s into a giant bowl. I turned to see Ximena Veracruz surrounded by hundreds of Ping-Pong balls bouncing up and down. Her mouth was open, her eyes wide. She still had her hand on her locker door, as if she’d just opened it and been attacked by a Ping-Pong avalanche. A sign hung from the locker that said, “We’ll have a BALL at prom together!”

  Ella sighed longingly, and I tried to downplay the gesture. “Attempting to clean all that up in the fifteen minutes before class starts kind of takes away from the romance of it all.”

  Because while our headmistress, Ms. Rathbone, let the promposals take place, what she would not tolerate was a mess. I was trying to figure out whether Porter really wanted to take Ximena to prom or if he was trying to land them both in detention and banned from the dance. It was kind of ingenious, really. This way he got the credit for asking but might not have to actually go.

  My sister tugged on my arm. “Come on. We’ll be late.”

  Ella was my vice president, along with being captain of the cheerleading squad and spending more hours volunteering for various causes than any teen girl should. She had even gotten me involved with a tutoring program for elementary-age kids. Ella was the kind of girl who seemed like she got help cleaning our house from birds and chipmunks, and she was so often a pushover because she wanted to be kind. But when Ella wanted something, she did not mess around.

  She’d volunteered to head up the prom committee in addition to all her other obligations. Which meant she did all the hard work, day-to-day stuff while I was the visionary whose plan she executed because I’m super generous like that. But it also meant that when she decided to have a prom check-in meeting, we all had to show up.

  Outside of the student government room stood Parminda (Mindi) Kandhari and Victor Kim, my treasurer and junior class rep. Sucking face like it was the only way to get oxygen into their lungs. They were the weirdest couple. Victor was a straight A student, in all AP classes, and participated in the academic decathlon. He was always serious; in fact, I couldn’t remember a single time I’d ever seen him smile. Mindi, on the other hand, was all about having a good time. Well, as much of a good time as her very strict parents would allow her to have. She loved to laugh, dance, be as frivolous as possible, and was barely passing her classes.

  As if she could read my thoughts, Ella said, “I still don’t get what those two have in common.”

  “At the moment? A deep-seated interest in cleaning each other’s tonsils.”

  “Ew.”

  Ms. Rathbone walked by just then, and I wondered if Ximena was about to get yelled at. Without breaking her stride, the headmistress said, “Mr. Kim, Ms. Kandhari, unless one of you is in need of CPR, please desist with the public displays of affection. Thank you!”

  Our headmistress’s words finally got them to stop. I kind of expected there to be some sort of seal-breaking suction sound when they pulled apart.

  “Oh, hey.” Mindi gave us a little wave as she followed us into the classroom. Ella took out her phone and called the meeting to order right away. She ran through her list, making sure that everyone had done their assigned roles and that we were still on track.

  I realized that neither Jake nor Trent had showed up, and they should have. Mostly because it was their responsibility as part of the student government, but also because they so obviously needed the reminder of their sacred duty to ask their girlfriends to the freaking dance.

  Organizing this prom had been the biggest win for my presidency. As per my campaign promises, I’d also gotten us senior parking and casual Fridays. The board had refused to budge on the “healthy lunch” initiative, which made it so that we weren’t allowed to bring our own food from home and tried to force us to eat whatever garbage they were serving in the cafeteria. Which I still counted as a sort of win considering that it had led to a thriving black market of Twinkies and Snickers contraband.

  I was determined to have my way for the prom, though. Because every single dance was a fund-raiser for Malibu Prep. Alumni would always attend. The dance was never just for the high schoolers to enjoy and let loose. Not to mention that it would be kind of hard to have a magical prom with your dad and his girlfriend (no matter how much you liked her) chaperoning.

  I’d convinced the board to let this prom be strictly for the students. By teenagers, for teenagers. All we’d had to do was a million extra fund-raisers to make up for the lost funds.

  So worth it.

  I reached out for the dog-eared prom catalog on the table. I turned to my favorite page again. The theme of our dance was “Dream Come True,” which was so on the nose for how almost perfect my life had become. Since we didn’t have to worry about impressing adults, we could order all the cheesy decorations we wanted. A giant pumpkin-shaped carriage. A large clock about to strike twelve. A castle mural to put up on one wall. A cake shaped to match the mural castle. Centerpieces that would consist of calla lilies spray-painted silver in purple vases with castle confetti. Purple orchids hanging from live potted plants placed around the room. Actual paper streamers and balloon arches. I couldn’t wait to see it all come together.

  Her list completed, Ella turned her phone off and thanked everyone for coming. But not everyone had come. It was unlike Jake to miss a meeting. But I knew I shouldn’t have been all that surprised that Trent hadn’t bothered to show up. Ever since he’d told us about his parents getting divorced, he’d basically cut off all contact with us. I hadn’t spoken to him in months, in part because he almost never came to school. Ella had some sporadic conversations with him that made her hold out hope because she couldn’t ever give up on anybody. I kept wishing he’d go back to being himself and stop ignoring my sister.

