“Sure.” Mr. Higgins tosses the remote on his desk. “Did the office need something?”
Kyle nods, and pulls an office memo from his pocket. “I’ve got a message.” He unfolds the paper and begins to read. “Alex Wu, you received a phone call. It was from my heart.” He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a long velvet rectangular box.
Beside me, Alex gasps, and a few rows over, Tucker fidgets in his seat while others chuckle and some let out a choir ofawws.
Kyle steps forward and pops the box open. Inside are two matching teal bow ties. “Will you go to prom with me?”
Alex nods furiously and jumps up to hug Kyle, but beforetheir embrace can turn into a kiss, Mr. Higgins says, “All right, all right. Very cute. Everyone, save the promposals for passing periods and after school.”
Kyle backpedals toward the door. “Sorry, sorry!” He waves to Alex and blows him a kiss.
Well, that was sickeningly cute. Despite how annoying I find Kyle, even I have to admit that matching bow ties was a pretty damn precious idea.
At lunch, me, Clem, and Hannah head to Harpy’s and I claim our semicircle booth in the corner. By the time I got home last night, Clem had locked herself in her room and, from what I could tell, was on the phone with Hannah, so we haven’t talked like I told Dad we would. Of course, we’re talking, but we have this ability to table our fights until the right time. Maybe it’s from living in such close quarters our whole lives.
Kyle and Alex walk into Harpy’s, their fingers intertwined, and sit down with us.
“Okay,” says Clem, popping a fry in her mouth. “Give me every adorable detail.”
The two of them lean toward her and begin to paint a scene, shamelessly embellishing.
I turn to Hannah. “So what have you and Bekah cooked up for your projects?”
But she’s not looking at me. Instead she’s waving over a group of white girls I vaguely know in the same way I know everyone in this town, and Millie Michalchuk is among them. The group slides into the booth behind us and Hannah points at each of them, but I can barely keepup. “Amanda, Millie, Ellen, and Willowdean. Where’s Callie?” she asks.
The chubby blond one who I recognize as an employee here swivels around. “She and Mitch are working on some prom court thing.” She waves to me. “You can call me Will.”
I nod. “I’m Waylon.”
“Oh,” says the thin girl with silky dark hair, “we know who you are. And I’m Ellen.”
Millie giggles. “You’re kind of a legend.”
I smile at that. “Millie, right?”
She nods.
“I’m sort of like your biggest fan,” I gush.
“Whoa,” says the girl next to her in a cute tracksuit. “That’s gonna go right to her head.”
“It’s nice to be appreciated,” says Millie matter-of-factly. She nudges the girl beside her. “And this is Amanda.”
“But seriously,” Willowdean says. “We will do anything we can to help y’all win this thing. And honestly, I need all the distractions I can get.”
Hannah grunts. “We stand no chance of winning. We’re here to make a statement.”
Willowdean rolls her eyes. “This is how she was with the pageant.”
Hannah smirks and holds up a finger. “Let’s stop pretending you entered that pageant to win.”
“She’s right,” I say. “We are most definitely not winning.”
“Hey now,” Millie interjects. “That’s not the kind ofattitude that will take the crown.”
Hannah rolls her eyes. “Y’all know Bekah will win, and maybe Bryce or that Tucker guy. He seems boring and inoffensive enough to please the masses.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” I blurt.
