Prom Dates From Hell

by Rosemary Clement-Moore

  It also gave me an excuse to carry my camera bag, which was packed with canisters of salt. I’d be well armed and prepared, but nothing really stopped the nervous churning in my stomach.

  The doorbell rang. No more time to fret about my appearance, or the possibility of my imminent demise.

  Justin stood in the living room, chatting with my mom and dad. I froze on the stairs, a funny sort of stab in the middle of my gut. He looked amazing in black trousers and a white dinner jacket, with his hair brushed tidily back from the rugged lines of his face. He reminded me of Indiana Jones at the beginning of the (vastly inferior) second movie. Not so much in looks, but in the easy way he wore the formal clothes, and his crooked smile when he saw me.

  Oof. Stabbity stab.

  “Magpie, you look beautiful.” My father beamed. So did my mother. I blushed awkwardly, especially when Justin’s grin widened; he knew me well enough to read my discomfort.

  Mom hugged me when I reached the bottom of the stairs. “I’m glad you decided to go. You see? I doesn’t kill you to act like a normal girl once in a while.”

  Boy, I really hoped those weren’t famous last words.

  “Take a picture, Michael,” she told my dad.

  “Oh,” I rushed to correct any misunderstandings while Dad went to get his camera. “Justin isn’t…I mean, we’re not…I’m going…” I’d gone incoherent. I blamed the dinner jacket.

  “Maggie is trying to say that we’re sort of a foursome.” Justin came to my verbal rescue. “We’re not really a couple.”

  “So you can’t take a picture?” asked Mom. “You two look great together.”

  Dad came back with the camera. “Put your arm around her, Justin.” He obliged, his hand warm against my waist. Let’s just pretend my sudden breathing trouble was due to the corset-like constriction of my dress, and leave it at that. The shutter clicked, preserving my flustered expression for posterity.

  The doorbell rang again. Did I imagine that Justin was slow to drop his arm? The cool spot his touch left behind was real enough. I avoided his eye, quipping poorly, “That’ll be the next member of the Scooby Gang.”

  It turned out to be both of them. Brian looked spectacular in his tux, the tailored jacket smoothed across his broad shoulders, the formal black emphasizing his blue eyes and his wavy blond hair. Next to him stood Lisa, echoing her Goth heritage in a dark-green-and-black silk dress with a corset-type bodice and flowing sleeves. Her coppery brown hair was twisted up in a knot of trigonomic complexity and she looked beautiful, except for the icicles forming around her at having to share air with Brian.

  It was a good thing we would have demon hunting to distract us, because otherwise it was going to be a very awkward night.

  28

  fortunately, I hadn’t gone to the prom to have a good time, because I definitely wasn’t. Nerves stretched tight as violin strings, I watched for Brandon, jumped at every shadow, and sniffed the air so often that Brian finally asked if his deodorant had stopped working.

  “No,” groused Lisa, her elbows on the table. “Maggie’s brain has.”

  The hotel staff had cleared away our plates of rubbery chicken, leaving the vaguely coral-and-seaweed-shaped centerpieces and a littering of fish-shaped foil confetti on the table. The theme of the evening? Under the Sea. One of the many items on which I’d declined to exercise my voting rights. We’d entered the Marriott’s ballroom through a thick curtain of aqua crepe streamers, most of which were now on the floor. A painted paper mural covered the walls, full of sand, seaweed, cartoon fish, and even a diver getting eaten by a shark. Lovely.

  “Where’s Brandon?” I had lost sight of him for the fourth time since the DJ started blasting “Louie Louie” so loudly that the silverware bounced on the tables.

  “On the dance floor.” Brian nodded to the large parquet area laid out for our terpsichorean pleasure. Or, more accurately, for wiggling around like a trout on a line. At least that fit the evening’s theme.

  Brandon and his second-string friends had arrived so late that I’d become certain I’d misread the signs, and Biff lay in an alley somewhere while the freed Shadow went to town. But Stanley towered over the crowd, looking a lot like Lurch from the Addams Family in his tux. I was betting heavily that he would want the satisfaction of seeing the big dog taken down.

