jerk.” I snort. “I’m going to need more than a phone call to tell you everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours.” “Oooh, I’m intrigued. So how’d the breakup go? Was she all shrill and screaming?” “Actually no,” I say, shuddering when I realize that Ethan and Kennedy haven’t even been over for a full day yet and he and I have already made out. What kind of person does that make me? Ugh. “Okay well, she’s on the freaking warpath. Apparently she wasn’t going to tell anyone about the breakup because she thought they would get back together, but he told his friends and of course, word got out instantly.” She holds up her phone, wiggling it at me. “Some people know how to use social media, unlike you.” “Why do you even care about this? We’ve gone years not caring about the daily life drama of the popular crowd,” I say, grabbing a box of Cheerios from the cereal cart in the cafeteria. I’m not that hungry and plus, it’s only seventy-five cents. “I didn’t care until my best friend started living at the future prom king’s house,” she says, placing a hand to her chest. “Now I’m kind of psyched to see what happens.” I roll my eyes. “ Nothing is going to happen.” We move up a few places in the food line and my eyes drift over to Ethan’s table. He’s sitting with his friends, his fingers laced together on the table. Kennedy sits next to him, sideways in the chair, her knees touching his thigh. I can’t hear what she’s saying but she’s talking animatedly, moving her hands around. I did want to tell April about the make out mistake of last night, but now I’m thinking I should keep that to myself. Clearly it meant nothing to him. I look at April. “You think they’ll get back together?” She digs in her pocket, fishing out some dollar pills to pay for her slice of pizza. “Who knows? But Kennedy seems to think they will.” “Yeah, probably,” I say with a nod. “Let’s sit outside today.” In the courtyard, I am separated by Ethan and Kennedy by a solid wall of glass and a couple dozen other students. It’s still not enough to block out thoughts of him, but it’ll do. “So prom,” April says while she blots off the grease from her pizza. “We haven’t been dress shopping yet. Are you still wanting to hit up the Galleria or go somewhere local?” I eat a handful of Cheerios. Prom has always been April’s thing. I agreed to go because it made her happy. But frilly dresses and hair appointments and limo rentals doesn’t light up that part in my brain that screams yay! Instead I just feel the pressure of choosing a dress that’s not too expensive but still looks awesome, and I can’t decide if the anxiety of trying to find a date is worse than the anxiety of going alone. All of our lives we’re exposed to movies and books and full page ads in magazines that build up our expectations for a wonderfully extravagant and perfect high school prom. We’re force fed ideas that frilly sparkly dresses are something to be desired and that wearing a dead flower on your wrist is supposedly romantic because a guy gave it to you. Why is this even a thing? We don’t live in old times where boys call on girls and court them before proposing marriage. We don’t wear petticoats and curtsey and giggle beneath a fabric fan. So why am I supposed to crap myself with excitement when prom time rolls around? I’d way rather spend the night watching TV. “It’s whatever you want to do,” I say, realizing April is still waiting on an answer for our dress shopping adventure. “Cool. We also need to get dates.” Satisfied with the grease removal, she picks up the pizza and takes a bite. “It’s not that I don’t want to go with my bestie and all, but this is senior prom and we totally need dates. Do you have anyone in mind?” My thoughts go to a certain tall, dark-haired guy who looks really sexy wearing only a towel. I shake my head.