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Abigail
Homecoming is loud and so not what I was expecting. It’s a lot of mixed-up genres of music. I’ve already heard Rap, Pop, and a little Alternative. We’ve danced a bit, and gotten some dirty looks, but mostly it’s been going well. Then Adam comes running over, grabbing us by the arms.
“Oh. Em. Gee. Have you been near a table yet?” He hollers over the music, some industrial instrumental crap we’re trying to move to. I swear it’s more like what I imagine a rave to be like than a high school dance.
“No.” I shake my head. “Why?”
“The ballots for homecoming king and queen are there.”
“Yeah, and?”
“You guys are on it!”
I stare at him blankly.
“Wait, What?” Vic asks, stopping his gyrations against my ass. Clayton stops moving as well. Adam grabs me and drags me over to where Wayde is sitting, holding off some lookie-loos.
“Here, see.” He hands me the ballot. I look down and sure enough, there it is in black and white. ‘Homecoming Queen Nomination: Giselle Harper, Michelle Parkhurst, Abigail Greenwood. Homecoming King Nomination: Harmand Amel III, Mike Rollins, Vic Townsend, Clayton Cross.’ I hand it to Wayde, my heart double timing it.
“What the hell?” I shout, “Is this a sick joke?”
“You kinda got the pop vote when you hopped the fence for some tonsil hockey last week, babe,” Wayde chuckles. “Couldn’t be helped.”
I smack my head with a shake. “Well, at least no one’s gonna vote for me.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure. Giselle has a lot of people who don’t like her, and I’m not sure who Michelle is,” Adam smirks. “I’m voting Greenwood.”
“Me too.” Clayton kisses me hard and fast as Vic pulls out a ballot to fill out as well.
“Hey, now what have I said about that PDA shit?” I hear Lagrange and spin around.
“Hey, you, I didn’t know you were chaperoning this clusterfuck. What’s with the high-def monstrosity, kill me now, lousy music? Lagrange?” I ask as Vic tips me over, kissing me on the neck.
“They wouldn’t let me pick the deejay or the band, because if they had, I’d have picked you.”
“Aww,” Wayde and Adam coo.
“Well, thanks for that,” I squeal as the guys start to pull me away.
“C’mon, they put out the food.”
“Yeah, I’m starving, Baby Girl.”
“You go on, and Abigail? You look beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
The guys pull me in the direction of the buffet table. Seems the school didn’t skimp, it’s a full spread, from hors d'oeuvres and pop to roast beef, shrimp, and stuffed chicken breast. There are Italian dishes with strange sauces and fried chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy too. Shit, I don’t know where to begin!
I pile my plate full and the boys laugh as I juggle a second one with cakes. I’m passing up the desserts! No frickin’ way! I leave them laughing and head back to the table to stuff my face.
***
“Oh, that was good.” I smack my lips, licking the last bits of chocolate off my fingers from the brownie I just devoured. Clayton has this look of sheer surprise and Vic just shakes his head.
“That’s my girl. Eats like a man and never gains a pound.”
“Yup.” I pat my belly happily. Looking around, it seems everyone is packed into the tables and a few guys are coming around collecting those ballots into boxes. “You think we got a shot?”
“You? Sure. One of us? Nah.” Vic says, pulling at his tie. I know he’s uncomfortable, but he looks damn good.
I spot Giselle and she’s staring daggers at me and my guys. I just wrap my arms around them and kiss them, one after the other, then laugh, waving at the bitch. She huffs and turns away.
They look at me, then her, and frown in turn. I don’t think they like being the center of attention for attention's sake. I don’t flippin’ care at this point. Not anymore.
“You and her really don’t get along, do you?” Clayton asks as I settle in his lap, putting my feet into Vic’s.
“Hasn’t she told you about that one?” Vic asks.
Clayton shakes his head no.
“Oh, well, they used to be the best of friends, actually. Grew up just two trailers apart,” Vic starts, then I chime in.
