Okay, fine: I want to be prom king.

Before you judge me, everybody wants to be prom king. Even, maybe especially, those who say they don’t. Why wouldn’t you want to know that your classmates picked you? Who wouldn’t want that glorious yearbook spread and the car ride in the Memorial Day parade and, obvi, eternal bragging rights?

I want the real American dream, age-seventeen version: to dance with my boyfriend at prom, take silly pictures in a photo booth, make out during a slow dance, so intently that our classmates say “Get a room!” as we laugh and know they secretly wish they had what Cheng and I have. So yes, maybe it is all about me.

“Just be prepared, in case …” Cheng trails off, but I know what he’s saying. He’s so chill, he could be a greyhound. He’s not even criticizing me, really, so much as preparing me in case my plan doesn’t work. I get it: he’s trying to watch out for me, but it’s a little irritating, too. Like I’m not always prepared?

I face him, not saying anything, just quietly playing with the strings on his Quidditch Cup hoodie and giving him my best “Seriously?” face until he laughs. Shaking his head, he wheels off to join some of the other lacrosse guys crowded around a phone. Whatever they’re looking at, it’s got to be less interesting than me, but it also gets me out of defending my strategy.

We don’t have the same first period, so I’m off to Earth in the Balance, the hilariously named enviro class. To get there, I have to walk down Picture Hall, which is lined with a solid eighty years of class photos. The walls are so crowded that it feels like being trapped in a museum. My mom’s class of ’85 is two-thirds of the way down the hall and it’s huge (120 kids) compared to mine (a mere 50). It’s still easy to pick her out: for one thing, there weren’t a ton of Latinx kids then (still aren’t, tbh), but her shortness combined with the tallness of her bangs makes quite an impression. The photographer has her down in front, so everyone can see the full splendor of the shoulder pads on the oversized shirt she wears belted over pegged white jeans. Two years ago, I was like, omg Mom, what were you wearing?, but now I kind of want the outfit.