My 1st Prom

Date: 24/5, Tue

  Opening my eyes, I raise my head off the table and yawn. Nearly drooling over the precious picture I drew last night in the process. The blankets sit unused on the bed, patiently waiting for another night. So is the pillow. Both of them beckoning me to snooze.

Only Luke's suggestion of reducing my pocket money had me dragging me my heels the entire way to the bus stop. Not to mention setting foot inside S1G2, the hardest step of all. Luke always gets to take a taxi for whatever reason, even though we go to the exact same school. (I'm not buying him chips using my allowance again.) Morning school dreads happen five times a week, I should've stopped expecting anything good. But I haven't. Eva might be meaner as I overheard her yesterday. After I graduate from Secondary 6, I am never coming back. Never again.

Prom's the new talk of school, to my surprise. From math to English, all S. 1 students talk nonstop about the Mocktail Gathering. Not being close with the majority of them, I don't join in. Difficulty to open up while being the least popular girl in Secondary 1 is sky-high. However... a tiny part of me protests at being this anti-social. I spot a group of girls giggling over their prom dress opinions. Taking a deep breath, I go on a gamble upon having nothing to lose. 'Hello,' I shyly wave to them, 'c-can I join i-in?' My voice is slightly raspy. Their faces immediately twist with disgust. 'Hell no!' One of them starts, 'Leave us alone!' 'Sorry,' I mumble, my tiny bit of confidence instantly depleting. 'Yah,' Another girl huffs, 'what is wrong with you? We're extremely busy!' 'Shoo! You're not worth our time,' a third girl joins in. I could nearly taste their acidic contempt. Celestia, are you going to put up with this for the rest of your school life? I flinch, 'Alright.' In seconds, my dignity has been viciously clawed to tiny insignificant pieces, too small to piece them back together again. At least Eva's not being a bother.

S1G2 girls even talk about prom in Choral Speaking -compulsory for S1G2 girls- during small breaks in between. School has been forcing us to perform and rehearse for eight months already. We'll perform "The Song of the Jellicles" yet again in the upcoming Joint-School Graduation Ceremony. Dressing up as Jellicle Cats to entertain parents, teachers, Principle and graduates is pointless in hideous furry cat costumes. We've rehearsed and rehearsed and rehearsed ever since our very first choral speaking competition.

'Shine bright, girls! Imagine your lover watching your performance!', our teacher exclaims, sitting before an imaginary rehearsal stage, 'Speak up!' Same as any other rehearsals: our throats drying, exhaustion flowing through our blood vessels, we wait until the next break. The girl in front of me curls into a ball with her feet directly in front of my face -her starting pose. Co-cats snicker about this every damn time we start from the top, likely this time also.

Our costume colors were chosen randomly at the beginning of the school year, ranging from white to grey to brown to black to spotted. Apparently, white ones are supposed to be the best dancers as well as the loudest performers - the qualities I lack- since they are "so eye-catching". It doesn't help me make friends.

Snickering at me, a cat on my left steps on her tail I've swept behind her foot earlier. She flails her arms and screams, losing her balance at the same time. Slip & trip. Still screaming, she attempts to land on her butt by doing a squat, only to be stubbed in her toes by an ancient air bubble between the dance mat and floor. Pain makes her reach for her feet, lean forward and land face down on the mat. Gawking at her, everybody else stops chorusing as she rises up, running off with tears out. Ha. She nearly slips again as our teacher chases after her, asking if she's alright. 'Girls, I'm dismissing you early,' our teacher winces. Changing back into uniform is suddenly less mundane than usual despite the envious glances I notice aimed at my assigned costume colour. 1 accident is memorable enough for months of teasing and vicious backbiting.

'There's this prom at school that I want to join. I really want to attend, so ...can I go?' So this is what my voice sounds like. My parents lean side by side against the extravagantly expensive wooden table, the one in their spaciously huge bedroom.

'Your examinations are coming up.' Dad starts, 'We'd like you to concentrate on them first, they affect your near future, after all.' Thanks for the lecture. 'As you know,' Mum starts too, 'final examinations count 70% of your yearly result, it is vital to work hard to achieve desirable academic progress.' I make a face. Mum says, 'Don't be so glum. We'll be going to you-know-where for a month of fun in our private jet, Cel. Isn't that motivational?' 'I wasn't the person who demanded to tag along your super important overseas business meeting, aka the family trip, in the first place. And practically everyone is invited to prom. I want to dance with my friends!' A blend of truth and lies. 'Friends?' Mum echoes. Sweat slides down my neck. She asks, 'Boys and girls your age?' 'Yes.' My pulse steadies into drum beats. 'Boys?' Dad questions. My parents blink as if they've never thought of that tiny fact before. 'Likely,' I try explaining, 'a guy might ask me to dance. A veeeeeery slim chance.'

'We'll look at your overall yearly results before deciding on anything.' Mum says. 'What's your minimum requirement?' I ask carefully, 'This is extremely important to me and it's, like, the first time I'm asking for something in ... about 6 months.' All facts. They give each other a let's-go-for-it look, then Mum assesses me. 'On several conditions. One of them is that you pass all four core subjects in your yearly overall score.' They never have such requirements for Luke, my brother (and baby of the house). Dad says in a businesslike manner, surveying me as well, 'You must come home right after the event.' 'Mmmmm. That's only 2,' My brain cells fizz, 'it takes 3 to make "several conditions", what's next?' They pause to think. What? Mum says 'Don't do anything illegal.' 'Mum! I can take care of myself. There will be teachers on guard. Teachers-who will supervise the prom.' They won't know for sure. 'Any more rules?'

'No.' Mum says, Dad nods along, saying the same thing. I cross my fingers in my pocket, 'Deal. Can I take the car to school?' "Car" is an understatement, it's basically a limo in the garage. (Ok, our Mercedes is currently under repair. And I hide my family's oceanlike wallets from school and school problems from my family, nothing new.) 'Nope,' Dad prohibits, 'you can take the bus if you're tired of walking.' 'Cool, thanks for letting me know. Love the bargain,' I grab the door knob.

'You are not allowed date-' I close the door loudly. One hurdle cleared.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------What up what up! Would you leave a vote? Or comments-slash-critiques? 

I've been working on the story a lot in 2020, cuz looooooong quarantine. Then I spent 2021 on  minor polishing, and the first half of 2022 going back and forth on the decision to share this online. (^hides face w/ both hands ) Hope you guys like it!