Page 2 of The Prom Queen Project
“No, impressed that you used the word ‘zilch’ in a sentence correctly.”
Meredith rolled her eyes while pushing her shoulder against mine as we walked down the hallway.
With our heads held high and a grin plastered on our faces, we delicately danced through the crowd of unruly teens, each step we took commanding the attention of everyone around us. Robotic voices and shallow conversations plagued my ears.
As I glanced around, I noticed everyone had migrated to their respective cliques, almost as if nothing had changed since last year.
The jocks stood inside the gymnasium and stared in awe at their new letter jackets, the band geeks flocked into the music room, the drama club sat at the tables in the lunchroom, the outcasts hovered next to the bathrooms, the rainbow club sat in a circle on the floor in the art room, and the cheerleaders smiled wildly as they puffed out their chests and joined the jocks by the bleachers.
Kendra stopped short of the way there and spun on her heels, searching the crowd. Once her eyes reached mine, she flashed her award-winning smile and waved me over to join them. I forced a cheeky grin as I flipped my blonde curls out of my face and gave a dainty flick of the wrist, signaling for her to go on ahead. Being cheer captain came with its own perks, and having a horde of followers was just one of them. I never asked for a posse, but that’s what being popular meant. It also meant having a group of horny teenage boys throw themselves at you, which I would not consider a perk.
Yeah, hard pass.
When we arrived at my locker, I shifted my attention back to Meredith, watching as she stared at her class schedule with a look of disgust on her face.
“Seriously, Clarke, how are we supposed to survive senior year if we’re not together? What would you do without me?”
Meredith had a flair for the dramatic, which, I guess, shouldn’t have been a surprise considering she was a haughty cheerleader, but hey, so was I, and a theatrical persona was definitelynotsomething I exuded. Or at least it wasn’t until I became popular.
A deep crease formed on my forehead as I snatched the schedule out of her hands.
“Wait.” I jabbed at the paper with my pointer finger. “Here. All you have to do is switch your literature class to AP literature.”
Meredith clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, scoffing loudly. “Switch to an AP class?” She glared at me. “You’re insane.”
“Well, you wanted a solution.” I shrugged.
“Come on, why don’t you just switch your last period AP chemistry class to art? I mean, do you even know anything about chemistry? That’s kind of a tough class.” She leaned in close, scrutinizing the schedule further. “And you’re taking AP Lit, too? Even the valedictorian from last year only got a B minus. What do you think that means for people like us?”
I held my breath, trying to form the right words before speaking again. Four years ago, when I first moved here, I committed a murder. Okay, it wasn’treallya murder but more like voluntary euthanasia of my past self. And trust me, if it were anyone else, they would have made the same decision because who would willingly allow themselves to be a verbal punching bag when they had the chance to be the puncher? I had worked so hard to become the most popular girl at Summerville High—and no, that’s not an exaggeration because I clawed my way to the top with force—I couldn’t just throw it all away over a dumb class. It didn’t matter that on the inside I was hungry to devour every textbook like a starving wolf tearing into its first meal in days. It didn’t matter that on the inside, the real Clarke was buried somewhere beneath twenty pounds of dirt and earthworms, slowly suffocating due to lack of oxygen. It didn’t matter that on the inside, I couldn’t care less about what Meredith bought during her all-expenses-paid trip to Italy for summer vacation. What mattered was thriving. And the best way to do that was by being popular. My lips acted on instinct in the exact way they had been conditioned to, as two invisible strings tugged upward at the corners of my mouth, forcing a smile to spring on my face.
“I guess you’re right. I mean, the only reason I took these crazy classes was to make my parents happy, but I’m sure they won’t mind if I drop one.”
“Exactly.” Meredith beamed with bright eyes. “So, you’ll get rid of AP Lit, too? I heard the teacher has a bad rep of being a hard-ass. Like super strict.”
Oh, hell no.I loved literature more than I loved breathing.
“I don’t think I’ll push my luck with that one. My mom might kill me.” I coughed a slight laugh. “But I’ll go to the front office later today and switch AP chemistry to art.”
Swallowing my disappointment, I turned away from her and spun the dial of my lock until a satisfying click filled the air. With as much force as I could muster, I crammed my purse into the tight space, repeatedly punching the fabric while imagining it was imbued with Meredith’s stupid face, until finally, the bag remained inside without falling out. Too enamored with her pink manicured nails, Meredith failed to notice my impromptu boxing match with pseudo Logan Paul. She did, however, hear the slamming of my locker door as she proceeded to let out a high-pitched squeal that only dogs could hear.
“Great! So, we’ll have last period together.”
Deep breaths, Clarke.Deep breaths, and you will be able to get through the school year without wanting to crawl out of your skin.Fake it till you make it, baby.
My ears perked up as the ringing of the school bell came over the intercom, magically answering a prayer I didn’t know I even had. My eyes scanned the crowd as I watched the students scatter away one by one as they headed to their classes. The one thing I was thankful for was that I didn’t have to make nice with the football team and ten cheerleaders. It was just Meredith…for now, anyway.
“See you for lunch, right?”
I nodded while pulling my lower lip inside my mouth.
“Hey,” she said in a light and airy voice. “Loosen up a little. You’ll get frown lines.”
“Not with my daily skincare routine,” I joked in an attempt to shield myself from her questioning glares.
She wrapped one arm around me, squeezing the side of my shoulder. “That’s the Clarke I know and love. Besides, we are both wearing pink today, and we didn’t even coordinate it. It’s likeMean Girls.”
I looked down at oursomewhatmatching outfits.
