Prom was the first time I’d worn a tuxedo outside of my siblings’ weddings. And while my tuxedo was the cheapest one I could find, it still looked way nicer than the hand-me-down T-shirt, twenty-dollar, faded Sears jeans, and baseball hat Rebecca usually saw me wearing.
Prom was fun, as I always enjoyed spending time with Rebecca. We talked and laughed, and we danced to almost every song. Platonic or not, I thought it was wonderful, and Rebecca did, too. Prom was worth all the extra babysitting.
As the last song came on, I asked Rebecca to dance, but she waved me off to talk with Shayla. The group from my limo was sitting around our table exhausted. We knew the merriment was coming to an end, and the rest of the group chose to just survey the room rather than cram one more dance in. It was then that I noticed my homecoming queen, Victoria Layton, sitting by herself at an otherwise empty table.
Victoria and Eugene had broken up two weeks before prom. And rather than go with one of the many latecomers scrambling to ask her out, Victoria went by herself. After a lifetime of being in a couple, it must have felt weird for her to be alone. Especially during the final slow song of the night.
The dance floor was littered with couples, and Victoria sat, just staring at her friends dancing with their dates. And then I saw it—Eugene was dancing with his date, too. Eugene hadn’t gone the I-don’t-need-anyone-else route that Victoria chose, opting instead for the first cute girl who had showed interest. And Victoria was sitting there, during the last song of prom, watching them dance. The girl who had treated me so kindly all year was sad, and I wanted to do something about it.
I looked around my table. Everyone was happily gabbing away, and Rebecca was riveted by some gossip from Shayla. I thought about my next move. Rebecca had already said no to a dance, and while she was my date, we were not on a date. Still, I asked her if she’d mind if I danced with Victoria. Maybe she didn’t care. Maybe she didn’t hear me correctly. Maybe she thought the question was ridiculous. But Rebecca gave me a quick “go ahead” gesture with her hand and went back to listening to Shayla.
It was a ridiculous question, as asking Victoria to dance did not mean we would end up dancing. I may as well have asked Rebecca, “Do you mind if I step away for a moment to pitch for the Mets?”
I stood up and walked over to Victoria’s table. “We never did get that dance,” I said to a confused look on her face. Victoria probably didn’t remember what she had said to me about homecoming. But in the moment, I thought it was smooth.
“What?” Victoria asked. I tried again, but with less subtlety.
“Would you like to dance?”
She said yes, and the two of us proceeded to the dance floor.
Victoria was no longer watching Eugene dance—rather, the reverse was happening. I knew Eugene was watching us dance because everyone was watching us dance. If you polled everyone in Hunter, at any point from the first day of school until that moment, and asked them, “Will Steve Hofstetter and Victoria Layton ever slow dance together?” the answer would have been 100 percent no. Even if Victoria and I were the ones being asked in the poll. Some students would have answered no while watching us dance. They might have assumed it was a hallucination.
My dance with Victoria lasted only a minute or two, as that’s how long the second half of a song lasts. But the moment lasted much longer than that. My “debut” at Hunter involved dancing at the junior prom, but that was because I was thrust into a circle against my will. A year later, I’d gained enough confidence to slow dance with someone like Victoria Layton in front of the entire class.
Something comedians need is the ability to not care what people think of them. That’s what I’d gained from all those years of improv—knowing that sometimes a scene works and sometimes it doesn’t and that whether or not the audience enjoys your choices is often out of your hands. I also learned that it’s okay if a scene fails, because you’ll get a seemingly infinite amount of other opportunities for success. Life is similar to improv in that way. If Victoria had said no to me, so what? If everyone had laughed at us on the dance floor, so what? If Victoria had said yes, only to douse me with a bucket of pig’s blood, okay, that would bother me. But mainly because it’s so unoriginal.
