Mark My Words

83 | Mamma Mia, But Make It Gay

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M A R C H

"Have you asked anyone to prom yet?"

Dylan looked up from his backpack with a mild look of alarm. He glanced over his shoulder, at the door where Joanna was long gone. Beside Rosalie, Lennie paused in the middle of stacking his books to, likewise, stare at her like she was insane.

She realzied how the question sounded only after it came out—like she was asking Dylan to ask her.

She flushed all shades of pink and waved her hands dismissively. "I'm just—curious."

"I haven't even thought about it," Dylan confessed. Beside him, Jamie-Lee rolled his eyes and muttered, "Of course you haven't." Dylan lashed out to punch him in the gut, but Jamie jumped out of the way.

"What's this about?" Lennie asked.

"I'm just curious!" she lied, voice squeaky. Lennie raised an eyebrow at her. "And... I also might need Dylan's help—if... that's something you'd be willing to do...?"

Jamie cleared his throat, which drew Dylan's attention to him as he said, "I'd do it, but I'm going with Blake."

"And I'd ask Sami, but... I can't exactly be his beard anymore," Rosalie confessed, grimacing a little. Sami would be going to Bradshaw's prom—in secret, so his father wouldn't know that Isaiah Thatcher had asked Sami to accompany him.

"You... want me to take you to prom?" Dylan said, awkwardly, and were this any other situation, Rosalie would have been embarrassed beyond belief to have been turned down in this way.

She rolled her eyes. "No. I'm planning something big and if it ends up online, I don't want Joanna to worry about Arden or Georgina seeing it. So Jamie's gonna record it, and I need you to pretend like you're swooning or something, and then take a picture or two with me before the dance."

Dylan's eyes widened through her explanation, but when he said nothing after that, she sighed and insisted, "And I don't want this to be a lovey-dovey type thing. I don't think Joanna and I are on those terms yet, so we'd be super low-key and you don't have to worry about third wheeling or anything—"

"Dude," Dylan said, looking thoroughly startled. Rosalie clasped her hands over her stomach, her lip between her teeth. "Don't even worry about it. I'm in."

"Really?" she gasped, eyes wide. The weight of her worries lifted at the bright grin Dylan gave her.

"Yeah, I'm in. When's it happening?"

"I don't have the exact date, but I'll keep you posted," she promised, unable to contain her smile. The pieces were all coming together. "There's one other thing—do you have your license?"

Dylan rose an eyebrow. "Uh, yeah, why?"

"Because Jamie and I are getting our permits and we can't drive without a licensed driver in the car," she said with a weak, apologetic smile. Dylan stared at her blankly before blinking and looking back at Jamie-Lee. Jamie shrugged as if to say, "What can you do?"

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A P R I L

Rosalie wasn't too well acquainted with the Bradshaw stadium's announcer room, which resided in the tower otherwise known as the stadium Fortress. She blamed their mascot for the cheesy name, but the Fortress was manned only by select teachers, coaches, and the loudspeaker announcers. Rosalie had ever been in the Fortress once, and even then, she felt anxious being surrounded by all of the sound equipment.