I quit the baseball team.

Despite the bruise my ego had sustained, it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. People would talk, but those bruises would fade. The physical consequences of everything I'd swallowed and snorted had subsided over the following weeks, but that meant everything I'd tried to keep down had bubbled back to the surface. Even my father seemed overly calm with me after we'd come back from my Clemson visit, and he kept his distance from me, as if he was afraid if he got too close, I'd spontaneously combust.

I kept having dreams that someone had put my body through a woodchipper, but maybe it was only because I'd been laying in bed watching replays of the movie Fargo on HBO. Even so, it sure as hell felt like that.

I wandered the hallways in a daze, I'd been skipping any class I had with Kaia, and it seemed like I'd become a passenger in my own life, just waiting to get off at the right stop - the one that would put me in South Carolina and far, far away from here for the rest of my life. Underneath all of the headaches and the exhaustion and the twisted sickness in my stomach, I could feel my heart hurt. It was one bruise that wouldn't so easily heal.

"Can you just hold still please?" Rochelle groaned as she grabbed my chin and twisted my head back to face her. "And before you start whining again, remember you're the one that asked me to do this."

"I know, I know," I sighed.

I leaned back against the countertop in my bathroom as Rochelle continued to pat some kind of cream underneath my eyes. It smelled like perfume and burnt rubber mixed together.

"Just like, don't make it so noticeable," I continued.

Rochelle scoffed. "Dallas, the bags under your eyes are so bad, it looks like you got punched in the face. Twice. Subtlety isn't really an option for you if you want them to go away." She paused as she took a step back to survey her work. "Then again, you have me, and I think I've just done some of my best witchcraft. God bless NARS concealer."

She motioned for me to turn around and look in the mirror above my sink, and sure enough, the smokey smudges under my eyes had vanished. Coupled with the fact that I was freshly showered and shaven, I had almost forgotten what I looked like when everything was normal.

"You're a genius, Rochelle."

"Now put this on," she handed me a glass jar with a pink gel substance in it. When I hesitated, she scoffed again. "It's fucking moisturizer okay. You need some color and life in your cheeks."

I rolled my eyes and did as I was told, then readjusted the collar of my black dress shirt in the mirror. "I wonder what kind of snide comment my mother is going to make about my chosen prom attire."

Rochelle handed me my dark charcoal grey blazer, completing my dark and dismal getup. Tonight could very well be the death of my pride, so I had to look the part. "I think she's kind of over giving you grief about your hatred of ties. Besides, you've got kind of a sexy goth thing going on."

"Yeah, sure," I chuckled. "Sexy goth in my Gucci tennis shoes."

I gently kicked the back of her shin with the toe of my crisp white sneaker. It was some kind of long-standing, unspoken rule that if you chose to wear a dress to prom, short dresses were for Junior Prom and gowns and long dresses were for Senior Prom. But Rochelle being Rochelle, opted for a tiny, iridescent pearl dress that barely touched her thigh, with knee-high lavender boots. As usual, she found a way to look pretty and badass at the same time.

"Can you do me a favor?" she asked, pulling her long dark hair over one shoulder. "Tighten the strap on my right shoulder?"

I nodded and moved behind her, gently tugging the thin strap of her dress further up her bare shoulder. Before I could pull my hand away, she clamped hers down on mine and gave me a squeeze. "One more favor?"

"Sure."

She stared at me through our reflection in the mirror, and something somber glazed over her dark eyes. "Try and have a good time tonight, okay? You deserve it."

I rested my chin on top of her head. "Yeah, I'll try."

She pressed a kiss to my knuckles before we unwound ourselves and made our way downstairs. Our group had settled on my house for pre-prom, and by the time we made it downstairs and to the foyer, everyone else had already shown up. Rochelle and Anthony were the only people with actual dates - Chris and I had each other, and Jordyn and her girl squad had elected to go as a group of four. Rochelle threw herself into Kennedy's arms, who sported almost the exact same dress Rochelle wore except black with matching black boots. I couldn't help but chuckle as I turned away. After all the shit Rochelle and Kennedy put each other through this year, they managed to still find their way back to each other. Something that felt like hopefulness swelled in my chest, like maybe somehow I still had a chance for the same.

