by Amy Martin
Chapter 21
Titusville does Prom a little differently than most high schools, and for the worst of reasons. The tradition used to be that before the dance, couples would drive all the way to Sumner for dinner at one of the decent restaurants there or out by the mall before making the trek back to Titusville for the actual Prom. But three years after my mom graduated, two couples died in a single-car drunk driving accident on their way to Sumner. In response, the school instituted a catered dinner in the cafeteria before the festivities so people wouldn’t feel the need to drive forty-five minutes away for a meal that doesn’t involve sitting down for burgers at the Diner or a trip through a drive-thru out near the interstate. To add to the alcohol-free theme for the evening, the Stanleys, whose eldest daughter was one of the kids killed in the accident, began offering their barn for an after-party, which essentially ends up being a mini-Prom out in the boonies about fifteen miles from town. Obviously, the school can’t control whether or not students go to the Stanley Farm, so a small percentage of kids still sneak off to wherever to do whatever. But since the Stanley Farm After-Party is the parentally-approved venue for post-Prom activities, Kayla, Brad, Kieran and I will end up there, assuming Kieran has energy left after the dance.
Once the four of us arrive at school, we walk through the main lobby and glance inside the gym, the otherwise darkened space lit up by thousands of tiny white Christmas lights strung low from the ceiling, creating a canopy effect. The Prom Committee has also draped lights across the walls, mingling them with giant cotton ball clouds in order to construct a sort of “heaven on earth.” The sight of the Christmas lights stirs my anxieties once again and my knees buckle, forcing me to slump a little against Kieran’s side. “You okay?” he asks, putting his arm around my waist to support me.
I give him a weak smile. “I think it’s the shoes. I wanted to wear my Chucks tonight but they didn’t exactly go with the dress.”
“Well, I’ll hold you up if you hold me up. Deal?”
“Deal.”
He gives me a little squeeze, and we follow Brad and Kayla into the cafeteria, transformed for the evening into a pale imitation of a classy restaurant, white tablecloths hiding the drab brown table tops and still more Christmas lights strung about the room. Other than the set of overhead lamps on back near the kitchen and the orange plastic cafeteria chairs decorated for the occasion with white and light blue streamers taped to their backs, we could almost forget that we eat cardboard-flavored pizza slices and soggy tater tots in this room five times a week. Almost. As if we’re programmed, we head straight for the usual Jock Table in the back corner where Kayla, Brad, and I eat lunch every day, and we’re soon joined by Cassie and Cody Hull, Lauren and Bill Burcheron, and Ashley and her date, Rick Matthews.
Leaving Kieran’s side for a moment, I slide up to Cassie and link my arm in hers. “My compliments to the Prom Committee,” I tell her.
“Thanks. Hung all the lights myself,” she jokes. “Seriously, though—I took the Christmas light idea you had to the committee and they loved it, obviously. But you’d be surprised how hard it is to get this many Christmas lights in May. Lucky for us, we got people to donate a bunch so we didn’t need to buy them all. There’s probably not a set of white Christmas lights left in the whole county.”
My stomach starts churning again, but I stuff the fear down and sense it evaporate completely when Kieran comes up behind me and puts a hand on my shoulder. The calm lasts throughout dinner, which passes uneventfully—or uneventfully for us, anyway. Kieran falls asleep twice, once during the salad course and again right before dessert, but his behavior is so ordinary now everyone just ignores it, and I’m able to shake him awake by jostling his leg with my knee. But once dinner’s over and we all head into the gym for the dance, the panic rises in my stomach again, as I’m aware that what I saw in my dream happened while Kieran and I were dancing. For completely different reasons—me with my fear of the lights going out, and Kieran with his fear of passing out—we head together to the first row of the bleachers and sit down, laughing at Kayla and Brad as they flail around on the dance floor, their limbs seeming almost disconnected from their bodies.
“I don’t see a professional dance career in either of their futures,” Kieran says in my ear over the music. “They kind of look like they’re in pain, actually.”
“I’m in pain just watching them.”
Kieran laughs, and a few minutes later the beat gives way to the strings and piano of some slow song I don’t recognize. Couples stop jumping around and melt together, foreheads pressed against foreheads and arms wrapped around shoulders and waists while chaperones circle the gym to make sure the hands attached to those arms don’t wander anywhere rated PG-13 or worse.
“Should we dance?” Kieran asks, and since I don’t want to tell my boyfriend “No, we can’t dance because something bad might happen,” I let my sense of humor take over. “Well, it is what people are supposed to do at these things, from what I’ve heard. Doesn’t seem too hard.” I sound like a creature from another planet describing human behavior to one of my alien buddies. “I guess we just put our arms around each other and kind of sway back and forth to the rhythm.”
“I think I can do that. The part about putting my arms around you I’ve definitely got down. Maybe the rest will come to me.”
“Well, how about we stay close to the bleachers? If you need to sit down or if we feel like we look as stupid as Kayla and Brad, then we won’t have far to go to get off the dance floor.”
“Sounds good.”
Kieran stands and pulls me up. We cling to each other and start swaying to the music, and within seconds I’m comfortable enough to rest my head on his shoulder as I stare out at the gym full of couples, the girls’ dresses a rainbow of primary colors and pastels swirling in the shimmer of white light.
My heart stops, and I’m thankful the music is loud enough Kieran can’t hear me breathing, his hands so low on my waist he wouldn’t sense the unsteady gasps forcing my back to spasm. I close my eyes for the briefest second, and when they flutter open again, the lights still shine, the dresses still swirl, the music’s still loud.
