The Prom Night Planner

"Anger is a very strong and important emotion that brought several bodily changes in humans. But here we will focus what triggers the anger..." Miss Simpsons, my psychology teacher is addressing the class. It's been half an hour since she is breathlessly speaking so I've got no option, but to start sketching in my notebook. I'm sitting exactly three desks away from her, head down, pretending to make notes. My medium length classic beach curls are falling on both sides of my face, almost touching my notebook. It's not like I'm good at sketching. I do it when I feel bored or avoid dozing off. Right now, it's the latter. "There are normal reactions and abnormal reactions. A person needs to find out whether his anger is normal or extreme. An anger issue is a very common mental illness humans face..." I sigh while drawing Winnie the Pooh. Psychology is my elective course. I chose it by myself so I can't even complain about it, but sometimes it becomes really dry and mundane. Maybe because it's Miss Simpsons's course. She is the type of teacher who doesn't care whether students in the class are listening to her or not or her teaching techniques are very obsolete. She will continue her lectures till the end of time. "When something against your mindset, your thoughts, your standards happen, you feel anger rising in you. Heartbeat goes faster, blood pressure rises..." My phone vibrates in my back pocket. Looking up at her, I put my pen down and move the tendrils from my face. While keeping check on her that she can't catch me breaking the rule, I slowly pull my phone out. "This emotion forces you to act. It is good if it is making you do good things for instance solving problems, countering evil, you know..." Phones are strictly not allowed during class. If she would find out, she would immediately confiscate my phone and take me straight to headmistress office. I don't know who else dared to use phone during her lecture. I move my eyes around while typing my password. Almost all of the students are looking at front, seeming to listen to the teacher very attentively. But then, a Blondie with the coin-shaped locket chain passes me a smirk, followed by a wink. My friend, Ariana. I return her a brief smirk, move my phone beneath my desk and open her text. "Mom won't be home tomorrow in the evening. We can party at my place." My eyes gleam in excitement. That's what I call refreshment. We gossip nonstop, watch movies and eat pizzas in her Mom's absence. Sometimes I crash on her bed as well because I get too full and lazy after excessive eating. Excitement stirs in me as I already start planning in my head which rom-com I would watch this time with those warm, fresh popcorn. I can also play some board games or listen to music with the highest volume possible and....dance like I'm trying to c***k the ground. "Bingo!" I type a reply to her. With your high school best friend you can do stupid, senseless stuff and still feel proud of it because she's the same. Ariana and I've been friends for most of our senior years and now since the beginning of the Final Year we are just inseparable. We eat together, share our homework and even prepare for exams together. In my high school friend list, she ranks on the top. "I've made a fake f*******: and added almost all of our school. Now we can easily stalk them. ;) I'll show you tomorrow." I almost chuckle. That's also one of our secret activities; stalking, you know, boys, cheer leaders and updates about recent relationships and breakups. It's like keeping an eye on what's going around us. "Miss Nichols." A loud, sudden voice makes me jump. Reflexively, I put my phone back in my pocket and look up. Miss Simpsons is frowning at me. Sweats begin to appear on my forehead. I'm busted, for sure. Because of all the excitement, her voice was like gone mute for me. Now all of a sudden, I don't know why she has called my name so loudly. Ariana, you're dead! I give a quick glance to my notebook, opened right in front of me, pages filled with my doodles, not even single trace of her today's lecture. My cheeks suffuse with the shade of raspberries as I close the notebook, "Y-es, Ma'am?" I fearfully rise on my feet. She nods thoughtfully, pressing her red lips together. She sets her head high and says in an authoritative tone, "My office, now." My eyes widen. My doubts were correct. She really has seen me using phone during her class. I look around and observe some of my classmates are giving me confused looks and some of them are giggling at my lost state. I frown at them. As soon as Miss Simpsons leave the class, Ariana runs to me, "Do you really think she caught you?" Students start to disperse slowly. "Obviously. What else could be the reason she called me in her office?" I whine, burying my face in my palms, "Oh God! I don't want to give my phone or get a detention." I stay like this for some seconds then move my palms and just look at her helplessly. She pulls down her eyebrows and makes a sad face in a dramatic way, "I'm so sorry, dearie." Her voice fills with guilt. She comes forward and hugs me. I also twist my face as if I'm about to cry. I mentioned before that I and Ariana can be silly with each other. This is just one of our moments. I put my hands down to my sides and rest my head on her shoulder. "I guess I should go before she gets madder." I whisper in a tiring voice. "Hmm." We pull apart. I take my backpack and notebook. Ariana is still giving me a pout. I nod her once and trudge outside the classroom. On my way, I straighten my high neck, fitted top and stretch my arms. Laziness is making my limbs lethargic and almost lifeless. Geez. I've just used so many L-words. What can I say? I'm not a Shakespearian. Vocabulary is not my thing. Besides, I believe keeping