Tag Along

by Tom Ryan

  “Maybe this isn’t such a great idea,” says Andrea. “We’ll never get in.”

  “Leave it to me,” I say. She and Sean follow me to the side of the school, and we creep up to the corner and peek around it. Through the glass walls of the school foyer, we can see a bunch of teachers milling around inside, up past their bedtimes.

  “We aren’t going to make it in that way,” I tell them.

  Andrea opens her mouth to say something, but I hold my finger up. “Hush,” I say. “Just follow me.”

  We walk around to the back of the building, trying doors as we go. Everything is locked.

  Then I look up and see an open window that’s hinged inward. The only problem is that it’s five feet off the ground.

  “I think that’s the bio lab,” Andrea says. “I don’t know—that opening is really small.”

  “Come on, Andrea,” I say. “We’ve made it this far. Just think about the great story this will make!”

  “I wish we still had that stupid ladder,” she mutters.

  It takes a bit of maneuvering, but Sean and I manage to hoist her up to the window.

  “Can you see anything?” Sean asks.

  “It’s dark,” she says. “Give me a second.”

  “Well, hurry—you aren’t as featherlight as you look!” I say.

  “Okay,” she says. “There’s a counter here, just below the window. I’m going to try to climb in.”

  I give her one last shove, and then she’s hanging half in and half out of the window. With a little yelp, she falls into the building. We hear a crash, then some cursing, and a moment later she sticks her head out the window. “I’m okay,” she says. “I just knocked a bunch of papers and stuff onto the floor. It’s clear. There’s nobody around.”

  I turn to Sean, who has been taking everything in stride.

  “Maybe you can help me up next,” I say.

  “Sure thing,” he says. “This is super fun.”

  “You mean it?” I ask him.

  “Definitely,” he says.

  Sean makes a step out of his hands, and I grab on to his shoulders. Our faces are suddenly very close, and we stay like that, staring at each other, for a split second. Then we both burst out laughing, and he boosts me up to the window. Once I’m inside, Andrea and I reach down and grab on to his arms to pull him up.

  The room is dark. I hop off the counter and go over to the door; I peer through the window into the dimly lit hallway.

  “The coast is clear,” I whisper to them. “Let’s clean this mess up and get the hell out of here.”

  We begin picking up papers from the floor and trying to rearrange them as neatly as possible. I’m about to climb back onto the counter and shut the window when the door is thrown open and the light snaps on.

  It’s Mr. Parrins, and he doesn’t look happy.

  “What the hell are you guys doing in here?” he asks. None of us answer, and he walks into the room. He looks at the window, which is open twice as wide as it should be, and then the counter, which is in total disarray despite our best efforts.

  “All right,” says Mr. Parrins. “You kids are coming with me.”

  “Mr. Parrins,” I say. “You can’t do this to us!”

  “Do what?” he asks, obviously impatient.

  “You can’t ruin tonight for us, and if you had any idea the trouble we went through to get here, you wouldn’t try!”

  “Roemi, there are rules,” he says. “One of the rules is that the doors to the dance are closed and locked at ten thirty. An even more important rule is not to break into the school. Or any building, for that matter.”

  “Don’t you see what’s going on here?” I ask him. “This is my date, Sean. Do you get what I’m saying here? Do you realize that if you let us into the dance we’ll be the first gay couple to ever attend prom at Granite Ridge High School?”

  “Actually,” says Mr. Parrins, “you won’t be. Allison Jackson and her girlfriend were the first. About five years ago. The paper did a really nice write-up about it.”

  Five years ago?

  “Excuse me?” I say. “You mean we aren’t the first gay couple to come to the prom?”

  “That’s what I said,” he says. “Although technically, as far as I know, you’d be the first gay male couple to attend prom.”

  “Technically,” I repeat.

  “Anyway, it doesn’t matter,” says Mr. Parrins. “Gay, straight, whatever. You’ve broken into the school—don’t you understand how serious that is? You guys need to come with me to the office now, so I can call your parents.”

