Prom Queens

"No...No, put the Pac-Man stuff back in the closet," I said to Keith, the class vice president, as he dragged out the big, puffy yellow balls with eyeballs painted on them, "Those aren't a 90s thing, they are an 80s thing," I explained.

"Are you sure?" another member of the Prom Committee asked and I nodded.

"My mom told me. She said that Sonic the Hedgehog would be better if we are doing 90s video games," I said and Keith, groaned and put the Pac-Men away again.

He could be annoyed all he wanted, for all I cared. I was class president and I had pushed through the 90s themed prom over the opposition of some of the other members of the committee. I was going to make sure that we did this absolutely right. It was going to be authentically 90s and capture all the iconic cultural...stuff of the 90s. The music, the fashion, the movies and TV.

We were standing in the high school gym now, the Senior Prom Committee, doing our last-minute preparations before the dance. We had decorated the room with lots of 90s pop culture references, we had bought a bunch of food that had been discontinued in the 90s and then brought back for Millennial nostalgia, and each table had a different classic 90s TV show theme (everyone wanted Friends. I loved the 90s, but I still couldn't understand what everyone else saw in Friends). We had even hired a band that could play classic rock stuff like Nirvana and Pearl Jam.

"Did those little Japanese keychain pets that we ordered come in?" I asked Keith nervously, referring to the strange little digital things that my mom said would be a good prom giveaway. The prom was 48 hours away and that the was the last big thing left. But before Keith had a chance to answer, a loud, clanging voice interrupted us.

"Ms. Parker" the voice said, referring to me, and I knew who it was, cringing. It was our Prom Committee faculty advisor, Mrs. Ratkovicz. Mrs. Rat, everyone called her behind her back. She was the chemistry teacher and no one could figure out why she always volunteered as the "faculty representative" on all of the party committees. Homecoming, Sadie Hawkins, whatever, she always insisted on being involved and she was always absolutely miserable.

In fact, it was worse than just being miserable. It was like Mrs. Rat joined up as the faculty representative for all sorts of school activities because she wanted to destroy them. She had complained to Principal Riley about the creative writing club because the kids were writing about real life stuff like sex and violence. She complained to the school board about the annual Junior summer trip to Europe because the kids would (legally) be able to drink. She'd even threatened to sue the school district because the LGBTQ club got more money than the Fellowship of Christian Athletes club (because it had more members).

I personally didn't have any theory about why she was the way she was. I just knew that all she had to do was raise her eyebrows at Principal Riley and she would get the prom cancelled or changed or whatever. So the goal was to try to be as sweet with her as possible. Don't give even a shadow of an excuse, that was the plan.

"Yes Mrs. Ratkovicz?" I asked amiably, turning around to face her. Mrs. Rat had her hair pulled back in a bun so tight I wondered if her whole face would collapse if she let it down. Her lips were pinched and her eyes were dull.

"I just don't understand this new Prom Court selection process that the Prom Committee selected. It is far too late for nominations to occur and now we are just receiving votes?" Mrs. Rat asked, holding up the ballot box that had been sitting outside the main office. I held back a sigh, I had already explained this to her at least three times.

"We just decided that everyone could just get one vote, drop it in the box, and whoever got the most votes would win. No nominations, just an open vote," I explained.

"Yes, Alicia, you've told me that before" Mrs. Rat snapped back. I knew she was pissed because she called me by my first name instead of 'Ms. Parker.' I was on thin ice.

"Well...I don't..." I said, confused and taken aback.

"What is the purpose behind this asinine rule change? You have dozens of students who have received just a single vote! And your Prom Court members may end up with only a dozen votes!" Mrs. Rat complained, throwing her free arm up as though this was all complete anarchy.

"We just decided not to do the nominations this year, because people have been mean about it in the past. It hurt people's feelings," I explained and Mrs. Rat sort of rolled her eyes, "Sometimes people would nominate people as a joke or someone else would want to be nominated and wouldn't get it and everyone would know. So we thought just leaving it totally secret. We will just announce the top girl as Prom Queen and the top boy as Prom King."

"God forbid anyone have to develop any intestinal fortitude," Mrs. Rat said caustically.

"Well, it is too late to change it now. Maybe you can change it back next year," I said back. I had meant to just have it sound like a suggestion, but it had come out slightly annoyed. I knew it was a mistake as soon as the words came out of my mouth and it just riled Mrs. Rat further.