I stopped worrying about what people would think of me and just acted. I thought I had a ton of friends in USY, and I was wrong. I thought I was part of a big group at Hunter, and I was wrong. Even Alexa Howard had gotten to know me, appreciated me, and still treated me like garbage. So what did it matter if people liked me or didn’t? I wanted to ask Victoria to dance in that moment. So I did, and she said yes, and we danced with hundreds of people watching us. It was fantastic.
After prom, Rebecca’s friend Lilian threw a party at her parent’s Connecticut house, because that is what rich kids with irresponsible parents do after prom. Most of the senior class went, and it was nice to be part of the limo that had suddenly become the in-crowd. Maybe Lilian, like me, was a quiet kid with a few surprises.
Like I had done with Lindsay Messner at Marley’s party three years earlier, I spent most of the party with a girl I was dating but not really dating. Rebecca and I were inseparable at that party, just like we had been for the past few weeks. But things seemed a bit different than they’d been the past few weeks. Things seemed different than they’d been earlier that night.
Rebecca was sitting closer to me, was touching my arm when she laughed at my jokes, and was fixated on everything I was saying. She repeatedly brought up how great it was that I’d asked Victoria to dance. Rebecca talked about how alone Victoria must have felt in that moment and how I not only recognized it but reached out. The thing Rebecca didn’t realize is that, had my non-date date expressed anything other than platonic-ism for me, I wouldn’t have ever noticed Victoria was at prom, let alone asked her to dance.
Rebecca seemed really touched by my gesture toward Victoria, and she kept touching me. Two hours into the party, Rebecca and I were sitting up against a wall with my arm around her and her leaning on my shoulder. I could have sat like that the entire night.
Rebecca, however, decided she wanted to get another drink. When she tried to stand up, she couldn’t. I had the terrible realization that Rebecca’s cuddling, her flirtations, and her repetition were being fueled by alcohol. Rebecca, who hadn’t ever tried alcohol before that party, was all over me because she was drunk.
I hoped that I was misreading the situation or that the alcohol had just allowed Rebecca to lower her walls. I was terrified that when Rebecca sobered up, she’d forget she’d ever flirted with me, and that our cuddling, like high school, would be over for good. And as all of these thoughts raced through my mind, Rebecca tried to kiss me.
I am sure you are hoping that I did the right thing. That I pulled back. That I didn’t take advantage of the situation. That I didn’t let a girl who’d never been drunk before do something she’d regret on prom night.
How long have you been reading this book? Of course I didn’t take advantage of Rebecca. Life is not a romantic comedy, and it is also not an after-school special. I simply moved my head to the side and kept talking to Rebecca as if her attempt at a kiss had never happened.
I didn’t want to embarrass Rebecca, both for her sake and for mine. If Rebecca felt I’d rejected her, I’d have no chance to actually date her when she was sober. So I pretended like nothing was wrong and hoped her drunk memory would remember things differently than how they had happened. Maybe Rebecca would remember that she wanted to kiss me, but not the actual failed attempt. Maybe not.
The next morning, Rebecca and I took part in a Hunter tradition older than Killer and Carnival and punny mascots. Hunter’s prom is always on a Thursday, so after staying up all night, students show up at school on Friday morning still dressed in prom attire. We don’t stay for the whole day, as seniors are given that day off. But all the students poke our heads into classes to say hi to our favorite teachers and have breakfast in the cafeteria, and some students even play games of pick-u
p basketball in full formal wear.
As Rebecca sobered up, she became more and more aloof. I don’t know if Rebecca regretted that I stopped her from kissing me or felt embarrassed over the whole incident. But there was something off between us—there was a definite distance. Rebecca and I said our goodbyes as first period started, and I went home to sleep for as long as I could. Despite some after-prom hope, it was clear that Rebecca and I would continue our friendship the way it had been. It was disappointing but not unexpected.
I’d started prom with no shot with Rebecca, and that’s how I finished it. Could I have kissed her that night? Absolutely. Would I have been ashamed of myself for the rest of my life for doing so? Also absolutely. Doing the right thing was more important to me than getting the girl.
