Prom Date Read online

  Abby knew that she’d been overly focused on prom lately. And it was kind of weird since that really wasn’t who she was. She could blame her obsession on Bryn’s influence, but that wouldn’t be fair. Abby was old enough to make her own choices. And, to be honest, Abby had enjoyed setting up the PBC blog. She liked being able to encourage students to economize by renting or borrowing formal wear. Already the savings were starting to accumulate. It would be exciting to see how much they could donate to the Sofia fund.

  Abby watched a horse-shaped cloud running overhead. Throwing its head and mane back, it raced with cloud-like freedom and abandon. The image of the fluffy white horse was invigorating and exhilarating. And suddenly Abby wanted to imitate it—to run free and wild. She got off the high jump pit and started out, jogging slowly at first, letting the muscles in her legs stretch a bit, and then she was running fast—all the way back to the locker room where she showered and dressed. She’d already texted Bryn to go home without her. Bryn’s prom meeting would’ve ended nearly an hour ago. And then she’d texted her dad to pick her up on his way home from the college where he worked. But that meant that Abby had to wait until nearly six to go home.

  As Abby emerged from the girls’ locker room, she could hear quiet voices followed by some strains of laughter up toward the gym. Hopefully it wasn’t another promposal. She wasn’t sure if she could stomach that. But, she decided, if it was, she would be a good sport and be happy for whoever was involved. As she rounded the corner next to the gym, she heard the sound of music playing and suddenly a figure was rushing toward her, but it was too shadowy to see the face.

  She wasn’t sure whether to run or brace herself for impact, but her feet refused to move. In the same instant, the runner hit the floor, just like he was sliding into first base. He glided over the slick floor’s surface, coming to a stop right in front of her. By now she knew it was Kent. He had a huge smile on his face and a gigantic pizza box in his hands.

  “Special delivery for Miss Abby Morrison,” Kent said with a twinkle in his blue eyes. Someone turned the music off.

  “What?” Abby stared down at him in wonder.

  “Special delivery,” he said again, extending the box toward her. “For Miss Abby Morrison.”

  “Uh—thank you,” she said cautiously.

  He was awkwardly climbing to his feet, still holding the flat cardboard box in one hand. “Go ahead and open it,” he urged her.

  She slowly opened the lid, almost as if she expected something to jump out at her. But there was a perfectly normal-looking pizza. Except that it was enormous and had a heart created from well-placed pepperoni slices. But it was the words written in red felt pen on the inside of the cardboard lid that got her full attention.

  Dear Abby,

  I know this is cheesy,

  But please say you will

  Be my date for prom.

  Kent

  Kent’s eyebrows arched hopefully as he waved the aromatic pizza temptingly beneath her nose. How could she possibly resist this?

  “Of course I will!” She hungrily snatched a big piece of pizza and grinned. “Thanks, by the way—I’m starving.”

  They went outside, and while sitting on a bench in front of the athletic center, Abby and Kent and his camera and music crew proceeded to put a pretty good dent in the pizza.

  “I really wanted to do something more exciting,” Kent confessed as they ate. “But I overheard Barrett Foster saying he was going to ask you to prom at track practice. And I decided I needed to beat him to the punch.”

  “Really?” Abby tipped her head to one side. “Barrett was going to ask me?”

  Kent looked worried. “Would you have gone with him?”

  She pursed her lips like she was uncertain. “Well, was his promposal coming with pizza too?”

  “Would that have made a difference?” Kent frowned.

  Abby chuckled. “No. I would’ve turned him down.”

  “So you’re glad I asked you?” Kent sounded unsure.

  “I am glad,” she admitted. “But I had reached the place where I decided it didn’t really matter if you asked me or not. I would be content to go to prom with the girls’ group that Cassidy keeps saying she’s putting together.”

  Kent looked slightly hurt now. “You’d rather go with the girls than me?”

  She laughed. “No, silly. More than anything I wanted to go with you. I just wanted you to want to go with me.”

  He looked relieved. “I do.”

  Abby stood when she saw her dad’s car pulling up. “Mind if I take my dad a piece?” she asked.

