Promtastic Page 7

  Tom’s chair thudded back on all four legs as he leaned forward. “A lot more what?”

  She buried her head completely in the towel and put her forehead on the table. “Experienced,” she mumbled from underneath it. “And I know you’re laughing. Stop it. I’m serious.” She emerged from the towel to see Tom had obviously composed his features. “So what can I do, you know, to keep someone as amazing as Chris interested in a girl like me? I want him to think I’m cool – which I know I’m not, but you know what I mean…”

  Tom pushed his dark brown fringe out of his face. “Well, don’t show the slightest bit of interest in him as boyfriend material – that’s always a winner.”

  “Too late for that – I’ve been staring at him all term in a notice-me way.”

  “I noticed.”

  She pulled the towel over her face again. “God, I’m such a dork. No wonder nobody asks me out.”

  Tom lifted the edge of her towel and watched a drip of oil fall off her nose. “You’re very cool. It’s Chris who’s not cool.”

  “Well, I think sending a red-rose promposal is super-cool and I wouldn’t have wanted any other boy to do it. He’s the one, Tom.”

  “Is he?”

  “He really and truly is.”

  “He’s a jerk, Alex.”

  Her face fell. “Do you know, Tom” – her eyes flashed – “do you know how long I’ve liked him and looked forward to this? I get asked to prom by the boy I really, really like and you’re trashing it. Stop it. Be a good friend and be happy for me.”

  Tom scraped his chair back. “You’re right, Alex – but good friends look out for each other too.”

  She pulled a face.

  “I’m off now. Said I’d help out with getting the drinks in for tonight before swim meet. Wondered if you wanted to come – but I can see you’re busy.”

  She reached out and grabbed his arm. “Chris really is amazing, you know, Tom. Can’t you understand me being a bit scared? I’ve waited for this night for ages…”

  “No. I won’t understand you being a bit scared. Because he’s not worth it.”

  She heard the door slam as he left.

  Thanks for nothing, she thought; thanks for a big fat nothing. The first time she was getting what she wished for and Tom was trying to spoil it. “I don’t care if he doesn’t like Chris,” she said to herself, getting up and rearranging her towel in a turban before starting to climb the stairs, “because I do.”

  She saw the roses on her dressing table and smiled.

  Grace

  1.00 p.m.

  It had been easy to get into the school.

  The hall was full of workmen and she had slipped quickly past them through the corridors to Mrs Keane’s office. No one had even noticed her, let alone asked what she was doing. That was the benefit of being a straight-A student – no one thought she could possibly be up to anything wrong.

  Coming to a corner, she heard a loud girl’s voice. She moved quickly into a classroom and shut the door quietly.

  “Yeah, Lexie, I passed. A breeze, thanks to Kristyn. No one noticed I had her notes under the papers. Madame was too busy getting her marking done and watching Jed sweat all over his test. But he passed too! Prom is going to be really great now he’s coming…”

  Grace ducked below the small glass window in the door as Lindsay sauntered past, her phone clamped to her ear.

  “I’m off to the Style House now. Kristyn’s there. Going to pretend I’m dropping in to tell her the good news about me going to prom – but really I want to try and get her sister to do my hair. Kristyn said she messed up her dress yesterday and so she kind of owes her, I reckon. Going to lean on her a bit more to ask her to do my hair too. She’s so desperate for friends she’d do anything for me.”

  Grace waited a moment, then silently opened the door and carried on. She looked at her watch. Plenty of time before her appointment at the salon.

  She tried the door to Mrs Keane’s office. It was locked. It was always locked when no one was in there – but when she had been waiting to see the head about Oxford entrance with her parents, she had seen Miss Summerfield take a key from a hook behind her and open her top desk drawer. Grace found the first key and opened the drawer. She grabbed the key lying there – and a moment later found herself alone in the head’s office.

  She had to act fast.

  The text with the instructions had come just after her maths tutorial. They were quite clear.

  The ballot boxes were on the desk. One labelled “Prom King” and one “Prom Queen”. She pulled down the second box and sank to the floor. She didn’t want anyone passing to see her.

