The Anti-Prom - By Abby McDonald Page 0,5

Well, the way things went down the last time I saw him wouldn’t exactly make me leap at the chance to hang out again, prom or no prom.

“And Mellie said that SHE saw this dress first, but I was like, no way, and anyway, she has blond hair, and everyone knows blond and silver, like, so don’t go, and . . .”

What the hell.

Checking that the coast is clear of gushing chaperones, I take a handful of stuffed mushrooms and head toward the back of the room. Just as I thought, there’s a dark hallway, so the staff can bring out those fancy trays without the prized partygoers even having to glance at the help. The sign out front says NO GUESTS ALLOWED in big black lettering. I push it aside.

“Where are you going?” Bambi is still trotting after me. I don’t bother to turn.

“Anywhere but here. You in?”

“Seriously?” she gasps. “Yes! I’m so in.”

I lead her into the labyrinth of hallways, but once we’re out of sight, I pause. “If we’re going to do this, we do it my way,” I warn, hands on hips. “You do what the hell I say, when I say it.” Bliss nods eagerly. “And don’t even think about paying me,” I add, glaring. “You cover the cost of materials, and unexpected expenses, and that’s it.”

Her forehead wrinkles. “Unexpected . . . ?”

I roll my eyes. “Bribes, bail, you know.”

“Umm, sure.”

I spot a waiter coming toward us. He’s still looking down at the heavy tray of glasses, but any minute now . . . “Quick,” I whisper, “hide!”

We duck into a side room. “Umm, I know this might be a stupid question,” Bliss whispers, crammed next to me in the dark. “But why don’t we just walk out the front?”

I sigh. “Because we need an alibi. You saw that woman before?” Bliss nods. “She’s friends with my mom,” I explain. “If anything goes wrong with this revenge plan, there are hundreds of people like her stationed all over the place, ready to report they saw us leave together.”

“Hundreds.” Bliss giggles, so I elbow her. She falls silent for a moment. But just a moment. “If you don’t want to be here, why did you even come?”

“I’m not allowed?” I snap back.

“That’s not what I said.” I can feel Bliss studying me. “You’re really touchy, you know that?”

“No,” I drawl, sarcastic. “My therapist didn’t mention it.” I crack the door and peer out. The waiter has stopped about ten feet away and is chatting to another staff member. She’s young and pretty, and by the adoring look on his face, we’ll be here all night.

I close the door again. Bliss is still watching me. “So, why did you come?”

I exhale loudly. “You ask too many questions, you know that?”

Bliss grins. “Maybe you should give me that therapist’s number.”

Touché.

I check again, but our escape route is still blocked; meanwhile, Bliss is studying me with that perky head-tilt of expectation, utterly unswayed by my acerbic replies. I think I preferred it when she thought I was a loser drug-dealer.

“It was either this or boot camp,” I finally declare. Like I’m going to tell her the truth.

“What?” It gets the reaction I want: Bliss widens her eyes and takes a tiny step away from me.

“This summer,” I elaborate. I’ve already got a reputation, but there’s no harm in striking some fear into her before we get things started. “I don’t turn eighteen until September, so my mom said that if I didn’t follow her rules again, she’d ship me off to boot camp.” I give a shrug. “This place out in Arizona where they make you hike twenty miles through the desert and live on soya and psychotherapy.”

“Wow,” Bliss breathes.

My mom’s not that hardcore yet, but I’m pushing her, I know. She’s already confiscated the keys to my hard-earned junkyard car, grounded me from everything except work and school, and sworn to call the admissions board and have them rescind my acceptance if I don’t stop scaring her with the smoking, late nights, skeezy boyfriends, and occasional (and completely unjustified) arrests. Tonight was an olive branch, of sorts: for one night, I’d be a normal teenage girl again. No felonies, graffiti, or fights, I promised.

Guess that’s not going to work out.

Bliss peers out the doorway again. “Wait, I think he’s gone!”

The coast is clear. “Stay close,” I tell her, creeping back down the hallway. I can see the lights of the emergency exit winking in the distance. The