Prom Theory

Chapter One

Chapter One
Monday

The fact that my mother and I were going to be only fifteen minutes early to school rather than my preferred twenty-five minutes had me noisily chewing gum. There was a standard rule against gum in school, but my mother, tired of my nervous habit of chewing my shirt sleeve cuffs and collars, had made a brilliant argument for granting me dispensation from that hard and fast rule. I no longer needed it every day for the anxiety relief it provided, but this morning had me reaching for the Juicy Fruit. It was going to be at least a three-pack day.

"We're going to be late," I said. It was imperative that I had some quiet time to get my books lined up in my locker in the order of my classes. My mother sighed and shook her head. Curls pulled free from her hasty attempt at a ponytail.

"Sorry, it's just I have an exam and-well, you know...," I said.

Her frown quickly softened. "I forgot, I'm sorry. Trig, right? You work so hard in that class, I'm sure you'll do fine. Do you have everything you need? Calculator and, um, what's it called?"

"Protractor. You're an artist, you should know what they're called," I said as I crossed my arms and tried to keep my toes from tapping. If we were lucky, we'd make all the lights and save a few minutes of the lost time.

"I know what they are. I just never address them by name." She glanced at me with a grin.

"Please don't. You talk to the Roomba as it is. That's more than enough anthropomorphism to justify you considering the appliances family members."

"Your father travels for work, you're in school all day-who else am I supposed to talk to?"

I ignored that. She was trying to distract me from my worries. I would have none of it. I needed to stay on track. "Yes, I have everything."

"Be sure to request to take the test in the library. Oh, and remember your IEP gives you time and a half to take tests. Be sure you use all of it."

"I will, but the time and a half

Ann LaBar is a poet, writer, actor, and educator. She lives in the wilds of Pennsylvania with two dogs, a leopard gecko, a ferret, ten hens, and a ridiculously adventurous husband. When not writing, Ann desperately tries to match wits with her husband and two intellectually gifted, grown children.