  Kent closed the lid on the box and handed what was left to her. “I got it for you, Abs. You can do what you like with it.”

  “Thanks, Kent.” She resisted the urge to bend down and give him a kiss. Only on the cheek! But she knew that even a gesture that small might be a bit much for her overly protective dad. Instead, she said good-bye, then hurried to the car.

  “Hanging with your guy friends?” Dad said as she slid into the passenger seat beside him.

  “Yeah.” She held up the pizza box. “Want a piece?”

  “Smells good, but I better wait until we get home. Not safe to eat and drive.”

  “Suit yourself.” Abby took another piece. As she ate, she told Dad about Kent’s unexpected promposal, complete with pizza. “I don’t know if Kent knew that I was ravenous, but it was a pretty good idea.”

  “So what if his promposal hadn’t involved food?” Dad asked. “Would you have still said yes?”

  “Oh, Dad.” She shook her head. Really, sometimes parents could be so thick. While she was eating pizza with one hand, she used her other hand to text Bryn the good news. By the time they got home, Bryn was calling and demanding to hear all the details of the promposal.

  “I’m not really hungry for dinner,” she told her dad from the stairway while Bryn waited for her on the phone. “Besides, I have a ton of homework. Maybe you and Mom can just have a quiet dinner for two.”

  Dad seemed to consider this. “Okay, I’ll tell your mom.”

  As Abby carried her pizza box upstairs, she told Bryn all about Kent’s promposal. Naturally, she dragged it out some, probably making it seem better than it really was. But, hey, she’d been hungry. And Kent had delivered.

  “I’m so depressed,” Bryn finally said.

  “Why?” Abby took another bite of pizza, then realized she’d hit her limit, set it down, and closed the box.

  “There are only two days until spring break—and I still don’t have a date for prom.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Abby sat down on her bed, realizing it was time for some compassion. “With Jason and Harris out of the running . . . where does that leave you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You could always go with Cassidy’s girls’ group.”

  Bryn let out a loud groan.

  “Or ask someone yourself.” Abby confessed to how she’d been about to do the same thing. “I was giving myself until Friday—to get the track meet behind us—and then I was going to ask Kent.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep. And why not? Lots of girls are doing the asking. And, hey, if I’d done the promposal I was dreaming about, I might’ve won a bike.”

  “Really?” Bryn sounded very interested now. “What kind of promposal did you have in mind?”

  “Oh, nothing much,” Abby said quietly. She was sure Bryn would have no interest in hearing her silly ideas. What Bryn wanted was a date and some encouragement. So Abby spent the next ten minutes trying to cheer up her best friend. She even told her about the running-free cloud horse, hoping it would seem like something of an epiphany. But Bryn didn’t seem to really get it. In the end, she sounded just as discouraged as at the beginning of the call.

  “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Abby finally said. “I hate to go, but I’ve got a bunch of homework that’s calling my name.”

  “Yeah . . . me too . . . thanks for listening.”
r />   As Abby hung up her phone, she felt sorry for Bryn. Sorry and frustrated. And it wasn’t the first time. Why did Bryn always have such unrealistic expectations about almost everything? She’d get these crazy, grandiose dreams—that always needed perfect wardrobe and accessories—and it seemed like most of the time, Bryn was let down in the end. Abby thought by now Bryn would learn. It wasn’t like she wanted Bryn to give up all her dreams, but she did wish Bryn could find some kind of solid middle ground. Then again, maybe that wouldn’t be Bryn—and Abby had to admit that Bryn often brought a little more sparkle and fun into their lives.

  As Abby opened her math book, she wondered if there might be a way that the DG could help Bryn out. It was ironic that Bryn would even need the DG’s help in getting a date for prom. But maybe she did.

  17

  By Friday, Cassidy had a group of eight girls interested in going to prom together. Everyone would buy their own tickets, and since Kelsey Chase wanted to arrive in style, they’d all agreed to split the limo rental between them. There’d been a little bickering over dresses—Miranda Sanders wanted all the girls to wear cocktail-length dresses while some of the girls had their hearts set on long gowns—but for the most part the girls seemed happy about going “stag” to prom.

