Promtastic Read online

  “I’m not sure.” Harry grinned. “I think I saw a Kit-Kat wrapper in the bin last night.”

  “Actually” – her mother pushed her dark curls off her kind face – “we’re not talking about me, we’re talking about you, and how you are going to have a such wonderful time at prom. You’re a beautiful girl. Shut up, Harry.” She took her Alex’s face in her hands. “I want you to know this. I swear without a doubt one day soon a boy will ask you out. A boy you really, really like. There is no doubt about it. It’s the way of the world. What a lot of time you girls waste worrying about if and when it’s going to happen. It’s going to happen! I solemnly swear on my sacred weighing scales. Trust me. I know. I’m very old and wise. So stop stressing and enjoy yourself in the meantime, you gorgeous girl!” Her mum gave her a huge hug.

  Harry got up and edged behind Alex. “I’d keep worrying if I were you,” he whispered as he nicked the last piece of toast from her plate.

  “Harry!” her mum yelled.

  However, sitting in the dark in the cinema with the world’s most perfect couple on screen and the school’s most perfect couple sitting next to you, it was hard to believe her mum. What did she know? Nearly everyone else at school had at been asked out at least once. She was finding it increasingly hard to force herself to join in all their chatter as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

  Even today in art they had been talking about dating and she had been acutely aware that Chris was in the room with them. The boy she had told no one she’d had a crush on for the last five years. Trouble was, she wasn’t alone. Lots of girls liked him – and who could blame them? He was fit, athletic, with thick blond hair and blue eyes, and bursting with self-confidence.

  They had been drawing a huge pottery jug overflowing with white chrysanthemums.

  “What’s everyone’s favourite flower?” Alex’s friend Tom had asked the art room in general.

  “Red roses,” Alex had blurted straight out without thinking. Then she’d blushed furiously because she knew Chris could hear. She had accidentally caught his eye and he’d winked at her.

  “Red roses, huh? Good to know,” he had said.

  Of course she agonized for the rest of the art lesson in case “roses” was a stupid answer. They truly were her favourite flower but now she wished she’d said, “Tulips” or even “Orchids”, like Charlotte. “Roses” now seemed dull and a bit ridiculous. Had Chris been laughing at her? She wished Tom had never asked the question.

  Alex had noticed Lexie and Lindsay looking at her table, giggling and nudging each other. If only Chris hadn’t heard her. Now he’d think she was just as boring as her flower choice. Oh why, oh why had she said “roses”?

  She made an effort to forget all flower-related thoughts and concentrate instead on the film on the screen. She knew true romance existed in real life because otherwise why would they bother to make so many films about it? Not for the first time she was grateful that Grace and Evan weren’t into any public displays of affection. They were always very considerate about that and she wondered if it was because Grace knew that she had never kissed a boy.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Grace always said. “I promise you when it happens you’ll know what to do.”

  All very well for you not to worry. Alex had thought to herself. You have a boyfriend, you’ve kissed him a thousand times probably. Kissing is nothing to you – you KNOW HOW TO DO IT. But what if you don’t? What if your teeth clash, what happens if your noses bump, what about getting the angle right? Alex wasn’t sure that anyone had mentioned angles before as a possible area of disaster, but it worried her that she might go the wrong way and end up kissing an ear. Grace had assured her that none of these things mattered, if it was the right boy. Well, at least she was sure about that.

  “There is someone for everyone.” Taylor Lautner said on the screen.

  She hoped Taylor was right. And her mum. In the dark of the cinema she crossed her fingers and made a wish.

  Grace

  8.00 p.m.

  Grace was pleased Café Luigi was quiet. The waiter took them to a table covered in a plastic red-and-white tablecloth, on which a candle flickered. The dark orange walls were lined with wine bottles and badly painted pictures of Italy. Grace liked Luigi’s: the waiters were friendly and didn’t make her feel uncomfortable and small, the way the waiters did at the smart places where her mum liked to be seen.

  “It was nice of your mum to offer to treat us,” Evan said, looking at the menu.

  “Well, she would. She thinks you’re practically a god.”

  Evan frowned. “And that’s a bad thing? I thought that was the whole point?”