  She opened the box and began to put the slips of paper inside into piles. When she had finished, she smiled sadly. Well, her mum would have been happy. Grace would have been Prom Queen. She was pleased to see that Alex had got a good few votes too, and Leigh. A wave of sadness came over her as she thought that it might actually have been fun to be Prom Queen. But then she pulled herself together. She didn’t want Evan humiliated on prom night, and there was no need for him even to come out now. Jason wasn’t her boyfriend any more. If Evan wanted to keep his secret a bit longer, he could. She no longer had anything to lose if they continued as they were.

  Quickly, she began to write “Kristyn” on fresh slips and put them in the box. She took out just enough of the original slips so that Kristyn would have the highest number of votes. Then she threw the rest of the slips back in the box and shook it up. She put the box back on the desk, locked the door behind her, put the keys back and left.

  Looking at Tom and Charlotte smiling through the Coffee House window on the way home had made her miss Jason. A huge ache inside her. She wondered if she could text him, ask him to see her. But what would be different? She couldn’t let Evan down.

  It had been a welcome distraction to help Alex get ready, but she had felt guilty too. Alex was her best friend, and she had never told her about Jason … because that would mean explaining about Evan. And Evan’s secret wasn’t hers to tell. She had wanted to tell Alex all about Jason about a million times; she had always shared everything with her. And today she had felt they had secrets from each other and she had hated that. She couldn’t lose Alex as well as Jason.

  Nothing was as it seemed. For her the whole evening would be a sham. She would see her friends arriving on the red carpet, all dressed up, even admiring her – but Evan wasn’t her boyfriend and Jason didn’t want to be with her any more.

  Her life was lie. She felt trapped by secrets.

  “Smile, darling!” Her mother had appeared at her bedroom door with a camera.

  Grace turned her head and gave a huge smile.

  My life is as fake as that photo, she thought.

  Leigh

  2.00 p.m.

  She wasn’t at all sure that Charlotte would come to the salon.

  Not after their phone call last night.

  Leigh had texted her several times that morning but hadn’t got a reply.

  Even though she refused to come to prom, Charlotte had promised weeks ago to help her get ready on the day. Charlotte was a make-up genius; no one could do the black-eyeliner flick as perfectly as she could. But after yesterday, Leigh was convinced Charlotte wasn’t going to turn up – and although she knew why, the selfish part of her was thinking that she had set the whole day aside to get ready and now she was going to have to do her make-up by herself. And as the organizer of the whole event, she needed to look perfect.

  She scanned her list. She had had her tan done two days before so that was fine; she had a perfect golden glow now, just right to show off her dress. She looked down at it. It was royal blue, with a tight sequinned strapless bodice and a full net skirt – a real American prom dress: her mum and stepdad had had it sent over from New York. It had arrived in a huge box and when she had pulled it out and shaken the beautiful full skirts free from the white tissue paper, it was like all her birthdays rolled into one.

 
; She turned her head from side to side in the salon mirror. Her long blonde hair had been up-styled in an elegant twist, with blue jewelled clips woven into it. She wasn’t the only girl getting her hair done in her prom dress; no one wanted to pay Style House prices and then get their tiaras, bows and clips caught up in yards of material as they pulled an expensive dress over it.

  Suddenly her eyes opened wide as a woman walked past her in the middle of an entourage of buzzing people. They were all dressed in black and in the centre of the group a tiny, curvy brunette dressed in a neon-yellow Versace jumpsuit, with hair cascading down her back, drifted by like an exotic flower. Leigh whispered to her manicurist, “Isn’t that Fallon Fernandez? Isn’t her album number one this week?”

  The manicurist nodded, but didn’t look up from carefully painting blue varnish on Leigh’s perfect oval-shaped nails; she was used to celebrities in the salon. “She’s come to finish being styled for that big hairspray promotion,” she answered.