My dating prospects hadn’t changed since the day before, so I didn’t have anything to really be sad about. Meanwhile, I got to sit arm in arm with Rebecca for a few hours, and I danced with Victoria Layton. I was sure Shayla was off gossiping about it somewhere.
DOING THE RIGHT THING BY DOING THE WRONG THING
Like prom, it was traditional for everyone to stay up all night after the last day of classes, too. This time, the party wasn’t official—just a few of the popular rich kids who somehow rented out a bar despite being only eighteen. It is stunning how often laws get ignored when the lawbreakers have money.
Everyone was invited, even people who didn’t usually go to parties. I spent most of the night talking to Rebecca. After a few days, Rebecca had gotten over the embarrassment of our drunken near-kiss, and we resumed our daily phone calls. Thanks to some sleep and thought, Rebecca told me that she really appreciated that I didn’t let her make a move, and we grew even closer. At the party, we were inseparable again.
Rebecca and I even left the party together. Not for any indecent reasons—we were just hungry and talking, and it was four in the morning. So we decided to find a diner and keep the night going. Both Shayla and Randy gave us looks when we said our goodbyes and walked out together. Randy’s look was one of finally, and Shayla’s look was one of I am so excited for new gossip to tell everyone.
Rebecca and I discussed those looks at length, as she defended Shayla and I defended Randy. I said Randy was simply rooting for me and Shayla was looking for something juicy. Rebecca said that Shayla was looking out for her and Randy was the one to worry about.
“Let’s test the theory,” I said.
“How do you plan on doing that?”
“We’ll tell each of them different, made-up gossip. See what spreads.”
“Excellent plan,” Rebecca said. “What do we tell them?”
Before I could come up with an answer, Rebecca suggested we tell Randy and Shayla that we’d hooked up. Considering I wanted that lie to be true, it was hard to argue with it.
We would tell Shayla that my parents were out of town, so we went back to my place and made out. Then we’d tell Randy that Rebecca’s parents were out of town so we went back to her place and made out. The real key was that both friends would be sworn to absolute secrecy.
When Rebecca and I finished up at the diner, I had a terrible realization—I didn’t have my keys and could not get into my apartment without them. I might be able to get back before my mother left for work if I hurried, but I hated to cut the night short. Even though it was already six A.M.
Rebecca, who lived on what seemed like the opposite side of the world in Brooklyn, volunteered to come back with me to Queens in case I couldn’t get in, and then I wouldn’t be stranded alone. And that way, we wouldn’t have to cut the night short. This was not the kind of thing anyone I’d had a crush on before would have done for me. This was not even the kind of thing that anyone I’d been in a relationship with would have done for me. Did Rebecca have feelings for me, too?
The New York City subway is pretty amazing considering how many people it successfully shuttles back and forth each day. But at six A.M., it is not the most reliable method of conveyance, especially when you’re going in the opposite direction of rush hour. Ninety minutes later, Rebecca and I got to my apartment. My mother was already gone.
As much as I wanted to spend the day with Rebecca, we were tired, and I didn’t want her to see me as a burden. I had to find a way inside. I remembered my escape plan during Killer. I just had to do it backward.
The living room window was open, so I jumped up and pulled myself onto the outside gate of the window. If I could climb through a ceiling, I could climb through a window. I unlatched the gate, swung out on it, climbed around to the other side, and swung back. I crawled through the window, got a spare key, and joined Rebecca back outside. We got back on the train, as I said there was no way I was sending her all the way to Brooklyn by herself.
Rebecca and I spent most of the ride to Brooklyn leaning against each other sleeping, and I used my years of commuting experience to wake up before her stop. I walked Rebecca to her door, and she gave me a long, lingering hug. At this point in our fourteen-hour revelry, I’d had enough courage to climb a literal wall, but I did not have enough to kiss Rebecca Chaikin. The hug finally ended without me making a move.
“It was a pleasure hooking up with you,” Rebecca said. “I’ll call Shayla and tell her how it was.”