  “Yes, well of course it’s a good thing. It has been a good thing, but…”

  “But what?”

  Grace sighed and put her napkin on her lap. “It’s been a long day. How’s it going with your parents?”

  Evan pushed his hand through his blond hair and shrugged. “Same old, same old… Oxbridge blah blah. Work harder, work harder … take on more at school, swim team, debating. It’s going to get worse at sixth-form college. It’s as if all they care about is me going to Oxford. I honestly think if I don’t get there they’ll never feel the same about me again. Especially my dad – I’ll be a failure in his eyes for ever after.”

  “I know. I really wanted to go at first, but lately I feel like I’m doing it for my mum, not for me at all.”

  “Me too. And it’s worse not having brothers or sisters. It’s all on me. No room for anything other than perfection. That’s why they love me going out with you. The perfect couple.”

  Grace looked at the menu. “Our parents think we are.” She looked up at him again. “Evan, I worry that you push yourself so hard trying to be the faultless son. You don’t have to be the best at everything.”

  “Yes I do. And I could say exactly the same to you. But I have to try harder even than you.” He gave her a long stare. “And you know why.”

  “Oh, Evan,” she sighed.

  They were interrupted by the waiter arriving to take their order.

  “One lasagne and one mushroom linguini please,” Grace said firmly, “and two Cokes. And some bread, please.”

  “Certainly!” The waiter beamed at them and disappeared.

  “Well, he thinks we’re great together, doesn’t he?” Evan smiled.

  “Everyone thinks we’re a great together, Evan,” Grace said sharply. “Hasn’t that been the whole point of the past six months?”

  “I know, Grace. I know. But I can’t see another way for me … not yet.”

  “Yes, you can! You can!” She leaned forward. “You have to. You can’t go on like this and I can’t go on like this. I just can’t do it any more.”

  Evan went pale. “Grace…”

  “No, listen to me. This whole prom night has got me thinking. We’re growing up. We’re not kids any more. We can’t spend the rest of our lives being someone just because it pleases our parents. We have to stop this sometime. This prom means we’re moving on. I’ve got to move on. And so have you.”

  “But Grace. Do you know what that means? It’s easier for you. I’ve got so much more to lose…”

  Grace grabbed his hands. “No! You’ve got so much more to gain. Don’t you see? No more lying… Can’t you imagine the relief? Just to be truly yourself.”

  “You mean be gay.”

  Grace paused. “I mean be you, Evan. And if being gay is a part of being you, the time has come to own it. Be proud of it.”

  Evan leaned back in his chair and gave a hollow laugh. “And do you think my dad will be proud of it? My mates on the swim team? Guys like Tom and Chris? Do you think they’ll be proud of it?”

  “Your parents will come round. They love you. They’ll have to accept it. And as for people at school, the ones worth knowing will still be your friends. The rest won’t deserve to be and you’ll be well rid of them.”

  “That’s so easy for you to say, Grace, but I really like all my
mates. I like hanging around with them. They think I’m cool because I’m your boyfriend. What if they don’t want to know me once they find out that’s fake? That’s too much to lose.”

  “They like you for you! Nothing to do with me. And if they don’t accept all of you, then they’re not worth it. Life is full of risks, and I understand that you see coming out as a huge risk. But it’s not. The risk is spending the rest of your life terrified and hiding who you truly are, wondering if and when you’re going to get found out. Now that is what I call a risk.”

  Evan put his face in his hands. “Oh God, even thinking about telling my dad, and my mum…”

  Grace’s voice softened. “I’m not saying it’s not going to be tough, but I’m here for you. And it’s not going to stop you going to Oxford, is it? Just imagine the relief of having nothing to hide any more. Imagine that.”

  He put his hands on the table. “You’re right. You’re right.” His blue eyes looked into hers. “I owe you, Grace, for agreeing to this messed-up relationship in the first place. You’re the most understanding person I know; I can’t imagine any other girl would have done it. I can’t even imagine having told anyone but you.” Evan sighed.

