Page 91 of The Prom Queen Project
I failed you, Jessie.
Twenty-one
Squeezing my eyes shut, I silently wished to be anywhere but here. And then, as if the universe had answered, I was pulled back in time. Like the flipping pages of a book, the scene before me shifted.
The air filled with the faint, smoky scent of burning incense, wrapping around me like a ghost from the past. The familiar crackle of bacon sizzling on the stovetop filled my ears. It was picture day. My checkered white and yellow dress was perfectly pressed, not a single wrinkle in sight, as I crossed one leg over the other, scooting my chair closer to the dining room table.
“Do I have to wear this thing?” I whined, tugging at the pleated ends of the fabric. “It feels like I’m naked.”
My mom placed her hand on my shoulder, squeezing lightly. “Clarke, it’s just for one day. Besides, Jessie is wearing a dress, too. You guys will look so cute.”
“My beautiful girls,” my dad said, pressing a kiss on the top of my head.
“Daaad,” I groaned as I shrugged the two of them off. “Where’s Jessie anyway? She hibernating or something?”
“Why don’t you go up and get her?”
I sprang up from my chair without a second thought and dashed toward the stairs. My shoes clunked against the floor, the straps of my Mary Janes digging into my skin with each step.
The sun had just begun rising, casting a golden glow through the windows. I squinted as I passed each pane of glass, my vision flickering between light and shadow. Calling out over my shoulder, I nearly tripped over my own legs.
“Don’t eat all the bacon!”
“Not making any promises I can’t keep!” my dad yelled back.
I rolled my eyes at his words and hurried up the stairs, making my way to Jessie’s room. On her door was a collage of magazine clippings and torn passages from obscure books, each piece arranged carefully not to obstruct the other. My knuckles scraped against the wood as I dropped my gaze to my feet, waiting for her to answer.
As the silence stretched on, my eyes wandered back to the scattered bits of paper decorating the door. One quote in particular caught my attention, and without thinking, I reached out, splaying my fingers against it.
‘If you feel pain, you are alive. If you feel other people’s pain, you are a human being.’
– Leo Tolstoy.
“Jessie, come on!” I shouted, banging harder against the wood. “If you don’t answer, I’m coming in there!”
My legs grew heavy as I stood outside Jessie’s door, waiting for her to respond. I knocked again, this time more insistently. Another moment of silence lingered before impatience took over. I grabbed the doorknob, twisted it, and burst into her room.
“Jessie, what are you—” My words dried up as I walked inside.
The room was a mess. The curtains were drawn tight, swallowing the room in darkness. The nightstand was a wreck with crushed water bottles and empty medication bottles toppled on their sides. Even the bed was in disarray—its sheets twisted into a mess on the floor.
“Jess? Where are you?”
I stepped around the edge of the bed, and that’s when I saw it. Her hand, palm upturned, limp against the floor. The edges of my vision blurred, the world darkening around me as dread settled in my chest. I stopped in my tracks, my breath hitching. Clutched in her fingers were a dozen white pills. My knees buckled, and I dropped to the floor, crawling toward her in a panic.
“No, no, no…” I cried; my sobs frantic. “Jessie!”
The laughter of the present flooded my ears, ripping me from my mind’s prison. My eyes fluttered open, tears welling and stinging as they met the open air. I stared down at the cluster of shoes surrounding me—blackVans, pinkAdidas, whiteNikes, grayPumas—all shifting closer, pressing in.Too close.
I couldn’t breathe. The walls of bodies around me felt suffocating. Panic surged through me. My hands smacked against the floor as I pushed myself up, shoving my way out of the crowd. The faces around me faded—I could only focus on my own feet, my white Converse pounding against the hard, tiled floor. Just before I disappeared into a nearby janitor’s closet, I caught one last glimpse—Andrew and Dani, ripping papers from the walls, crushing them in their fists.
I collapsed against the wall, sliding down until I hit the floor, wishing I could disappear into it. My chest heaved, and the sobs I had tried to suppress now spilled out. My stomach churned, tightening with every shaky inhale. The room spun around me, each gasp making me dizzier as I slipped further into the void.
“Clarke! Are you okay?”
I tilted my head up to see Elliot standing over me, his silhouette cutting off the harsh glow of the overhead light. His mouth moved, but his voice was distant, muffled, as if I were hearing him through layers of cotton. My lips quivered.
The mask I had worn for so long had finally shattered. There was no use pretending anymore. Elliot crouched beside me, his words an unintelligible murmur, his eyes wide with fear. Then, without warning, the silence broke and the world came rushing back, his frantic voice crashing over me.
