The Real Prom Queens of Westfield High Read Free Page A

and photoshopped a creepy-looking elf with his tongue in my ear. It was really more than I could handle, and after I regained control of my account, I deleted the whole thing. I stopped existing online and escaped real life by disappearing into my daydreams as often as possible. It seemed like the more I got teased, the more disconnected and weird I acted. It became a vicious cycle.
    Now here I am, officially elected as a hopeless loser who couldn’t be voted Prom Queen ever . I guess I deserve it. Between my scuffed-up I-don’t-give-a-shit-kickers and my frequent breaks from reality, it seems like I was sort of campaigning for a bottom three position without even knowing it. In retrospect, I maybe should’ve joined the Future Homemakers of America alliance with Marns when she begged me to. Or maybe at least the left-hander’s club.
    I can’t imagine why the guidance office is getting involved in my loser status, but I’m starting to think I should’ve run off through the cornfield chasing that fluffy little cloud after all.
    In fact, right now, any escape from reality will do.

Chapter Two
    The door swings open and two women stride purposefully into the room. One looks city-like with a crisp business suit perfectly tailored to her sharp angles. Her black hair is short and slick, and it seems likely her pale skin would combust if it came in contact with direct sunlight.
    The other woman wears a low-cut dress and is pretty in that showy way that clearly requires a lot of maintenance. Nobody’s hair falls naturally into the long, loose waves that are happening on her head. She reminds me of an older version of Victoria from season six of Make Me a Model . My sister, Josie, made me watch it with her, and I remember Victoria getting slammed by the judges for doing pageants and being too “commercial” even though she was the prettiest contestant that cycle.
    The women are both way too thin to be local. Pinned to each of their chests are big sets of lips covered in pink rhinestones. I recognize those lips as the Nőrealique Cosmetics logo and wonder why some makeup company would be involved in our “popularity intervention,” or whatever this is.
    â€œHello, girls!” announces the one with the slicked-back hair. “I’m Mickey, and this is Victoria.”
    Victoria flashes a smile, and my eyes widen as I realize she is that pageant girl from MMaM .
    The silence stretches on as the two of them analyze us with narrowed eyes. Amy starts rocking back and forth again, and Kelly crosses her arms on her desk and drops her head on top of them, which is her usual desk-sleeping position. I try to cover my ears with my shoulders. An uncomfortable stretch of time passes as the women whisper to each other. I want to go home and bury myself in bed for a week until the safety of summer vacation arrives.
    Finally Mickey smiles. “Well, congratulations to you all!”
    What? I grin. We totally jumped to the wrong conclusion. I blame Kelly for all the panic and hear Amy grunt beside me.
    â€œYeah, thanks.” Kelly lifts her head to glare at them. “I’m thrilled to be lumped in with these losers as the toxic ooze of our junior class.”
    Mickey’s eyebrows jump, then she concedes, “I assume you’ve figured out this little meeting is related to the preemptive Prom Queen election that we had here the other day.”
    Amy whimpers and my heart sinks.
    â€œDuh!” says Kelly.
    â€œAnd by the looks on your faces,” Victoria says, “you probably know you three were voted least likely to become Prom Queen.” Her expression conveys talk-show-worthy concern, which strikes me as odd since she was a stone-cold bitch on MMaM .
    â€œI understand this comes as a disappointment,” Mickey says sternly. “But I assure you, what we are about to tell you will make you realize this is actually the best news of your young lives. You will look