  The star was seated with a flourish and was immediately fussed over by stylists, make-up artists and a woman Leigh guessed was her personal assistant from the fact she was permanently on the phone. Jessie, the salon’s top stylist, was talking to her. To her surprise, she saw Kristyn sitting at the back of the salon, her chestnut hair glossy and expensively styled; she had obviously decided to change into her prom dress later as she was still wearing jeans. She was leaning back in a chair having her make-up done now, her hands draped over its white leather armrests. Leigh noticed her bright high-gloss red nails.

  Lucky, lucky her, Leigh thought, remembering suddenly that Kristyn was Jessie’s sister. She would have loved Jessie to do her hair, but Jessie was always booked up months ahead, and she was nearly double the price of the other stylists. Leigh watched, fascinated, as the door of the salon opened and someone wheeled in a rack of clothes. Not just any clothes – Leigh recognized Chanel labels on the evening dresses, as well as Dior, Versace and Vivienne Westwood. Someone was opening suitcases of accessories and it was like Aladdin’s cave: boxes and boxes of jewellery, green, red and diamond stones and hair accessories. Now a nervous-looking man in huge black-rimmed glasses was wheeling in a rack of silk shoes in deep, vibrant yellows, pinks, blues, silver and gold.

  She noticed Kristyn sitting up and watching too. Who wouldn’t? Everything was gorgeous.

  “Hello, loser. I have decided to forgive you for being the worst friend in the world.”

  She had been so engrossed she hadn’t noticed that Charlotte had appeared at her side. “Charlotte! You’re here! I’m so pleased,” Leigh cried out with genuine emotion.

  Charlotte moved in to give her a hug.

  “Eek! Don’t. My hair! My nails!”

  The manicurist had finished now and indicated Charlotte could take her seat. Charlotte sighed and plonked her make-up bag on the ledge in front of the mirror.

  “Have you seen Fallon Fernandez over there?” Leigh whispered.

  “Mmm,” Charlotte responded. “She’s not really my type of artist. Too groomed and mainstream. And anyway, who cares about her? Haven’t you got something to say to me?”

  Leigh looked at her, puzzled.

  Charlotte saw Leigh’s blank face and exhaled slowly. “Like ‘Sorry’ and ‘Thank you so much for coming in spite of my being so mean last night, you dear kind friend’?”

  Leigh sighed. “I am sorry. I just couldn’t talk last night, I had so much still to do. I was so stressed.”

  “Mmm… Well, I’ve got to be somewhere pretty cool myself this evening, so let’s get on with it. I’m going to start with a primer now.” She began to rub cream deftly into Leigh’s forehead. “I want to say, though, that you know sometimes, just sometimes, friendship is more important than prom. Luckily for you, something good happened to me this morning – something really good, something so much better than prom – and I’m feeling forgiving.”

  But Leigh wasn’t listening; she was distracted by Fallon shaking her head furiously at the stylist who obviously wasn’t getting the combination of outfits right. How great to be that powerful, everyone hovering around you. Leigh sighed in admiration. And to get there by hard work and never settling for anything less than the best. Whatever the sacrifices.

  “Leigh! Are you listening to me?”

  Leigh nodded vaguely.

  “No you’re not! Now close your eyes – I’m going to do your liner now.”

  “Please make it perfect.”

  Charlotte gave an exasperated sigh. “Perfect. Perfect. Nothing is perfect, Leigh. That’s why I hate prom – it’s all this fake ‘It’s going to be so wonderful’ thing.”

  “It is going to be wonderful.”

  There was silence for a while as Charlotte’s brushes did their magic. Then she stepped back to look at her work and said, “Not for everyone it isn’t.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  Charlotte shrugged her shoulders.

  “No,” Leigh insisted as Charlotte brushed blusher on her cheekbones. “Tell me. What do you mean by that?”

  “Just that prom is fine if you are Miss Preppy Popular, but for other people, perhaps for less confident people, it’s an evening that highlights all their insecurities and it makes them feel the opposite of good about themselves. How can that be a good thing?”

  “What are you on about? Everyone is going to have an amazing time. I’ve arranged everything!”

  “You can’t arrange everything. You’re not God. Now stop moving; the liner will smudge.”

  “Name me one thing I’ve forgotten – one thing. Honestly, this makes me mad when I think of all the last-minute changes I’ve had to deal with… You … you’ve been so selfish you don’t even care what’s happened to cause so much last-minute panic and work.”