"And why, for the love of God, did you choose the 1990s as a theme?" she said, looking around at the decorations, "A horrible, horrible time. Rappers and video games and that awful Bill Clinton and his sordid personal life," Mrs. Rat shook her head with visceral disgust. I decided that any response I made would just make things worse. I just sat in silence and shrugged.

That seemed to, weirdly, piss off Mrs. Rat more. Maybe she was just trying to get a rise out of someone and the fact that she couldn't goad me into getting upset set her off to look for someone else. I saw Mrs. Rat's sort of look around at the other half dozen members of the Prom Committee. I saw her smile now, "though, I suppose there was some good things about the 1990s. At least we didn't have the sort of...silly confusion that we have now. Isn't that right Mr. Hood?"

Automatically, we all turned to look at Cam Hood, our stomachs tightening. She was the member of the Prom Committee that I knew the least. I had actually been a bit surprised when she signed up, she hadn't really volunteered for any of the dozens of school programs that needed student participants. Still, she was a nice girl. She was short, with mousy brown hair, big naïve eyes, and a sort of secret grin she gave. She had small breasts, a narrow waist and wide hips. Everyone in school had known Cam was trans. I mean she grew up with us. But it wasn't something that anyone really talked about. No one except Mrs. Rat.

"Mrs. Ratkovicz, I am Ms. Hood. We talked about this before," Cam said in a small voice. I felt her eyes looking towards me, towards the other people in the group. I looked away, back at Mrs. Rat, who gave a little laugh.

"The state supreme court says I can call you by your proper name," she said, obviously enjoying the silence and discomfort that greeted her statement, "Mr. Hood, do you pine for a time when you would not have been confused? When everyone knew that boys were boys and girls were girls? Have you ever seen Silence of the Lambs? Even that reprehensible Jim Carey made a movie dispelling that confusion. Maybe I am warming to the 1990s."

"I..." Cam said, but she didn't say anything further. Even though I didn't turn to look at her, I could feel her looking at the rest of us. Maybe me in particular. Hell, I was the president, right? But I didn't say anything. I felt, in that moment, like it wasn't going to do any good. If I said something, it wasn't going to change Mrs. Rat's mind on anything. It was just going to make her say something else mean to Cam. And she might get pissed and cancel the prom.

There was, of course, another factor that I wouldn't acknowledge to myself at that moment. One that would have felt too selfish to admit: Mrs. Rat was my chemistry teacher. And science was, by far, my weakest subject. I knew, at that moment, that I was sitting with a B- average. But I also knew that the only reason I didn't have a D was because I came in for study hall with Mrs. Rat. She said it was because I showed that I cared about my grade, that she wouldn't give me the D. But I knew, just likely everyone else, if you went to Mrs. Rat after class and kissed her ass she would give you a B-, even if you didn't deserve it. And if you ever angered her or pissed her off, she wouldn't shed a tear in taking it away, even for students who stayed after. Mrs. Rat already seemed annoyed with me. I knew I couldn't afford to lose my grade, not with my chosen college still monitoring my grades. So I waited for everything to be over and I sat in the quiet embarrassment that we all felt.

"Well, back to work girls...and boys," she said, looking at Cam and then walking away. I turned for a moment, to look at Cam. She was looking at her feet. She was clearly humiliated. I didn't want to draw attention to it.

"So...Keith, those Japanese things?" I asked.

"Oh yeah, they're here," he said, and went to grab the boxes.

* * * * *

Two hours later I saw Cam on the sidewalk, heading home (I guessed). It was chilly out and already dark. I was driving home in the car my parents had gotten me for my 18th birthday. I glided over towards the sidewalk and rolled down my window as I came to a stop.

"Hey, Cam, do you need a ride home?" I asked. I hadn't thought about pulling over or why I was doing it. It was like I was on autopilot or something. Cam was hunched over, the backpack weighing her down. She turned and looked into the car.

"Oh...Hi, Alicia. No, thanks. I don't mind walking," she said and gave a polite smile. She turned back so she was facing forward and started to walk. I could feel a tension between us, though I refused to really think about what it meant. I wanted to dissolve the tension, by getting her in the car and just having a nice conversation, like the casual acquaintances we were. I inched the car forward a little more.

