I got the e-mail two weeks ago today. Double-clicking on my Yahoo inbox, I saw that the subject of my new message was ‘Homecoming Royalty Status.’ My stomach turned. I immediately had a bad feeling. Within seconds, my pessimistic sentiments were confirmed.

‘Thank you for your enthusiasm … there were many impressive candidates … however … it is with our deepest regrets …,’ said the e-mail, continuing with the sugar-coated rejection.

I began to evaluate my feelings about not progressing. Of course, I was disappointed, but I wasn’t crushed. Being crowned homecoming queen had never been a childhood dream of mine. It hadn’t even crossed my mind until I was asked to do it. Perhaps the hardest part would be informing my friends and family, all of whom were excited at the thought of me being homecoming queen. But the dream was dead, and I had to move on. My one mistake was not telling everyone right away.

I realized the error of my ways when I attended a birthday party at my friend’s house the next day. Amid the beer and flying ping-pong balls was talk of the homecoming competition. And then the questions came at me like seagulls to a sandwich. There was no escape.

‘When will we get to vote for you for homecoming queen?’ One of my friends asked.

‘Never,’ I said.

That’s when I was outed in front of all my peers. For the first time, I felt embarrassed by my failure. I sensed the whole room was staring at me, making silent judgments about why I wasn’t worthy. However, the worst was yet to come – I still hadn’t told my mother.

I called home to Maine on Sunday, just like always. My parents and I chatted about recent occurrences, and then my mother mentioned the competition. I stumbled over my words, but explained that I would not be moving on to the interview process. Understandably, she was disappointed.

‘I always like it when you’re on top of your game,’ she said.

It was an endearing statement, but I knew the underlying message. I had let my mother down. We continued our Sunday conversation, a black cloud hanging over the remainder of our words.

I received an instant message the next day, containing yet another inquiry about my homecoming status. I ignored it, deciding to end the madness by posting my loss on my AOL Instant Messenger profile. I had solved the problem through even more public humiliation. But at least I could move on without the race being brought up again.

More than a week had passed since my dismissal. True to my gluttonous character, I decided to talk one more time with Mary-Ann Adamcek, a primary organizer of homecoming festivities as well as the race. Pleasant as always, she seemed glad to answer my questions.

I began our final interview by inquiring about the type of girls that were able to progress to the interview process. I asked Adamcek if certain girls stood out more than others.

‘Everybody was so qualified, but there were a couple of girls that were just rock stars,’ Adamcek said.

Apparently, I am not a rock star.

Adamcek went on to explain that all of the 23 female contestants were impressive. However, some girls possessed outstanding credentials, beginning with freshman year. Curious about what set me apart from those girls, I asked Adamcek if she could tell me how I had fared on the traditions test and resume portion.

‘It would have helped if you had a position of leadership, like being the president of something or being an RA,’ Adamcek said.

I also found out that I scored a little below average on the test, which did not come as a surprise to me, considering my lack of preparation and incorrect answer on the football coach question.

Nearing the end of the interview, I asked to see the crown. I wanted to know exactly what I was missing. Adamcek rose from her seat and opened a box. She pulled out the crown. There were no beams of light emerging from the jeweled tiara, and no music played in the background. It was quite pretty, but resembled something I could get for $12 at Claire’s in the mall. I thanked Adamcek for her time and exited the office.

For some reason I walked away with a smile. Perhaps I had finally realized the true triviality of my disappointment. It would have been an ego-boost and an honor to represent the school as homecoming queen, nothing more and nothing less.

This weekend looks to be a lot of fun. A parade, a pep rally and fireworks are all part of the festivities. The crowning will take place at Friday’s rally in the Dome. I want to wish the four homecoming queen hopefuls lots of luck. Make your mothers proud!

Rebecca Durgin is a senior magazine major. E-mail her at rldurgin@yahoo.com.

Published on October 15, 2003 at 12:00 pm