The Aversion of Tragedy
The Black Prom Incident defined a generation: 440 dead, a dozen buildings damaged beyond repair, and an entire town devastated in a night. It was also the incident that started the hunt for psychics and other supernatural beings – a hunt that would end the lives of thousands.
The world changed that night, all because of one girl. A pretty, quiet girl just a few weeks from her eighteenth birthday. A girl who never wanted to hurt anyone.
A girl named Sue Snell.
Sue had so many opportunities to save the lives of her friends and classmates, but she innocently missed all of them. In this cruel world, compassion and kindness brought only lifelong guilt. But this is only one world among many.
1
It was stupid to take her eyes off of the road, stupid to check her phone while moving at forty-five miles per hour, stupid to start typing a response, and – when she looked up to see a deer in her path – it was very stupid to swerve into the other lane without making sure it was empty.
But Sue Snell was still tipsy from the wine Chris had smuggled from her father's study. She was tired from a Friday filled with school, then soccer practice, then giggling over Youtube with her best friend. For one night, she acted very stupidly. The next night, she was dead, and Chamberlain lit candles in her honor.
A few weeks later, Carrie White staggered out of the showers with blood on her hands. Chris Hargenson, haunted by the death of another blonde, nearly dragged Miss Desjardin into the locker room to help the sobbing girl. Carrie was fine, of course, but her still-mourning classmates were too shaken to tease her for her ignorance.
A lovely photo of Sue Snell watched over their prom, and she was posthumously voted Prom Queen. It was only one death, nothing compared to four hundred. But Chamberlain was a small town, and they called it a tragedy.
2
The principal frowned at them. Gesturing at the blue circle under Tommy's feet, he said, "That's where the Prom Queen is supposed to stand."
"What, I can't be queen?" Tommy asked, grinning and winking at the crowd. A few students laughed.
"Er, no," he said.
"Seems pretty sexist to me. Right, Carrie?" Tommy said.
Carrie smiled a little bigger and ducked her head, shrugging. "I…I wouldn't mind being king."
"See, my beautiful king agrees with me, and so do the voters. Right, guys?"
There was more laughter, then, along with scattered applause. The principal sighed, handing him the Queen's crown and Carrie the King's. "Just go sit down."
With a flourishing bow, Tommy Ross led his King to her throne. Overhead, a heavy bucket swayed and creaked, its owner trembling with fury. In the Prom Queen's pocket, his cell still displayed a text.
Chris is planning something. Don't let Carrie get crowned queen.
-Sue
3
Sue studied the wall, reminding herself that she shouldn't be upset. This was her idea, after all, and it wasn't like taking another girl to prom was really cheating…
She met her boyfriend halfway down the hall, too anxious to wait for him. "So, how'd it go?"
"She said no."
Sue blinked. "Really?"
"Yeah. She didn't want to go."
"What do you mean she didn't want to go? It's prom! Every girl wants to go," Sue said.
"Well, she didn't," Tommy said.
"She probably thought you were making fun of her…"
No girl would pass up a chance to go to prom with Tommy Ross.
Tommy asked, "Do you want me to ask her again?"
Carrie deserved a perfect prom more than anyone. She certainly deserved it more than the girl who threw tampons at her. But Sue was human, and she had been dreaming about senior prom since elementary school. Besides, her strange, meek classmate had said no.
"No, we've already bothered her enough."
"So does that mean you and me are on, then?"
"Definitely." Sue smiled, pushing away her guilty conscience. She'd tried to do the right thing, after all. Didn't that count for something?
4
"She can't do this to us! We didn't do anything wrong, and, if we all stand up to her, she won't be able to keep us from prom. We are prom!" Chris cried.
For a moment, no one said anything. Then, Sue Snell moved to stand beside her.
"Hell, yes!" Chris said. "I knew you were with me, Sue."
Sue smiled weakly. "Of course I am. We're best friends."
They'd been best friends for eight years – eight years of sleepovers, parties, and midnight phone calls. Sue couldn't just leave her alone to face the wrath of Miss Desjardin. It wouldn't have been right.
"Come on, girls," Chris said. "If they take our prom, we'll throw our own, and everyone will come."