Nothing strange or tragic has happened. I’m here, dancing at my Prom, safe in the arms of my boyfriend, to whom nothing bad has happened as well.
Kieran and I repeat this scene five more times throughout the evening—the two of us pressed against each other, my head on his shoulder as we sway back and forth as couples have done at Proms for…however many years people have been going to Proms—and the result is always the same in that nothing strange happens. We never quite work up the nerve to venture out on the floor for anything but slow songs, choosing instead to sit on the bleachers so Kieran can doze off or, when he’s awake, so we can make fun of people’s seizure-ific dance moves. By the time the harsh fluorescent gym lights buzz on to indicate we all need to move the party out to the Stanley Farm, I’m convinced my dreams, my nightmares, are nothing more than what Kayla said they might be—a symptom of my nerves about Prom, nerves that were apparently pointless.
My final anxieties defeated, I resolve to let go and enjoy the rest of the night. Thanks to a marathon kissing session I initiate in my car while still in the school parking lot, Kieran and I are among the last of the caravan of cars out to the Stanley Farm that I’ve watched from my living room window in years past, witnessing the closest thing Titusville will ever have to a parade. When we finally arrive to the after-party, we’re forced to park in the grass near the road at the edge of the property, the fifty yards or so separating the barn from the road already overrun with cars.
After I shut the engine off, I lean in for one more kiss. “Kayla’s never going to let us live this down,” I murmur against Kieran’s lips.
“Kayla can suck it,” he says when we part. “I’m almost never alone with you when we’re not in public. I like having you all to myself for a change.”
“Me, too.”
His lips meet mine
again, and the stirring in my stomach is far from fear. What I’m feeling is the ache that takes me over when Kieran kisses me, the want I know will never quite be satisfied. The sensation was moving in me a few minutes ago in the school parking lot, before we stopped kissing long enough to notice almost everyone else was gone. And now, the ache threatens to drown me in its comforting warmth, so I slam on the brakes before we end up in the position of having to explain to people Monday morning why we never made it inside the party. “Kieran,” I breathe against his mouth, my voice a whine sending the contradictory messages of “Stop” and “Don’t stop” at the same time.
“Yeah. I know,” he grumbles, pulling away just enough to press his forehead to mine, his hand caressing my bare shoulder. “We should go. Otherwise, we’ll have some explaining to do.”
“I don’t want to, but…”
He moves his hand from my shoulder to brush his thumb across my lower lip. “Hey—it won’t be a total loss, right? At least we’ll get to slow dance some more.”
We climb out of the car, the night air cooling us off as we trudge up the slight hill. Once we’ve reached the barn just across the lawn from the Stanley’s ancient farmhouse, I slip ahead of Kieran through the slightly opened barn door and find the evening’s decorating theme has carried over to the after-party. White Christmas lights hang in a canopy across the ceiling, and a few sad looking cotton ball clouds are tacked up on the walls. The decorations don’t quite convey the heavenly effect of those back at school, but the crowd, sweaty and disheveled as they bounce around to music playing over a stereo system in the corner, doesn’t seem to care.
My eyes immediately find Kayla and Brad pressed against each other at the edge of the crowd. “Kayla,” I yell, waving, and at the sound of my voice, she lifts her head from Brad’s chest and turns in our direction. Grabbing Brad’s hand, she bounces over to us with him trailing behind her, the two of them flushed red from dancing in the hot, cramped space. As they approach, I see Brad’s bangs have stuck to his forehead with sweat and Kayla’s up-do has become more of a down-do, her curls gradually slinking their way toward the nape of her neck. “So nice you could finally join us,” she screams over the music.
“No problem,” Kieran shouts back, and Kayla breaks away from Brad so she can speak into my ear without yelling at me. “Everything okay?” she asks.
“Yeah. It’s been an awesome night.”
“I know, right?” Kayla shoots me a look that says, What did I tell you? Nothing’s going to go wrong tonight.
Brad grabs Kayla’s hand again and pulls her back towards the dancing throng. Kieran and I, meanwhile, lean up against the wall next to the barn door and survey the scene—perfect hairstyles wilting and frizzing in the heat, tuxedo jackets and vests dumped in a heap over by the refreshment table, curled petals from corsages trampled under high heels and dress shoes. “You should go dance with your friends,” Kieran tells me. “I won’t mind. Don’t wait around with me until another slow song comes on.”
Pushing myself up off the wall, I grab his hand and turn to him with an idea. “You know, there’s no rule about slow dancing to fast songs,” I point out, pulling him to the edge of the crowd where we slide our arms around each other. He kisses me, the two of us swaying together, our movements almost slow-motion in contrast to the spastic horde jumping around next to us. After a couple of minutes, the music switches to a more relaxed tempo and everyone else joins in our rhythmic rocking back and forth. We sneak a few more kisses past the eyes of the parent chaperones gathered on the other side of the party, and as the song winds down, I rest a sweaty cheek on Kieran’s shoulder. The hypnotic glow of twinkling lights bouncing off the shimmery dresses combined with the temperature inside the barn and the warmth in my stomach are almost enough to make me fall asleep against him. My eyes droop a little, my body still swaying with Kieran’s even after the last notes fade out and a tiny lull settles over the party as we wait for the next song.
And that’s when the lights go out.