  The Jocks and Jessicas, version 2.0, arrived staggering drunk. Jess Minor hadn’t let any grass grow under her feet. With Jessica Prime exiled to the nut farm, she had latched onto the BMOC. Literally. His arm was probably the only thing keeping her upright.

  “She looks like she thinks she’s won the big prize.” Brian wore a concerned knot of pity between his brows.

  “The booby prize,” Lisa added, as Brandon and his new entourage wove through the crowd.

  “Nah.” I watched Jess and Thespica giggling tipsily, trying to stay upright on their high heels. “That’s what they give to the first girl to fall out of her dress.”

  Justin choked back a laugh. Lisa had almost started to smile, too, then caught herself and went back to scowling.

  Presently, we sat with our chairs turned toward the dance floor, wincing as the DJ turned on the mike with a squeal of feedback that made the whole room groan. “Amateur!” shouted someone over the last blast of music.

  “Whooooooooo!” shouted DJ Cliché. “Hello, senior class of Avalon High School! Are you ready to paaaaaaaaarrrrrrty?”

  “Geez,” I said. “Did this guy time warp out of Animal House? Why couldn’t we have a band?”

  “I think the class voted on it,” said Brian, as Jessica Simpson started singing some song I hadn’t liked back when it was actually popular. That would teach me to neglect my role in the democratic system.

  I craned my neck, searching the dance floor. The flashing lights and brain numbing volume made it impossible to keep track of anyone. “Do you see Brandon?”

  Beside me, Lisa pressed her fists to her eyes. “Jeez, Maggie. Would you just chill? If you’re right, the…thing will show up. If you’re not, there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  I glanced from Brian to Justin, who admitted, “She’s right.”

  “Of course I’m right.” She dropped her hands to the table with a thud. “But this waiting is making me nuts. I need to take a break.”

  She pushed her chair back and strode off before I could stop her, even if I wanted to. Justin turned to me, bemused. “I thought you said she was pretty much unflappable.”

  “She is. Normally.” I stared at her retreating back as she headed toward the door. “Should I go after her, do you think?”

  Brian shook his head. “Let her go. It’s not like this is a normal situation, and trying to protect Brandon can’t sit well with her.”

  I frowned. “She has a serious hate for all of you. Brandon especially. What’s that about?”

  “I have no idea.” This was clearly a lie, but I didn’t have a chance to challenge him, because he glanced over my shoulder and said, “I see him. I think he’s headed to the john.”

  Justin rose to his feet, looking resigned. “You get the next pit stop. There’s bound to be a few, from the way he’s staggering.”

  When he was gone, I twisted in my chair to face Brian. “You don’t think I’m crazy, do you?”

  He returned my gaze soberly. “Last week I had two baseball scholarships to chose from. Now I’m walking with a cane because I have advanced MS.”

  My fingers covered his on the table. “I’m so sorry, Brian.”

  He turned over his hand so that he could grasp mine. “Geez, Maggie. I’m not dead, crumpled like a tin can in Jeff’s car. I owe you for that. So no, I don’t think you’re crazy.”

  Sighing, I looked at the corsage around my wrist, white roses. Very classy. “I’m sorry for ruining your prom. I know this isn’t what you had in mind when you asked me.”

  “Life is full of surprises.” He levered himself up with the help of the table and then tugged on my hand. “Come on. Let’s dance
.”

  One bubblegum pop song finished and something else started, equally brainless and rhythmic. “You sure?” I conspicuously avoided looking at his cane.

  “I can probably manage to stand in one place and swing my arms around.” He led the way toward the booming music and flashing lights.

  I wondered if he’d been a good dancer when he was steady on his feet, and didn’t have to worry about his legs giving out under him. Because now…not so much. But when one of his baseball teammates noticed him out on the floor, and flashed a thumbs-up, Brian grinned gamely. Then the boys around him started a sort of synchronized head bob. Pretty soon there was a cluster of guys dancing like Brian: feet in one place, kind of bobbing to the beat while the girls gyrated around them. Mostly around Brian, actually.

  Some people are popular because they’re the stars of the team, and some people are popular because they’re not afraid to dance like a complete dweeb.

  Despite all the slinky girls around him, when the music ended he pulled unslinky me into a tight, laughing hug. It felt just as nice as you might imagine being squeezed against the chest of a butterfly-swimming, home run–hitting jock would be. Which is to say, very.

