Renner shrugs and leans farther back in his chair. He’s practically horizontal, exuding serious dirtbag energy. “I think we can do better than Around the World.” He says around the world like it’s tired and juvenile, as if he’s heard it all before. He punctuates it with a half eye roll; he can’t be bothered to complete the three sixty.
“And what’s wrong with Around the World?” I ask, keeping my tone even.
“How are we supposed to choose what food to order? Which landmarks? I’m Polish and German. I want pierogies and sausages. If we didn’t have them, I’d feel jilted.”
“Love when white boys get flustered when things aren’t all about them,” Nori teases.
Renner nods respectfully. “Touché, but my point still stands.”
“We won’t leave anyone out,” I assure. “We’ll poll everyone on their backgrounds and—”
Ollie raises his hand. “J. T. makes a good point, Char. It’s kinda . . . invasive to go around asking people their ethnicities.”
“True,” Kassie reluctantly agrees. “I love the idea, but I think it’s too broad of a theme. Let’s think of something a little more laid-back and fun.”
Renner raises his brow in a silent I told you so, pleased that he’s stolen my thunder. It’s one of his favorite pastimes, after worshipping his own reflection and leaving people high and dry on special occasions.
I fold my arms, miffed. They do have a point. I overlooked the glaring privacy bit. But I can’t help but feel they’ve tossed my proposal prematurely without considering ways around it. Traitors. “Then what does Mr. President propose?”
He shrugs. “What about . . .” He looks to the ceiling, as if the answer is up there. “Under the Sea?”
I want to keel over at the thought. Under the Sea means tacky seaweed, bubble machines, anchors, and . . . fish decor. For the most magical night of teenage-hood? Someone hold me. “No. Absolutely not. Over my dead body.”
He meets my stare in a challenge. “Let’s vote on it.”
THREE
Two weeks until prom
You are cordially invited to . . .
Under the Sea
Proudly presented by Maplewood High School’s Senior Class
On Saturday, June 15
From 7:00 p.m. to 12:00 a.m.
Maplewood High School Gymnasium A
Tickets:
$40 per person
$75 per couple
$50 at the door
*See Senior social calendar below:
June 3–7—Exams
June 10–12—Prank Days, Senior Symposium, Brick Painting
June 13—Senior Sleepover
June 14—Beach Day
June 15—Prom Night
June 22—Graduation
“Prom is doomed,” I grumble at the demented cartoon whale smiling on our freshly laminated prom tickets. Had anyone else proposed Around the World, Renner would have been all for it. But because it was me, he had to derail the idea.
I pretend to sob into a particularly hideous taffeta gown. The saleslady with the tattooed brows frowns at me from across the boutique. She’s cranky that Nori, Kassie, and I are disrupting her lunch-break reality television episode. I plop next to Nori on the tufted bench outside the changing rooms.
“This is my best work. It’s a certified masterpiece. You’re really killing my vibe here.” Nori’s gold bangles jingle as she holds the prom ticket to the light, admiring her creation from all angles. Her iPad is always at the ready so she can sketch whenever inspiration strikes. She’s wicked talented and could probably make a rock from my driveway look visually interesting.
“Prom will be amazing regardless of the theme,” Kassie says sternly, voice muffled from behind the dressing room curtain.
“Not with gigantic jellyfish tentacles dangling from the gym ceiling.” I shudder at the thought. “Did you know jellyfish don’t even have brains?”
“Okay, but they can clone themselves. Us humans—with our big, useless brains—can’t do that,” Nori points out. The things we learn in biology.
Random jellyfish factoids aside, everyone but me is thrilled about Under the Sea. Even perpetually crusty Principal Proulx.
The past two weeks have been nothing but cramming for exams and elaborate promposals. Most notable was Ollie’s. After a choreographed flash mob at the Friday game, the football team stripped their jerseys, one by one, revealing blue painted letters on their chests, collectively spelling PROM, KASSIE? It was inevitable Kassie and Ollie would go together, just like it’s inevitable they’ll win prom king and queen, get married （with me as maid of honor）， and have perfectly symmetrical-faced babies who will go on to procreate with my own children （if my twenty-year plan of marrying a kind-eyed, dependable man who bears a striking resemblance to Charles Melton goes smoothly）。