The Real Prom Queens of Westfield High (6 page)

PART TWO

Prom Queen Boot Camp

“I wonder what our makeovers will be like,” I grunt as I drag my brown suitcase up the stone stairs leading to a huge columned porch. I have matching bags under my eyes, courtesy of staying up all night to finish my quilt. I categorically qualify as “significantly unattractive” for my big TV debut.
Victoria
will
be
thrilled.

Kelly raises her nose ring into a snarl as she pushes past me, dragging her scuffed black duffel bag behind her. We follow Amy through the enormous double doors and cross the threshold of what will be our luxurious home for the next six weeks.

The three of us didn't talk much during our shared limo ride here. Amy was completely mute, clutching the small case that coordinates with her plaid luggage and biting her bottom lip the whole time. I picture hours of footage filled with awkward silence and wonder how long before our show gets canceled.

As we stand in the yawning marble foyer, I take in the crystal chandelier, the ornate gold wallpaper, and the Nőrealique Cosmetics posters mounted on the walls. Marnie would hate all the blatant commercialism, but the contrast inspires me to make a mental quilt featuring gold paisley embossed with the trendy red-lipped logo of Nőrealique Cosmetics.

I'm naming my design
Lip
Service
to
Our
Sponsor
when Amy leans in to whisper, “I just hope I don't completely embarrass myself.”
She
speaks
. I nod and smile, suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that we're being filmed. Besides the two men dressed in black circling us with handhelds, there are hidden cameras all over the house.

I'm so busy envisioning how my every eye blink is coming across that Victoria's big introduction is just background gibberish about how we're not to look directly at the cameras. I notice she's wearing unnaturally bright-red lipstick that goes perfectly with her artificial demeanor.

Amy listens intently while Kelly examines one of her short, black fingernails with disdain. I'd put big money down on Kelly getting into a brawl at some point during our show's run. I picture her crumpling Victoria's perfect highlights in her fist as she smears that bright-red lipstick with her knuckles.

The non-smeared version of Victoria in front of me nods and smiles as she gestures upstairs. I lean over to ask Amy what's happening as the three of us start making our way up the grand marble staircase.

“We're going to see our bedrooms,” she says. “Then meeting in the Beauty Room in two hours to get our makeovers.”

“Sweet,” I say as I heave my suitcase up step by step. “I can't wait to see how they reveal our transformations.”

“How simple are you?” Kelly's heavy breathing tarnishes her cool façade.

Amy looks over her shoulder at me. “Victoria just went over the whole layout of the show. Hidden spy cameras will follow us through our senior year. Nobody will know about it until the show airs the first episode in the spring.” Amy puts down her plaid suitcases. “They'll start with a two-hour premiere episode of us here at camp. Then the rest of the season will cover senior year, leading up to the
live!
finale at the prom when we find out if any of us wins the money.”

I look at Amy. “I think that's the most I've ever heard you speak.” She blushes as we continue up the stairs. “And thanks,
live!
finale at the prom—got it.”

“Girls, girls,
GIRLS
!” An angry voice cuts in. “Stop! We need another take!”

The three of us turn to see Mickey wearing a headset and walking up the stairs behind us. “What we're looking for today is more excitement, more enthusiasm, and especially more
paying
attention
to the fact that you're about to see your Exciting New Bedrooms.” She smiles coldly. “I need you three to drop your suitcases in the foyer and have a race up the stairs. Feel free to shove.”

Amy and I rest our bags on the steps in front of us. “What the—?” Kelly breathes heavily as she sits down beside her duffel. I imagine she'll need an oxygen tank if she's going to make it down and up the stairs again for the cameras. Amy obediently starts working her way back downstairs, easily hauling three times the weight of Kelly's bag.

“Do
you
want to lug this thing back up here?” Kelly snaps.

Mickey smooths her slicked-back hair. “If the three of you can properly convey how
thrilled
you are with your new bedrooms, we'll get somebody to not only carry all your bags, but unpack them as well.”

