Chapter Seven
the worst in the student body.
The senior parking lot is overflowing with tailgate parties, our peers decked out in Cordero’s signature red and gold in various forms—mainly body paint, beaded necklaces, and backward caps. No one’s bold enough to drink beers out in the open. Instead, everyone sits on the hoods of their cars passing sips of cold brew and neon-colored energy drinks. The real drinks have been stored away for the post-rally after-parties.
“Thank me later.” Anna appears practically out of thin air as the final bell before the rally rings, shoving a can into my hand.
My nose wrinkles as I examine the nutrition label. There’s about half a dozen different chemicals I’ve never heard of using every combination of letters in the alphabet. “Raspberry Unicorn?”
“Tastes like shit,” Anna explains after gulping down the last of her own drink. “But it has enough sugar to send a sloth into hyperdrive, and you’re gonna need it.”
She makes it sound like we’re headed into a battlefield and not a high school gymnasium.
And she’s exactly right.
The gym is a madhouse even thirty minutes before the start of the rally. Someone took it upon themselves to bring a speaker, music blaring loud enough to make the ground vibrate. While the cheerleading team preps for their upcoming performance from the comfort of the front lawn, the rest of the student body takes advantage of the unsupervised gym, turning the lights down as best they can and transforming this school-sanctioned event into a rave.
Anna clutches my hand for dear life as we dive headfirst into the crowd to try to make it to the AV booth at the opposite end of the gym. She nearly loses me to the magnetic pull of a mosh pit, and we spend an uncomfortable amount of time shoved into our classmates’ armpits, but we manage to make it through with our limbs, and some dignity, intact.
The AV booth is a breath of fresh air. Literally. I can finally inhale deeply without being assaulted by the smell of sweat. We chug water to catch our breath. If it wasn’t for the Raspberry Unicorn, I might not have had the strength to dig myself out of that den of teenage sin.
“I thought you said I’d handle the music?” Anna asks while watching me unravel the AUX cord. She holds up her phone, open to her “music for meatheads” playlist.
“You will. I just need to do a tiny favor for Joaquin,” I say so quickly I hope she either won’t hear me or won’t care enough to pry.
But, of course, I’m wrong. She has the hearing of an elephant.
Anna slides between me and the light board, brow arched high above her round glasses. “He asked you to do what, exactly?”
“Play a song.”
“What song?”
“You wouldn’t know it.”
She snatches my phone out of my hand, immediately pulling up my Spotify. “Fine, I don’t know this song, but it sure as hell sounds like it’s for a promposal.”
I plead the Fifth, ignoring her in favor of snatching my phone from her and keeping busy with untangling the wires beneath the light board.
“Is Joaquin trying to ask Tessa to prom today? Is he nuts?” Her voice is loud enough to echo in the cramped space of the room.
“I tried to talk him out of it, but he’s going to do it with or without me, so we might as well help make it memorable.”
Anna remains unconvinced, collapsing into the seat beside me with a huff. We sit in silence while she takes in the crowd beyond the window, our classmates bumping and grinding while our hands shake from too much Raspberry Unicorn.
“If she doesn’t say yes, he’s never going to be able to live that down,” she says, as if that same line of thought hasn’t haunted me since Joaquin first proposed this plan.
“I know,” I mumble, tossing aside the now untangled wires. “And I told him that, but he thinks it—she’s—worth the risk. And after they win the game, everyone will probably forget,” I add with a shrug. “They’ll be kissing his ass for centuries and dedicating monuments to him outside of the locker room.” Their win isn’t a guarantee, but a little optimism for once wouldn’t kill me.
“Sure. But are you okay with this?”
The question makes me stutter to a halt. “Yeah. I’m not the one asking her. I don’t have anything to lose.”
“I mean all of this. Joaquin and Tessa. You bending over backwards to make a thing between them happen.”
“I’m not bending over backwards,” I reply, brushing her off with a wave of my hand.
“Hello, you literally took three weeks of detention for him. Right before tech week. Taking a bullet would’ve been less stressful.”
“Don’t be dramat—”
“We’re in the drama club, we’re supposed to be dramatic.”
Technically we’re in the tech crew, but something tells me making that distinction isn’t going to change her opinion.
Yes, having to deal with detention on top of tech week and my shifts at Casa Y Cocina is already a nightmare. Yes, Tessa is very far from my first choice in a romantic partner for Joaquin. Yes, this whole situation feels Not Great.
But does it matter what I think? Being Joaquin’s best friend doesn’t mean I get a say in who he can and can’t date.
“This year has been weird. With getting waitlisted, and everything with my mom, and…just, really weird. And I don’t even want to think about how weird they’ll be next year when we’re not in the same place for the first time. But Joaquin has always been there for me, through all the weird. Even when things weren’t easy for him either.”
