Linds rolls her eyes far enough that her green irises vanish. She turns to me. “O, how would you feel if prom was Hamlet themed? Would you run for queen?”
“Of course I would. I’d finally have an excuse to re-create Ophelia’s iconic mad scene. Prancing across a stage throwing flowers and singing off-key would be very on-brand for me.” I mime pulling flowers from a basket, flicking my hand as if showering Lindsay with them. “Look, a fantasy of mine come true.” She bats me away.
I get her annoyance, but if I endured an entire unit of studying Hamlet in English last fall without complaint, she can survive running for prom queen. If I had a dollar for every time Sammie told me to get myself to a nunnery, I’d have the type of financial security that would justify getting a BS in botany.
“I heard ‘Ophelia’s fantasy’ and came running,” Sammie says as he and Wesley approach from opposite ends of the hall. I mime barfing while he wraps an arm around Linds, leaving Wesley stiff as a board on his own.
“Agatha is trying to get Linds to run for prom queen,” I say.
“We could get some real use out of that hair,” Agatha says.
“We are not using my hair, nor my mortal enemy, Ariel of the Sea, to earn me a pointless plastic crown and a title that turns school dances into beauty pageants.”
“Yeah, the title is what makes school dances about beauty,” Sammie says.
Agatha raises her hands in surrender. “Fine. No go on the prom queen campaign.” Linds huffs a sigh of relief before leaving, with Wesley close on her heels.
Once they’re out of earshot, Agatha turns to Sammie and me with a mischievous glint in her dark brown eyes. “I’ll get started on campaign slogan ideas, and we’ll reconvene on Monday.” She shimmies away to catch up with Lindsay and Wesley, her thick halo of corkscrew black hair wavering as she goes.
“Please tell me she doesn’t actually care this much about a meaningless theme,” Sammie says as we follow our friends to student parking. He’s towered above me for a while now, ever since his growth spurt halfway through freshman year, but I always forget just how tall he is until he’s right beside me. A consequence of being friends since infancy, I suppose. It’s just hard to reconcile childhood Sammie, awkwardly lanky with a bush of untamable black curls, with young adult Sammie, endearingly spindly with soft spirals of hair framing his narrow face.
“Depends on which she you’re referring to,” I reply, cocking my head for emphasis and to see his face better.
“Both of them,” he replies, but I watch his eyes track Lindsay as she bounces between Agatha and Wesley, telling a story with her entire body. I look away, the yearning in his eyes too much. “Agatha’s disdain has been made abundantly clear, but she’ll get over it once she refocuses on the bigger picture: getting to judge everyone’s fashion choices.” He laughs. “But I don’t want this Little Mermaid bullshit keeping Linds from enjoying herself.”
“You know what would really help Lindsay enjoy herself?” I ask, nudging him with my elbow. “Having a date. I hear Wesley is interested if you want to help him ask her out.”
The funny thing is, when Wesley transferred here halfway through junior year, he and Sammie actually got along pretty well at first. Lindsay tutored Wesley in math and invited him to sit with us at lunch because he didn’t have any friends yet. And while Sammie had never complained about being the only guy in our group of friends, I could tell he felt relieved by the company.
The problem is that for as long as Sammie and Lindsay have been friends, they’ve had pretty obvious crushes on each other. And by obvious, I mean obvious to everyone but each other. Their flirting was never serious enough to cause real tension in the group and not enough where either seemed willing to act on it, but it was there. For years, Agatha and I waited for the day our group would be rocked by the intensity of intragroup dating, but every time it seemed like they were ready to commit, they dropped the ball. Lindsay would start dating a guy on the track team, so Sammie would get jealous and kiss another girl at one of Lindsay’s parties, and our fears would subside for the time being.
Sammie finally seemed ready to ask Lindsay to the Valentine’s Day dance last year, but she asked Wesley before he got the chance. After that day, Sammie brooding at the punch bowl as Lindsay and Wesley slow danced among card-stock hearts and glimmering pink streamers, the budding bromance was no more. Just like my minor crush on the shy new boy, as Wesley went from stake-free fantasizing territory to Lindsay’s unforeseen romantic interest.
This year has basically been a ticking time bomb of passive-aggressive comments between the boys while we all wait to see who’ll finally make a real move before we graduate. Though truthfully, Wesley is all passive and Sammie is almost exclusively aggressive.
Sammie smirks, taking my taunts and jabs in stride. “Don’t rush my process, O.” He even has the audacity to wink.
“What happens when Wesley asks her out before you do? Should I get some tissues ready? Ask my dad to prepare some of those cream cheese pastelitos for you?” I poke him in the side. “Just give me the word and I’ll tell him to cue up the heartbreak canciones.”
He rolls his eyes. “I’ll just take you to prom to make her jealous.”
“Wow.” I pause, fanning my eyes to dry imaginary tears. “I’ve waited all seventeen years of my life for this moment. I can finally, definitively, say I will be used by a man. Thank you for making my dreams come true, Samuel. Truly, it’s an honor.”
He flips me off. “Whatever. You don’t have to worry about it because I got this. You’ll see.” We finally catch up to our friends as Agatha pulls a dingy orange flyer promoting cap and gown sales off her windshield, gagging at our class color.
“Now they’re just mocking me.” She balls it up and tosses it to me. “For your roses.”
“You can’t use colored paper as compost!” I shout as she blows several kisses, gets in her car, and leaves. I pocket the flyer anyway.
“I better get going too,” Linds says. “I have to grab my car and pick up the twins from soccer practice.”
“Where’d you park?” I ask, looking around for her signature red whatever-you-call-small-square-shaped-cars car that’s normally parked right beside Agatha’s white whatever-you-call-small-round-cars car.
“I actually didn’t drive today,” Linds replies casually, but her eyes flash quickly to Sammie, then back to me. “Wes gave me a ride.”
“That’s cool,” Sammie says in a voice that says he very decidedly does not think it is cool. Lindsay smiles, and she and Wesley leave for the other end of the lot.