  “Evan, you’re one of my best friends and I’m so glad you did tell me. But remember, I had my own reasons for agreeing to this relationship,” Grace responded swiftly. “It wasn’t all me being kind. It worked both ways – but as I said, prom night has made me rethink what we’re doing…”

  Evan nodded. “So when are you going to tell the world your secret? God, your mum will not be pleased.”

  “I don’t know – but I know I’ve got to stand up for myself one day.”

  “But not before prom?” His put his hands together as if he was praying. “I know it’s a big, big ask…”

  Grace sighed, but Evan was her friend. And she was loyal to her friends. Whatever the cost.

  “Please? I’m begging you. I really am. Let’s wait until after graduation. I just need a bit more time.”

  Grace saw the fear and desperation in his eyes and sighed. “OK.”

  “As soon as we leave school, I swear I’ll come out and all this fake life will be finished.”

  “Promise, Evan?”

  “Promise, Grace.”

  But she hardly heard him. She was already thinking about another conversation she was now going to have to have.

  And she wasn’t looking forward to it.

  Leigh

  8.30 p.m.

  Leigh hated the feeling that Owen was angry with her. Owen was never angry with her. Owen was always so chilled; he found her need to organize everything cute. He never got annoyed at her for wanting to do things properly.

  She warmed to the memory of him laughing when she chased him around her room trying to straighten out that stubborn kink in his thick, dark hair, the one that stuck out over the back of his collar. “Gerroff, you nutter!” he had grinned, shielding himself with his school bag.

  No. Owen couldn’t really be angry with her.

  He would get over it once prom was done. It was only for now. When he realized it had been the most perfect prom ever, he would understand why Leigh hadn’t had time for anything else. She looked at the big mahogany dining table in front of her. Her laptop lay in the middle of it: the mother ship. Surrounding it, covering every inch of the large table, were spreadsheets, timetables, highlighters, menus, invitation lists and “To do” lists. She thought that getting everything out would make her feel calmer, but now she was looking at it all she felt a rising sense of panic. It had to be perfect. What was the point of organizing something if it wasn’t the very, very best? If everyone didn’t say the next day, “Wasn’t that the best prom ever?”

  What had she said to Owen this morning? She was stressing about the last-minute changes and had overheard him murmur quietly that it wasn’t as if someone was getting married or anything. She flinched slightly as she remembered her withering tone as she had snapped, “No, Owen, it isn’t. Because when you get married and it doesn’t work out you can have another wedding. It may have escaped your notice but you can’t do prom twice. You only get one shot at it. That’s why it’s important.”

  “More important than me?” he had snapped back. She hadn’t given him an answer, and he had stormed off.

  Thinking about that conversation made her feel uncomfortable. She needed to forget about it or she wouldn’t be able to get on with all the things she still needed to do.

  She picked up a note.

  Red-and-white-striped awning material for candyfloss and hot dog booths

  Georgia’s dad worked at the market and was bringing that to school tomorrow morning. She put that note down and picked up another:

  Chase last 3 photos for sticking on the gold stars

  She found the list of invited people; a neat red line ran through all those whose photos were now stuck on the stars in the venue, strung with gold ribbons and ready for hanging. Three names didn’t have a line through them. Name one: Charlotte Lau. No point in phoning her: she had said she wasn’t coming. Leigh had already downloaded one of her own photos of Charlotte for her star. She felt sure Charlotte would be there somehow. The other two names: Zoe Anderson and Ben Mather. Both too shy to send a photo. She sighed, found the class contact list and reached for her phone.

  “Leigh, you’re not still working on prom, are you? Her stepdad was standing in the doorway carrying his black leather briefcase, a tall, lean figure in his City banker suit. Her own dad was a doctor. No pressure there, then.

  Leigh sighed. “Where else would I be?”

  “How’s it going?”

  “It would be better if I could have some peace to get on with this. I’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

  “Well, if you had been concentrating in French today, you wouldn’t need to catch up… Your Mum told me you had detention.”

  “I know! Thanks for reminding me. But in case anyone hasn’t noticed I’m trying to organize—”

  “The best prom ever. We know, we know. But, it doesn’t have to be perfect, Leigh. It’s for people who want to have fun – it won’t matter if a few things go wrong. You’ve done most of the work. Give yourself a break.”

