A week later, I was dragged to the dance. Just when I thought nothing could cheer me up, I spotted Hester, looking surprisingly like her old self—pale, confused and awkward. When I asked her if she was okay, she told me that the blog contest was too much—the stress of it all made her forfeit to me, right there next to the giant punch bowl. That’s right—I might not be prom queen, but you better believe I’m the queen of the blogosphere.
Then the time came when the prom court assembled on stage. I have to admit that as lamesauce as I think prom is, I couldn’t help but hope Haskell would win. The vice-principal tapped on the microphone to make sure it worked before booming his voice into it: “First, I’d like to say that I’m proud of all you, who exercised your right to vote. I’m glad you’ve been paying attention in government class. But you probably just want to know who won, so here they are—your new prom king, Haskell…” I was so happy that I practically squealed! “…and your prom queen, Scarlett! Let’s see the prom royal couple share a dance.”
All of the excitement I had for Haskell drained out of my face as I saw my boyfriend and one of my arch-nemeses begin to dance together. That’s when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I whirled around to see Aidan, who asked me to dance. We hadn’t spoken since the break up. “Sure,” I said, sounding really unsure of myself. We didn’t say anything else while we danced—I guess that’s what closure feels like. But really I was just hoping he wouldn’t cry. Boys look so weird when their faces scrunch up and get all teary. And I just wouldn’t have been able to handle it.