Anna’s expression is impossible to read, her lips set into a straight line while her fingers toy with one of the gold cuffs clasped to the ends of her locs. She avoids my eyes, looking somewhere over my shoulder before turning to face the light board. “Being there for your friend doesn’t mean throwing yourself under the bus.”
Before I can reply, she switches off the gym’s overhead lights.
The mosh pit breaks out into cheers, intensifying for half a second before Anna aggressively flicks the overhead lights on and off in warning. “Back to your seats and hands to yourselves, sheep. Before you get our prom canceled,” she says into the mic, her words blaring through the gym’s overhead speaker.
Whoever was in control of the music shuts it down to a wave of groans, but the sea of bodies listens to their disembodied overlord and trudges up to the bleachers. With everyone safely in their assigned places again, the real show can begin.
It’s impossible to ignore the lump lodged in my throat throughout the cheer team’s routine. The caffeine boost that got me through the crowd makes my heart pound so loud I’m worried Anna can hear it. My stomach lurches when the baseball team comes rushing into the auditorium to deafening applause.
I spot Joaquin, clad in his letterman jacket and cheeks painted red and gold. His goofy grin stands out in the crowd, bright enough to spot even from the tech booth. My fingernails dig into my palms as I watch him scan the room, immediately finding Tessa seated with the rest of the cheerleaders a few feet away. He waves at her, and when she waves back and gives him a wink, his cheeks flush and his teammates clap him on the shoulder in excitement.
“Settle down,” Principal Contreras says as he steps up to the mic onstage in a dry, flat monotone. Instant vibe killer. “Thank you to the cheer squad for that wonderful performance.” He’s greeted with a polite smattering of applause, grimacing when someone takes the opportunity to shout, “Tessa, I love you” over the quiet cheers.
Contreras’s tone is as dry as sandpaper, yet I cling to the edge of my seat as he goes through his pep rally spiel, congratulating the seniors on making it to the end of the year, telling the freshmen to aspire to great heights, and, finally, announcing this year’s theme for senior prom—Under the Sea (how original) as well as the nominees for prom court.
“Your nominees for prom queen are…Amal Khan, Yesenia Gordon, Tessa Hernandez, and—” The final nominee’s name is completely lost under the roar of applause for Tessa. Poor girl never stood a chance.
“And your nominees for prom king,” Contreras continues once the excitement has died down to an anticipatory hush. “Hank Azario, DeShawn Harris, Joaquin Romero, and Danny Garcia.”
I’m so caught up in my nerves that I don’t remember to clap for Joaquin’s nomination until Anna shoves my shoulder. Not that his nomination comes as a surprise. He’s not a lock for the crown like Tessa, but there’s no way Cordero’s athletic golden boy wasn’t going to nab a nomination. He’s in good company with his teammate and (second) closest friend DeShawn, who’s also president of the student council. Hank isn’t much of a surprise either. The guy’s a dick, but when clichés reign supreme, the quarterback always gets a nom. Obviously, I’m not thrilled about Danny either. But there’s no way the resident class clown wins over the golden boy or the StuCo president. Or at least, I hope not.
By the time Contreras unveils the glimmering silver senior MVP trophy, I’m practically vibrating, resisting the urge to chew on my nails as he finally gets to the moment I’ve been waiting for.
“We’re very pleased to present this year’s MVP Award to a talented senior who’s demonstrated his incredible athletic ability since he first joined Cordero’s baseball team his freshman year.”
A low hum breaks out among the crowd, the enthusiasm making its way to the tech booth. The boys on either side of Joaquin pat him on the back, jostling him by the shoulders as Contreras gestures for him to come onstage.
The music from earlier is no match for the volume of the cheers as Joaquin heads for the stage. A chant of his name starts up, breaking it into two syllables, with a stomp on the bleachers for “Quin.” The chant picks up speed, rumbling the room so intensely it topples over Anna’s last (thankfully, closed) can of Raspberry Unicorn.
By the time he gets up to the mic, Joaquin has to wait a full thirty seconds before he can speak, the applause and cheers drowning out his sheepish “Thank you so much.” I join in on the cheers even though the tech room is insulated, clapping until my palms go numb. I don’t even realize I’m standing up until the applause starts to die down and reality sinks in. As I slump back into my seat with pinkened cheeks, Anna keeps her eyes straight ahead and that anxious feeling comes crawling back.
“Thank you so much to my abuela for everything she’s done for me this past year, and for giving me my first bat once I was old enough to hold it on my own. Obviously she’s not here right now, but I know she’d be pissed if I didn’t thank her anyway.” A pause for awws and quiet laughter. I kick myself for not thinking to record this for her.
“Thank you to my teammates, for always pushing me and covering for me that time I bailed on practice to go buy Jordans from some sketchy dude on Craigslist. Sorry, Coach.” His teammates break out into their own set of laughter and applause, DeShawn standing up on his chair and starting a cheer so rowdy Contreras has to hiss at him to sit back down.