Everyone's parents lingered with their iPhones out, ready to stage manage us and snap as many photos as possible of what could very well be the last time we were all together, except maybe graduation. I felt like I had just stepped into an alternate reality, where things seemed as normal as they could have been, and I felt my shoulders relax as I heaved out a sigh.

Chris made his way over to me and pulled me into one of his typical bro hugs, but he seemed to linger, like he was afraid if he let go, I'd unravel.

"Guess you're practicing for your next four years in crimson tide." I gestured to his velvet blazer, which was the same deep red as his future college football team's color.

"You should have worn an orange jacket," he chuckled.

"And risk looking like a pumpkin?" I scoffed. "No thanks, I already know I look good in orange and purple."

Jordyn emerged from the other side of the foyer, seeming to glide over the hardwood floor in her body-hugging, silky pink gown. The soft glow of the chandelier above us cast a golden halo around her, and with her hair tied up in an elaborate braid, she looked like she could have been a Disney princess.

Chris gave me a sideways glance before leaving the two of us alone.

"Hey," her voice fluttered over all the idle noise and conversation, a soft smile tugging her lips upward.

"Hey yourself," I gave her a faint smile back. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you." She ran her hands over imaginary wrinkles on the front of her dress. "You look...better."

I gave her an impassive shrug. "I guess. Better is subjective."

She reached up and absentmindedly smoothed out the lapels on my jacket. Her voice dropped to almost a whisper. "I'm sorry about what happened. With you and Kaia, I mean. Heard it was quite a spectacle."

A wry smirk cracked my face. "Are you though?"

Jordyn took a step back and let out a heavy sigh. "You know Dallas, I've done a lot of thinking over the past few months, and I've realized a few things. Against my better judgement, I am probably always going to love you, and I think as you've probably figured out by now, you can't really control who you do and do not love."

"Yeah," I managed a faint chuckle and ran my hand down the side of my face. "I think it's a little too late for me though."

"See, here's the other thing I figured out though." Jordyn reached down and took my hand in hers. "If you feel the way you think you do, you'll realize you get this really bitter, twisted satisfaction out of seeing that person happy...even if it's with another person, or in another state far, far away..."

I smirked. "Are we talking about you or me?"

Jordyn shrugged. "That's for you to decide."

She leaned forward on the toes of her sparkly stilettos and gently pressed a kiss to my cheek before folding herself back into the small group gathered in my foyer. I was quickly rejoined by Chris and Anthony, who led me into the den. The lights were off, but sunrays slid through the blinds and cast blade-like shapes across the hardwood floor and the leather couches.

"One for the road," Anthony said as he produced a flask from his inside jacket pocket. He took a swig first of whatever it was, then passed it to Chris, who made a sour face after taking a drink.

"What the hell is that, rubbing alcohol?" he asked, his features still pinched together as he handed the flask to me.

"Ketel One, you big baby," Anthony replied with an eyeroll. "It was all I could take without anyone noticing it was gone."

I took a much longer sip than necessary, wincing as what definitely felt like rubbing alcohol burned the back of my throat. But if I was going to make good on my word to Rochelle and try to have a good time, I'd need another one of those real soon.

✗✗✗

After enough pictures and escapades to fill the entire yearbook on its own, we all got shuttled to the school, where everyone gathered in the parking lot to board coach buses that would take us to The Glen - some swanky country club that sat on the edge of Crystal Lake. Chris gave me the aisle seat on the bus, while Anthony hung over the back of the seat in front of us as we continued to trade his flask back and forth. I wasn't ever sure what Meret was to Anthony, but she was always the only girl I'd ever seen him with, and in his own Anthony way, he was good to her. He even wore a white jacket and a purple tie to match her extravagant, sparkly purple and white dress. 

The Glen was everything you expected a lakeside resort to be on the outside, with deep wood-paneled siding and a tall, pointed roof that was just barely visible above the tree-lined road it was tucked behind. But on the inside it was all high ceilings, crystal chandeliers, and deep red swirling carpets. All my edges felt loose as we were led inside, and before I could stop myself, I scanned the crowd for Kaia. Luckily for me, Kennedy separated herself from Rochelle to say hi to the rest of the field hockey crew, drawing my gaze to the far corner of the lobby by a plexiglass spiral staircase with golden railings.

