A Few Hundred Poppies

12. The Pseudo-Confidence Epiphany

The first time Lee and I had gotten in trouble because of the boys had been when they'd sneaked porn magazines into the school and hid one in each of our bags. And I never thought that I'd say this, but this time's punishment was worse than watching Miss Flaxen and Mr. Gonzales flirt in detention everyday for a month.

On Thursday, the six of us uncomfortably shuffled out from the Principal's office. Troy was the first to groan. "I don't believe this."

"I literally know nothing about planning something this big," West huffed, violently shoving his hands into his trouser pockets and leaning defeatedly against the wall. I realised that the corridor in front of Principal Sen's office always had a limey scent about it.

"You're worried about the planning? I can't believe that they're cheating us out of our prom night," Lee cried, on the verge of tears. I slung my arm around her waist (I had a tough time reaching her shoulders).

"I've been dreaming about a senior prom for forever. And why the hell does it have to be on the day before Halloween? Stealing thunder is not cool," Art sniffed. I pursed my lips - I was pretty sure my brown parents wouldn't let me go to a dance with a boy anyway. Principal Sen had decided what our punishment for showing interest in drugs (on the school premises, as she'd reminded us with an unforgiving sternness) would be, and now we had to plan the dance. I audibly cursed Bill and his stash of cocaine.

"If you guys had just listened to us, we wouldn't even be stuck in this mess in the first place," I accused the boys, all three of whom rolled their eyes.

Ever finally spoke up, waking up from his depressive episode. "What the fuck is a cultural dance even supposed to be? It sounds so lame. Everyone's gonna hate us for organising this."

"Okay, maybe it won't be so bad, it's a dance, after all, with good food and stuff," Troy tried, consequently drifting into a trance undoubtedly about food.

I glared at him. "'Maybe it won't be so bad' for you, you're gonna wear a tux. I'm the one who'll have to wear a saree instead of a princess-y evening gown," I grumbled. If I get to go, that is.

"I'm so done with this," Lee sighed, folding her lean arms across her chest.

"Okay, let's stop bitching. Why don't y'all come over to my house today? We'll get the planning started. Gosh, this is gonna take ages," Ever stated, running his hand through his blonde hair.

-

"Just pass me the bag and do yourself a favour," Troy whined lazily from his seat on the couch, and I tossed the packet of Cheetos to him, deciding that it'd be worth sacrificing a few if he wouldn't bother me every five seconds for a handful.

"Could you guys at least turn the bloody volume down?" Lee screeched from beside me. The evening had started off well with all of us sincerely discussing the catering for the dance on the kitchen table, but Troy had said that all that talk had made him hungry and Ever and West had followed him into the living room. They've been holed up in there for the last two hours, glued to the TV screen.

"It's not fair, you know," I pointedly stated, walking into the living room with my glasses in my hand. I'd actually made an effort today by putting on a tint of cherry lip gloss, mascara, silver hoop earrings and the rose v-neck I'd been saving up for something special, as per Art's instruction. 'Tired of seeing you two dance around each other', she'd said. 'The tension's so thick that you could cut it with a knife and spread butter on it'. "You guys don't get to live the American dream with Netflix and chill while we're working our butts off. Get your asses back to the kitchen, I've had enough." I placed a hand on my hip.