Chapter 19: Homecoming Dance

September 27, 1980

The big day. I slept late, ate a light lunch, tried to do homework, tried to nap. I wasn’t big on focusing just now. I thought about getting my bike and burning off some energy, but the last thing I wanted was winding up too tired to dance if Candice wanted to keep going.

Finally, it got to 4pm. I checked and was in luck — Angie wasn’t using the bathroom. I took a quick shower, then dressed. Mom had ironed my shirt and pants and I had nearly new, freshly polished shoes. I got dressed, tied my tie, and went out.

Angie spotted me first. “Wow! You clean up nice, big brother!”

Mom was next. “You look so handsome, Steve! You’re going all out on this.”

I smiled. “I’m going to be standing next to Candice. I don’t want to make her look bad.”

Angie laughed. “No chance of that.”

Mom sighed. “When did you turn into such a romantic, hmm?”

“I’ve always been a romantic, Mom. I just haven’t been able to show it.”

“Are you sure about this hamburger plan? I mean, you’re all dressed up, and...”

“Mom, we’re sure,” Angie replied. “It’s just Homecoming dance. We’ll save the fancy restaurants for another time. It’s more important that we all get together and have fun.”

“OK, dear. It just sounds ... I don’t know ... too casual.”

“You mean not romantic,” I said. “The romance is with the people, though. We all talked about it. The girls picked the hamburger place.”

Angie giggled, “Well, compared to Italian that’d get us all messy, yeah.” She looked to Mom. “I’d love to, you know, do the whole dimly lit steakhouse thing, but not everyone can do that. And, besides, they’d hate it if over a dozen teenagers were carrying on. We’ll fit right in where we’re going.”

Mom smiled. “Fine, I’m outvoted! I know you’ll all have fun. But I get pictures first!”

“You’ll get your pictures, Mom. You can get Candice and me twice and Angie and Dan once, plus Dan’s parents will take pictures and I know they’ll share. Just like we’ll share with Candice’s parents, not that I don’t expect her dad to be snapping away.”

She sighed. “You only have one first high school dance.”

Yeah, didn’t I know it. I only had one total in my whole first go-round. This time looked to be a lot better.

“There’ll be a lot of firsts, Mom. I know you want pictures, and I want you to have them, too. I’ll cooperate, don’t worry.”

“Me, too, Mom. Dan already knows he’s gotta behave for photos.”

She checked her watch. “OK, kids! I need to take Steve over to Candice’s. Dad’ll wait here with you until Dan arrives, honey.”

I gave Angie a hug. “Knock ‘em dead, sis.”

“You too, big brother.” She kissed my cheek, then giggled and wiped a tiny lipstick smudge off. “Oops. That wouldn’t do at all.”

Mom laughed. “I should say not! Any boy who turns up for a date with lipstick on his cheek had better be able to prove a sister or mom put it there, and even then — thin ice!”

We walked out to the car and headed off to Candice’s. Mom looked over to me a few times. I just let her put whatever she was thinking together. Finally, she sighed. “How did you get so mature so fast? A few months ago, I was afraid your only friends would be introverted boys and a few nerdy girls. Nothing against introverted boys — you were one!” she said, smiling. “And definitely nothing against nerdy girls — I was one — but still.”

I shrugged. “Hormones? Moving to high school? Breaking the pattern of my life by getting myself put in the hospital? Stopping to think about how I wanted things to go? I don’t know, Mom. And the thing you don’t see, because Candice is pretty, and Angie is, well, Angie, and everyone’s been comfortable talking to you and Dad, and we’re out going to games and dances, is that, one on one, we’re all nerds and mostly introverts. We’re just outgoing with each other, and the more we do that, the easier it is to be outgoing with anyone else. But, say, Connie? Until she got comfortable with us, she was a wallflower. And who could blame her? She’s a tiny girl with an accent who’s only lived in the US for a few years and looks different from most people. We’re a pretty accepting culture, but I hear she got taunted at junior high. Her parents moved so they could get her into Memorial.”

“You’re right. I mean, that I hadn’t thought of that. I know you’re all outstanding students.”

“Connie will make a run at valedictorian. She’s the most likely of us to take all the honors classes.”

“I still think it’s not fair that you don’t have a chance.”

I shrugged. “And it’s still such a minor thing to me that I’m glad someone else will do it.”

“Well, that’s a positive attitude, anyway. As long as you’re doing something worthwhile and doing your best, what more could I ask? I was hardly the valedictorian, after all. Nor your father.”

“You’re still the best parents.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.”

We pulled up in front of Candice’s house. I picked up the box with her corsage and brought it to the door. Mom followed with the camera — a disposable. Dad had the fancier camera. I rang the doorbell. Candice’s dad answered. “Hi, Steve!”

“Hello, Mr. Matthews.”

“Hi, Steve! And hello ... Helen, yes?” he said, turning towards Mom.