  They hadn’t actually broken up, but sometimes it sort of felt like they had.

  “Boys just do this,” Ella had said to me once. “When something scary like this happens in their life, they just kind of shut down emotionally. He’ll come around.”

  It hadn’t happened yet.

  One of the committee members had a question for my sister.

  “Go on,” Ella told me. “I’ll catch up.”

  As soon as I went out into the hallway, I felt an arm going through mine. I let out a sigh. I’d been trying to be a nicer person, like Ella. Less snarktastic. Which meant that Mindi now thought we were friends. Ish.

  And my attempts at being kind were backfiring spectacularly.

  Against me.
r />   This was what I got for trying to improve myself. The saying was true. No good deed did go unpunished.

  “Did I tell you what I figured out last night about Victor, my boyfriend?”

  Since I was going for a kinder, gentler Mattie Lowe, I didn’t say what I wanted to. Which was, “Oh, Victor’s your boyfriend? I forgot because you hadn’t mentioned it in the last thirty seconds.” Instead I settled on, “What?”

  “I realized what one of the best things about marrying Victor, my boyfriend, will be.”

  No lie, when I had first met Victor, I seriously thought his name was Victor Myboyfriend. Because that was how Mindi always referred to him.

  “You think you’re going to marry Victor?” I had to bite my tongue to keep from adding “my boyfriend” at the end of my sentence.

  She nodded. “Definitely. And after Victor, my boyfriend, and I get married in a beautiful sunset beach ceremony, I’ll get to keep my initials.” At my blank expression, she continued, “Because both our last names start with a K.”

  Taking my silence as consent to continue the conversation, she smiled at me. “He and I are going to have the cutest KorIndian babies.”

  I was worried about getting a date to prom, and she was planning out her future wedding. We were not in the same headspace, and my brain filled up with unspoken insults. But I managed to keep all my sarcastic retorts to myself. Mindi wouldn’t get them, anyway. I’d be snarking up the wrong tree.

  “I’m going this way!” she said. “Bye-ee!”

  Must. Not. Mock.

  A minute later, Ella arrived.

  “The cavalry’s supposed to show up much earlier,” I told her.

  She gave me a confused look and then held up her phone. “Now that I know the committee’s on track, the seamstress texted to let me know the alterations were going well.”

  That made me smile. I had found the most perfect silver prom dress. The one I had known from a previous life. (Possibly. I was still fuzzy on the whole reincarnation thing and whether or not it existed.) My dress was like something out a movie, a big, full, fluffy skirt with a tight heart-shaped bodice covered in tiny crystals and sequins. And it was silver.

  Yes, to match the dance.

  “And I’ve confirmed our updos and mani-pedis.”

  I blinked at her. “Was that English?”

  “Can you please be a girl for five minutes?”

  I twisted my lips together so I wouldn’t laugh. Thanks to having Ella in my life, I knew exactly what she meant. I wasn’t sure I wanted to get my hair done, though. Last time I’d gone to a salon with her they’d given me extensions, which I’d had to pull out myself. In part because they annoyed me, and the other part was because Jake liked running his fingers through my hair while he kissed me.

  I was a very big fan of this.

  “Five minutes? I guess I can be a girl for five minutes,” I said in an exaggerated tone. “I mean, if we even go to the prom.”

  She nudged my shoulder. “Of course we’re going. The boys will come through.”

  I made a quick wish that her optimism and faith in Trent wasn’t misplaced. That he would ask.

  And that Jake would, too.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Jake had invited me over to his house that afternoon to “watch sports.” Turned out, he really did want to watch sports, and it wasn’t some kind of code word for make out. He’d been so busy last football season that he’d missed quite a few televised games and had saved them on his DVR.

  He’d been a little standoffish at school all day, and I wondered if it was all the promatory anticipation in the air. Was he worried about how his promposal would stack up? When we had started dating, Jake had made one of the sweetest, grandest gestures imaginable. He had set up my favorite scene from Sixteen Candles to tell me he liked me.

  Maybe he was worried about topping himself.

  We sat together on the couch, his head in my lap. His dog, Scooby, sat on my other side and laid his own head next to Jake’s. I lazily ran my fingernails against Jake’s scalp while he yelled at the television. His dark brown hair lay in soft strands across my fingers, like silken threads. I liked being with him, but this game was really boring. Scooby let out a yawn, which I totally understood. We probably even watched football in the same way. We enjoyed being close to Jake, were vaguely aware of some motion on-screen, but no real comprehension was taking place.

  Some part of me wondered if he was using the game as a way to avoid talking to me. It was a weird feeling I kept having. Like something wasn’t right.

  But I’d been so concerned about Ella and Trent . . . maybe that was just bleeding over into the rest of my life? And I was seeing things that weren’t there?