  “Mr. Parrins,” says Andrea. “What exactly have we done that’s so serious? It’s not like we broke windows, or showed up drunk. We just did what we needed to do to get here. To be with our friends.”

  I feel her reach out and grab my hand. A second later, Sean grabs my other hand. We have become, potentially, the most pitiful human chain in history. At least we’re well dressed.

  “Please,” says Andrea. “Please give us a break. Just this once.”

  Mr. Parrins glares at us but doesn’t say anything. It’s all I can do to not start singing “Born This Way.”

  “Oh for crying out loud,” he says finally. “Fine. I’ll pretend I didn’t see anything. But you still shouldn’t be back here. Come with me.”

  “That was some Jedi mind shit, Andrea,” I whisper as we follow Mr. Parrins through a series of empty corridors. He stops at a set of double doors that lead into the gym and uses one of the keys hanging around his neck to unlock it.

  “Give me a couple of minutes to get back around to the front,” he says. “And don’t let me catch you three up to anything shifty once you’re in there.”

  “You won’t,” says Andrea. “Thanks a million, Mr. Parrins.” He’s already halfway down the hallway, shaking his head.

  I reach for the door handle, but Andrea grabs me by the arm.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask her.

  “Do you think I look stupid?” she asks us.

  “You look awesome,” I tell her. “Andrea is after a guy,” I explain to Sean.

  “I can’t imagine a straight guy on earth who wouldn’t fall for you,” he tells her. I swoon internally.

  “I just don’t think I look like me,” she says. “I look like a poser or something.”

  I put my hand on her shoulder. “Andrea, you look great. It’s prom night—everyone is dressed up and partying and dancing. People are too preoccupied with themselves to think anything, except that you look amazing. Tonight is supposed to be fun. Now can we please go in there before I turn into a pumpkin?”

  “Thanks, Roemi.”Andrea abruptly steps forward and hugs me. Then she turns and hugs Sean.

  “Justin won’t be able to take his eyes off you,” I tell her. “Now let’s go. There’s less than a half hour left before the lights come on again.”

  I look at Sean and he looks at me and we both smile.

  “Do you feel like dancing?” he asks me.

  “What do you think?” I ask, grabbing him by the hand and pulling him through the doors into the gym.

  ANDREA

  It’s surprising how good the gym looks. You could almost forget that you’re standing on a basketball court. There are trees spray-painted silver, with little white lights hanging in them, and glowing paper globes hanging from the rafters.

  Roemi and Sean immediately head for the packed dance floor. I have no intention of dancing, but when Roemi realizes I haven’t followed them, he runs back and grabs my hand, pulling me into the crowd.

  I do my best to move around to the music, but I honestly have no experience dancing. Roemi and Sean move in perfect sync, and in world-record time a circle opens up around them. Roemi starts to pull out some incredible moves, and Sean keeps up with him. They begin doing kind of a Russian kick dance with some perfectly executed moonwalks thrown in.

  At the breakdown in the middle of the song, people start chanting.

  “Go, Roemi, Roemi!”
<
br />   “OH!” he yells, jumping into the air and kicking his heels together.

  “Go, Roemi, Roemi!”

  “OH!”

  As much as I hate dancing, it’s impossible to not be impressed.

  I’m cheering and clapping along with everyone else when Bethanne comes squealing up behind me.

  “Oh my god!” she screams. “You came! You came!” She takes a step back and sizes me up. “You look amazing!” she says.

  “You think so?”

  She nods rapidly. “Where did you get this dress?” she asks me.

  “Long story,” I tell her. “I’ll fill you in later.”

  She leans in to whisper in my ear. “Don’t look now,” she says, “but you’re getting seriously checked out.”

  I turn and see Justin staring at me. When he realizes I’ve seen him, he blushes and waves, then scurries away as if he’s embarrassed.

  “He was asking about you,” says Bethanne. “You have to go talk to him!”