  Leigh looked up at the photo of Dee in her Harvard sweatshirt on the mantelpiece and gritted her teeth. “And be known as the girl who organized the rubbish prom. No thanks. Dee always says detail is everything.”

  “Ah, well – Dee, she’s not you.”

  “Oh, thanks very much. What are you saying? That Dee does everything better than me? Great. Thanks so much for the support.”

  “No, I’m not saying that. I know Dee’s a perfectionist, but I sometimes think that she lacks a … a perspective. On what’s really important in life. You haven’t done anything else but prom for weeks. You have lovely friends and Owen’s a great boy…”

  Leigh groaned. “Well that’s just great. But I can do as good a job as Dee, if you would let me. Now please can I get on with this?”

  “OK, OK.” He held up his hands in defeat and disappeared into the kitchen.

  Leigh surveyed the table again. She felt another wave of tension. Now, where was she?

  Her phone rang in her hand, making her jump.

  “Hello, Leigh? Guess what?”

  “Charlotte! Hi. Please tell me you’ve called to say you’ve changed your mind and are coming to prom because quite honestly I don’t have time to listen to anything else.”

  “What? Are you serious? I’ve done something exciting. And I wanted you to know.”

  “Are you coming to prom or not?” Leigh snapped.

  “You know I’m not.” Charlotte sounded hurt. “I did something about my music. I’ve been wanting to tell you for ages, but you’ve been so—”

  “Charlotte, are you kidding me? I’m sitting in front of a pile of stuff and I’m starting to freak out about how much I’ve still got to do. You’re not even coming and you want me to take time out to talk to you about your music?”

/>   “Well, I thought you’d want to know, because it’s important to me, but I guess the only thing that’s important to you right now is yourself.”

  “It’s not about me, it’s about prom,” Leigh practically yelled down the phone. Leigh heard the click as Charlotte hung up on her. She plonked the phone down on the largest spreadsheet and put her head in her hands for a minute, then took a deep breath and blinked tears from her eyes. She sat up straight, reaching for the photo list again.

  She could do this. She just needed to focus. It was worth all this stress.

  Everyone would thank her tomorrow.

  Alex

  9.00 p.m.

  Alex wished she hadn’t gone to the film. It hadn’t cheered her up; it had just fed into all her insecurities. Saying goodbye to Grace and Evan outside the cinema she had felt only loneliness – because theirs was the kind of relationship she wanted. That was the real thing. She knew it was stupid to mind that she didn’t have a boyfriend to go to prom with tomorrow. She would be with her friends, but … well, it would have been nice.

  She stared out of the bus window and saw Lindsay knocking at the door of a small red-brick terraced house. Wasn’t that Kristyn’s house? Hadn’t she heard Kristyn telling Lindsay she was starting a new job tonight? Alex shrugged her shoulders as the bus moved on.

  Five minutes later she was walking down her own street. It was still warm and her neighbour was mowing his lawn, filling the late evening air with the smell of newly cut grass. All the houses in her street had neat front gardens with hedges at the front and tidy lawns like his. She reached her white garden gate, waited for the tabby cat next door to stroll casually past her, tail arrogantly vertical as always, and swung the gate open.

  She stopped, stared, then stared again trying to compute what was on her front lawn. Lying on the grass, spelled out in red roses in big letters, was one word: “PROM?”

  “A promposal? Somebody wants to take me to prom?” Her heart was catching up with her brain and starting to pound. She looked around wildly. “I’ve got a PROMPOSAL?!” She wanted to dance on the grass singing at the top of her voice. It has to be him. She weighed up the evidence. He had been there in the art room when she had said she liked roses. He was the only one who had responded. He had said it was “good to know”. She’d thought he was teasing her, but clearly he had really meant it! She laughed. And to think she’d been embarrassed about it… What a waste of emotion – he hadn’t thought she was an idiot. He had gone out and bought these roses and made this perfect promposal. Chris! The boy she had had a crush on for ever – he had asked her. It couldn’t be anyone else. She hadn’t looked at any other boy at school. Only him.