"Come on, its cold!" I said with a laugh. Cam sighed.

"Then roll up your window," she suggested, "And drive home." This was more than a little tension.

"No, I meant you, you have to be cold. How far do you live from here?" I asked. Cam stopped again and leaned in towards my window.

"It is over behind the supermarket on Hathaway Street," Cam said, naming a spot at least a mile and a half away, "But you'd have to go past Mrs. Ratkovicz's house. I wouldn't want you to be embarrassed with the pervert in your car." She said sharply and I felt the heat of her anger sort of wash over me in the car. For a moment, I just sputtered.

"Mrs. Rat is just..."

"I don't like name-calling,' Cam said flatly and felt like I just kept making things worse.

"Well Mrs. Ratkovicz..."

"Alicia, really, it is fine," Cam said, her anger leaving her, "You don't owe me anything. I know you just care about the prom. It's fine. I just want to walk home and clear my head." She turned and started walking again and I felt my cheeks red with embarrassment. I wanted to say something. I felt like her sudden forgiveness was worse than her anger, but I couldn't explain why.

"I will see you at prom then," I said softly. Cam didn't respond, but she nodded and kept walking. I rolled up my window and drove home.

* * * * *

"Alicia, your friends are here," my mom called from downstairs. I didn't have a date to prom. Four years ago, when I first started thinking about senior prom, that idea would have made me cry. But now, as a senior, it didn't really bother me all that much. In fact, I hadn't dated anyone all year, not since Colton and I broke up over the summer. And I hadn't really had any desire to date. I was excited to go with all of my friends.

Besides, as I finished the last touches on my outfit, I realized that I looked good. I have long, dirty blonde hair that I usually put in a ponytail but today it glossy and my mom had given me some face-framing style that she said screamed 1990s. I have round, blue eyes, a small nose, and pouty lips. I have big boobs and I tend to wear baggy clothes, so people are always surprised when, like for prom, I wear a strapless dress with a plunging neckline. I also have a thin waist, wide hips, and big thighs. All of that was squeezed into the shimmery red dress that fell to my knees. Even my make up looked good, with my 90s style smokey eye shadow and dark, burgundy lipstick. I looked too good to be locked up with one person.

"Coming mom!" I yelled down and then skipped down the stairs to the prom I'd meticulously planned.

* * * * *

We arrived in the gym a couple hours later. It had taken three jampacked cars to get all my friends to the restaurant. There was a hibachi place downtown that had a massive sign that said "Founded 1991" outside, so we had decided months ago that this was the perfect place to eat. I caught the shrimp tossed by the chef and everything, it was fun! We were loud and silly and we listened to No Doubt in my car as we drove to the school. We even listened to it on my mom's CD, in the CD player that she still had in her old car.

"Good evening, Ms. Parker," Mrs. Rat said, from the table at the front of the gym, when I arrived. I handed her my prom ticket and smiled.

"Hi Mrs. Ratkovicz," I said, "It turned out really nicely, didn't it," I gestured around the gym. The decorations looked incredible and about half the promgoers were there already, dancing to the music piped in over the speakers while the band got set up. Mrs. Rat shrugged.

"All proms are the same," she said dryly. I just smiled and shrugged back, and then walked in. I didn't need the negativity. By some strange coincidence that somehow felt like cosmic justice, as soon as I walked past Mrs. Rat, I saw Cam standing next to the refreshment table.

I caught myself looking at her for a moment. I think part of it was that I had just spoken to Mrs. Rat and then here was Cam, reminding me of my cowardice a few days earlier. I had basically put that out of my mind ever since Cam had decided not to take a ride with me. Not really intentionally. It was just that I dove back into prom preparations and didn't have time to think of it. And now here was Cam, in what should have been my moment of triumph, driving it home again.

But well beyond that, Cam looked beautiful. I had never really looked at her closely before. Like me, she seemed to have a tendency to "dress down." But you can't dress down for prom, and Cam made me do a double take. She had dyed her short, mousy brown hair. Now it was a sort of pale pink color, and styled differently as well, framing her pretty face. She was wearing a strapless black prom dress, a sort of silky fabric that hugged all of her curves (I didn't even really know she had such lovely curves). Her breasts were held high and pushed together, making them look like they were heaving over the top of her dress. The dress was short, and her slender legs looked as smooth as the fabric of the dress.