  “Hey, Crip-patrick. Hard to keep you down, huh.” Brandon’s voice carried in the silence between songs. Brian loosened his grip on me, but not completely. I felt one arm heavy on my shoulders, and stayed pressed against his side so as he turned, he could lean on me.

  “Hey, Brandon.” The kids around us swung their heads back and forth like tennis spectators. Behind the looming footballer I could see Justin, lifting his hands in an apology, though I didn’t see how he could have warned us.

  “Jess told me you were here with the snitch. I couldn’t believe it until I saw for myself.” Biff’s eyes lingered on my constriction enhanced cleavage and I resisted the urge to tug at my dress. “That must be some secret talent you’ve got, Quinn.”

  Like I needed a reminder of our last meeting. “Not everyone can get by on muscle alone, Brandon.”

  Jess Minor wrapped both arms around her date’s meaty bicep. “It’s not like you can get by on looks,” she said, in a pointed sort of way. And I don’t mean the obviously insufficient support of her clingy pink bodice.

  I smiled sweetly. “Nice outfit, Jess. Find a good sale?”

  Her claws dug into Brandon’s black sleeve as she looked from me to Brian. “I’m not the one here with castoffs.”

  Brian’s arm tightened around me. I had bruises from underestimating her once. Maybe I would have gotten more if one of the teacher chaperones hadn’t appeared before I could voice my next smartass retort.

  It was Professor Blackthorne, who took in the situation with a glance, and a Monty Python quote.

  “What’s all this then?” He cast an eye around the cluster of students.

  “Nothing, Teach.” Brandon turned on the smarm.

  The chemistry teacher was unmoved. “Do I detect the characteristic aroma of ethanol on your breath, Mr. Rogers?”

  “Uh…”

  “The correct answer would be no and a prudent retreat,” Blackthorne said, confirming my love for him.

  “Er, no, Professor Blackthorne,” said Brandon, smart for once. With a last glare at me, he went to another part of the dance floor, taking Jess with him.

  “Thanks, Professor Blackthorne,” I said.

  “Think nothing of it, Miss Quinn. I take my duties of chaperonage very seriously.” The gleam in his eye made me doubt the total truth of that. “And now I must be about them,” he said as he left.

  A girl from my gym class, Amber Somebody, slid up to us in the lull between songs. “Hey, Brian. I asked the DJ to play a slow dance next.” She ran her hand down his lapel. “Dance with me?”

  Brian hesitated. “Well, Amber, I’m here with someone.”

  “It’s just a dance. Maggie won’t mind.” She barely glanced my way. “Do you, Maggie? D and D Lisa said you wouldn’t.”

  “How helpful of her,” I said. Brian was standing on his own feet again, if tentatively. “But she’s right. I don’t mind.”

  Amber leaned in and said more softly. “Come on, Brian. Show Jess you’re no castoff.”

  “Well.” He gave me another glance, then looked back at Amber and gave in with a sheepish sort of grin. “But only to show Jess what’s what.”

  Call it a hunch, but I had a feeling Amber wasn’t asking just to tweak Jess Minor. Likewise, except for his reluctance to leave me on my own, Brian didn’t seem unhappy, either. It was nice to see something work out tonight.

  Justin waited for me at the edge of the dance floor. “You lost your partner.”

  “S’okay.” The mirror ball started up and the slow strains of a ballad flooded the ballroom. “I think he’ll be all right.”

  Hands in his pockets, Justin nodded to the floor. “You wanna dance?” I didn’t answer immediately, but cast a searching gaze over the room. He assured me, “I’ve got my eye on Brandon.”

  “I was worried about Lisa, actually.”

  “She’s over there.” A tilt of his head indicated a group of girls ensconced at a table far from the blasting speakers. When Lisa caught my gaze on her, she scowled, pointed to Justin and mimed us dancing. Or something. Looking quickly back to Justin, I smiled tentatively. “Dancing sounds good.”

  He smiled and reached for my hand. I stepped closer, my legs suddenly stiff and awkward, feeling my face heat, my heart flutter. Then he slid his arm around my waist, drawing me in, and we were swaying to Sarah McLachlan, and I thought maybe the DJ had redeemed himself. Justin turned my hand in his, tucking it close against his chest, like a prized item. I sighed a little, feeling the knot between my shoulder blades ease for the first time all night.

