Prom?

Prom? [6]

“Well, now that the movie is over, would someone please turn the lights back on?” Mrs. Davis asked as the credits began rolling. Simon, the boy sitting closest to the door, got up and flicked on the lights. Squinting from the sudden light, I turned to examine my notes. After confirming that I had copied down all the important details and potential examples to reference in the essay, I turned to my test. A quick glance around the room showed that no one was paying any extra attention to me. Maybe he’s not in this class.

“So partner, did you copy down anything useful for our paper?” Robert asked as he leaned over to look at the papers on my desk. When he saw the test in my hand, his eyes widened slightly before he smirked.

“I did actually, now back off,” I retorted before shoving all my papers in my bag. I’ll read it later, when I’m alone.

“Alright class, since it is Friday and I have nothing else for you to do, I will let you leave early. Use these twenty extra minutes to beat the after school traffic. Have a good weekend everybody, and I suggest that you at least come up with an outline for your essays before class on Monday,” Mrs. Davis announced, earning rounds of thanks and cheers of excitement.

“Aw poor Lesly, now you have to wait while we get to leave early. Have fun in detention,” Robert cooed as he grabbed his bag to leave.

“Mr. Walters, would you come here for a moment? I need to speak with you,” Mrs. Davis called before Robert could walk out the door. He grimaced but walked over to her without any complaints. Just as I walked out the door I heard Robert mention my name. Why is he talking about me? Whatever, now I have a chance to read the sixth clue. I walked over to my favorite tree and sat down, pulling out the test. Flipping to the back, I eagerly read the message in messy writing. The thought struck me that the writing looked familiar, and not just from having seen it on the clues all day, but the content of the message captured my interest before the thought could make any impact.

L,

One last clue before the truth is revealed.

I can’t hide my feelings for you any longer.

You will find it in detention.

See you soon.

The note was addressed to “L.” The nickname brought up a fond memory.

Conner and I were hanging out in my garage, listening to music and talking about our summer plans.

“I can’t believe we are going to be sophomores in a few months!” I cheered excitedly, kicking my legs in the air. Since I was laying upside down on the couch, my kick unsettled some of my dad’s tools on the shelf behind the couch. A book fell on the stereo that had been playing classic rock. Apparently it changed the station and turned up the volume because all of a sudden Hellogoodbye’s song “Jessie Buy Nothing... Go to Prom Anyways” came blasting out of the speakers.

“I love this song!” Conner exclaimed before standing up and dancing around the couch.

“No way, me too!” I called as I jumped up to dance with him.

“Will you go to the prom with me? And dance, and dance. And dance, and dance. And dance, and dance,” we sang to each other, still dancing. As the song ended, we both flopped onto the couch, laughing. When we flopped down, the sleeve of Conner’s shirt rode up on his arm, revealing a line of ink on his skin.

“Conner, what’s on your arm?” I asked moving to look at it.

“Nothing,” he mumbled as he put his hand over the marking. A slight blush appeared on his cheeks. I laughed at how adorable he was.

“You look like you just got caught with your hand in the cookie jar. Now you have to show me,” I teased. He sighed before reluctantly rolling up his sleeve. The letter “L” was written in Sharpie on his arm.

“What’s the ‘L’ for?” I asked, confused.

“‘L’ for Lesly.”

“Seriously?”

“No.”

“You jerk,” I smacked his arm, “Then why did you say that?”

“Because it’s less embarrassing to have the ‘L’ stand for my best friend’s name than for ‘Loser,’” he answered.

“Who would write ‘Loser’ on you in Sharpie? That’s just mean.”

“Robert. I fell asleep in class and he was sitting next to me. The rest of it came off, but the ‘L’ won’t fade,” he explained, rolling his sleeve back down.

“You know what? We will turn this into a good thing. The ‘L’ can stand for my name since I’m your best friend in the whole wide world. No one can make fun of you for having a best friend, right?” I smiled at him.

“Right,” he smiled back, “Though I guess I should start calling you ‘L’ now so it doesn’t look suspicious.”

“Good idea. Oh, and I can call you ‘C’ for ‘Conner!’ Get it?”

“Clever, L.”

“Why thank you, C,” I replied, tousling his shaggy hair.

I smiled to myself, tucking the test back into my bag. Conner had always been there for me, and I trusted him completely. He told me he knew who the guy was that was leaving me all these clues. I trusted that he would be a good guy since Conner was obviously helping him with this whole thing. Why was the note addressed to “L” though? Did Conner tell him about that too?