Prom Queen, The (Life at Kingston High Book #3) (13 page)

“It’s not a crazy diet.”

“It’s not a sensible way to eat.” Mom frowned.

“I thought you’d be happy that I’m eating vegetables.”

“Vegetables are fine. But living on celery, cucumbers, and diet soda is not a balanced diet.”

“I eat other things too.”

Mom sat on the edge of Megan’s bed. “I’m worried you’re wearing yourself out, Megan. Working so hard on your campaign and the fundraiser and then this diet. It’s not good for you.”

“It’s only for a couple more weeks. The fundraiser will be done after Wednesday.”

“But will you last that long?” Mom’s brow creased. “It’s like my mother used to tell me—you’re burning your candle at both ends. Eventually it’ll catch up with you.”

Megan picked at the hole on the knee of her sweats and shrugged. “I’m fine, Mom.”

“You’ve never been my high-energy girl, Meggie.” Mom leaned forward, peering at her. “I can tell you’re exhausted.”

“I’ll admit I’m a little tired.” Megan sighed. “But really, I’m okay.”

“What about your schoolwork?”

“What about it?”

“Is it suffering?”

“No, of course not.”

“Well . . .” Mom stood slowly. “How about joining us for lasagna. It smells really yummy.”

“I know.” Megan sniffed the air, wishing her mom hadn’t opened her bedroom door to let it waft in.

Mom touched Megan’s cheek. “Really, Megan, you don’t look healthy to me.”

“I’m just tired.” Megan nodded to her computer. “And I still have a lot of homework.”

“Okay.” Mom went to the door, then paused.

“Maybe I’ll have some lasagna later.” Megan forced a smile. “If there’s any leftovers.”

Mom laughed. “Of course there’ll be leftovers. Good grief, it’s big enough to feed eight.”

But as Mom left, Megan knew she was going to avoid that lasagna like the plague. To get rid of the tempting smell, she sprayed some cologne in the air and closed her door.

It wasn’t until ten o’clock that Megan lost her self-control.
She sneaked into the kitchen and sliced into the lasagna. She didn’t even warm it up, just ate it cold with her fingers. Then she got a plate and cut another piece. Once again, she went to bed with a stomachache and a guilty conscience. Who was she fooling anyway? Some diet!

Megan was barely inside the school on Monday morning when she noticed that Amanda Jorgenson and Hallie Bennett had both begun their campaigns for prom queen. Of course, their signs were bigger and brighter and fresher looking than hers. Not only that, but someone had drawn felt pen mustaches on some of her posters.

“I kind of expected that,” Megan told Lishia as she paused to pull down a ruined poster hanging outside the commons.

“It does seem ironic that the graffiti appeared at the same time the other girls’ posters went up,” Lishia said wryly.

Megan glanced over to where both Amanda and Hallie had set up campaign tables on opposite sides of the commons. Amanda’s table was decorated with balloons, and her boyfriend, Tyler, was handing out some kind of goodies to a small crowd.

“Are those cupcakes?” Lishia asked.

“Who cares?” Megan shrugged.

“I didn’t have breakfast,” Lishia admitted.

Megan glared at her. “You’d go eat the enemy’s food?”

“Hey, if I eat one of Amanda’s cupcakes, that’s one less for her to give away.”

“Whatever.” Megan was setting up her own table now, arranging her campaign goodies and dwindling supply of chocolate bars.

“I’ll be right back,” Lishia promised as she headed for Amanda’s table.

“What’s up?” Dayton asked as he joined her, helping himself to a chocolate bar.

She tried not to show her dismay as he tore off the wrapper and bit into the bar. “Just setting up for business,” she said in a forced cheery tone. “How are you doing?”

He grinned with chocolate on his teeth. “Great.” Now he picked up a button, and as he was pinning it on his shirt, Lishia returned with both a cupcake and a large heart-shaped sugar cookie.

“Amanda’s giving away cookies too?” Megan frowned.

Lishia turned the cookie so Megan could see where Hallie’s name was written in pink icing, then took a bite out of it. “Someone’s a good cook.”

“Not Hallie,” Dayton told her. “She made me cookies once and they tasted like dog biscuits.”

Lishia laughed. “Well, these are good.”

He nodded. “Guess I better go find out for myself.”

Megan was tempted to stop him but remembered Lishia’s rationale—one less cookie for someone else. Still, it irked her. If her friends acted like they were interested in the other girls’ campaigns, it would reflect poorly on her.

“You’re not in the hospital after all?”

Megan looked up to see Zoë glaring at her. “Huh?”

“I thought you’d been in a car wreck or something.”

“Why?”

“Because you promised to take me to youth group with you on Saturday and never showed.”

Megan slapped her forehead. “Oh, Zoë, I’m so sorry. I totally—”

“Never mind. I didn’t really want to go anyway.” Zoë picked up a chocolate bar and ripped the wrapper off, dropping it on the table.

