“Good luck!” Norma tossed a ballot in my direction.
As I overlooked the list of pairs, a sick shock hit me.
“Tommy, we’re on here!”
“Yeah, I saw that,” He nodded. “The school votes for a single candidates and their dates get sort of shanghaied into it. Welcome aboard. Shall we decline?”
I bit my lip, unsure of what to answer with. I looked at him, “Do you want to decline?”
“Hell no,” He laughed. “If you win all you do is sit up there for the school song and one dance and wave a scepter and look like a ******* idiot. They take your picture for the yearbook so everyone can see you looked like a ******* idiot.”
“Who do we vote for?” I asked quietly, doubtful of any choice I was about to make. “They’re more your crowd than mine. In fact, I don’t really have a crowd.”
“Let’s vote for ourselves,” He shrugged. “To the devil with false modesty.”
I to muffle my laughter with my hand. Rarely had I heard my own laughter, before I could stop myself I circled our names. Suddenly the pencil I was using snapped. Quickly I realized that it had scratch my finger, and that now I was bleeding.
“You hurt yourself?” Tommy asked.
“No,” I smiled. “But I broke the pencil and it was a souvenir. Stupid me.”
It was difficult to smile. The blood was so distasteful, carefully I blotted it with a napkin.
“There’s your boat,” Tommy tried to lighten the conversation. “Toot, toot!”
He pushed one of the decoration boats toward me. I was sure I was going to cry and feel ashamed. Quickly I looked at my lap so Tommy wouldn’t see the tears that were bubbling up. The band was playing nonsense music, something to distract everyone while the ballots were collected. My hand searched for Tommy’s. Carefully he slid his hand into mine and held it tightly.
A feeling of shame overwhelmed me, no one would vote for us. Tommy mumbled something, but all I could hear was “We’ve got a tie.” Again people wrote down the couples they favored. Quickly I realized that we were one of the couples that had tied.
“They weren’t applauding for us,” I shook my head. “It couldn’t have been for us.”
“Maybe it was for you,” Tommy said seriously, taking the broken pencil from my hand.
“Don’t...” I touched his wrist lightly.
“What?”
“Don’t vote for us,” I said.
“Why not?” He asked quizzically. “In for a penny, in for a pound. That’s what my mother always says.”
Instantly I imagined my mother, crying endless prayers to a faceless God. Instantly I was filled with terror, but I tried my best to hold it back. I couldn’t explain why it scared me so much, all I could do was smile and beg. “Don’t. Please.”
He hesitated, this options flickered in his eyes. Quickly he wrote Tommy and Carrie on his slip and handed it to whoever was collecting the papers.
“For you,” He said. “Tonight you go first-class.”
Carrie watched from a distance as the ballots were counted three times. Vic Mooney marched up to the mic, looking like he was in disbelief.
“Tommy and Carrie win. By one vote.”
Silence followed, everyone looked at each other, waiting for the “Just kidding!”. After a few seconds past-- After everyone realized that Carrie White was their prom queen.-- Everyone clapped, nothing satiric either. Real applause, for her. My heart raced with something like pride. The band started to play some version of “Pomp and Circumstance,” ushers appeared and pulled us down an aisle.
The ushers sat us down on two “Thrones” that were placed on the stage. Everything was happening so fast, and suddenly, I felt exposed. Everything was spinning, I actually think this is a dream.
“The King and Queen of the 1979 Spring Ball-- Tommy ROSS and Carrie WHITE!” Vic boomed out.Tommy squeezed my hand, grinning. Both bands started playing the school anthem, everyone stood and sang along. I felt something cold hit my skin-- Something that sent a spine chilling shock through me. I knew it was going to happen before it did. Blood poured, draping me in a layer of red.
Momma was right. They were making fun of me. Another prank.-- Another time I was the joke. The memories of every time I had been the joke rushed back to me. It was all too much.
“My God, that’s blood!” Someone screamed.
Another scream followed, one of the buckets clanged onto Tommy’s head. Someone laughed, everyone laughed. My eyes opened wide, peering out among the people. My hands reached up to my face, feeling all of the blood. I staggered to my feet and jumped off the stage. Miss Desjardin ran toward me with outstretched arms-- But in an instant she was flung against the wall.
Quickly I ran through the crowd, covering my face with my hands. Someone decided to add to my pain by tripping me. I skid across the floor like a rag doll, leaving a trail of blood (That wasn’t my own) behind me. Carefully I stood up and left the gym, I ran as fast as I could down the stairs, my heart was racing. As fast as I could I ran across the school’s lawn, losing my shoes in the process. Suddenly I fell down, tears running down my face.
My options ran through my head, soon enough I would stand up and go back home. But what would that do? Momma would just tell her that she had been right all along, and then she’d probably be sent to the closet. No. I couldn’t let that happen.-- I rolled over onto my back, staring up at the stars.
It was time to teach them a lesson. I giggled hysterically and got up, walking barefoot to towards the lobby doors. Once I got there I realized that it was vacant. Halfway up the stairs I flexed, closing the doors. I could feel the pressure of the people pushing against the doors. They were trapped.
As I looked up I noticed the sprinklers.
Fire laws of course-- fire laws reminded me of the black power cords that were thrown around the stage. Perfect. I reached with my mind, up to the sprinklers and flex. Inside the gym it had started to rain.-- I smirked. A boy grabbed the microphone and then stood there, transfixed. The boy was going through a motionless dance of electricity. This was hilarious.
Without flinching I yanked those black power cords. A few lights puffed out, bright lights wherever the cords had hit water. The boy fell onto an amp, leading a chain of events that ended in crepe paper starting on fire. Another girl on the stage lit on fire. Suddenly I felt overwhelmed, I sat down on the step and tried to clear my mind. People had started pounding against the doors again, but it wasn’t difficult to keep them shut.
Quickly I stood up and left the school, keeping the doors closed. It was a whole lot easier than you’re probably thinking. All I had to do was imagine the doors. A whistle went off.-- I cringed and screamed, losing the image of the doors. No! As soon as I had stopped picturing them I realized my mistake. Instantly I snapped back to remembering them. This time someone’s fingers had gotten crushed in the doors. I laughed.
This was the moment I realized the fire department would probably try to put out my fire. Cute. I looked at the fire hydrant, focusing. Slowly but surely the lug nuts holding it shut started twisting off. Suddenly water shot out of the hydrant. I rubbed my hands on my dress, trying to remove the blood. Without realizing it I kept walking forward, smiling, crying, and laughing all at once.
I walked to the Carlin Street Congregational Church where I sat down and prayed. My heart raced, my breathing was jagged. Behind ,e everything was falling, pews, hymnals and a Communion set. I stood up and left, finding this useless. Flex. The light poles popped and sparks flew. Wires fell to the ground and the town started to smell of burning people. A few people had touched the wires and now were dead. This was getting tiring, I turned and walked home.
If Carrie had been written by Carrie’s point of view we would’ve seen a teenager with a Jesus crazed mother who really just wants to be accepted by her fellow classmates. If Carrie had been written from Chris’s point of view we would’ve seen a girl who was sick of seeing this kiddish act from someone who’s her age. But if Carrie was written from Miss Desjardin’s point of view we would’ve seen a teacher who just wants to help a poor girl who’s constantly tormented by her classmates.
The prom scene would’ve been traumatic for Carrie’s view, hilarious from Chris’s view, and mean from Miss Desjardin’s point of view. The killing would’ve been right from Carrie’s view, and an overreaction from Chris’s view. Chris’s actions in the beginning of the book would’ve been harmless if she was the one talking. But in Carrie’s point of view it was horrible, mostly because she thought she was dying.
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