everything simple. When there is an easy way out, why should a person burn her calories unnecessarily? Wait... I guess I've given the wrong metaphor. Using good, Shakespearian words can't burn calories at all...or it can... I don't know... Great. I just found out that my general knowledge is weak as well. I'm not sure if using long and rare vocabulary burns calories or- "Hey, Serena! What's up?" My mental puzzle disturbs by a familiar, sudden voice. "Nothing. I guess today I'm staying in school for extra hours." I make a sad face. "Don't tell me it's Miss Simpsons?" Olivia widens her big, brown eyes. With fake, long lashes and cat eye-liner, her eyes are looking overly prominent. Well, that's her usual self. She loves cosmetic. Her face is always packed with branded makeup. Her long, golden brown hair always shines and perfectly combed like those models in hair commercials. And girls like me want to touch those ringlets just to know how soft and silky they are. Olivia is another good company to be with. Not as good as Ariana, but she is an easy person, not prejudicial and not demanding. She spends her free time with me, but not every time. Because of her fascinating demeanor she has a vast social circle in school and that's one of the reasons she doesn't accompany me much. "Yes. It's her." I answer. Miss Simpsons have a reputation. She is famous for boring lectures, pencil skirts and granting detentions. Also, she is an event manager of school so we can't hate her completely because she is the organizer and planner of all the fun for the students. Olivia opens her mouth to respond, but I interrupt her, "I gotta go. She must be waiting for me. I'll see you later." Before she decides to increase my hours, I should just make her happy by reaching to her on time. "Okay." Olivia motions her head quickly in agreement. Miss Simpsons's office is just beside the headmistress office because she is her assistant, her right hand. She is the school's spokesperson. I knock on her door for once. After receiving her consent, I step inside the room. She is sitting on her office chair, head down while the pen in her hand is moving against some paper. I clear my throat to get her attention, "Ma'am, I'm..m sorry." I think it would be safe if I just set aside my pride and apologize to her in the most humble manner. Modesty has its own magic. It always works. She raises her head at me, giving me a questioning glance, "Sorr-" "I can explain." I raise my palms in air in a way as if she is about to slap me and I'm trying to stop her, "It's just I got a text and I felt the urge to check. It was only for a minute I swear." "What." Her face contorts in complete disbelief. She stands up on her feet so quickly that my feet step back in fear. She slaps her palms on the table in front, "You were using a phone in my class?" My brows draw together at her question, "You didn't see me?" "No." Her facial muscles ease, She crosses her arms and gives me the you-are-so-dead look. Dumbfounded, I part my lips. It means...it means...I was not getting detention. It means she didn't see me with the phone earlier. I face palm myself mentally. Like the most stupidest person, I myself confessed my crime in front of the executor. A consequence of having a paranoid brain. "Why did yo-u cal-l me here?" I stammer in hesitation while scratching the back of my head. The frown on her face deepens. The shade of pink is clearly visible on her white, flawless skin. She's about to explode. I swear she's about to give me detention for whole week. She crosses her desk and comes face to face with me. I force an embarrassing smile on my face. "I called you here to discuss this year's prom night." "Prom Night?" I lift up my one brow. "Yes. The school has decided to give the contract to the Nichols Event Management. Last month's lounge party at school for the foreign delegation was so impressive that we want to once again hire them for our next big event." She explains, smiling. My lips form O in astonishment. Nichols Event Management is my father's company. He is an event planner. It was my idea actually. I suggested Miss Simpsons to let my father organize the lounge party for their Spanish guests. And yes it was a success. The decorations and catering were outclassed. The company is not itself a large corporation, but it is not small either. It has a good reputation, good service and good team. That's my family's livelihood. My mother works as a marketing specialist not in my father's company, but some other large enterprise because she has her own interests. She's more into commercial work and Dad loves organizing parties and celebrations. I'm more interested in Dad's business. I work at his office as a part-timer or trainee to try to get along with his staff. "That would be great." I respond, "We won't disappoint you." I'm not surprised that school chose our company, but I'm more surprised about the news. I didn't realize prom was that near. I know it's my Final Year, but God, time flies. It's already the final phase of my high school. My stomach starts to flutter because I want to give that piece of information to Ariana. Oh boy, goosebumps! "I'll come to the office tomorrow in the afternoon with my secretary to discuss with your father." "Yeah, okay." I say distractedly, "I'll talk to Dad tonight." "You can go now." I nod and turn around. Maybe I can talk to Dad to let me be the host of this year's prom. I can come up with better ideas than his team because after all I know better what my friends would like the mos- "Serena, wait." "Yes?" I face her again. "You're getting detention for today." Her jaws clench. Seriously? I thought she forgot about it. I forgot it too. "But..." "I'm disappointed with you." She comments and then leaves the room before me. Holy cotton candies!