  I looked at my backpack, which I’d left on the closest armchair. It had my sketchpad and pencils in it. Maybe I could reach over and grab it, and Jake wouldn’t notice that I wasn’t paying attention.

  “Oh, come on!” Jake shouted, throwing his free arm up in the air. That startled the dog, who got off the couch and curled up on the floor.

  My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out of my pocket. There was a text from Ella. Curious, I clicked on it.

  WAS THIS A SNEAK ATTACK? HAS DATE BEEN SECURED?

  REPEAT, HAS DATE BEEN SECURED?

  A few nights ago, Dad and Jennifer had made us watch some boring three-hour military movie where Ella and I amused ourselves by repeating the characters’ lingo. Just seeing her message made me smile, which I gathered was her intent.

  That’s a negative. Repeat, negative. He has not asked yet.

  He really did want to watch sports. Over.

  I slipped my phone back into my pocket, not wanting to alert my boyfriend to the content of my discussion with Ella.

  “Was that your sister?”

  I needed to deflect his attention. I had discovered that if you said something sarcastically, whether it’s a truth or a lie, people tended to leave you alone and not follow up with further questions. “Possibly. Or maybe it was a text from my darling mother where she was trying to tell me how much she loved me, and it autocorrected to how much I constantly disappoint her.”

  Jake gave me a “fine, don’t tell me” look before focusing on the football game again. This was the problem with having a boyfriend who knew you so well. My mom hadn’t been in touch for months. At my request. I had half expected her to reach out more just to spite me. But since my dad had stopped forcing her to interact with me with financial bribes, she had, presumably, happily moved on with her life.

  “That’s a lot of violence over some change,” I said, wondering if I’d upset him by not telling him who I was texting.

  “Change?” Jake repeated, turning his head to look at me. He didn’t seem angry.

  “They flipped that coin at the beginning, and the entire game you’ve been yelling at them to get their quarter back.”

  At that, Jake laughed and reached up to tug on my neck, pulling me down toward him. I let out a sigh of relief as his lips grazed mine, causing goose bumps to break out all along my forearms. We were definitely okay. We kissed softly, briefly, before the announcer started screaming, grabbing all Jake’s attention.

  “No, no, no!” Whatever was happening was bad enough that he jumped to his feet, his hands balled up in his hair.

  “Do you ever think you shouldn’t let games played by other people have so much hold over your personal happiness?”

  He blinked at me slowly. “I don’t understand the question.”

  “Right. I know I can’t fall asleep at night until I’ve found out what team had hurled what ball through what apparatus.”

  Jake sat down next to me, a playful glint in his eye as he responded to my teasing. “You love the Dodgers as much as I do.”

  True, but I loved giving him a hard time even more. “Baseball is civilized and makes sense. This is just . . .” I held my hand out toward the massive flat-screen. “Dudes tackling other dudes for fun.”

  “You know, guys aren’t
the only people we like to tackle.”

  “Oh?” My pulse kicked into overdrive given the predatory look in his gorgeous eyes.

  Without warning, he playfully knocked me back, pinning me against the couch.

  I did not mind one bit.

  He kissed me then, long and hard and with an unhurried deliberation. Waves of heat spiraled through me with each movement of his mouth.

  When he finally stopped, I struggled to catch my breath. “I hope you don’t do that with the opposing team,” I murmured.

  Jake pressed a soft kiss against my cheek. “Most definitely not.” He lifted up his arm and checked his watch. “My parents will be home in half an hour. I should turn off the game, and we should . . .” He used his lips to finish his sentence.

  If he paused his game, he’d make me watch the rest later. “Maybe leave the game on. Muted.”

  His eyes narrowed at me. “Do you know how much I’ll miss in half an hour?”

  “Yep. Fifteen seconds of actual game time.”

  Shaking his head, Jake did as I asked. He left the game on but turned off the sound. I knew that once the real kissing commenced, all brain functions would cease. While I was still desperate for him to launch his promposal, I also still wondered about his weird phone call and how he hadn’t driven me to school. How he’d missed Ella’s meeting. Or how he’d seemed distant the whole day. Why he’d spent the last two hours with me, in an empty house, watching a football game instead of doing something . . . more fun.

  “Before we proceed, I wanted to thank you for taking me to the building last night.” Even if it had been a staph infection waiting to happen. “I’m glad you figured out what you want to do with your life.”

  Jake trailed his fingers up my right arm, and my goose bumps became goose hills. “Me too. I’d been spending a lot of time lately trying to think of what I loved most. I didn’t want to go to school and flounder around with my classes and waste time. And since I can’t major in you . . .” His hand moved up to my hair, and he gently pushed a strand from my face, making me sigh happily.

  “I don’t know,” I countered. “You’d still have a lot of classes to take. Like Things I Like 201 and Favorite Manga 312.”