Freak Show

I arrived at the dance on a pale pink cloud of gossamer dreams and enchanted moonlight.

I took a moment to soak up the decorations—the balloons and streamers and bubbles and disco balls—and thought, DOESN’T IT ALL JUST SEEM MAGICAL?

As I floated across the gymnasium floor I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and had to remind myself to breathe, I WAS THAT GORGEOUS! Why, you’ve never seen such a vision of perfect beauty! I was the very essence of froth and fizz—YES!

I wore a sparkly, petal pink ball gown made of spun sugar and fairy’s breath, simply too divine. My hair was artfully arranged in a fire fall of blazing red curls—and on top rested a crown of diamonds that reached to the moon! That’s right! THE MOON!

I swept grandly into the middle of the room so as to make a proper first impression.

The press had been awaiting my arrival, and they were not disappointed. I delivered all the tinsel and glamour they’d come to expect. I struck a regal pose, and the gymnasium erupted in a sea of flashes.

All the other local and statewide media. “Hey there! Hi there! Thanks for your support!”

I spoke warmly with fellow candidate Alma Doty, who wore a pretty olive green gown and nervously wished the night were over already.

I spied Lynnette and her royal posse of douche bag duchesses in the back corner, where they spent most of the night hissing and clawing and making everybody uncomfortable.

But for me the evening passed in a heavenly haze of “Good luck’s” and “Go Billy’s.”

As the great moment grew closer, the crowd began to buzz with excitement.

At ten minutes to midnight, the four nominees were both brought onstage amidst a great swooshing of gowns.

Principal Onnigan walked to the microphone holding the name of the winning candidate in his hand.

“GO, BILLY!” someone shouted from the shadows, and a warm ripple of applause went through the crowd, setting off a fresh strobe of camera flashes. I smiled sweetly, while Lynnette’s sweet, sweet smile momentarily flipped upside down.

“People, please,” the principal shushed. “We’ll all know in just a few minutes who the winner is, but first let me congratulate BLAH BLAH BLAH . . . the varsity football team . . . BLAH BLAH BLAH . . . Coach Carter for his unbelievable dedication BLAH BLAH BLAH . . . the decorating committee who did such a fantastic job . . . BLAH BLAH BLAH . . .

OH MY GOD, WILL HE EVER SHUT UP? . . . the chaperones . . . AND ON AND ON AND ON . . . the floor wax company . . .

“. . . and what will surely go down in the academy’s history as the most . . . colorful . . . homecoming race ever. . . . But now, the votes have been tabulated and you have all made your feelings abundantly clear. . . .”

I gave a big, fake I’m-so-worried smile and held my crossed fingers in the air.

And I squealed, and started my royal run toward the microphone to . . .

“HERE SHE IS, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN: LYNNETTE FRANZ, YOUR NEW HOMECOMING QUEEN!”

Lynnette gave me a solid push as she breezed past me, grabbing her tiara with a “Harrumph!” and nudging the principal out of her spotlight and away from her microphone.

The crowd, the hateful, fickle crowd, who just moments ago were MY friends, were on MY side, now applauded wildly for HER as confetti and balloons rained down from the ceiling.

And the press, who had seemed so pro-Billy, now all surged toward Lynnette, and gushed excitedly, and congratulated her on her win as they snapped pictures and got their quotes.

“OHTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU!” Lynnette gushed, and suddenly the stage was infested with her royal court, shrieking and weeping and jiggling for joy.

I stayed glued to my spot, mouth hanging open wide, like a halibut. A big, twinkling halibut.

“What are you still doing onstage, Freak Show?” Tiff Tarbell hissed, and stomped on my foot with her heel. “You lost. It’s over. Get down. Go away.”