  “I will,” I say. “But I need to make a call first. I’ll be right back.”

  I find a semi-quiet corner in the school foyer. After only two rings, my mom picks up.

  “Mom, it’s me.”

  “Andrea, where the hell are you? Are you with your brother? He isn’t answering his phone. I told him, there’s nothing funny about—”

  “Mom!” I say, cutting her off. “I know you’re worried about me, and I’m sorry, but I have to tell you something.”

  “What is it?” she asks, her voice suddenly hushed and worried.

  “I want to have fun, Mom. I’m at the prom and I want to stay at the prom and have fun until it’s over. I’m not drinking, I’m not on drugs, and I have no intention of getting in a car with anyone who is.”

  “I’m coming to get you,” she says.

  “No!” I say. “No, you’re not coming to get me. I’m seventeen years old, and there’s a boy here that I like, a lot. I know that you’re worried about me turning into Brad, but you can stop worrying. I’m going to be fine. I’m not a rule breaker, Mom. I’m never going to be a rule breaker. Okay?”

  “Andrea,” she says. “You’re not making any sense. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I’m just asking you to trust me, Mom. Please?”

  There’s a long pause on the other end of the line. Then I hear her sigh. “Just a minute,” she says.

  She must put her hand over the receiver, because I can hear her talking to Dad, but it’s all muffled and I can’t make out what they’re saying. After a few moments she comes back on the line.

  “Please be smart, Andrea,” she says.

  “I always am,” I say. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I turn off my phone and go back into the dance. Roemi and Sean, laughing and sweaty from dancing, come rushing over to me.

  “Roemi just pointed Justin out to me,” says Sean. “He’s totally cute.”

  “I have to admit,” says Roemi, “your dream nerd cleans up right nice. Now are you going to talk to him or what?” He points, and I turn to see Justin standing by himself at the edge of the stage. I take a deep breath and move through the crowd toward him. As he sees me approaching, a smile stretches across his face, and he moves to meet me.

  “Hey,” he says. “You made it.”

  “Yep,” I say. “Despite myself.”

  He laughs. “Your mom is kind of intense,” he says.

  “Intensely embarrassing,” I say. “I can’t believe she actually crashed Terry’s party looking for me.”

  “Everybody’s parents are embarrassing,” he says. “Anyway, I’m glad you made it. You look really nice.”

  “Thanks,” I say.

  We stand there kind of goofily smiling at each other.

  The song that’s been playing ends and all of a sudden some generic Taylor Swift ballad about princesses and pickup trucks is blasting through the gym. The dance floor thins out; only couples are left, swaying with their arms around each other.

  What the hell, I think. “Do you want to dance?” I ask.

  “Definitely.”

  I hook my arms around his neck and he puts his around my waist. For a little while neither of us says anything. We just move slowly in a circle.

  “Do you think maybe you want to go do something sometime?” he asks suddenly.

  “Totally,” I tell him. “Like what?”

  “I don’t know,” he says. “I haven’t thought that far ahead.” I laugh, and he smiles and blushes. Totally cute.

  “I’m sure we can figure something out,” I say.

  The ballad ends and something a lot faster and more upbeat replaces it. I’m not sure I’ve even heard this song before, but everyone else in the gym freaks out, and the floor is full in just a few minutes. The music is crunchy and pushy and loud, and I’m pretty sure I would hate it if I heard it anywhere else in the world and on any other night. But tonight, I find that I’m actually able to move to the music. My brain has nothing to do with it, and for the moment, I’m happy to let my body take over.

  I pull away from Justin and smile at him, lifting an eyebrow and looking at him in a new way, staring directly into those beautiful eyes. He catches my gaze and smiles, blushes and turns away, but only for a second. Soon he’s staring right back at me. We’re surrounded by what feels like a million people, shaking and jumping like fools, and I’m finally face-to-face with the guy I’ve been thinking about for so long.

  “I usually hate dancing,” he yells into my ear.