I slept most of the train ride back. The ride wasn’t as pleasant as the ride to Rebecca’s house—instead of Rebecca, a large, smelly man sat next to me. But I’d still had a wonderful night. I wasn’t going to let anyone’s stench ruin it.
I passed out for most of the day and then called Randy to fill him in. He didn’t ask many questions—just said that he was happy for me. He was so supportive that I felt bad for lying to him. But I had to, if I was going to prove that Shayla’s mouth was as big as the guy I sat next to on the subway.
It didn’t take long, as Rebecca had already gotten calls from the rest of her group of friends asking about our night at my place. And then I started getting calls from my friends, too. Even Randy called me.
“I thought you said you guys went to her place?” Randy asked. “But I heard she came to yours?” Shayla had told so many people that even my friends heard Rebecca’s story instead of mine. Checkmate, Shayla. I filled Randy in on the truth, and his annoyance over being lied to was muted by his appreciation for why. And his pride that he’d passed the test. And his disappointment that it wasn’t true.
Randy and Mason also lived in Rebecca’s neighborhood in Brooklyn, so the four of us grabbed Chinese food a few days later. When the time came to open our fortune cookies, Rebecca grabbed mine, laughed, and put it in her pocket without letting the rest of us see. I spent a few minutes trying to get her to show me what it said before being distracted by Rebecca’s offer for a post-dinner walk along Prospect Park.
Randy and Mason took our walk as their cue to leave, giving Rebecca and I the chance to finally make the rumors come to fruition. And so we walked along Prospect Park, holding hands. Holding hands was a new development, but I did not allow myself to believe that Rebecca’s feelings for me had changed. I’d thought I’d lost her friendship once already; the thought of losing it again was too scary. But when it got dark, we went back to Rebecca’s house.
The tough part was that Rebecca’s mother was home. The easy part was that Rebecca’s mom (like everyone’s mom except Colleen Barrett’s) liked me a lot. Ever since prom, Rebecca’s mom had been pestering Rebecca as to why she wasn’t dating me. And so, after a bit of small talk in the kitchen, her mother said, “Well, I don’t want to get in your way. Why don’t you two watch some TV in your room?”
If there was ever a sign that a guy is nonthreatening, it is when a girl’s mother encourages him to go to her daughter’s room alone with her.
And so, Rebecca and I obliged. But I was still nervous. At this point, my feelings for Rebecca had gone so far beyond crush that I couldn’t risk ruining things. Two years earlier, I had convinced myself I was in love with Hope. And yet I had never felt as strongly about anyone as I did about Reb
ecca.
Unlike my previous crushes, I knew Rebecca really well. Though she was beautiful, my feelings were not based on her looks. Though she made me feel good about myself, my feelings were not based on anything selfish. I felt strongly about Rebecca because I had gotten to know Rebecca.
Rebecca and I didn’t watch any TV, but we didn’t make out either. We did what we did best and what I liked so much about her. We just talked, and talked, and talked.
Eventually, our conversation made its way to the rumors we’d spread, and I gloated that I was right about Shayla. Rebecca playfully hit me and then apologized by kissing my arm and putting her head on my shoulder. Even then, I still didn’t have the courage to kiss her.
What if I had been reading the signs wrong? I’d been wrong about girls in the past. Maybe Rebecca just really liked me as a friend.
I know, you want to jump through this book and scream at me. I want to scream at me, too. Of course Rebecca liked me. We were alone, arm in arm, her head on my shoulder, with music playing in her dimly lit bedroom at one A.M. My move was to point all that out.
“You know, we’re alone, arm in arm, your head on my shoulder, with music playing in your dimly lit bedroom at one A.M.,” I said. “If anyone knew about this, I bet we’d have more rumors spreading.”
At that point Rebecca moved away from me. Oh, damn it. What if I was right about being wrong? Maybe Rebecca didn’t have feelings for me. And now I’d made it awkward.
Rebecca didn’t move far. She reached into her pocket, handed me something, and snuggled back into my arms. She had handed me the fortune from dinner, laughing.
Ginger Kid Page 19
