The Friendzone Promposal -#OnceUponNow

Promposal

Jessica struts up the auditorium towards the stage at full speed. The walkway and stage are draped with soft twinkling lights and it does seem almost enchanted. She pauses halfway down the aisle and Trevor swaggers out from behind the curtain. He's wearing the costume, which is about two sizes too small, and holding a mini red satin pillow with a tiara on it. His face is bright red; the pillow shakes as he trembles. Mallory's heart rips; her friend's goofy grin has dissappeared as soon as he realizes Jessica has brought a built-in audience.

Just once make me a wizard, just this once and I'll never ask again. Give me a wand, a chant, a spell, a hex, I'll even take a few bolts of lightning. Mallory's head swims with plea's to the universe to stop the show.

"Jessica. I know you're new here. And it's only a week before prom. But I was hoping you would do me the honor of being my date."

He takes it one step further and gets on his knee, pillow extended. Tiara trembling and teetering as if it wants to float into her hands.

No Trevor! Abort! Not the knee. Don't do it. It's too much. The costume was enough.

Jessica swaggers the rest of the way up to the stage. The rest of the pack hangs back, laughing and whispering as if watching a wreck in progress. Mallory wishes she could disappear. She uses her brain to will Jessica to be nice. Trevor's entire ego is hanging by a thread. Surely Jessica is human. She could hope, at least.

Rats, plague, pestilence. A distraction of any kind would work. Run Trevor, run.

Jessica climbs the stairs and offers Trevor her hand. She grabs the back of his head and kisses him. The pillow tilts to the side and the tiara rolls slowly across the stage. Mallory looks at Kyle, iPhone still pointed at center stage, capturing the magic. His smile reaches from ear to ear and he glances at Mallory and gives her the thumbs up sign.

The floor spins. She nods back at Kyle and runs out of the auditorium silently, her vision blocked with flowing tears. Being a wingman sucks. As much as she worries about Trevor getting hurt she never imagined how much pain she could feel seeing him kiss someone else.

Alone in the bathroom, she washes her face, dries her hands, and punches the stall door. It swings back and forth on the hinges but the act has done nothing to relieve her pain. Curses fill her thoughts for believing in love, acting like a wimp, and ever liking Trevor. They were still, and always had been, friends. She was his wingman. Why did she believe anything else! 

Pinching her cheeks, she put on her perfected daily happy face. "This", she tells her broken reflection in the mirror  "this is your moment to be a true best friend. You will tell Trevor how happy you are for him and tuck these feelings deep down with the rest."  She sets her mind to stone. Just like she does every day as she walks through the hallways being no one, unseen. Just like she has since second grade when Jenna C. informed her that a girl with a birthmark across her cheek would never fit in.

She forces herself to walk back to Trevor's car. Waiting in the warm sun, she can't help but feel envious of Jessica.  Right now Trevor is probably still making a complete fool of himself just to ask her to a dance. Mallory imagines herself on the dance floor in Trevor's arms.

Her dream, however, was quickly interrupted when Trevor slammed the door of the car. His red face and slouched posture told Mallory things had not ended the way they were supposed to. She couldn't imagine what had gone wrong and searched her mind for anything that could lighten the mood but her heart told her it wouldn't be that easy.

"What happened?"

He started the car and screeched out of the parking lot. After a moment of tortuous silence he yelled and slapped the dashboard.

"She said no! After all that. The worrying, the stupid tiara, getting Kyle to record it, and wearing a stupid costume, she said she was 'flattered' but that she has a boyfriend at her old school, 'wouldn't want to make him think she's dating someone else' she said.  Man, this blows. I'm out. No prom for me. It's stupid anyway."

Mallory is torn between being ecstatic at not having to see him and Jessica suck face ever again, and heartbreak that he's hurting. He gave it a try. Shy, quiet Trevor. Hockey extraordinaire, best friend of an invisible princess and always her bodyguard. He tried. She needed to help. She didn't want him suffering a complex for years.

Say something comforting. Cheer later. Make this easier for him.

"Her loss. She's an idiot."  Mallory could have stopped there but consoling wasn't her strongsuit, and the words kept coming. "I'll go with you. You should go. It's your senior prom. You only get one. How disappointed would your mom be if she didn't get to fuss over you in a tux."

Once the words flew Mallory wished she could reel them back in. I'll go. Smooth Mallory, real smooth. What the heck are you thinking?  Did you just invite yourself to prom with Trevor? Abort mission. Abort mission! Her mind swam and silence enveloped the stench filled air.

"Really Mal?  You'd do that for me?  I mean, I know how much your silent ninja status means to you. But you're right. My mom would freak if I wasn't going, and I should go. It's senior prom!  Screw Jessica. We've always had a riot, prom is just a big party right?  Let's do it!"

Mallory's heart slams into her chest. Did she just volunteer as tribute for a prom gown, heels, and spending a night being one of the guys as they snort sugar and make fun of girls?  What is she thinking? 

She gets out of the car without a word. Her mind spinning and her heart racing. Is she seriously going to prom with Trevor?  Is there a way out? An easy button? A rewind?  It's four days away and she doesn't own nor have any ability to operate heels. She's going to have to consort with the enemy, her mother, who will blow the whole thing out of proportion and make it a 'thing'. 

Heading straight to her room, she slams the door behind her. This is an emergency. She places the buds in her ears and blasts the soundtrack to Hamilton at maximum volume. Curse those crossed fingers!