smile like you mean it

You can’t handle the fame, huh? Might have to change your name, dye your hair, maybe a whole face transplant but let’s be honest… The photos from tonight will live on long after our sashes fall apart. Aw, so sweet. Thanks for including me, Maggie Lou. Oh, right. Yeah, sorry about that- not that I really cared, of course- I got sidetracked. A lot, actually. Some Freshmen spilled a drink on me, I lost five bucks, think I hit my head or something and then some punk thought it’d be funny to shove me into a coat closet. I was basically a shitshow tonight. I met your friends, by the way. Scary gals. Well, you’ll drive the vagabonds wild.

I don’t think I’m cut out for this life. This will probably come as a surprise to you, but I’m not really a people person. A face transplant I wouldn’t mind. I’ll pick the most boring, nobody person in this town and then steal their face. Getting sidetracked sounds familiar [she says, not at all wryly and not at all referencing her own prom distractions]. Why does it feel like you get sidetracked a lot? I don’t really know you, but drama kind of follows you around, doesn’t it? [maggie snorts] Greg, you’re basically a shitshow always. What do you mean ‘my friends’? Everyone I know here has gone to school with you since kindergaarten. Don’t be so dramatic.

ღ

Dave was a man on a mission, still. The witchy juju he’d doused Jess with would keep her knocked out at least for the rest of the night but he’d need help. The last thing that he wanted was to mess with Corey and Ruby’s prom night (it was no secret they could use a break) but… Hold on. His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sight of Margaret Lewis and her ‘prom court’ sash. Oh boy. He should really focus. And yet.

“Who knew there was still a little ‘prom queen’ magic in you yet, Lewis?” Life, death and Jess issues momentarily forgotten, he added- “You look… I mean, you’re the osyter’s earrings tonight. Hotsy totsy.”

@maggiewhocriedwolf​

She should have gone home and changed, because her dress was itchy and the sash was an uncomfortable reminder of who she used to be (of who she could have been), but there was no way she was making it in and out of the house without being swarmed by overeager werewolves desperate to hear tales of her night. So she’d decided to suffer. Drink in hand, scowl fixed permanently to her face, she turned to confront the voice she knew so intimately.

“Why are you talking like you’re from one of those Hemingway novels they made us read in English lit class?” she blurted out, despite her best efforts to avoid ever mentioning shared memories they had of the past. “Unfortunately my brother gave Beth my old prom scrapbook. So she made sure to get me the dress of my dreams. Or whatever that would have been six months ago.” Maggie looks him over, unable to ignore the thoughts of what it would have been like to go to prom together back when things were normal, before she knew and changed, and before he’d left her. “Why are you here? Aren’t you like, eight  hundred years old or something? Don’t high school parties bore you now?”

Why shower when you can just spritz, I guess. The point is, none of them will ever be Sheriff Bennett so it’s no wonder they overcompensate in this town. [ laughs ] That’s fair. I hear ya boldly braved Greg Porter as a date though. Must have been the greatest night of his life. I know he combed his hair but he remembered a corsage too?

I...literally do not know who that is. Is this someone I should know? Hailie, not everybody was born here, I feel like you forget that a lot. Honestly? He wasn’t that bad. I mean, i didn’t actually spend most of the night with him, so maybe that’s why. But he did wear a suit jacket and he didn’t try to touch my ass even once. It’s the little stuff [she comments dryly]. A color coordinated one, actually. I’m pretty sure it was a fluke, though. Everyone has to accidentally do something right once or twice a month, right?

The music was tragic. I recommended things to break up the monotony of pop and EDM but not one of my suggestions was considered. Like, sorry for not wanting us to have our brains utterly melted! Thank god for alcohol at least.

When did pop music become a bunch of random sounds played over top of peppy beat that never drops? It’s the most aggravating thing. Talk about an instant headache.

I’m glad you survived. It truly does sound like a near miss. Especially with the corsages and the utter scourge that is pop music, you poor thing.

[maggie looked the other girl up and down, and frowned] So is being condescending like, your brand or something? Cause it’s not a very good look.

                    Oof big mood. Why do they feel like they need to bathe in cologne? I don’t get it. I promise I’ll hold your hair back for you if you do.

Honestly, what’s underneath the cologne smells just as bad, so I’m not sure why they even bother. They’re not helping anything. Thanks. That’s the kind of solidarity I’ve been looking for all night.

Aw, c’mon. You were on the prom court, Maggie Lewis and there’s a sash and bouquet combo to prove it. We both were. Not too bad for a couple of prom haters though, right? Besides, we made it. All limbs still attached, for now. The smell of cologne will definitely get beat out by cigarettes and stale beer. No doubt.

Yes, exactly. I was on the prom court. A nightmare come true. If there was anyone left in the school who didn’t know my name before tonight, that’s over now. At least I can finally graduate and move on and never see any of you again. You included. Where did you go, by the way? Not that I really cared, but I’m pretty sure the matching corsages mean we were supposed to stick together tonight. The smell of stale cigarettes is all fine for you, but I have curly hair. I’m never going to be able to wash that out.

Amber: So I think I just secured some certified boy-candy for prom

Amber: It's almost like we never left home

Amber: Which means you 110% have secured some vaguely asshole-ish boy-candy

Amber: 😉😉😉😉

Maggie: who???? i probably don't know him, but if i do i hate him

Maggie: sorry not sorry every guy in havensdale is gross

I’ll just get to focus on everyone else and really, you know, live in the moment, and remember what makes Prom so special in the first place. The people.

Yeah....So you kind of just sound like someone who asked a bunch of people, and none of them said yes, so now you’re making the best of the situation. Just fyi.

Yes, I haven’t made anyone cry yet, but in my defense, it’s just past noon. I have time.

You won’t be making me cry, I can promise that.

Um, I can’t seem to find my phone and I need to make a call, do you think I could borrow yours?

Um no, definitely not. I’m not falling for that. You’re just gonna take my phone and leave. I’m not an idiot.

Okay, how does this work? I just… talk? Throw words out into the ether and ya’ll will just flock to me? This is so fucked up, man… Awrite, can someone please tell me what month it is? And the year actually? Are we pre or post war? I-… Shit, is that a spoiler? Fuck… uh… has prom happened? Founder’s Festival?

Ohmygod! Please tell me I’m not living in a world where the Institute haven’t caught Charlie yet!

I literally don’t--What? You sound crazy, are you crazy? God, probably not crazier than I am right now. [Pauses and stares at her, eyes wide] Right. Prom. You’re one of those girls. Um, no, prom’s still a ways off. Too close to get your dress tailored, though, if you were thinking about it.

Well, life couldn’t get any weirder. I guess this might as well just happen.

“I think I might miss Amber more than I miss my parents. That’s awful to say, but it’s true. Amber’s like a part of me, right? She knows everything about me and she never judged me even when I probably deserved it. I shouldn’t have left her behind after I turned, but I just couldn’t. I couldn’t be Maggie anymore. And it turned out that Amber was a werewolf anyway, so if I’d just not left like that things would have been different right? I think I broke our friendship for good. I think she might not be able to recognize me anymore. That’s sad ‘cause we used to share everything, you know? She knew all my secrets, and she helped me when I was sad, and she knew when I liked somebody or when I wanted somebody to go away. But it’s not--I mean, some things are still the same. I still know her favorite color and the name of the perfume she used to wear and whether she likes stripes or polka dots and--none of it matters anymore. Maybe we’re just different people now.”