It Was Me All Along: A Memoir by Andie Mitchell Page B

prom queen. I was accepted. I was weightless.
    The song softly faded into the next, and the clapping resumed once more. My friends rushed over to hug me. People I’d never spoken to came up to congratulate me. The outpouring of kindness was dizzying.
    My high lasted for five hours of dancing and laughing. Five hours of feeling as if I were floating. Five hours of pure, boundless euphoria. Five hours until my rational mind brought me back to reality.
    At our all-night after-prom party, many people stuck close to their dates, but Mike and I floated around the crowd separately. I saw him from across the room talking to another girl—a strikingly beautiful girl. I noticed the way he smiled as he talked to her, as he flirted with her. And I realized that none of those smiles were ones he used with me. I saw that none of his actions—the way he stood, the way he brushed arms with her—was anything like how he was with me. I did my best to shrug off the realization and moved into the adjoining room to chat with friends. Over the next few hours, I had so much fun playing drinking games that I’d all but forgotten about Mike and the girl. He had come over to me a few times to see how I was doing, and, with an arm wrapped around my shoulders, he’d asked if I was enjoying the party. I’d light up at his touch, at his sweet concern. I couldn’t help but adore him. “Yes, I’m having the best time!” I’d enthusiastically reassure him. He’d smile, relieved at my contentment, and then he’d leave me. Each time he walked away, my heart grew heavier. Knowing that there was another girl in the next room pained me. I’d look down into my beer cup, watching embarrassment float to the top, as unwanted asfoam.
Did I think he liked me? Did I really allow myself to think that Mike Oppel had any romantic feelings for the fattest girl in our grade? How had I deluded myself into thinking he invited me to prom for any reason other than wanting to be generous, kind, even?
    I left the room and found my way to the bathroom. There, in quiet solitude, I felt silly. I was a good deed done by Mike Oppel. An ironic prom queen. I wondered if my win was meant to read as
Let’s do something nice as a grade and vote for this big girl. Let’s give her this one
. I felt as if my whole class had secretly nominated me for a makeover and cheered as I came onstage transformed and oddly confident. Charity, for which I should have been grateful.
    And I was. The boost in self-esteem, the elation—they were crowned upon me. Even if they came with their own sad interpretations, I was just glad to have them at all. The choice to view the night in a positive or negative light was up to me.
    When I was finally able to leave the bathroom, it was because I couldn’t bear the thought of reducing my happiness to tears. I walked outside to refill my drink. Seated on the grass surrounding the beer cooler was a big group of people. I found an open spot and sat down beside my friend JJ, our class president and also the guy I’d had a crush on since the fifth grade. He turned his body to face me. “Hey!” His massive grin could make me forget that I’d been upset mere minutes earlier.
    “Hi!” I returned, equally as enthusiastic.
    “Congrats on prom queen. That’s really great.”
    “Thanks! Yeah. It’s—it’s strange. I don’t know how that happened.” I laughed.
    “I do. I counted the votes, and it was pretty much unanimous. Everyone wanted you to win.” Hearing him say that made me feel good. I smiled.
    For the remainder of the night and well into the morning, the two of us sat in those grassy seats and talked. Our only pauses were the minute-long laughs we shared, reminiscing about all the years we’d gone to school together. It was intimate, the kind of lengthy and meaningful conversation I’d had with Kate. I didn’t fear saying the wrong things; I didn’t waste precious mental energy worrying whether he was silently wishing he was talking