  “You’re welcome to join us,” Cassidy told Bryn as they exited their English class together. “If you did, I’d nominate you as fashion consultant.” She laughed as she explained about the dress-length controversy. “I keep telling them that it doesn’t matter and that everyone should just wear what they want. But Miranda already has a short dress and she’s afraid she’ll be the only one.”

  Bryn’s brow was creased and Cassidy didn’t think it was over the dress-length question. “Who are the girls going to dance with at prom?” Bryn asked in a flat tone.

  “They don’t have to dance with anyone,” Cassidy pointed out. “I mean, unless it’s a slow dance, who really pays attention to that anyway?”

  “Yeah . . . I guess that’s true.”

  “So anyway, you should consider joining us, Bryn. I think it’s going to be fun.”

  Bryn stopped walking at the edge of the courtyard and turned to peer intently at Cassidy. “So you’ve totally given up on going with a guy to prom?”

  Cassidy shrugged. “I guess so.”

  “I thought you wanted to go with Lane.”

  She shrugged again. “I’d considered doing a promposal myself, but then I got to thinking that if Lane wanted to go to prom—I mean, with me—he probably would’ve asked me by now.”

  Bryn’s brows arched. “So you think Lane doesn’t want to go with you?”

  “That seems like the obvious conclusion.”

  “So . . . what if someone else asked Lane to prom? Would you be jealous?”

  Cassidy frowned. Okay, the truth was she’d probably be a little bit jealous, but she wasn’t prepared to admit it. “Why are you asking me that?” She peered curiously at Bryn, but before Bryn said a word, Cassidy knew the answer. “You’re going to ask Lane to prom?” Cassidy demanded. “Seriously?”

  “Well, if you’re not . . . why can’t I?” Bryn made an apologetic smile.

  “What about the DG rules?” Cassidy asked. “Remember the one about no boyfriend stealing?”

  “Are you saying that Lane’s your boyfriend?”

  Cassidy pursed her lips then slowly shook her head.

  “So is he fair game then?” Bryn asked.

  Suddenly Cassidy wondered if she should throw together some kind of a last-minute promposal for Lane. Sure, it wouldn’t be good enough to win her that bike, but if it secured Lane as her date for prom, maybe it would be okay. And it would keep Bryn from going with Lane. Because, honestly, Cassidy knew that the girls’ group date wouldn’t be nearly as much fun if she had to watch Bryn and Lane together. “I—uh—I don’t know,” Cassidy told Bryn.

  “Because I don’t want to step on your toes,” Bryn said with a sincere expression. “Really, Cass, if you think you’re going to ask Lane to prom, just tell me and I’ll back off.”

  Before Cassidy could respond, the sound of a loud trumpet blast made them both jump.

  “Look at that!” Bryn cried as she pointed to the other end of the courtyard. Cassidy turned in time to see George Henley dressed like a knight and riding a stick horse. Lifting his knees high, he pretended that the galloping horse was hard to control. And, of course, he was being followed by a camera-wielding friend.

  “Looking for Lady Madeline!” George yelled out. “Anyone seen Lady Madeline?”

  “She’s right here,” a girl’s voice answered. She was tugging a slightly embarrassed Madeline out into the center of the courtyard.

  George galloped up to Madeline and, dismounting his horse, made a deep bow. “Lady Madeline, I am your servant.”

  Madeline giggled nervously.

  George stood up and produced a long, pointed strip of green paper. “I have slain the dragon for you, my lady.” He handed her the strip. “Here is his tail.”

  Madeline took the paper dragon tail and appeared to be reading something written on it. She looked up and grinned at George. “Yes!” she told him.

  “Hurrah!” George gave a fist pump to the cameraman. “Lady Madeline has graciously agreed to attend prom with me!” And now he made a deep bow for the camera, and everyone watching in the courtyard clapped and cheered.