  “We shouldn’t let our guard down.” I said it to myself more than to him.

  “Lisa will watch.”

  Would she? I wasn’t so sure. “I knew that Lisa hated Brandon and his friends, but I thought it was because they were basically assholes,” I mused aloud as we danced. I’d gotten used to doing that around Justin. “But something Brian said makes me think there may be more to it than that.”

  He sighed. His breath smelled very slightly of peppermint, and stirred the wisps of hair by my ear, tickling my neck. All thoughts raced out of my head, as quickly as that. One breath. “Maggie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Before we talk about Lisa or Brian or anyone else, can I ask you a question?”

  How could I answer, when all I could think about was the way the fabric of his jacket rubbed the bare skin of my arm. Ah, friction. Finally I knew what the big deal was about.

  “Brian who?”

  He made a sound that might have been a laugh or a sigh. His arm tightened imperceptibly on my waist, pulling me closer still. It was the most natural thing in the world to lay my head on his shoulder and let the too loud music drum out awareness of the world.

  “Justin?”

  “Hmmm?” His cheek rested against the top of my head. For the first time in my life, I was glad to be short.

  “Were you going to ask me a question?”

  “Hell if I know.”

  I smiled as we swayed in a slow circle. I saw Amber with her arms around Brian’s neck. She raised her eyebrows at my partner, and gave me a covert thumbs-up.

  I closed my eyes again, and when I opened them, we’d gone almost full circle. I saw the klatch of wallflowers, and Lisa’s empty chair.

  An icy chill crawled over my skin, leaving a clammy feeling of wrongness in its wake, the sudden certainty that something bad was happening.

  I jerked up my head, hitting Justin in the jaw. “Lisa’s gone.” I clapped a hand to my skull and ignored the watering of my eyes.

  He held his chin and squinted toward the table in the corner. “Maybe she went to the ladies room.”

  “No. Something’s wrong.” I searched the crowd.

  “Where’s Biff?”

  “Who?”

  “Brandon! Where’s B
randon?” I saw Jess hanging drunkenly from the arms of a guy definitely not her date. “Where’s Stanley?” He, at least, should be impossible to miss.

  Justin scanned the crowd, summing up the futility of his search with a brief but eloquent word.

  “Come on.” I grabbed his hand and wove through the intertwined couples until we reached Brian and his partner. “Did you see where Brandon went?”

  His head turned with aching slowness. “What?”

  Amber looked down at me with annoyance. “What the Hell, Maggie?”

  “Exactly.” I pried Brian out of her grip. “Sorry, Amber. You can have him back later. I hope.”

  Hurriedly, I explained my worry as we left the dance floor, summing up with, “Brandon, Stanley, Lisa…they’re all missing.” Stopping at our table, I felt underneath it for my camera case. My fingers met only carpet and crumbs. I lifted the tablecloth to look, then straightened, feeling my stomach sink impossibly lower. “And so is my bag with our stuff in it.”

  This was definitely not how the plan was supposed to go. We’d lost track of our bait, our quarry—the human part, anyway—our ammunition, and our ally.

  “Okay.” Justin used a let’s-not-panic voice. “Maybe Lisa saw Brandon leaving the ballroom and followed.”

  “By herself? She doesn’t even really believe what we’re dealing with.”

  “Exactly. She might think she can handle it on her own.”

  There was still something not right about that, but I couldn’t think clearly with the alarm bells going off in my head. I snatched the saltshaker off the table and turned for the door. “We have to find them.”

  We exited the ballroom by the double doors and paused in the hallway to get our bearings. The lobby lay in one direction, the bathrooms in the other, and straight ahead were glass doors leading to the terrace.

  “Check the restroom,” Justin said, “just to be sure. I’ll check the lobby.” Brian’s breath had grown labored just from the walk from the dance floor. “Stay here in case they come back.”

  I hiked up my skirts and dashed for the bathroom in a noisy rustle of satin. I don’t know how those girls in the action movies do it. After I’d scouted, I had to slip off my heels and jog back in my stocking feet.