Good afternoon, Arrowheads! Today, in honor of prom season, I’m posting a Flash Fiction story about a prom that took an unexpected turn. This story was a lot of fun to write, though I haven’t had much free time to pen new stories due to my last semester of my senior year of college coming to a close. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy “Crazy Ex-Prom Date”!

 

Crazy Ex-Prom Date

 

 

“Darlin’, you have issues,” Granny says to me in her deep southern drawl as I descend the staircase. “Back in my day, we wore ball gowns to the prom, not a bank robber’s outfit.”

“It’s not a bank robber’s outfit, Gran,” I reply, tucking my long, wild red hair into the knit cap. “I’ve just got a mission to handle tonight, that’s all.” I grab my keys off the coffee table, stooping to give Granny a quick kiss on the cheek before I leave. “If I’m not back by eleven, don’t wait up for me. There’s a possibility I could end up in jail, and if that’s the case, just come get me in the morning.”

“Will do.” Granny yawns, surfing through the channels on our television set from the early 90s. We don’t have cable, so she’s been flipping through the same five local channels ever since Young and the Restless ended.

Hopping down the steps of our single-wide trailer, I dash to my car, opening the passenger’s side door to survey my arsenal. Spray foam and window chalk, check. Febreeze and a selfie stick, check. And last but not least, a walkie-talkie. I clip it to my side to look official, though I won’t be talking to anyone on it tonight. A week ago, yeah. But now, well, let’s just say that it’s the whole reason for my mission.

Bumping down the dirt road my trailer park is on, I turn right onto Oak Street and continue on until Main, reviewing my method of attack. As I turn into Linwood Whaley High’s parking lot, my headlights skim across the license plates in the dark. I’m not usually a fan of crashing parties, but Blythe Walker gave me no choice in the matter. When I finally spot a license plate that reads “BMW” on a BMW, I turn off my lights and park. Cute how her initials match the car she drives, huh? Insert eye roll here.

Getting out to survey her vehicle, I know I’ve chosen the perfect revenge plot. They’ve only been dating a month, yet somehow she’s already managed to get a sticker made with Matt’s name for her passenger-side door. A little pressure on the foam nozzle, and it’s illegible under the soapy substance that now covers the entire window. Better go around to her side to even it up. Once the windows and side mirrors are coated (I may have gotten a little carried away!), I grab the chalk and pen the words I’ve been stewing over since I discovered my ex-boyfriend’s infidelity,

 

Wouldn’t want to deny you a ticket like you did me!

 

As if any cop in this town will give her a ticket for the mess on the windows obstructing her view; she’s probably on their radar too, if you know what I mean. But, being that Miss Prom Committee Queen refused to sell me a ticket after I called her out for luring Matt away, I feel that this is totally necessary.

Tossing the chalk and foam back into my car, I grab the mini-Febreeze bottle and the selfie-stick, locking both away in the pocket on my over-sized cargo pants. Okay, maybe I do look like a bank robber in this getup, but my older brother Randy was the only one who had black pants with suitable pockets.

As I approach the back door of the band room, I retrieve the key I bribed a clarinet player for, turning the knob ever-so-slightly to bring the door ajar. Success! Being that the band room is adjacent to the gym, I can now sneak in to prom without being discovered by door security. Taking a deep breath, I cross the band room and locate the door that will lead me to revenge or a misdemeanor, whichever comes first.

Slipping into the gym, a familiar country love song lingers over the speakers. Of course, I muse, glancing around for my targets, what better tune to humiliate them to than our former song? I scan the faces in the crowd, flashy dresses distracting me from my mission. How ironic is it that I had planned to wear a black dress to prom? As I weave my way through dancers who are too caught up in the overrated last slow dance of senior prom to notice me and my attire, I finally spot my targets near the middle of the dance floor. Naturally, Blythe is dead-center, directly under the spotlight.

My gaze is set on them as they turn in slow circles, Blythe’s always perfectly styled bronde hair draping long off her shoulders, though not enough to hide the skimpiness of her dress. I roll my eyes. Matt seems content enough, smiling as he says something into her ear. She giggles, causing me to bolt into action, my index finger poised on the spray nozzle of Febreeze as I approach them.

“If I may interrupt?” I ask innocently enough, though a hint of a sarcastic bite escapes.

Matt and Blythe turn to me, eyes wide. Before they can speak, I face Blythe.

“Shug, I know you’ve always thought of me as Most Likely to Be a Janitor with a hint of Trailer Trash based on the way you’ve treated me over the years. Guess I better start my career by de-odorizing your attitude.”

She opens her mouth to speak right as I lay down on the nozzle, drenching her head-to-toe in a tropical breeze scent. She erupts in a coughing fit; Matt grabs her arm to steady her, rage forming on his brow as he faces me. “Rachel, what the crap are you doing?”

Instead of responding, I grab the selfie stick with my phone attached, holding it out at arm’s length in order to capture the scene. Other prom-goers stand by, gaping at us.

“I believe I’ll caption this, ‘Matt’s Crazy Ex-Prom Date’ with one of those laugh-til-ya-cry emojis,” I say, grinning as security guards take each of my arms and drag me away. Shuffling back to the picture, I snicker, “Oh yeah, that’s a keeper. Unlike me.”

© Copyright 2017, Allyson Kennedy. All rights reserved.

 

Thanks for reading! If you have a flash fiction prompt idea that you’d like for me to try, please comment below! 🙂

-Allyson 😀