Sienna
The school was alive that Friday like it had been waiting all year for this single day. Streamers, balloons, and banners were strung up in the halls, some already crooked from students tugging at them on their way to class. The air smelled faintly of markers, tape, and the hairspray girls had sprayed on themselves before first period. Everywhere I looked, it was prom, prom, prom.
Campaign posters for Prom King and Queen littered the walls, taped over lockers and bulletin boards. Some were flashy, with glitter and pictures, others just sharpie-scrawled slogans. Every time a bell rang, someone new shoved flyers into your hands, chanting promises about free candy if you voted for them.
And then, there was the other kind of “advertising.” A few seniors—bold or just stupid—moved throu
