#romanceclass2016: Something To Say

Act 1. Chapter 6

"Are you going with Yasmin to the prom?" Jude asked while we were hanging out in his room, one of the rare occasions when I was with them outside of school.

"No." From the many times I declined their invitations to sneak into a club, I figured they'd understand I didn't like dances. Besides, they knew I ditched the prom in junior year, what would make them think I would change my mind in senior year? Though there was a nagging thought at the back of my head that I could try asking Yasmin just for the heck of it, I didn't want to risk it. She had already coldly smiled or blatantly ignored a lot of guys who had approached her (I had inevitably heard the stories in the boys washroom). I didn't want to add to the list.

"Well, aren't you going to ask her?" DJ pressed.

"She probably already has a date," I shrugged, still nonplussed. But somehow the thought that she found a suitable prom date from our batch sank low in the pit of my stomach.

"She doesn't," Chino supplied and I felt all eyes on me. "At least that's what we know."

"Not my problem," I said, keeping my relief under wraps.

"So...you wouldn't care if I ask her to the dance?" DJ challenged.

I shook my head finding his statement laughable. "Knock yourself out trying. She has very high standards," I warned him good-naturedly because if they knew the caliber of boys she dated, they'd know she did have high ideals. And no offense to DJ, she'd turn him down faster than he could have asked her out.

"Is that why you haven't asked her yet? Because you think you're beneath her?" Even when we were young, Chino already had a habit of hitting a nerve or two.

My jaw ticked. "No. I'm simply not going to the prom," I grumbled.

"Okay, chill man. No need for tempers flaring."

They weren't the only ones asking the same question. I had been ambushed too many times if I was Yasmin's date. Even when we were together as Student Council Officers (yep, I got the Treasurer spot; Yasmin was the Secretary), we got that question a lot. Somehow that forced me to mingle with others.

"Yas, are you going with Igo to the prom?"

I would snort and she would just smile that smile that didn't reach her eyes. I would be a hypocrite if I said I didn't have an image of her in a gown and me in a tux dancing together. But the cheesiness of the scene and the thought of myself wearing formal attire had me squashing the thought as quick as it had entered my mind.

"No. I wouldn't want a date who'd bore me to death," she would tell them. "I'll go solo."

See? An indirect rejection from her.

It would have been an interesting sight—her alone the whole evening. It made me think of England's Virgin Queen. But that would be impossible. In a crowd, half of which was comprised by boys with raging hormones, it was utterly impossible for her to be alone even for a blink of an eye.

"Seriously? The Queen without a King?" was another common reaction.

"He's not a king," she'd say bluntly.

"I'm not a king," I'd admit, even nodding in agreement while secretly cursing the royalties in my head.

"Seriously, what was so special about the prom?" I asked her once, never knowing it was a touchy subject because she walked out on me.

Yasmin never gave me an answer to that. But on my own, I figured that it was the only time she could be in her full royal self, complete with the poufy gown, the glittery shoes and the plastic crown. It was a simulation of royal balls, a chance to meet her prince in the right set-up. Which made the idea of going to the prom even more unappealing to me.