I thunder back down the stairs where Amy is already standing dutifully beside her pet suitcases. Kelly drags herself to the foyer and flings her bag onto Amy's stack. There's a clear sound of breaking glass, and Amy's face goes crimson. Either Kelly just busted her bong, or Amy packed something fragile. A waft of powdery-smelling fragrance fills the foyer and Amy says apologetically, “Baby's Pink Perfume.”

Kelly growls and bats at the air as if she's being gassed.

“That fragrance needs to be confiscated anyway,” Mickey says. “The
only
products featured on this show will be Nőrealique products.” She raises her headset's microphone to her mouth and says, “So if Kelly has
finally
caught her breath, we are ready for
ACTION
!”

We all head back up the stairs trying to look like we're putting a little energy into it.

“Much better!” Mickey calls. “Whoever gets there first gets the big bedroom!” Which is what she should've said in the first place. Kelly is left in the dust as I clamor to be first but Amy proves to be more agile than she looks. We get to the top together and when we open the door to the first room, I'm amazed by how big and fancy it is. It has to be the best one, so I shove past Amy, dive onto the bed, and lick the pillow to claim it.

Amy is undaunted and squeals with delight as she runs from room to room, giving the exact sort of footage Mickey's looking for. Kelly stands in each doorway, trying to look cool, but her quick half-smile makes me think of a cat who totally loses it watching a rolling toy then goes back to acting all bored. I can't blame her covert excitement because honestly, the rooms are chock-f of amazing. In fact, my room turns out to be one of the smaller two. But it's plenty big with pearl-white walls and so many pretty silver touches, it has me thinking this reality show thing was a good decision after all.

***

We have two hours before our pilgrimage to the Beauty Room for our makeovers, so I decide to practice being sociable by visiting the other girls in their bedrooms.

Kelly's full duffel bag sits in the middle of her purple carpet waiting for the guy who's coming around to unpack us. She's lying silently on her bed, arms folded over her chest like a corpse, her clunky black clogs crossed and twitching. I stand in the doorway, trying to draw her into a conversation.

Me: “So, what do you think they'll do for our makeovers?”

Her:
*silence*

Me: “I really hope they don't cut my hair super short.”

Her:
*silence*

Me, holding my hair back to reveal my goofy ears: “'Cause my ears are pretty goofy.”

Kelly continues staring at the ceiling. She ended up in the room that's decorated in deep purple and reminds me of a witch's lair.
How
fitting
. Finally, she rises to glare at me and says, “Shannon? You mind shutting the fuck up?”

I smile. “That'll get bleeped, you know.” She doesn't smile back, and I give a sarcastic, “Alrighty then,” as I move toward the powdery scent of Amy's room.

Amy is hovering over a guy dressed in all black who's unpacking her stuff. “No, that shouldn't really go th—here, let me do it.” She snatches a stack of folded clothes from his hands. “Thank you, I've got it.” With a hasty nod, she starts rearranging her drawers. The guy shrugs and leaves, presumably to go unpack either my room or Kelly's.

“Be careful,” I warn him in case it's the latter, and he shoots me a weary glare. “Oh, don't worry about my stuff. It can go anywhere.” I flap my hand and laugh. “I meant be careful if you're unpacking Kelly. She's in a bit of a…mood.”

“Kelly seems to live in a mood,” says Amy.
Look
at
Amy, dishing it
. I move into her room, thinking she may make a decent Prom Queen after all.

“Great bedroom,” I say, a little envious I settled for my smaller one.

“Yeah, like
wow
.” She pauses to take in the pink walls, full-length mirrors, and four-poster bed. As I watch her unpack, I decide it's a good thing she got the biggest room, since she brought a crapload of stuff.

“Didn't they say not to pack too much?” I start poking around, opening drawers and sniffing bottles. “We're getting new wardrobes and makeup and everything.”

“Yeah, I suppose so.” Amy moves to take the diary I'm leafing through. “I just like to be prepared. They might not have stuff that fits me, you know?” She bows her head and smooths a hand over her belly.

“I guess we're all walking into this blind,” I say. “But today's makeover should be fun.”