“Yeah, then her daddy hit the lotto and they moved into a big old house up the way, and she decided I wasn’t worth her time. Started rumors and shit.”
“That had to be rough.” Clayton kisses my shoulder.
“Eh, I beat her ass. Made me feel a fuck ton better.”
“She can’t get at me, so she goes after anyone I care about, her and Harmand both. They’ve been in cahoots for years.”
“I’m sorry she’s like that.” Clayton wraps his arms around me tighter, holdin’ me closer.
“That’s just another day in the life of Abigail Greenwood.” I smile as the mic pitches, making me cringe.
Principal Stevens comes over the speakers suddenly. “Attention, students, attention!” He clears his throat. “Will the following students please come to the stage?” He pulls out the ballot list. “Giselle Harper, Michelle Parkhurst, Abigail Greenwood, Harmand Amel III, Mike Rollins, Vic Townsend and Clayton Cross, please come up to the stage.”
“I guess they want to parade us around,” I snipe as I get up. Vic nods as Clayton straightens himself out and puts his jacket back on.
We walk arm in arm up onto the stage, the guys helping me up there as the dress is long in the back and trails behind me a tad. We get up there and the hooting and hollering starts, along with the ‘I’m Team Clayton—I’m Team Vic’ chants. I roll my eyes and hold both their hands.
“And the crown for Homecoming Queen goes to... Abigail Greenwood.”
I stand there speechless as the guys kiss my cheeks and push me toward Principal Stevens. I never expected to win. I thought it was just a goof. As I go to stand by him, I hesitate and look around, expecting someone or something to fall on me or be thrown at my ass. What do you want? I’ve watched a lot of 80’s movies and for a girl like me, this doesn’t usually end well.
I stand there as Principal Stevens opens the award for Homecoming King. “And your Amel High School Homecoming King is... Oh? Well, this is new. Apparently, there was a tie and per the alumni, you, as Queen, have to make the final decision.”
I look at the slip. It reads ‘Victor Townsend and Clayton Cross.’ I smile, taking it out.
“Victor Townsend!” Half room goes crazy. “And Clayton Cross!” The other half roars. “Have both been chosen and they tell me I have to choose one of them over the other to share my crown. Well, I ain’t got it in me to do that, y’all. They’re mine, the both of um and I’m keepin’ um. So, would Wayde Davenport and Adam Jacobs please come to the stage?”
After a few moments, my boys are there with us. “I abdicate my throne and give my crown to Adam Jacobs, who’s a far wiser Queen than I’ll ever be. And to Wayde Davenport, I give the role of King because he’s always stood by me and Adam through it all, proud and tall.” I kiss them both on the cheek and taking Clayton and Vic’s arms, I leave the stage as Adam starts an acceptance speech to hoots and claps and cheers.
“I need to get out of here.”
“We have a suite waiting for us upstairs.” Clayton smiles.
“Um...” My mouth hangs open a bit as I look back and forth between my guys. “Uh, yeah, okay, but I need a few minutes to just...” I pull from them and head for the bathroom.
***
A suite? They got a fucking suite? I’m not mad, just a bit overwhelmed by it all. I’m pacing the bathroom and trying not to knock over these idiot girls messing with their makeup and fixin’ their hair. My chest is tight and hurting, my breathing is fast, and I feel like I might die. I slam into the handicapped stall and sit on the floor. What the hell am I gonna do in a big old suite with the two of them all night long? I mean, I know what I’d like to do, but I mean, am I really going to? I’ve put on the brave face; the I got this face all these weeks, but when push comes to shove, am I prepared to take the step off the cliff?
The guys seem good and ready. My insides stir at the idea of having them. Of being with them. Clayton and I haven’t done much more than kiss. I would like to rectify that. And poor Vic, I’ve had him benched for far too long. Seems I’ve made my decision. I pull myself off the floor, grab my little bag, and join the idiots at the mirror. Can’t go out there without a touch up, I suppose. God, they’ve turned me into a frickin’ girl!
