Soda Pop

Chapter 66- The Prom

Prom. The very thing girls dream about since birth. Guys just don't understand the amount of preparation it takes for one of the biggest nights of our lives. Especially at Crumb. At our school, prom is more like a gala event than an actual prom. Designer ballgowns, intricate updos, and all the gourmet foods you can think of. Sure, there's still music, just not rock and roll, pop, and certainly not country. The paparazzi swarms the event and takes pictures through windows, out of cars, literally anything to get a winning picture.

You may be wondering why we don't have more fun. There is a simple answer to that. 99.99% of the students at Crumb were born and raised rich. Galas and fancy parties are the only parties we attended growing up. Prom like this is completely natural for us.

And for the first time since I was jailed, I feel fairly normal again. I made Brett promise not to bring up the events of last week at all tonight. Because tonight, I want to feel normal.

Brett picked me up in a shiny, luxurious limo. Normal. He was dresses in a lovely tux with a tie that matches my dress. Normal. My beautiful mint green Chiffon dress with silver beading. Normal. The police dogs sniffing people for drugs. Definitely not normal.

"Ma'am I need to check your bag," The security guard remarks as we exit our limo onto the red carpet leading into the five star hotel prom is held at this year.

"Um, excuse me sir? This is not just a bag. It is a couture clutch featured in New York Fashion Week. Do you know how much this 'bag' cost? More than your yearly salary I presume!" My eye twitches, and Brett opens my clutch for the security guard to see inside.

After he finishes inspecting me for drugs, he turns to another guard nearby and says something that makes my blood boil, and the hairs on my arms stand on end, "Ha, rich white girls think dey own da world or somethin. Don't give Em what they won't and they'll run home to daddy and sue ya!"

Brett already senses my rage, because he turns and grabs my by the waist, preventing me from clawing the guards eyes out. He leads me inside, where fancy waiters are bustling around, carrying silver trays with small portions of world cuisine. Like the caviar, or the pineapple fried rice.

I text my friends to tell them I have just arrived.

Brett looks around anxiously, and I can see him eyeing an obvious DEA agent. I squeeze his hand, "Brett, remember what you promised. We aren't bringing it up at all tonight. We are going to be normal, and pretend we are not being tracked by the government."

He nods, but still looks unsure, "It's just that-"

I put my hand over his mouth, "Stop. We are going to be normal. We are going to have fun. We are going to enjoy ourselves."

He removes my hand, pulling me to the side of the room. He looks around for a second, unsure, "Casey, how can you act like completely normal? We could be thrown into prison at literally any second and you are acting like it's all fine and dandy. Like nothing ever happened?"

"Oh please, it's not like we have any idea of how we are going to figure this out anyway!"

He rolls his eyes.

"Brett, it's not like the answers to our problems are going to float down from the heavens on a cloud! Unfortunately, life just doesn't work that way."

Brett's face goes blank. His eyes dart be a and forth, as if he is having some sort of opiphany. He doesn't move, speak, or anything for at lease two minutes straight.

"Brett? Are you okay? Is it something I said? Did I hurt your feelings? Please talk to me," My voice rises in pitch a little as I take his hand and squeeze it.

Finally, a huge grin plasters his face, and he picks me up and spins me around in a circle saying, "Casey! That's it! You're a genious!"

"Um, thanks, but what am I a genious for?"

Without answering, Brett turns around and runs off. I watch him go, but make no movement to follow him.
What the heck just happened there?

That was strange, even for Brett.

Pondering the weirdness, I spot Courtney across the room with Clayton. I quickly walk over, dodging waiters, and walking, talking money.

"Hey! Casey! You look stunning!" Courtney smiles, smacking my butt.

Clayton gives her a funny look, and so do I. Courtney doesn't notice, and continues smiling at me.

"Where's Brett?" Clayton asks.

"He just ran off somewhere," I point in random directions.

"Oh, there he is!" Courtney points.

Brett is smiling like a lunatic. He walks over to me and I pull him to the side again.

"What was that?" I cry.

"I figured it out! I figured out how we can get the police on our side!" He smiles.

"What? Tell me!"

He whispers in my ear, and after he tells me, it all makes sense.

Marcus is going down.