promcoming: part 1

This is Jean Kirschtein, and tonight is shaping up to be one of the worst nights of his miserable high school life.




Over here, we have Marco Bodt, Jean Kirschtein's best friend since grade school. By all accounts, tonight should have been their night. At least, that's the way Jean felt. Sure, he'd never actually ASKED Marco to come to prom with him, that would have been kind of weird, wouldn't it? Asking his best friend to be his date to prom? No, he figured it would just sort of...happen. He never figured Marco would actually get asked by someone else. Or that he would say yes.

Jean didn't even realize that Dazz was a student until Marco announced that he'd asked him to the dance. He'd assumed the guy was on the staff, or that he was someone's dad, but as it turned out, he was in their grade, and had in fact sat behind the two of them in several of their classes. Jean had ignored him, mostly. He didn't like the way he pronounced his name, "Jeen," or his distinct old man smell, and he especially didn't like the way he was fawning over Marco right now. It was obvious that Marco had given in and accepted his prom invitation out of some kind of pity. It had to be pity, right? Marco had scolded Jean for suggesting as much, but there was no way he actually held any semblance of real affection for this kid.

Marco had invited Jean to come dance with the two of them, but Jean turned him down, saying he "would rather stay out of the projectile vomit splash zone," because "that guy is a loaded puke canon and you know it," which earned him a slap on the wrist from his friend. He opts instead to plant himself in the corner and glare at the pair of them from across the cafeteria.



"Hey buddy, you're gonna be okay, alright?" Connie attempts to reassure him.

"My life is over."

Connie scoffs. "No it's not, buddy! Look, that old looking kid might be rubbing his butt all over Marco right now, but that probably won't go on all night, right? I'm sure you can cut in and ask him for a dance at SOME point. You'll get your chance to rub your butt on him!"

Jean's face flushes almost immediately. "What makes you think I want to rub my butt on Marco?!" he half-shouts in the other boy's face.

"Whoah, hey!" Connie stammers, "Sorry, I thought maybe-"

"I don't! That's not what this is about! It's about betrayal!" Jean quickly chugs the rest of his drink. The cup slips out of his sweaty palms, and a string of fruit punch and drool dribbles down his chin. Connie squeezes his shoulder sympathetically.

"Alright, well...there's plenty of other people around here besides Marco, right? I'm about to have to run, sorry, I've got some, uh...official prom business to get to with Sasha, but I'll catch up with you and see how you're doing later, alright? Good luck with your stuff and all that!"

Jean grumbles a string of consonants which sound vaguely like a "whatever" as Connie gives him one last shoulder pat and leaves his table. Maybe Connie was right, he thought. Maybe he should just find someone else to hang out with for a little bit. Looking around the cafeteria, Jean begins to weigh his options.