Prom Queen ⚢ [EDITING]

↻ ◁ six ▷ ↺

"she's the first in line at the club"

I couldn't believe I was in a closet for seven minutes with Camryn Sako. Again. Only this time, the closet was literal and not the metaphorical kind that I'd grown fairly familiar with.

"Do these lights really have to stay on?" She complained for the third time in the first thirty seconds. "I'd rather not have to see your face."

"Who's the villain in this situation again?" I asked, reaching my arm behind her to flick the light switch, watching as the room darkened within half of a second. I couldn't see her anymore but her malicious energy was all I could feel around me. "I feel like your anger is misplaced right now."

"And I think you should stay out of it," Camryn snapped back. I raised my eyebrows as high as I possibly could, which was difficult to do considering I, too, was as high as I possibly could be, without puking at least.

"After your boyfriend just got into a closet with a renowned home-wrecker? Kind of hard to stay out of that."

"Yeah, well, I'm in here with you now, so I'm not exactly the partner of the year either."

I scoffed. "Sure, except the difference between us and them is that they were the definitely hooking up, and you hate my guts, so—"

"Can you please just shut up?" she shouted suddenly, cutting me off with a sharp tongue. I shut my mouth immediately, only realizing I went too far after I'd already said it. And when I looked at her through the darkness, the malice that filled the air was replaced with betrayal, and I had no idea how I was supposed to comfort her in this situation.

"I'm sorry," I told her instantly. "I didn't mean rub salt in the wound. I was just—"

"Please, for the love of God, just stop talking."

I leaned back, caught off guard. I knew Camryn wasn't a fan of mine by any means, but I didn't know she could be so mean. I understood she was in pain but I was just trying to apologize, not make it worse. Why did she hate me so much?

After a while, the room filled with silence and we weren't allowed to have phones in here with us, so there was nothing but darkness and a group of immature teens outside the door. The tension was so rough that we hadn't even sat down yet. By the time the three-minute mark came, I was going stir-crazy.

"I know you don't like me," I finally said in the midst of my marijuana-fueled edge. "And I don't know why, but it's obvious that you'd rather be in here with Dylen Tucker yourself than me. But I'm not going to apologize for that."