Oblivious, or maybe just wanting to get through this torturous exercise as quickly as possible, Mr. Fenton forges on. “Now, for the Snow Prince and Snow Princess for the sophomore class…”
I know what that envelope’s going to say. Sam and my rendezvous to the hospital yesterday meant we skipped out on the voting at the end of the day, but it didn’t really matter—it wasn’t like two protest votes would make the difference.
But that doesn’t mean my heart doesn’t twist a little with disappointment when Mr. Fenton rips open the envelope and says, “Your sophomore court is…Brendon Ryan for Snow Prince and Kristen Courteau for Snow Princess!”
Big shock there.
Everybody except Sam, Asha and I claps as the two of them make their way onto the stage, Kristen towing Brendon eagerly by the hand. Kristen looks radiant, of course, the beaded purple dress she’s poured herself into shining like diamonds under the lights, her smile glossy and perfect. She takes the rose bouquet in one arm and uses the other to adjust the tiara so it sits straight on top of her elegant up-do.
Brendon accepts the crown and staff, holding it awkwardly at his side, but instead of standing next to Kristen, he steps forward and whispers something to Mr. Fenton. Mr. Fenton listens for a second and then shrugs, handing over the microphone.
“Hello?” Brendon’s smooth voice echoes through the gym. People shift around, impatient for more music, but then the clamor quiets down. “Hi,” he says. “So, uh, I’m really honored that you guys in my class voted for me…but I think there’s someone here tonight who deserves this title way more than I do.”
Asha and Sam both look at me like I should know what’s going on. I’m just as clueless as them, of course, so I half shrug and shake my head then turn my eyes back to Brendon. He’s looking out across the gym, over our heads.
“Noah Beckett is here tonight,” he continues, “and if he’ll accept it, I’d really like him to have my crown.”