“I can't wait to see what they'll do to each of us.” She bites her lower lip.

“The makeovers are always the best part of these shows,” I say. “And I am seriously in need of a drastic one.”

Amy grins at me. “This is going to be great!”

***

“This is going to suck!” Kelly growls as the three of us walk down the stairs toward our future selves. “I like my hair like this. I like my clothes like this. I have no interest whatsoever in being the damn Prom Queen.”

Ignoring Kelly, I think,
This is it
. Fairy godmothers come in all shapes and sizes, and mine just so happens to be showing up in the form of a squadron of beauty experts.

We enter the large marble “ballroom” where an enormous floor-to-ceiling thick gold curtain covers one wall. There's a huge Nőrealique Cosmetics logo in the center of it, complete with huge kissy lips. It strikes me as funny since the only thing big enough to leave kissy lip marks that giant would be a
Tyrannosaurus rex
. By the time Victoria finishes her pre-camera primping and we're ready to start rolling, the image in my mind has developed into a group of kissy-lipped dinosaurs dancing in a music video. I push away the picture of their big dino butts swaying in sync as their itty-bitty arms pump the air and focus on what Victoria is saying.

“Kelly, for you, we'll be going shorter and layered, with some highlights in the front and soft wisps framing your face.” Victoria widens her eyes and pretends to pull invisible wisps of hair around her face. “Then we'll bring your piercings down to no more than three above the neck. And that
includes
earrings.”

She seems pretty excited. Victoria, I mean, not Kelly. Kelly looks grossed out. “You'll be ditching the black kohl and getting a softer makeup look, using the Nőrealique Naturals line of cosmetics. It puts a strong focus on pink tones.”

“Oh goodie. Pink,” Kelly says icily.

“Cut!” Mickey shoots out from behind the kissy-lip curtain.

She strides toward us, and Amy actually flinches. “Okay, girls.
Kelly
in particular.” Mickey glares at her. “I'm only saying this one more time. I realize the three of you are not the typical contestants whose one lifelong dream is to be on television.” She puts her hands on her hips. “But the show won't work if we can't get you to display some enthusiasm. You're about to be treated to professional instruction from top makeup artists, hairstylists, nutritionists, and lifestyle coaches. You will have all the help you need for one of you to slap a tiara on your head and put
One! Million! Dollars!
in your bank account.”

Kelly crosses her arms, and Amy looks like she's trying to shoot enthusiasm out her pores. I'm still stuck on how strange it is to keep hearing “Cut!” in the middle of our “reality” show.

“You know what you'd do with that money, don't you, Kelly?” Mickey says. “Maybe help out your family?” Kelly drops her gaze to the floor. “Good,” says Mickey. “Now, we're looking for
lots
of energy. I need strong reactions, girls. Get excited!” She turns away, pauses, and turns back.

“And it's okay if your strong reaction involves crying by the way.”
Because
girls
crying
hysterically
over
their
hair
makes
good
television
. But I don't care if they decide to shave my head; I'll never be
that
girl. Of course, no one could think that giving my ears full exposure is a good idea.

Mickey disappears behind the Rex-Lips curtain, and Victoria starts describing Kelly's makeover from the top. Kelly must've gotten Mickey's point, because she reacts by saying, “Oh really?” in an exaggerated tone. “Shorter hair? Fewer piercings? I sure didn't see that coming.” Her sarcasm is barely veiled, but Victoria seems unfazed as she describes the rest of our makeovers.

The swarming team of hairstylists must have gotten a peek at my goofy ears because my hair is staying long. Victoria tells me I'll be going blonde, blonder,
blondest
and I don't need to fake my excitement. I've always sort of wanted to be a blonde in the same abstract way I've always sort of wanted to be Prom Queen.

“You'll be treated to the Nőrealique Elite Diamond line of premium cosmetics,” Victoria tells me. “Think rich heiress celebutante meets girl next door.” She pauses a moment and glares at my
I-don't-give-a-shit-kickers
before adding, “And those boots are getting burned.”