“But I didn’t mean to—”

“Forget it.” Zoë rolled her eyes, then turned her back to Megan and walked off.

“What’s wrong with her?” Chelsea asked as she joined Megan at the table.

Megan confessed her faux pas.

“Oh, that’s too bad. You should’ve told us, we could’ve taken her.”

“I would’ve, but I completely forgot. I had book group and—”

“Too much on your plate?”

Megan shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Well, in a few days the fundraiser will be behind us. Then maybe we can help you more.”

Megan brightened. “That’d be nice.”

“Are those
cupcakes
?” Chelsea’s eyes lit up.

Megan just nodded. How was she supposed to compete with that?

B
y Wednesday afternoon, Megan felt like she was running a marathon—and she was still not halfway through it. Besides some last minute details regarding the fundraiser that night, Megan had been staying up late trying to learn her lines and songs for
Fiddler on the Roof
and trying to keep up with homework. Plus, this morning she’d met her book group girls for a seven o’clock breakfast meeting.

As she trudged toward the cafeteria to spend some time at her campaign table, she felt more like giving up than ever. How could she possibly keep this up?

“There you are,” Lishia said cheerfully as she came up to the table. She set a cardboard box of soup bowls down. “Those are heavy.”

“Oh . . . hey.” Megan feigned a smile as she peeked at the colorful bowls. “Those turned out good.”

“Are you okay?” Lishia peered curiously at her. “You look beat.”

Megan just nodded. Lishia had no idea.

“You guys ready to do some decorating?” Janelle entered the cafeteria with two grocery bags in her arms.

“Decorating?” Megan frowned.

“For the fundraiser,” Janelle said with irritation. “Remember your special project?”

Now Chelsea was coming toward them with two large buckets filled with fresh flowers. “Check out these blooms,” she called. “Le Fleur’s donated them to us. They said they’re a little old but still good for a one-nighter.”

“Pretty.”

“I’ve got a bunch of old canning jars that Kate’s loaning me to put them in—you know, for vases,” Chelsea explained. “We’ll tie those with raffia. Kind of a homespun look.”

“Oh . . . nice.” Megan nodded.

“Let’s get to work,” Chelsea said.

Megan knew that meant her too. So instead of “manning” her campaign table, which no one seemed interested in anyway, she made a pretense of helping her friends for a while. Finally she knew she had to make some excuses or risk being late to rehearsal. “I wish I could stay longer,” she told Chelsea as she started to pack up the stuff from her campaign table. “This is really fun. But I have play practice.”

“Oh . . . ?” Chelsea just nodded, but she was obviously disappointed. “I thought maybe they’d let you have this one afternoon off.”

“I don’t know . . .” The truth was, Megan hadn’t even thought to ask. But it seemed a little late now.

“You’re bailing on us?” Janelle demanded as she carried
in another box. “There’s a bunch of boxes that still need to be unloaded.”

“I have to get to rehearsal,” Megan explained.

“Yeah, right.” Janelle rolled her eyes. “Too busy.”

“I’m sorry.”

“We’ll be fine,” Lishia told Janelle. “I asked a couple guys from art to help bring stuff in. They’ll probably be here soon.”

“Go ahead and go,” Chelsea told her.

“I’m really sorry,” Megan called as she grabbed up her bag and took off. But as she was leaving she could hear Janelle still murmuring about how Megan managed to get out of everything.
Do not react
, Megan told herself as she exited. As she hurried to the auditorium, she reminded herself of the goal.
A prom queen has dignity
 . . .
A prom queen is gracious and kind to everyone
. Even if she felt like smacking Janelle, she would control herself.

Of course, she was late for rehearsal. Mr. Valotti seemed short on patience as she rushed up to the stage, where the actors were already in position. “Hope we’re not taking you from something important,” he said in a tone that warned her not to respond.

“Sorry,” she muttered as she dumped her bag in a corner, then took her place next to Jack.

“I guess I’m not needed now,” Clarisa said a bit sullenly.

“Thanks,” Megan told her. “And sorry.”

Clarisa just shrugged, then moved offstage.

Megan wanted to offer a full apology, but Mr. Valotti seemed determined to keep things rolling. After she blew her lines for what seemed the tenth time, though, she could tell he was getting seriously irritated with her.

“Did you go over your lines at all?” he demanded.

“Yes.” She nodded. “I thought I had them down.”

“Well, you may have to make a decision, Miss Bernard.”

“A decision?”

“Which you want more—to be queen of the prom or to be in this musical.”

“I want to be in the musical,” she assured him.

“Then
be
in it.” He clapped his hands, signaling it was time to start a different scene.

Megan’s face was flushed with embarrassment as she left the stage. Her heart was pounding hard, and she could tell that tears weren’t far off. Plus, she was hungry. She stepped into the shadows, determined to hold it together. A prom queen did not fall apart in public.

“I think he should just let Clarisa take the part,” a guy was saying on the other side of the curtain. “All Megan does is mess up.”