I finally understood why people say the sight of someone could take your breath away, because all the air whooshed out of my lungs when Kaia came into my line of sight. A tight black dress hugged every dip and curve of her body perfectly, with a plunging neckline that exposed every constellation of freckles on her chest. She laughed at something Kennedy said, the white of her teeth brilliant against the deep crimson red on her lips.

"Fuck it me," I sighed out, raking the hair off of my forehead.

"That is a revenge dress if I've ever seen one," Rochelle chimed in as she tracked my gaze. "Dallas, don't get any ideas. There is no way a conversation between you two ends well."

Kennedy returned to Rochelle's side, shooting me a pointed glance before they made their way into the main ballroom. Kaia lingered behind as she spoke to two more field hockey players, and I knew it might have been my only chance to get her alone. I knew it was a bad idea to seek her out, but all that liquid confidence pumping through me pinned down any better sense I had, and before my brain could tell my body to stop, I was walking over to her. My heart swelled in my chest as she caught sight of me and raked her gaze over me.

"I need to talk to you," I blurted out.

Kaia let out a heavy sigh and waved her field hockey cronies away. "Okay, talk."

I ran my tongue along my bottom lip. "Um...you look incredible."

She scoffed and folded her arms over her chest. "And you look...moderately decent."

I let out a wry chuckle. "I'll take decent."

"What do you want, Dallas?" 

"I uh..." I cleared my throat in an attempt to dislodge the knot forming, running my fingers along the collar of my shirt to get it off my neck. "I just realized you didn't come with a date."

"Neither did you." She kept her words sharper than knives. "I don't see how this revelation does either of us any good now."

I offered her a soft smile, in hopes maybe she'd soften too. "Well...I guess I was just wondering, if I asked you to dance later...would you?"

"Honestly, Dallas? No, probably not."

I paused and felt myself stepping back, as if her words were physical blows. My chest tightened, but before I could conjure up some kind of response, she continued.

"I'm done entertaining whatever this thing is between us. You think you can just treat people however you want and that they'll just forgive you, because you're you, right? You're so charming and so witty and nobody could ever even think about being actually angry with you. But you know what? I know you...and what you really are. You're a spoiled, miserable little boy, and you self-sabotage everything because maybe deep down you know you don't really deserve what you have. I didn't take Valedictorian from you - you handed it to me on a silver fucking platter, and you had no right to blame me for that."

Her words were coated in venom, and it was like something out of a cheap sci-fi movie - a fast-acting poison that was slowly shutting everything inside me down. I wanted to be sick. "I...I don't-"

"You know what, Dallas?" Kaia held up her hand as she took a step back. "Maybe for once, let someone else have the last word. And just so you know, if you had actually asked me to be your date to prom, I might have said yes."

She turned on her heel and sauntered away, leaving me alone in the dim glow of the lobby. I wasn't sure how long I stood there, willing the last bit of stitching I had not to unravel me. Maybe she was right. Maybe I never deserved her to begin with.

After pulling myself together and splashing some water on my face in the men's room, I managed to make my way into the main ballroom, where Chris waved me over to the table they had claimed in the back corner away from the stage. I skirted around the perimeter of the dance floor, where people were already congregating as the DJ played a few warm up pop songs. I dropped into an empty clear plastic chair beside Chris and let out a breath, desperate to slow my thundering heart.

"You okay? What happened?" Chris asked.

"Nothing," I blurted out. "Nothing. I just need a drink."

So we did. We drank, we danced, and I surrendered myself to the night. Blue and white lights danced on the ceiling, and remixes of overplayed pop songs vibrated the floor under. I danced with Jordyn like I hadn't broken her heart, I drank like I wasn't already drunk, and I tricked myself into thinking I was having a good time. But every time I caught Kaia's gaze from across the room, the air turned hot and dense the way it does when lightning is about to strike.

After a lull in the music, we made our way back to the table, where I fished the flask out of Anthony's jacket pocket that he had draped over the back of the chair, and I caught Rochelle's pointed glance from across the table before slugging down vodka like it was water.

"Seriously, are you good?" Chris asked, putting a hand to my shoulder. I shrugged him away.

"Fucking hell I'm fine, can everyone just leave me alone?" I snapped louder than I intended to, and it garnered a few glances from a group of girls walking by, glancing back at me over their shoulders as they spoke to each other in hushed tones.

