on my waist, and we find the beat together. Jake smells nice, like sporty, spicy cologne. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Pony and Taylor dancing. I hate it. So much.
“Jake, important question—does the hotel room have rose petals on the bed?”
He smiles. “Of course not.”
“Correct answer. I’d like to see it later,” I say, laying my head against his chest and trying to forget Pony. When the song ends, the lights brighten up. It must be time to announce the homecoming court. My palms and pits immediately start sweating.
I grab Jake’s hand and drag him across the dance floor. I want to stand next to Mia and Lauren for the announcement of homecoming king and queen. We all have a chance to win . . . and I’ll be happy for whoever does win . . . but I really hope it’s me. Why do I want that crown so bad? Maybe for the validation that the past four years weren’t a complete waste of time.
Principal Scott takes the stage and grabs the microphone. “Students of Hillcrest, what a beautiful homecoming! And how about that win last night!” The audience goes nuts. It wasn’t even a close game—the football team won by thirty points. “Let’s thank the planning committee and DJ Blaster!”
“More like DJ Douche Blaster!” Kelly says from behind me. I turn around and hug her hard. Now the gang is complete. Perfect timing.
Principal Scott continues, “And the time of the night we have all been waiting for . . .”
“Sex!” someone yells, and everyone laughs.
He clears his throat. “It’s time to announce second runner-up, first runner-up, and the homecoming king and queen.”
On cue, a line of six students walk onstage with fancy envelopes containing the names of the winners. The golden envelope must be homecoming king and queen. My heart is beating out of my dress.
“They’re really going for an Oscars feel this year,” Kelly says. “Surprised the accounting firm isn’t here with a briefcase handcuffed to their wrists.”
Two kids walk up to the microphone—nervous out of their minds—to announce second runners-up. “Erin Collins and Joseph Rabb,” they say in unison. The wildcard couple. She’s on the dance team and he’s the baseball star. The next two kids step up to the mic to reveal first runners-up. Lauren and Matt. This is not a surprise. Good thing they made up before tonight! They hug and head up to the stage, pretending not to be pissed they didn’t win. Mia and I make eye contact. It’s got to be her or me.
Two football jocks approach the mic with the golden envelope. “OK,” Tim says, yanking the microphone until it screeches. “The award for SECRET SCISSOR SISTERS goes to Kelly Daniels and Taylor Malone!”
Randy follows it up with “Come up and get your fish tacos, lesbos!”
The entire room goes deafening silent. Confusion settles in. I look back at Kelly and Jerry—they are motionless, with panic in their eyes.
Principal Scott jogs back from the buffet table yelling, “STOP! STOP! STOP!” but it’s too late.
Tim grabs the mic back. “Come on up here, Taylor! Maybe you just need some of this,” he says, then grabs his junk while Randy yells “PRANKED!” over and over.
How is that a prank? This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen. Or, Anonymous didn’t want to happen. The ballroom breaks out in complete chaos, everyone talking and yelling. I watch Tim and Randy flee out the back doors like the cowards they are. In the middle of the madness, someone jumps onstage and grabs the microphone.
PONY, 9:03 P.M.
The spotlight burns my eyes.
What the hell am I doing up here?
Is this what Ted London felt like when he accepted that Oscar? The crowd goes silent. Principal Scott has stopped just offstage. He must want to hear what I am about to say. If only I knew what I was going to say.
I hold the microphone close to my mouth. “Hi, I’m Pony.”
I clear my throat, and the mic releases a shriek of feedback. “As many of you know, this is my first year at Hillcrest. And, I like it. But I hid something because I wanted you to like me. I wanted to feel normal.” I pause again. My binder feels two sizes too small. “But what is normal?”
I think of Ted London’s regret. Of the two words he couldn’t say. And how he can never say them again.
“I’m transgender,” I say into the mic.
My body feels like it’s on fire. I watch