  But the warning bell rang and it was time to hurry to class. As Cassidy took her seat, she wondered about her conversation with Bryn. They’d never really wrapped it up. And for all Cassidy knew, Bryn could be planning her promposal right now. Cassidy knew Bryn well enough to know that when that girl set her mind to something, it was hard to stop her. How would Cassidy feel if Bryn succeeded at getting Lane to take her to prom? Oh, she’d try to act like it didn’t matter—and Bryn was right, Lane was not Cassidy’s boyfriend—but even so it seemed wrong-wrong-wrong for Bryn to go after him.

  And if that was how Bryn planned to play this thing, maybe it was time for Cassidy to step in first. Instead of doing her math, Cassidy decided to make a short list of easy ideas for a promposal. She knew that Lane loved peanut M&Ms—what if she got several packages from the vending machine then wrote out the word PROM with them on a paper plate? But how would she present it to him? And what if the colorful round balls slid out of place and she ended up looking totally ridiculous? And, really, why was she wasting time on this when she should be doing her math?

  By lunchtime, Cassidy had gone back and forth like a Ping-Pong ball—yes, she was definitely going to ask Lane to prom and then no, she was absolutely not going to ask him. Talk about indecisive. Why couldn’t she make up her mind?

  Her only consolation, as she joined her friends at their usual lunch table, was that it didn’t appear that Bryn had invited Lane to prom . . . yet. At least she wasn’t talking about it. And Cassidy knew that Bryn would not be able to keep the news to herself if she and Lane were actually going to prom together. Even so, Cassidy still didn’t know if she could bring herself to ask Lane, although she’d figured out a way to adhere the M&Ms. She could get a peanut butter and crackers packet from the vending machine and use the peanut butter to glue the M&Ms in place. And maybe she would . . . as soon as she finished lunch.

  “Did you guys see George’s promposal this morning?” Bryn asked the girls. She pointed at Devon with a sly expression. “I think that boy might’ve just beat you out of a pretty red bicycle.” She described the promposal, making it sound even grander than it had actually been.

  Devon frowned. “That totally stinks. I noticed Mrs. Dorman uploaded our promposals onto the website yesterday. I’ll bet George got the idea for the costume when he saw mine.”

  “Well, I think yours was better,” Cassidy assured her. “I’d vote for Juliet over the dragon slayer in a heartbeat.”

  “Thank you.” Devon smirked at Bryn.

  Cassidy was just opening her lunch bag when she heard the sound of a guitar playing behind her—and
not coming through the cafeteria’s speakers either. This music was live.

  “Hey!” Emma pointed over Cassidy’s shoulder. “Check it out.”

  Both Cassidy and Bryn turned around to see Lane just a few feet behind them, quietly strumming a guitar. Cassidy knew that Lane had been taking guitar lessons this year, but she’d never actually heard him play. He kept his head down, focusing on his fingers and the strings and not even sounding too bad. But Cassidy could tell by his slightly rosy cheeks, this boy was totally out of his comfort zone. And judging by Isaac, who was recording the impromptu performance on his phone, Lane was up to something.

  “What’s he doing?” Abby whispered.

  “Is this a promposal?” Felicia asked quietly.

  “Sure looks like it.” Bryn giggled in a way that seemed to suggest she thought Lane was here for her. And maybe he was. Knowing Bryn, it was entirely possible that she’d asked someone to put Lane up to this. If Lane had thought he had a chance to take someone as pretty as Bryn to prom, he might be willing to humiliate himself a little.

  Cassidy took her eyes off Lane to study Bryn. She was clearly amused and enjoying this. Did she think that Lane was playing for her? Was he? Cassidy turned back to Lane now. If he was about to sing to Bryn, she needed to brace herself. She needed to act like this was perfectly fine. After all, she had the girls’ group—that would be fun. Why should she care if Bryn and Lane wanted to go to prom together?

  Lane looked up from the guitar, and to Cassidy’s surprise, he seemed to be staring directly at her as he came closer to their table. By now a small crowd of onlookers had gathered, but Lane just kept on playing, almost like he didn’t care. Then he smiled at Cassidy and started to sing a funny little song.

  Oh Cassidy, oh Cassidy,