Megan hurried away to escape that conversation. It was the last thing she needed to hear right now. But in her rush, and thanks to the dim light, she ran smack into Jack.

“Watch it,” he said sharply.

“Sorry,” she told him. It seemed to be her favorite word today.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said. “That’s okay.” Now he looked more closely at her. “Are you upset about something?”

That was all it took—like the dam had broken open, her tears came falling fast. “Come on,” Jack said gently. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Soon they were outside the auditorium, blinking in the bright sunlight, and Jack was looking at her with sympathy.

“I’m falling apart,” she told him. “I’m a total mess. I should drop out of the musical and stop running for prom queen and just—just—I don’t know. Go live under a rock somewhere.”

He hugged her. “No, you shouldn’t. You’re just having a bad day, that’s all.” He stroked her hair. “Just take a few deep breaths, and trust me, you’ll feel better.”

Standing there in his arms, she did take a few deep breaths, and before long, she did feel better.

“See?” Jack released her, pushing a strand of hair away from her face. “So what’s the problem?”

Now she began to tell him how overwhelmed she was and how nothing was going as planned. “The fundraiser is tonight, which is why I was late. But I let down my friends. And now I’m letting down the cast and you and . . . I just feel lost.”

“Oh, the fundraiser.” He nodded. “I forgot that’s tonight. Why didn’t you just tell Valotti? I’m sure he would’ve excused you. That’s such a great project. Want me to go tell him for you?”

She shrugged. “Just let it go . . . he’s busy.”

Jack nodded. “Probably right.”

“Thanks.” She took in another deep breath. “For rescuing me.”

“Happy to be at your service. Besides, I was wanting to talk to you . . . alone.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I was thinking about what you told me last week. About the dress and everything and how you don’t even have a date for prom.”

“Oh . . .” Obviously Jack hadn’t heard she was going with Dayton. Why would he have?

“I got to thinking . . . what if we went together?”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.” He grinned.

She frowned. “Is this a pity invite?”

“Not at all. The truth is, I wouldn’t have had the confidence to ask you if you hadn’t told me those things last week . . . and if you hadn’t fallen apart on me just now.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. It makes you seem much more human.”

“More human?” She tilted her head to one side. “Versus what? An alien or something?”

“No, versus being perfect. You know, like a prom queen.”

“Oh . . .” She thought about Dayton again.

Jack got a worried expression. “Well, now that I’ve laid it on the line, you’re not going to turn me down, are you?”

“No. Of course not.” She would have to think of a way to let Dayton down easy. “I would love to go to prom with you, Jack.”

“Cool.” He let out what sounded like a sigh of relief.

“Wow.” She slowly shook her head as realization sunk in. Wasn’t this exactly what she’d hoped for? “This is all so unexpected.”

“But good, right?”

“Uber-good.”

“So . . . do you think we can use your car?”

She laughed. “Of course.”

He looked slightly embarrassed as he leaned against the door. “You see, it’s kind of hard to ask girls out when you
don’t even have your own wheels. That’s been a big obstacle for me.”

“Do you like me or my wheels?” she challenged him.

“Both, actually.” He chuckled. “But with or without a car, we’re going to prom together. Right?”

“Right.” She’d just have to think of a way to make it right with Dayton. Really, why wouldn’t he understand? She’d been reluctant to go with him in the first place. It wasn’t as if they were actually dating. In fact, the way Hallie had been acting recently, as if she was mad at Megan for stealing her man, which was ridiculous, maybe Dayton would want to consider taking her instead. At least Hallie still appeared to like him. And going to prom should be about going with someone special. Like Jack.

After rehearsal ended, Megan stopped by the cafeteria to see if her friends needed any more help. Other than the kitchen workers, who Janelle had recruited and managed, no one seemed to be around at the moment. However, the cafeteria looked great. Tables were set with colorful placemats and small flower arrangements. The brightly colored bowls were all stacked artistically—probably Lishia’s work—on a table by the front door, where someone would collect money. Poster-sized black-and-white photos of people being served at the soup kitchen were positioned on easels, something Chelsea had wanted to do and a nice touch.

Not far from the door, a name tag table was set up, complete with a tablecloth and a large bouquet of flowers. The silent auction items were nicely displayed on some back tables, with signup sheets and pens all ready to use. It was a nice selection of items too, from gift baskets to art pieces to gift
certificates. At a glance, it appeared to be worth at least a couple thousand dollars! Impressive. Chelsea had really outdone herself on those. This event was bound to be a huge success.

Most promising, in Megan’s starved opinion, was the delicious aroma of food cooking wafting from the kitchen just now. She was tempted to slip back there and check it out firsthand, but, worried that her intense hunger might get the best of her, she decided to go directly home, where she would take a short nap and then dress carefully for tonight’s event. She needed to put her best foot forward. Especially since Chelsea had mentioned that someone from the newspaper had promised to stop by for some photos. It would be an excellent publicity opportunity for a prom queen candidate.