  “Me! Selfish?”

  “Yes, you. This matters to me so much; I’ve had to deal with a major crisis with the caterers and you’ve done nothing but trash all the work I’ve done. I call that selfish when you’re supposed to be my best friend.”

  “What! You won’t speak to me on the phone, yet I still come here to do your—” Charlotte paused, the blusher in mid-air. “Do you know? Forget it. Talking to you I’ve just realized I’ve got better things to do. Do your own make-up.” She threw tubes, mascara, eyeliner and various compacts into her bag and stormed out.

  Before Leigh could even register the stares of everyone in the salon, her phone rang.

  It was the prom venue. A voice droned in her ear, “The girl you sent over has had to go, so she can’t finish hanging all the stars but there are only ten of them left. Maybe you can give them out at the end—”

  Leigh wailed. “We can’t not have all the stars hung – it just won’t be completely right.” She looked at her reflection. Charlotte had finished the hardest part; she could manage the rest later. “Look, I’ll do it myself. I’ll be over as soon as I’ve finished some things at home.”

  She looked down at her long, full net skirts and matching blue satin heels. Not quite the right outfit for climbing ladders – but those stars had to hang.

  Of course Charlotte would say it didn’t matter.

  But it did matter; it mattered to her.

  Charlotte

  2.30 p.m.

  As Charlotte left the Style House, bag flying, she crashed straight into Lindsay, who was yelling to the whole street, “I’m going to prom!”

  Charlotte’s make-up scattered over the pavement.

  Lindsay yelled to the sky, “I aced that history test and I’m going to prom!”

  Charlotte swooped to save an expensive lipstick from disappearing under Lindsay’s foot.

  “How on earth did you pass, Lindsay?” Charlotte snapped as she stood up. “Cheated, I expect.”

  Lindsay reared back in mock horror. “Ooh, harsh words. And anyway, what are you doing here? I thought you were too stuck up your own beret for prom.”

  “I’m … I was … oh, never mind. Jed said he’d been working pretty hard – did h
e pass?”

  Lindsay’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, he did – and what’s it to you? It’s not as if he’s interested in you.”

  Charlotte threw back her head and burst out laughing. Lindsay growled, pushed past her and disappeared into the salon.

  Her phone pinged. It was a text from Tom: “We can see you across the street from the Coffee House. Just finished a swim training session. Come and join us.”

  Charlotte got on well with most of the boys in her year, especially Tom, who was one of the good ones. She thought about it for a moment … she needed to get ready for tonight – but her truncated visit to Leigh had given her some extra time.

  She walked into the café, and Evan and Ben moved up the red leather seat on one side of the booth to make room for her. She looked around: Chris, Tom, Evan and Ben. No one could deny that all that exercise and gym work had reaped benefits. If only Ben wouldn’t wear those awful massive Tshirts and baggy old trousers. He was, it had to be said, a style disaster. She even saw a glimpse of shark’s-tooth necklace. Oh dear.

  “Still haven’t changed your mind about tonight?” Chris said, stretching his tanned muscled arms high above his head for her benefit. Out of all the boys in the team, Charlotte found Chris the hardest to get on with. There was no doubt he was capable of deep love and affection, but it was a pity it was only for himself.

  She shook her head. “Have you asked anyone?”

  “Aah,” he smirked, and Charlotte couldn’t help noticing that his chin was rather weak, and his eyes might be deep blue but they could take on a weasel-like expression sometimes. Like now. “Now that would be telling, wouldn’t it? Let’s just say I’m keeping my options open for tonight. Haven’t made up my mind who the lucky girl will be yet.”

  “Excuse me a moment while I puke,” Charlotte answered coldly.

  Tom gave a short bark of laughter and grinned at her. She grinned back; she guessed someone as bright as Tom would know Chris was an idiot.

  “What’s up with you, mate?” Chris asked, slapping Tom on the back. “Don’t be jealous of the man. You could have asked a load of girls – I don’t get it. Why didn’t you, when you could have had your pick?”