“Nice outfit,” I tell Dani when she greets us. “Surprised there are no rules against wings in the handbook.”
The wings even perk up when Dani stands straighter. “The handbook is against cleavage, not against style, Nika.” Her eyes turn soft when they land on Kayla. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Kayla says back.
After Auntie Baby takes note of our attendance, she asks, “Did you bring a date, Kayla?”
I’m prepared to explain that we came in a group when Dani declares, “She did.”
Dani’s wings stand taller when she moves to stand right next to Kayla. “I’m Kayla’s date.”
Kayla’s mouth falls open, but she takes Dani’s hand when she offers it.
“Oh!” Auntie Baby’s eyes flicker between the two. “Kayla’s the date you were waiting for?”
My mind is already prepared to stick up for Kayla and dispute any possible Saint Agnes regulation, but Dani speaks up first. “We’re fighting the patriarchy.”
Wow. I’ve never seen Kayla swoon this much over a nonfictional character before.
“How is this related to the patriarchy?” Seph asks, and I shush him. At this point, Dani can spin words to mean whatever she wants them to mean.
As Dani directs us to our table, she hands each of us a ballot for prom nominations. I can’t help but laugh when I spot the footnote at the bottom:Remember your vote matters, a reminder from your class president, Dani Bautista.
Then Dani asks out of nowhere, “How did you pull off your campaign strategy?”
I stare at Dani’s face, trying to decipher what in the world she’s talking about. Damn. And I thought I was getting better at speaking her language.
“What do you—”
I don’t get to finish my question. My brain’s too overwhelmed from the horror of reading the list for prom king and queen candidates.
Moseph King and Annika Ilagan
Who the hell put our names there?!
Moments from earlier in the night start to make sense. A few girls from my class said “good luck” to me earlier, but I thought they were being nice and wishing me luck so that my feet would survive wearing heels. There were some guys who were shouting out “King” at Seph when we entered, but I thought they were just calling him by his surname.
I’m about to ask Dani if she can use her student council powers to investigate who turned my name in when I notice Auntie Baby in her angel outfit shoot me a thumbs-up. She huddles between Seph and me and lowers her voice. “My sources say that you two are ahead of Sean and Julia in the polls,” she whispers asif we’re discussing the forecast of a national election. “Be ready for the dance when they announce the winners.”
I gape at Auntie Baby. “Did you…nominateus?”
It sounds even more ridiculous when I say it out loud!
Auntie Baby raises her shoulders, but I see her throw in a not-so-subtle wink. “Tell your mother that there are lots of perks from being active in the alumni association.”
The blood in my body goes cold and my throat feels like it’s closing in on itself. Oh god. Am I going to pass out? This definitely is what people feel like when they run out of oxygen. Everyone’s going to remember prom night as that time Nika Ilagan fell to the floor in front of her auntie in an angel costume.
Seph taps my arm when I feel like I’ve gone catatonic. “Ilagan?”
This memory was supposed to be the easiest to re-create. I’m not as clueless as when we were at the soiree and I don’t have to perform in front of a whole audience like at Battle of the Bands. Our strategy here was simple. Once they declare prom king and queen, Achi and I would make sure that our parents are both on the dance floor to witness it. I even swallowed my pride and asked Mercury Retrograde to play the song my parents danced to back attheirprom.
There was never any mention of Seph and me dancing. I know my strengths as a performer, and dancing is not one of them!
What if Ma watches me bomb the dance, then she gets too distracted from being embarrassed for her daughter that she forgets to remember Pa? This is the event that’s supposed to mark his fortieth day! What if Pa coming back hinges on this one dance?
“I’m good!” I hear my voice go up another octave. “Prom king and queen. Woot woot.”
Oh god. Stress has made me utter the wordswoot woot.
