Read Online Prom by Laurie Halse Anderson - Free Book Online Page B

that is one kind of gross you don’t want to see.”
    “Ew.” Shawn put down his hot dog.
    “Serious ew,” I said. “Think about last year, Dad, when you renewed your vows. It got so bad around here you almost divorced. When it comes to this celebration stuff, she’s out of control.”
    Dad stroked his beard. “You have a point, princess.” He jogged towards the living room. “Hang on, I know what to do!”
    I took a freshly boiled hot dog out of the pot and stuck it in a clean bun. Mutt licked my ankle and I pushed him away. “You have no idea the bullet we just dodged,” I told Nat.
    Dad came back holding a thick book. “We’ll swear on this. Like a holy oath.”
    Nat read the title. “You guys swear on The Lord of the Rings ?”
    “I couldn’t find the Bible.”
    Steven stuck a piece of hot dog roll in his book to mark his place. “For some people, The Lord of the Rings is holy, too.”
    The boys gathered around, each one with a hand on the book.
    “We swear that we won’t say a word,” Dad said.
    “We swear that we won’t say a word,” my brothers repeated.
    “About the prom to Mary Alice.”
    “About the prom to Mary Alice.”
    “No, I mean, to Mom.”
    “No, I mean, to Mom.”
    “So help me God and Tug McGraw.”
    “So help me God and Tug McGraw.”
    “All right then, men. Let’s crush the roofers!”

59.
    I had one question rattling around my head the whole time at work.
    What was I thinking?
    I took orders, delivered them to the kitchen, served flat soda and undercooked pizza, smiled, danced, cleaned tables, mopped floors, and danced some more, a confused rat on cruise control.
    What was I thinking!?
    No way could I help with the prom. I had a million detentions to serve and was behind in most my classes. I had to go to work and help Ma at home. And I had a social life, sort of, if I was still speaking to TJ and he was still speaking to me.
    What the hell was I thinking???
    I messed up three orders and spent fifteen minutes switching pizzas from one table to the other. My manager made me mop the floors.
    Why did I raise my hand in that meeting? Could I blame my hangover?
    Maybe.
    Was I just trying to piss off Gilroy?
    Probably.
    Did this prove that bad things happened when you raised your hand in school?
    Absolutely.

60.
    When I came home, Mutt was stretched the entire length of the couch, his belly fat with hot dogs and buns. Something was up. The house was too quiet for ten-thirty at night and the dog never got the couch to himself.
    “Ma?”
    “In the kitchen, Ash,” Dad called.
    He was on his knees behind the kitchen table, scrubbing the wallpaper in his softball clothes.
    “What are you doing?” I asked.
    He dipped the scrub brush in a bowl of soapy water. “Cleaning up.”
    I looked him over for bruises. “Did you get hit on the head?”
    He muscled out a red spot on the wall. “After you and Nat left, we had a little food fight. See that yellow by the window? That’s mustard. This is ketchup, obviously.”
    “What’s the green?”
    “Relish. But I don’t about the brown stuff.”
    “Chocolate pudding,” I said. “From the craving Ma had at Easter, remember?”
    “That’s right. I forgot.”
    I took an orange soda out of the fridge. “How was the game?”
    He started on a huge ketchup stain. “We got robbed. The freaking roofers paid off the umpire. What do you expect? I had a couple good hits, though. Sent one out of the park.”
    “Good for you.”
    I took a long drink. The only sound in the house was the wet brush on the wall. The wallpaper was coming off and the drywall was dissolving, but the stain was still there.
    “TJ called,” Dad said.
    “I’m not talking to him.”
    “How come?”
    “He stood me up last night.”
    “Then who were you out with last night?”
    “Moira O’Malley. At the park.”
    “You got drunk at the park without your boyfriend there to protect you?” Dad stopped scrubbing and stared at me. “That was stupid, Ashley