“Char, I say this with love, but maybe you need to sit this one out and let us handle it,” Kassie suggests. “I know you’re super stressed about exams and—”
“Sit this one out? Prom?” I impulsively scratch my neck. The thought of not being in control is hive inducing. “And I’m stressed for exams a very regular amount, thank you.”
Nori gives me a knowing look. “She has a point. You’ve taken the lead on every event this year. Like, you spent the entire Valentine’s Day carnival running around, stressed out over the broken cotton candy machine. You didn’t even get to ride the Ferris wheel.”
Before I can point out that prom is THE MOST IMPORTANT event of all, Kassie parades out of the stall in a floor-length red sequin number that looks like second skin. The dramatic slits up each side flirt dangerously close to her pubic bone. She steps onto the pedestal and sways side to side, channeling the raw star power of J.Lo.
“Steal-your-man red,” Kassie says in a faux British accent. “As my mom calls it. Does it make my boobs look big or no?”
Nori pretends to shield her eyes. “I dunno about your boobs, but that color is offensive. My eyes are watering just looking at it.” Her tone is a little clipped. She and Kassie are frenemies at best. I’m the glue that somehow makes our unlikely threesome work. To Nori’s credit, Kassie is like a boomerang, always bringing the conversation back to her. Like when Nori broke up with her first girlfriend two years ago, Kassie decided it was an appropriate time to complain about how Ollie didn’t invite her on his family’s vacation to Disney World.
Despite Kassie’s vapid tendencies, I also know a totally different side of her. The Kassie I met at camp when we were nine who took me under her wing when home was the last place I wanted to be. She gave me her polka-dot scrunchie, claiming it was the perfect accessory for my “retro Britney Spears” outfit. The Kassie who picks me up after my hellishly long summer shifts at Two Cows ’N’ a Cone to drive around aimlessly while scream-singing love ballads. The Kassie who gives me clothes on the regular, claiming they don’t fit her anymore even though I know that’s not true.
Kassie knows my mom juggles two jobs—her begrudged day job as a pharmacy assistant and twilight shifts as an aspiring novelist. I’m not poor by any means, but unlike most of my peers at MHS, I can’t afford the newest clothes and electronic devices. Kassie knows all this and has never said a word about it to anyone. Sometimes I feel like I owe her for that.
“The color is nice,” I say defensively, turning back to Kassie. “You could go in a burlap sack and shoes made of Kleenex boxes and still win prom queen.”
“I don’t think I’m feeling it. Doesn’t go with the theme,” Kassie decides, running a hand over the tight bodice.
“The theme,” I mumble bitterly, following Nori into the dressing room. “Renner ruins everything. He’s like that marinara sauce stain on my white Keds that won’t go away no matter how many times my mom bleaches them.”
“I know you guys hate each other. But for your own sanity, you’ve gotta stop letting him under your skin. It only encourages him,” Kassie warns, like it’s all my fault he’s the bane of my existence.
“Lest we forget what he did,” I shout from behind the curtain.
“We were fourteen. And still obsessed with Shawn Mendes. You really need to forgive and forget,” she says as I step into a satin, purple dress.
For the record, I’m still obsessed with Shawn Mendes. I also have the memory of a dolphin.
And it extends far beyond homecoming.
J. T. Renner’s transgressions against me: a complete history
-9th grade—ditched me at homecoming
-9th grade—called me a “kiss ass” and “teacher’s pet”
-9th grade—made a penis joke during my biology presentation
-10th grade—invited entire sophomore class to his garage party except me
-10th grade—loudly pointed out a spelling error in my Civil War history PowerPoint presentation
-11th grade—accused me of ripping a potent fart at Lucy H.’s New Year’s party
-11th grade—made fun of me for being the only girl who didn’t receive a Valentine’s Day carnation and candy gram in homeroom
-11th grade—mocked my driving in driver’s ed
-11th grade—unfairly beat me in a law class debate
-12th grade—still brags about last year’s law class debate