“Yes, and you’re Erwin, right?”

“That’s right. Nice to see you again!”

“You as well.”

He turned back to me. “Candice will be here in just a minute. Sandy’s helping her finish getting ready. Just make her happy tonight.”

“That’s my plan, Mr. Matthews.” He didn’t need to know how happy I’d already made her. “I know it might take her a while to get ready. That’s fine. She has more to do than I ever do.”

He laughed. “Isn’t that always the case?”

A few minutes later I heard a noise, then spotted Candice as she rounded the corner. She had a knee-length burgundy dress with a scoop neck, hose, and matching heels. The entire outfit was modest, perfectly appropriate for a freshman at a high school dance, and still just screamed sexy to me.

After a minute, I remembered to breathe. “Hi. You look amazing!”

“Thank you, Sir!” She managed a passable curtsy, then twirled. The back was closed too. “You like?”

“Beautiful! The dress is nice, too.” She and her parents both laughed. Good, it wasn’t too much. I opened the box. She knew what was coming, but still gasped and clapped her hands.

“May I?”

I saw her mom hesitate, then her dad nodded. “Yes, please,” Candice said. I came over and pinned it on. I was very careful with how much touching I did. Again, it looked like they approved once I’d finished.

Candice fetched my boutonnière and pinned it on. I offered her my arm and walked her out to the yard, where we posed for pictures for both sets of parents. Many pictures. Her parents both gave her hugs, then we walked to her dad’s car. I helped her into the car, then turned and gave Mom a hug. “You and Dad have fun tonight.” She smiled. I was pretty sure they’d go out with Angie and me at a chaperoned event.

“You have fun, honey!”

“We will, Mom!”

I climbed into Mr. Matthews’ car, took Candice’s hand, and we were off. We talked little on the way, just held hands and looked into each other’s eyes.

Mr. Matthews smiled in the rear-view mirror. He seemed amused, not concerned. Good.

We pulled up to Pop’s Burgers. I went around and offered Candice my hand, helped her out of the car, and closed the door. Connie and Jimmy were already there. She was in an adorable knee-length yellow dress with a floral pattern, short sleeves and a square neck. Jimmy looked appropriately put together, too.

Connie gave us both a hug. Jimmy got a handshake from me and a hug from Candice. Like me, I thought it was likely that the number of hugs in his life had grown considerably in the past month.

The others gathered. Emily arrived, wearing a blue dress, with Mark and Morty, who were dressed in identical outfits but for boutonnières worn on opposite sides of their jackets. It surprised me they’d gone as far as to both take her to the dance, but it fit — both the way the twins behaved and their relationship with Emily. I figured that, officially, either two of them were going or all three were stag. I wondered what the conversation with Emily’s parents had been like.

Mel arrived holding hands with Andy. She wore a yellow sundress. Andy wore a school jacket; not normal dance-wear, but he was on the JV and it worked. Mike and Sarah appeared next. Mike wore black, the first of us to do so, and Sarah wore a cream dress that contrasted very well with Mike’s outfit. I prayed she wouldn’t spill anything. Or get spilled on.

Dad pulled up next. I blinked as Dan helped Angie from the car. I hadn’t seen Angie’s dress before. Pastel pink, sweetheart neckline, U-shaped back. If I’d thought Candice’s was on the line between sweet and sexy — and it was — Angie’s still clung to sweet while screaming sexy. Mom had gone with this for her fourteen-year-old daughter? Dad was OK with it? Wow! I gave credit to Angie for some serious negotiating skills. It’s not that it was inappropriate — it wasn’t — but they’d given in to her being a young woman.

Dad took some quick pictures of both of us together with our dates. I was certain I’d be looking at these for years, displayed on the mantle, unless pictures from a future dance displaced them. Then he hugged Angie, shook my hand, and headed off, presumably for a date of his own with Mom.

We all waited for Debbie and Marcus. They arrived a few minutes later. Marcus’s suit was almost as nice as Mike’s and Debbie had a somewhat conservative moss-green dress.

We all chatted for a few minutes, then descended on Pop’s. We’d made a reservation for the group, since it’s close to the school and gets crowded. We got seated and quickly ordered since we all knew the menu. Conversation flowed easily around the table. I looked around and realized I was closer to some of these people than any friends I’d had before college in my previous life. Not even close.

It was elating. And sobering, too. Would these friendships keep building? Would we stay close after high school? I doubted the others even thought about that. Only my perspective showed me how fleeting these years would be.

Dinner was fun, filling, and no one spilled anything. Thank god.

After dinner, we all paired off (counting Emily, Mark, and Morty as a ‘pair’) and walked over to the school gym. We could hear canned music as we walked up. The whole thing was relatively early at night — getting started at 7pm, last dance about 10pm — unlike, say, a prom. Next month’s Halloween dance would run late, because it’s Halloween and everyone wanted it to run until midnight. After that, we freshmen would have to wait until February. While anyone was allowed to buy tickets to the winter formal, you’d stick out like a sore thumb if you weren’t a junior or senior or a date of one.