  “Me too!” I yell back, laughing.

  “This is fun though!” he hollers.

  “Yeah!” I yell. “Something about this just makes me want to tear shit up!”

  I reach out and grab his hand, and together we start to lose ourselves in the music. The more we dance, jumping and spinning and letting ourselves go, the more fun I begin to have. I see Bethanne on the edge of the crowd, and I wave for her to come and dance with us. Then Roemi and Sean appear, and the five of us dance in a circle. The whole time, Justin stays right next to me, and I keep catching him stealing looks at me and smiling.

  The thing I’ve never understood about dancing till now is that it only looks stupid when you’re on the outside, watching other people do it. When you’re part of the crowd, moving along with everyone else, I can’t imagine anything else being quite as much fun.

  PAUL

  “Why’d you help them?” I ask Candace after Andrea and Roemi and Sean have disappeared into the shadows of the school.

  “What difference does it make?” she asks.

  “It’s just kind of funny,” I say. “You found Roemi a date. You helped Andrea get ready for the dance. It seems like I’m the only one you haven’t helped. Seems like I’ve been helping you all night, and all I get is a bunch of attitude.”

  “So what are you saying?” she asks. “You want a rose tattoo too?”

  “Nah, I’m cool. I’m just picking on you.”

  “How about I tell you a story?” she says.

  “Why not?” I say.

  “You remember when I mentioned that I used to have a boyfriend?” she asks. “But it didn’t work out?”

  “Yeah,” I say.

  “His name was Rick. He was older than me. I met him over a year ago, when I’d just turned sixteen and he was almost twenty. I wasn’t getting along with my parents very well. Not that I get along great with them now, but it was really bad back then. They were fighting with each other all the time, and I had a serious hate-on for both of them. Especially my mom, because it turned out she’d been cheating on my dad. Anyway, it’s a lot more complicated than that, and I don’t really want to go into that part of the story.”

  “Sure,” I say, wondering where she’s going with this.

  “So I was spending a lot of time away from home.

  When I wasn’t at school, I was usually at my friend Vanessa’s place, at least at first. When I wasn’t with Vanessa, I was out trying to get better at taggin
g. Like, wandering around with some markers and shit, trying to find places to throw up designs or whatever.”

  “Kind of like tonight,” I say.

  “Yeah, but way more Mickey Mouse than that. Kid stuff. I wasn’t very good—I was just learning. Then I met Rick. I’d stopped hanging out with Vanessa. She was acting like a narc, telling me I was going to get in trouble or something.”

  Candace stops and thinks for a few seconds. “Looking back at it now,” she says, “I guess maybe I should have listened to her, but I didn’t, so what can you do? Anyway, I was out one night, wandering around with a few spray cans in my backpack, looking for a place to practice, and I came across Rick and a couple of his buddies underneath an overpass. His friends tried to get me to leave, but I guess he could tell I was interested in what they were doing, because he got them to back off, and he told me to stick around.

  “After that, he kind of took me under his wing. I even started skipping school just to hang out with him and watch him work.”

  “So that’s how you learned,” I say.

  “That’s not all I learned,” she says. “Soon he had me helping him break into places to paint. I did everything he asked, because I thought we were a team. It turned out he really just needed a scapegoat, someone to take the heat if the cops showed up. Which might even have happened, if it wasn’t for Vanessa.”

  “What did she do?” I ask her.

  “She ratted me out,” she says. “I made the mistake of telling her what was going on. I thought she’d understand. She’s creative—she’s actually a really good artist. But instead of listening to what I was trying to tell her, she got in touch with my mom.”

  “Whoa,” I say.

  “Yeah. So my parents basically followed me one night and confronted me with Rick. They told him to stay away from me, and he did. I haven’t spoken to him since. Turns out it didn’t take much to get him to back off. Obviously it didn’t keep me from doing graffiti, but now that Rick’s not around, it’s pretty much a solo game for me.”

  “Why do you keep doing it?” I ask her.