The Promposal (COMPLETE)

3- The Lunch Before

POV. Edith Blythe

It's March 2nd, which means it's the height of promposal season. All over the country, there's all sorts of desperate young women waiting for their prince in shining armor to paint them a cutesy poster asking them out to prom. At Edgemont High, I've seen an average of 3 promposals per day. No girl turns the guy down, partly because she's impressed by the craftsmanship of the poster, but probably more importantly because the guy asked ahead of time.

I personally don't understand it. Why put so much effort into a poster? Why does the guy always ask the girl? Why so many puns? This is just how people in high school beat the boredom of their junior and senior year.

Except I have to hear about it all through my friend Camila, who immediately knows when and where a promposal is taking place. "Right next to the front office below the overhang!" she calls out of nowhere while I'm eating lunch. "He gave her flowers, oh how sweet."

We sit in the main quad, which is ideal for Camila since she likes to hear all the gossip. The gossip doesn't bother me as much as the prom askings, which seem to take over every spring. Even when we were underclassmen, she'd still update me on all the posters. Back then it seemed like something exciting, that all the older kids were involved in. Now I see it for what it really is.

A patriarchal and cliche high school tradition.

"So what are you doing after school today?" Camila asks me once she's done watching the promposal ceremony in front of us. At her question I become slightly flustered, and consider cancelling my plans to meet up with her instead. But alas, I cannot. I've become so restless that I must take action against complacency. No matter what cliches I give into, I must fight my boredom.

"I have to study in the library, I'm behind in physics" I lie.

Camila believes me, even though it's clear I'm lying. I can't tell if that means she respects my decision to lie or doesn't care. Honestly it's probably the latter, since friendship has always been one of Camila's assets in the social hierarchy of high school. Though I know she cares about me, she has far too many friends to fret the small stuff about each one. If I turn her down after school today, she'll just ask someone else like Alice or Jessica.

And then just as predicted. "Okay, I guess I'll go to boba with Alice then. I wish we could hang out more though Edith! You're always so busy with school," Camila complains. Her bottom lip sticks out a little like she's pouting. It's honestly hilarious.

But I still feel kind of bad about lying to her. Camila's my best friend, and although she's kind of annoying, it just comes with the package. Despite her crazy, Camila is my oldest friend and we've known each other since I pulled her hair in elementary school. "Don't worry about it. We can hang out after school on Thursday?" I ask.

Just then, Camila's boyfriend comes up from behind her and scares her. He tries to kiss her from behind which is all too uncomfortable to watch and then starts dragging her off to some club meeting. "Wanna come?" Camila asks me, completely forgetting what I said about Thursday. The thought that kissing her boyfriend made her forget what I said is slightly infuriating. But Camila is just forgetful, and knowing her she'll probably text me when she remembers.

"No it's alright. You guys just go, I'll get a head start on my studying." I tell them. I always have a back up plan when things like this happen, cause it happens a lot. I go to the library, where I know a few people from my classes this year. This time I run into Cynthia, who is using one of the library computers to type up an essay for her literature class that was due yesterday. The clunky keyboard makes a loud noise with each letter she writes.

Honestly, why do they have such old fashioned keyboards?

"Hey Cynthia!" I say to her, knowing that I probably shouldn't distract her but also looking for some kind of social interaction.

"Hi Edith! Did you finish the research paper for lit?" she asks while furiously pounding on the keyboard.

I don't know why she would ask this, since the paper was already due. But I respond anyway "yeah, but I wrote mine about fossil fuels so it's probably no help." I notice that her paper is about the death penalty, something which I know nearly nothing about.

But Cynthia is desperate. "Could you peer edit mine?" she asks, even though she's only halfway done. I agree and take the computer next to her. That's when I notice that Jonah Parker is sitting in the table across the way from us. My heart skips a beat.

He seems to be looking in my direction.

I quickly avert my gaze to the clunky keyboard in front of me in order to avoid eye contact. I'm not a complete idiot, and there's no way I'm getting in awkward eye contact with him. Especially not considering what I'm planning to do after school today.

"I finally finished!" Cynthia calls out, which seems impossible since it's only been a couple minutes and the paper is supposed to be 3 pages long.

"Wow, you're really fast. I wish I could finish a paper in under an hour," I commend her. But glancing over at her screen, I catch a whiff of plagiarism. One of the sentences she has in her paper is in a different font than the rest, and the color is kind of gray. Since I don't know Cynthia that well, I don't confront her about it. I simply mention in my peer review that she should reword that section of the paper, hoping she'll take the hint.

The bell for 6th period rings, and I'm released from helping Cynthia with the essay. It just makes me more nervous about after school though. Cause like, what if I make a complete fool of myself and have to skip town? My parents would definitely not be up for moving.

~~~~~~

It's after 6th period. It's finally time.

I walk right up to Jonah Parker's locker, waiting for him to get out of class. The adrenaline that I'm feeling is pretty much the only motivation I have to actually do this. It's like the energy that comes with embarrassing yourself. And although I know he'll say no, somehow I know that the rejection will bring me satisfaction. Closure.