That was all the prompting they needed. Thirty girls joined the two best friends, declaring that they'd done nothing wrong. Sue wasn't entirely sure that was true, but she kept quiet. She'd supported Chris Hargenson through dozens of break-ups and screw-ups. She wasn't going to betray her now.
In the end, Chris was right; Miss Desjardin couldn't take on the entire class, and they all went to prom…except for Creepy Carrie. But, really, who would take her, anyway?
5
"Plug it up! Plug it up! Plug it –"
"Guys, enough!" Sue shouted, stalking forward to stand in front of the whimpering girl. A couple of still-flying tampons smacked against the blonde, but the barrage quickly stilled.
Turning off her camera phone, Chris rolled her eyes. "God, Sue. It's just a joke."
Sue crossed her arms and snapped. "She's crying."
"Of course she is. She's a freak."
"She's just scared," Sue said, and there was murmuring from the back of the crowd. Not everyone had thrown things at Carrie. Not everyone had chanted. Not everyone who had done those things had enjoyed it.
A soft voice said, "Sue's right."
"This seems really bitchy," a pimply girl murmured.
"Do you really think she didn't know what her period was?" someone asked.
"I heard her mom's kinda nuts…"
Sue ignored them, crouching beside the trembling girl and grabbing a bloody hand. "This is totally normal. Nothing's wrong with you. It's okay, Carrie. You're okay."
And Carrie White believed her.
6
Just apologize.
It sounded so easy when Tommy said it, but he wasn't the one who had to walk across the lunchroom, past the table where all his friends sat. He didn't have to hold his head up while more and more curious eyes watched the long, lonely walk to a desolate corner of the cafeteria. He didn't have to talk to Creepy Carrie.
"Hi. Um, do you mind if I sit here?" she asked. Sue hadn't spoken those words since she'd met Norma and Chris in elementary school.
Carrie's head jerked up from the book she'd been reading. Her green eyes were wide, and she looked ready to bolt. "Why?"
Sue said, "Well, Chris and I aren't really talking right now, and Tommy always ends up eating half my tray, and…"
Just apologize!
"…and I wanted to apologize."
"Why would you do that?"
Carrie eyes were narrowed, but her voice didn't sound hostile – just confused. Sue was trying to be nice, but Carrie was tensed for another cruel joke. Why wouldn't she be? That was all Sue had ever given her. Suddenly, this apology wasn't just about the locker room; it was about six years of hurting Carrie White without even noticing.
"Because I need to. I threw things at you and called you creepy and laughed at you in middle school, but you didn't deserve any of it, and I'm really, really sorry, Carrie…" The blonde was sniffling, then, and pretty sure that half the cafeteria was staring.
Carrie said, "Oh, um, alright…I didn't mean to make you cry."
Sue said, "I made me cry. It's my fault."
A lot of things were her fault, she thought. Most of them were Chris's idea, but she'd still helped. Sue had commiserated with the brunette when she should have scolded her and stood by her when she should have stood against her. Sue looked back on the past eight years, almost half of her life, and came to a painful conclusion: She had really messed up.
Carrie fidgeted, shoving her hands into the pockets of her baggy dress. She had always seemed like someone from an earlier era, and, for a moment, Sue wondered if the strawberry blonde was going to offer her a handkerchief. She didn't, though, leaving only awkward silence and Sue's ragged breathing.
When she'd pulled herself together enough to speak without sobbing, Sue said, "You never…never answered. Can I sit here?"
Carrie nodded, the movement jerking and stiff. Sue Snell set down her tray and ate with the class pariah. It would not be the last time.
If she'd done just about anything differently during that sunny, bloody May, Sue would have changed the future.
Sometimes, it worked out to be just about the same: a broken, powerful woman finally snapping over humiliation or heartbreak and taking out her pain on everyone in sight.
Sometimes things went a little better: with one blonde quietly stabbed in the night and another losing herself in the tedium of marriage and motherhood.
Sometimes it was almost happy: a lonely girl leaving just after graduation and only returning to her hometown to visit two friends and their daughter – a cheerful child named Carietta Ross.
A/N: I'll admit that this was mostly inspired by Sue learning that Chris had a horrible plan, then running off to warn Tommy instead of just sending a freaking text (which she'd been doing the whole night). Really, filmmakers, just show the cell buzzing but he'd left it at the table while dancing or something...
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