My 1st Prom

Date: 25/5, Wed

Not daring to disagree, I pin my hair back self consciously. Then blink several times, not accustomed to the natural brightness. 'I've always thought Celestia's face is tanned on one side,' Apple jokes. I refrain from shrinking. 'I like your hair, it's so silky,' XYZ whips out her pocket mirror, 'Pretty cute for a chic new look.' 'Uuuhhh... thanks,' I deliberately avoid my reflection. Out of the corner of my eye, I observe Apple glaring at XYZ and pouting. Even though she's my childhood friend, I've wondered how it would be to hang out with some other people. Not sticking with her for the rest of my life would be nice.

'What are you doing here?' Apple demands again, 'Celestia's unquestionably untouchable.' I wait for XYZ to berate me. 'Checking if Celestia's keeping her mouth shut,' she replies coyly, 'seems like I've wasted my time.' 'What secret?' Apple demands. 'I can't say.' I enjoy her curiosity. XYZ shows her friendly side, 'Good. Now if you want someone to hang out with -not counting her pissy attitude- feel free to talk with me.' 'Eva doesn't know, does she?' I ask tentatively. 'Oh... no no no no. She has zero idea.' XYZ mumbles. 'No, thank you,' Apple claims, 'Celestia's happy with me.' I pause at the same time XYZ stiffens. 'Back off,' XYZ warns, 'this is her call.' 'Excuse me?' Apple -always the fierce one- gawps in disbelief. 'You heard me,' XYZ says, 'Celestia can make her own choices.' I can't tell what is more absurd, XYZ wanting to talk or Apple lording over me. 'Choices without discussing with her best friend?' Apple fumes, 'Celestia has me, she doesn't need anyone else.' 'Hello?' I raise my voice, 'I can take care of mysel-' 'Whatever.' Apple flicks her hand, signifying she's done talking, 'I know her best.' 'You know where to find me. Ciao!' XYZ saunters away. Apple raises her brows at XYZ's strange unconcern for social custom. 'Erm,' I think of something to say, 'she-' 'Hmph!' Apple turns her head, smacking me in the face with her ponytail curls, 'Remind me to do the Chinese homework via text after school. Don't forget it!'

Our French teacher, Madame Lafrance, gave each of us a worksheet. I only understand a few basic words. Having Nick in the seat right besides mine isn't helping, it's distracting. He's distracting. The seating plan is a bigger problem than the questions we're supposed to fill in. (We're at the back of the room, closest to the door.) I have to fight myself not to stare. Concentrate, Celestia. Open Google Translate, eyes on the worksheet. The worksheet! Does my hair look good today ?

I've only translated my answers to the correct language when Nick asks, 'What are we supposed to do?' I choose to give him the silent treatment as usual. He waits for several long seconds. My heart is thumping dangerously close to an average person's maximum speed limit. Nick leans forward to tap the shoulder of the girl in front of him and ask the same question. Madame Lafrance comes to us, probably after picking up their communication in the silent class, 'Which parts you don't understand?' She's wearing sandals today, which I'm sure isn't part of the teachers' dress code. Nick scribbles his answers. The girl in front points to the last question-her only unfilled space on her worksheet. 'Well done,' Madame Lafrance squeezes into the narrow passage directly before Nick's table, 'you're very quick. For this question, you have to......' I carry on with my task, trying not to observe how good looking Nick is. I find Madame Lafrance's butt in my vision when I face forward again. Our French teacher would rather bend down instead of picking a piece of paper up. I can see her backside shape. I can tell Nick sees it too, from his stifled.... whatever he's doing.

Madame Lafrance's rear end looms closer as her back dips lower. Close enough for me and Nick to see lint. We shift to our separate sides at the same time. I'm leaning towards the aisle, Nick towards the wall. To our horror, her rear end comes a lot closer, way too close for comfort. Madame Lafrance's booty is getting bigger in my vision. We scoot backwards as fast as we can. Nick doesn't seem about to freak out yet. I'm trying so hard not to do anything that might attract unwanted attention.

Her butt stops moving for a second. I catch my breath, not caring if Nick's doing the same. For a second, I can't tell which one of us is more traumatised. Then Madame Lafrance's butt shifts precariously close, so close to Nick's face. I glance at Nick to find him looking at me with those mesmerising brown eyes. And clarity in certain understanding.

I form a squeal, 'Is that a bug?' Madame Lafrance's butt shrinks as she immediately stands up straight, 'OOH LA LA! Où? Where did it go?' 'Oi! M germs!' Someone says, 'Shut it!' One girl fakes a disgusted shiver. 'My bad it's lint sorry,' I babble. Madame Lafrance squeezes out of the passage as though her rear end is on fire. 'It's a bug in Celestia's system, obviously,' Another person says. 'Quit it,' the girl who sits in front of Nick suddenly pipes up, 'stop with the bugging.' 'Please finish this worksheet. Enough about the creatures,' Madame Lafrance checks her pants for bugs. 'Thankyou,' Nick pats my shoulder. I choose not to hear him. Just because I helped him out once doesn't mean we are close.

Lights off in the penthouse suite, I'm not exhausted at all. Looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows, dots of tiny jewels glow in the night sky. I make a wish, squeezing my eyes shut and palms together.

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Hey! Celestia managed not to freak out over her french teacher's butt. A vote for the story could help calm her. Comments/criticism/advice -on writing techniques or anything- would be appreciated. Thanks!