She smiles at him, bouncing on her toes. Ah, yes, she definitely thinks he’s cute. There’s a twinge in my stomach and I can’t tell if it’s jealousy or the tacos.
“I needed to talk to y’all about some prom court biz,” she says.
“This sounds juicy,” I say.
Her eyebrows jump up and down excitedly. “Volunteer hours.”
I grimace.
Bekah doesn’t miss a beat. “Hannah has us all signed up for after school on Friday.”
“I usually help my dad out on Fridays, but I’ll see if I can get out of it,” Tucker says.
Bekah grins. Eyeballing our uniforms, she says, “Oh, now this was a good idea.”
“You think?” I ask.
“Oil changes?” She nods feverishly. “That’s like a real thing people need. Melissa decorated teachers’ doors and I heard a bunch of them were actually annoyed because she got glitter everywhere.”
“Glitter is dangerous,” I say. “You don’t wield glitter. Glitter wields you.”
She leans in to add, “And Bryce didn’t even help her.”
Tucker rolls his eyes. “Flake. Probably thinks he can phone it in.”
Bekah nods knowingly. “But I think y’all actually stand a chance here.”
Something about hearing that from Bekah, the kind of girl who the social hierarchy was built for, actually makes me believe it might be true. Cue Julie Andrews.
Twenty
“I can’t believe you spent an entire day in matching outfits with Tucker Watson and the only word you have to describe it is fine,” Clem tells me. “That guy’s been on your shit list for years.”
“Well, while I’m very honored to know that you keep track of my shit list, which is very long and thorough, it really was fine. It wasn’t awful. It wasn’t great. It was fine.” Except it wasn’t fine. It was confusing. And dare I say fun? “Honestly,” I tell her as we pull up to our driveway after school, “I’m way more concerned with pulling off all this prom court crap. And we haven’t even broached the topic of my prom attire. We have less than a week and a half, people.”
“Do what I’m doing and rent a tux,” says Hannah.
“One does not simply rent a tuxedo,” I say.
Hannah and Clem are silent, the two of them blinking at me.
“I mean, youcanrent a tuxedo,” I say. “I don’t technically own one, so I guess I would have to rent one too,but... I don’t know. I didn’t actually imagine myself going to this thing, so I never thought about what I might wear, and now we’re actually going to prom and”—I can feel myself getting flustered—“so now I can’t even begin to think about what the perfect outfit might consist of. Do I play it classy with a plain black tux? Do I lean into my queen nomination fully and go in drag? I’ve never walked more than a few steps in heels and—”
Clem pats my shoulder. “In through your nose and out through your mouth.”
I roll my shoulder away from her hand. It might just be clothing, but it’s also so much more than that. If I win—a very big and unlikelyif—then this look is going in the yearbook. Hell! Even in the newspaper. And if little ol’ Clover City is about to crown my ass prom queen, they’re going to be stunned when they do. And then there’s the fat factor. Finding the perfect thing to wear to prom is difficult, but being fat and bringing my vision to life could turn out to be impossible.
“I think you should dress in whatever makes you feel powerful,” says Hannah. “When I’m in a suit, I feel like I’m the chief executive president commander empress of the world.”
“Yeah,” says Clem. “You have to figure out what your power suit is.”
“Great. No pressure.”
“Do you need a pep talk? You’re smart. You’re beautiful. You have impeccable taste. You’re ahead of your time.Our generation is lucky to have you.”
I pucker my lips into a frown to stop from smiling. “Thanks.”
She takes my hand and presses a kiss to my knuckles. “This pep talk has been brought to you by your twin sister.”
