What's Your Status? by Katie Finn Page A

said. “Crown?” she said to Sarah, who shook her head and held on to it.
    “I don’t know,” Sarah said. “I think it might be bad luck or something.”
    “It’s not bad luck,” Ginger said quickly. You had to admire her. Normal Ginger, who was deeply gullible, would have absolutely believed this. But when she was on a costume-related mission, she was relentless.
    “I think it’s only bad luck if you’re in the running for prom queen,” I said. “Which I am not.”
    “I just don’t know,” Sarah said. “I mean, what if there’s a curse or something?”
    “There isn’t a curse,” Ginger said dismissively.
    “How do you know?” Sarah asked. “I mean, maybe it’s not supposed to be worn by anyone until the prom queen, when she’s crowned. There might be a curse.”
    I glanced down at the crown, which looked small and sparkly and totally innocent. I shook my head. “There isn’t a curse,” I said with a little more certainty than I felt. I picked it up off the velvet base. It was heavier than I’d thought it would be, and I admired it for a moment before placing it on my head and pressing the small combs into my hair to secure it.
    “Oh, that’s perfect,” Ginger said. She struggled to her feet and pulled her phone out of the pocket of her jeans as Sarah watched, frowning, arms folded.

    “I don’t like this,” Sarah said. “Just so that’s out there.”
    “We heard you,” I said. I wasn’t sure if this was actually about the crown, or if she was just upset that Ginger had asked me, and not her, to try it on. “I promise it’ll be fine.”
    “Okay, just a couple?” Ginger asked, flipping her phone open. “Smile, Mad….”
    I looked pointedly away from Sarah and smiled, trying to do my best fifties-prom-queen expression, as the camera phone clicked.
     
    Two hours later, I headed out to the junior parking lot. After she’d finished taking pictures, Ginger had become all business and had put Sarah and me to work taking the costumes to the vault. The costume vault was off the blackbox, and Ginger was the only student who had keys to it. It was a huge room where all the costumes from all the past shows were stored, in the hopes that they could be used for future productions. It was like being in a candy store, and I would have been content to wander around it for hours, but after we were done, Ginger hustled us out of there and locked up.
    I was completely wiped out, and the thought of going to the Hyatt now and dealing with the hotel’s concierge was incredibly unappealing. From the depths of my bag, I could hear the sound of the French Kicks—Lisa’s ring. I dug my phone out of my bag and answered. “Ah, bonjour. ”
    “Mad,” Lisa said, and I could hear her sighing. “The French never answer the phone that way.”

    “Oh,” I said. “What do they say?”
    “ Allô ,” Lisa said firmly. “And nothing else.”
    “Got it,” I said. “I’ll remember that the next time I’m in France. And answering a phone. What’s up?”
    “ Rien ,” Lisa said. “Just wanted to catch up.”
    “Me too,” I said, suddenly remembering the incident at the hotel that morning. “Have you talked to Schuyler much today?”
    “ Non ,” Lisa said. “Which is kind of weird, since we had the same lunch, and I never saw her. Why?”
    “Well, this thing happened at the Hyatt this morning that was really strange….”
    “What?” Lisa asked eagerly. “Dis-moi.”
    I had made it to my car, and pulled the phone away from my ear to check the time. If I hung up with Lisa now, I could still make it to the hotel before I had to be home for dinner.
    Or…I could just bring the crown tomorrow. I wanted to talk to Lisa, not just to try to figure out what had been going on with Schuyler but because I’d become aware that friendships—even best friendships—could end. And between Lisa’s call and Schuyler’s coming with coffee, I was feeling really lucky in the friend department these