Joaquin doesn’t continue, though, when his baseball bros have finally calmed down. He has everyone clinging to his every word, me included, as he rubs the back of his neck, his eyes suddenly shifting to his shoes. It’s odd, watching someone with all the confidence in the world shrink under a spotlight.
His eyes scan the crowd again. Assuming he’s searching for Tessa, I brace myself for the signal we agreed on. As soon as he says the code word, I’ll dim the lights and crank up Frankie Valli, but his gaze goes right past Tessa. Instead, he finds me. A hundred feet and soundproof glass can’t stop the chill that runs through me when he flashes his ultra-white smile, light brown eyes locked with mine.
“And Ivelisse Santos. I wouldn’t remember to get up in the morning if it wasn’t for you. You’re the best person I know, and the world would be a much brighter place if there were more people like you in it. Thank you for being my best friend.”
All the air has been sucked out of the room. No one says a word, not even another round of polite clapping, and maybe that would bother me if I didn’t suddenly feel like my entire body is made of jelly. My lungs can’t keep up with my heart, and I might be crying, who the hell knows. I just sense Joaquin’s eyes on me, and this indescribable warmth that feels like coming home.
The silence doesn’t faze Joaquin, and the spell he has on me breaks the second he turns back to the crowd. “Well, I won’t hold you guys up anymore, but it’s prom season and I…”
Shit, this is it. Prom—the code word. His eyes flicker back to me, but this time feels different. He nods, as if to give me the go-ahead in case I forgot my cue. My thumb hovers over the play button on my phone, less than an inch away. I only have to close the distance.
I turn the lights off instead.
“What’re you—”
Before Anna can finish, I’m reaching across her lap, plugging the AUX cord into her phone, and cranking up her playlist. Applause drowns out any protests Joaquin may have had, the crowd chanting his name one last time as Principal Contreras ushers him off the stage. The heat of Anna’s eyes boring into me mixed with Joaquin helplessly wading through the crowd make the room spin. With the lights back off and the music blasting, Contreras begins to panic, signaling for us to restore order before he loses control of the student body.
Luckily only one of us is midspiral. Anna flicks the lights back on and turns the music to a more respectable volume. Contreras gives us a grateful nod, clearing his throat until he has everyone’s attention again.
Anna slowly swivels her chair around to face me, like a movie villain. “Care to explain what that was?”
Even if I wanted to, I don’t think I could. Excuses and lies bubble up inside of me, and for a split second I wonder if I’m going to blurt all of them out at once. The door to the booth bursts open, startling both of us so bad we screech in unison.
“Whoa, whoa, it’s just me!” Joaquin waves his arms until we settle down, closing the door gently. “What happened back there?”
Their eyes shift to me.
“I, uh…” Glancing at Anna for backup is a mistake. She makes a face that would send a saint to hell. “I forgot to tell Anna!” The words tumble out of my mouth before I can properly think things through. “I got distracted by a light board malfunction and missed your signal, so Anna just turned the lights off, totally my fault.”
Anna throws on a stiff smile as I silently beg her to co-sign the lie. “My bad,” she says through gritted teeth.
If Joaquin sees through my bullshit, he doesn’t let it show. He slumps against the light board, wearing a devastated frown. “It’s okay. Guess it’s back to the drawing board.”
“We’ll think of something,” I say, wincing internally at the unintended we.
Joaquin gives me a small nod. “Marco’s for lunch?”
“Sure.” He gives me a fist bump before trudging out of the room to rejoin his teammates. The tension he leaves behind is as thick as summer air. I’ve barely moved toward Anna when she throws up a flat palm.
“Don’t,” she snaps before I can even open my mouth.
“I di—”
She hisses like a cat until I back down. We let the quietness settle for a few seconds before I try broaching the subject again.
“I just don’t want him to get hurt,” I whisper. “You’ve seen what Tessa does to people. She’s brutal.”
It’s low, picking at the scab that is Tessa and Anna’s former friendship. But covering up your bad choices requires making more bad choices.
Anna’s brow furrows as she tucks a loc behind her ear. “Is that it?”
The question catches me off guard, and the tone of her voice does too. Soft and gentle. Very unlike the Anna that hissed at me moments ago. My voice is caught in my throat, unable to come up with an answer that’ll satisfy her. However long passes, her patience runs out. She grabs her things and heads toward the door, pivoting at the last second to face me.
“Think about what you really want out of all this—helping Joaquin and whatever you think you just did,” she says before walking away.
She slams the door behind her and leaves me reeling. Alone, my brain becomes a jumbled mess of questions, excuses, and panic. While my classmates cheer and spill out into the halls, I bury my head in my hands and struggle to get it together before the janitor kicks me out of here.
Even though my brain is like a freshly shaken snow globe, one thought comes through loud and clear.
I can’t let Joaquin go to prom with Tessa Hernandez.