Part of me wanted to go over to Cam and compliment on how lovely she looked. But, again, I thought back on our last conversation. If I said something now, it would come off like some sort of condescending. Instead, when I caught her eye, I just waved at her and smiled. She waved back, apparently there were no hard feelings. I sighed and made my way into the prom.

From the start, everything went perfectly. About half an hour after I arrived, the place was entirely packed and the band started to play. They had three different singers and all of them could do different 90s sounds. The snacks were good, no one started a fight.

Everything went so well that I actually didn't even have to run anything. The planning had been worth it and all the student-directed things just sort of went like clockwork. Instead of running all over the gym, putting out fires and cleaning messes, I actually got to have fun! I walked around the tables on the outside of the gym and talked to everyone, I sang along with the band for the songs I knew, and I danced with all of my friends. I even danced once with Colton, since we had promised to save a dance for one another after we broke up. The night was flying by and I was loving every minute of it.

"Attention, attention students!" A jarring, if familiar, voice said over the P.A., even as the reverb from the last song was still bouncing off the walls. There was a sudden squeal of feedback and everyone groaned and then looked at the stage. The band had temporarily left the stage and Mrs. Rat was standing in their place. For a moment, I thought there had been some sort of emergency, but I looked down at my phone and we were two hours into prom. Mrs. Rat was right on time.

"Students, ladies and gentlemen...silence!" Mrs. Rat yelled and some nervous giggles greeted her, but the gym was then silent, "the tabulations are now complete on this years homecoming court.

"It's prom you old hag!" someone yelled out from the crowd. A roar of laughter answered this comment and Mrs. Rat's eyes grew narrow. Luckily it did not seem that she had heard exactly what was said and once the crowd grew silent again, she continued.

"This year, for reasons that are not entirely clear to me," she said, dryly, "There were no nominations. As a result, everyone could simply vote for anyone. There was a truly chaotic number of students who received at least one vote. And almost as many that had received two. Beyond that, some of the votes were almost illegible, because each vote was written in..." Mrs. Rat seemed content to complain, in detail, about every aspect of the voting process. I had almost stopped paying attention, taking a sip of my drink.

"As a result, the female student who received the most votes for prom queen received only 14 votes. Nonetheless, under the rules in place, that makes Ms. Alicia Parker this years Prom Queen!" I heard my name but honestly it didn't register. If anything, I thought she was thanking me on behalf of my work on the prom committee.

It was only when I felt my friend Claire's arms wrap around me and heard Keith talking into my ear saying "you won! Oh my god, Alicia, you won!" that I had any inkling of what happened. My fellow student-government nerdy friends had all decided to vote for me. All the prettier, more popular girls had split their votes up. And, just like that, I had snuck in! Never in a million years had I expected it.

I must've looked like such an idiot as I made my way to the stage. I had a big, stupid grin plastered to my face and I sort of floated my way up. Everyone was looking at me and clapping. In fact, I think even the more popular girls were happy that I had won, if only to keep their rivals from winning it. People cheered and rubbed my arm as I walked by. Colton even gave me a thumbs up as I climbed the stage.

"Congratulations, Ms. Parker," Ms. Rat said and she actually smiled at me. It was an unnerving looking smile, even though I could tell she was being sincere. She shook my hand with her hard, bony fingers. She placed a small, plastic crown on my head, then lifted a dozen roses off of the table and handed them to me.

I turned now and looked out at the crowd. I was embarrassed to find tears welling in my eyes and I bit my lip to control myself. My friends, near the back, were whooping and cheering. I had to admit, even more than winning class president, this felt so incredibly good. That was me, as a nerd, agreeing to do a bunch of hard work on behalf of the school. This was just an honor. It didn't mean anything other than I got to look pretty and stand on the stage and hold flowers. And, being nothing but an honor, it was so nice.

"Turning next to our prom king," Mrs. Rat said and I realized that the process wasn't over. I took a step to my right. I looked out over the crowd again, wondering who would win. Whoever it was, I was going to have to dance with him. That idea was both very strange, and vaguely exciting. Maybe I was just a little drunk on the romance of it. But I pictured some handsome boy I didn't even know (in my mind, he was a total stranger. How that would even be possible, I couldn't say), and we would dance and fall in love.