They said they’d do it. They’d been threatening all week, but part of me was holding out in hopes that it wouldn’t happen. I was in denial, I suppose.
But I couldn’t deny it as I sat at the Fall Sports assembly and my name was called as a Homecoming Queen candidate.
Completely mortified, I walked over, accepted my certificate (with my name spelled incorrectly, of course) and stood there as six other girls were called down. They were all excited, grinning and laughing and happy. Why wouldn’t they be? This is every girl’s dream, right?
Except mine. I’d even told my friends I’d rather not be nominated. But apparently a good chunk, for whatever reasons (they thought it would be funny, they wanted me to represent them…) ignored me. After all, they didn’t suffer. I was the one who had to take hours of photography, miss a day of school, find an escort, and shop for dresses…*shudder*.
I passed through most of the stages of grief – denial, bargaining, anger, depression – and I’ve reached acceptance a little bit worse for wear. There are girls that would kill for my spot, but I can’t give it to them. I can only deal with this as gracefully as possible, because I think it would hurt them even more if they thought they were beaten by someone who doesn’t even care.
Still, I hope I don’t win.