We showed our tickets and headed in. They’d done a good job with the decorations. Red and white paper covered the walls, gold stars were everywhere. Red and white streamers hung down, and mirror balls scattered light around the space. There was a bandstand set up. I hoped they were good. They sectioned the tables off by grade level, probably to make people more comfortable. No chance of some seniors taking all the good tables or chasing you away from the one you wanted.

We took over two tables towards the front in the freshmen section of the room, near the punch and desserts. More than a dozen teachers had spaced themselves out around the room. I spotted Mrs. Higgins and Ms. Edmonds. I figured a biology teacher made some sense. I also spotted Ms. Ames, the debate teacher who I knew not at all and also quite well. There were plenty of teachers I remembered pretty well, mixed in with some I knew I’d had but that had left no impression, and some I’d never had.

I spotted Mr. Myerson, who volunteered for things like this because he enjoyed being the cool teacher who didn’t bust people. And Mr. Hannity, who I remembered stopping class one day on my first go-round so he could go hassle a kid in the hall about a hall pass. Mr. Hannity had sent my friend Gene to one of the principals every day for three weeks over a wardrobe dispute. I wondered if that would happen again. If it didn’t, I had half a mind to make it happen myself.

The room filled steadily. The guys fetched punch and cookies for our dates (and ourselves) and we chatted. Candice and I held hands the whole time and fed each other cookies. I half-expected the others to call us on being too sweet, but most of them were being just as cutesy.

We got a short welcome from the principal, who cheered on yesterday’s victory and brought out the team and their dates. The coach thanked us all for our support. Neither speech was memorable, but it must have been better than last year’s Homecoming dance, which I knew followed a lopsided loss.

The band took their places and launched into the Fight Song. Not something I was going to dance to. Or sing, not for the third time in two days. Pretty much everyone else agreed. Then it was on to the real music. They opened with the Beatles’ version of ‘Twist And Shout’. I offered my hand to Candice, asked, “Would you share this dance with me?” and we were off.

Thank goodness the band took breaks, because that’s the only time we stopped. Well, until events stopped us, anyway. The band played too much disco and too few slow songs for my taste, but it was fine. We danced to the fast songs as group dances.

Things were great until we got to the slow songs. Oh, Candice and I were just fine and having a great time, even with the distancing rules.

But not Mark, Morty, and Emily. They skipped the first slow song. I think they knew what was about to happen. The first time the three of them took the floor on a slow song, I watched curiously. We all did. Watching them dance slowly together was amusing and also surprising. They must have practiced; they knew what they were doing together.

Unfortunately, it brought Mrs. Higgins hustling over. “You can’t do that!” she was shouting. “That’s not acceptable!”

Emily smiled and looked puzzled. “Why, Mrs. Higgins, why can’t I dance with my dates? Everyone else is.”

“Because ... it’s one boy, one girl.”

“I didn’t see that in the dance rules, and I checked. Is that written down, Mrs. Higgins?” Yes, they’d posted dance rules; no, that wasn’t one. I’d checked, too. I was sure they’d kick out two guys who tried to dance together, and two girls if they thought it was romantic, but three people?

Emily reasoned with Mrs. Higgins: “What harm is it doing anyone if we dance together? We’re being perfectly well-behaved, as opposed to, say, those seniors over there.” She pointed to a couple who were being separated by Mr. Hannity. “We paid our admission like everyone else. I’m sure you know both Mark and Morty. Have they ever been out of line in your class?” (the answer was yes, if pretending to be each other was out of line, but Mrs. Higgins didn’t know that). It didn’t sway Mrs. Higgins, but it didn’t get Emily stopped either.

Meanwhile, Candice and I seized the opportunity to dance close for two songs before Mr. Hannity noticed and asked us to separate. While he was in the area, he intervened. “What’s up here?”

Mrs. Higgins turned to him. “They’re trying to dance all together! All three of them!”

Mr. Hannity frowned. “I don’t think that’s acceptable.”

Dan, who’d come over, produced a copy of the dance rules. “It’s not in the rules, Mr. Hannity.”

He looked through them, tsked. “I don’t see a rule against it. Unless it’s the rule against immoral behavior.” He looked up.

I was on it. “I don’t see why it’s immoral. That applies to, well ... things two people could do just fine. If you didn’t want more than two people dancing together, why not say it? And besides, three people dancing together is just fine, if it’s fast. It’s only when it’s slow that there’s an issue. Shouldn’t something immoral be immoral whether it was fast or slow dancing?”

He pondered that for a second, then nodded. “You have a point there, Mister... ?”

“Marshall, Sir. Steve Marshall.”

He nodded again. “Very well. I’ll ask Principal Riggs.” I was pretty sure I had him. Mr. Hannity was a total stickler for rules, but there had to be an actual rule.