"Dude what the fuck?" Anthony lifted the flask from my hands and sent vodka spilling down the front of my shirt. "We were supposed to make this last the rest of the night. Did you drink it all already?"

I coughed, and I wheeled around to fire an inebriated response back when Principal Maddox and her pitter pattering made her way to the microphone at the center of the stage to announce Prom King and Queen.

I'd almost gotten deja vu from Homecoming when they called my name for king to unsurprised applause, but thankfully it wasn't a direct repeat of that night as Jordyn joined me to be crowned Prom Queen. We smiled, we had our pictures taken, and for a moment, I wondered if this was how my life could have been if I'd just resigned myself to what people expected of me. If I was the Dallas Gunther everyone thought I was. If I didn't self-sabotage.

Jordyn slipped her hand into mine, and warmth rolled through me.

"You know it's funny, six months ago, this was all I wanted." She let out a hollow laugh. "But now? I don't care. Not even a little bit."

"Yeah, me either," I sighed out.

She gave me another pinched smile and fully turned to face me, reaching down to take my hand. "Anyway, I don't think we need to say anything, right?"

I glanced out into the sea of blurry faces, and something came over me. I think back on it and realized this was probably the moment I completely blacked out, either from the alcohol, or just emotional coping to trying to forget that whole entire night. "Actually, you know what? I have something to say."

"Are you sure?" She kept her hand on mine, like a silent plea for me to come with her.

I swallowed down whatever uneasiness rolled through me and nodded. Jordyn gave me one last glance before stepping off the stage and rejoining our group down on the dance floor.

The lights turned faces into blurry shapes and cooked me under the collar of my shirt. I could have just walked away. I should have walked away. I started to feel sick, but as the room began to spin, I clutched onto the microphone stand and just started spewing words like vomit.

"I know I don't really need to make a speech, but I figured this is my-" hic "-last opportunity for that, since ya know, Kaia stole Valedictorian from me and all." I paused and tried to make out her blurry figure in the crowd. She stood in the far corner by the open doors to the ballroom, her arms folded over her chest. The scowl was recognizable even in my bleary drunk haze. I pointed at her. "You guys know Kaia. Over there. Captain of the field hockey team, co-captain of the lacrosse team, unrelentingly merciless in every endeavor of hers, including her-" hic "-romantic pursuit of yours truly."

"Okay Dallas, maybe we should-" Principal Maddox made an attempt to grab the microphone stand from me, but I lifted the microphone out of the stand and walked (stumbled, really) to the corner of the stage.

"Anyway, what was I talking about?" I touched the cheap plastic crown on my head. "Oh right yeah, so I'm Prom King...obviously. And I just wanted to take my last opportunity to tell all of you..."

It was only then I'd realized how silent the room had fallen. 150 pairs of eyes looking up at me, suspended in a fuzzy, liquor-induced dream state.

"...that I fucking hated every single one of you." I spoke through the feedback of the microphone. "And by the end of this school year, you all had a hand in making my life fucking miserable...and I-"

"Dallas, okay, we're going." In the blink of an eye, Chris was on stage and had his hands on my shoulders, gently guiding me towards the steps at the side of the stage. Anthony joined him and fought to rip the microphone from my sweaty hands, but I held onto it and let one last line fly. "This was your king's final word. Let it sink in, peasants!"

In the dizzying tussle, the crown slipped off my head and went clattering to the floor, but we left it behind as Chris and Anthony led me to the door and outside to the parking lot. Jordyn tailed behind us.

"But my crown," I whined, trying to wiggle myself out of Chris and Anthony's grip to no avail. "I'm the king, I'm the fucking king I need my crown."

Jordyn materialized in front of me, and she gingerly reached up and removed her own tiara from her head. After a moment of looking down at it, she snapped it in two pieces.

"It's just a crown, Dallas. It doesn't mean anything."

and the way that it's going, the cracks, they start showing
and i sit, impossibly unfit
and lacking all the qualities you need out of me

cracks / sly withers

✗✗✗

i'm emotionally attached to the movie fargo, and i'm emotionally attached to this entire story and i'm unwell. i really don't have much else to say, but...

"no authors note? in THIS economy???" - w1ldflow3r said as we're facetiming right now, live commentary tysm.