Chapter 28

The next day at lunch, all anybody can talk about is the upcoming Halloween dance and the gathering we had last night. I am ribbed a few times for not wearing the costume Moira bought me. It is good to see the school back to its old self, with people happily eating their lunch and few people moping about.

After school, Gun informs me that Jen is out of the hospital but will not be returning to school for a while. I am saddened to hear that she will not be back with us but am happy that she will be home with her family.

Friday, after school, I head straight for the gym. I know my girlfriends will be mad at me if I’m a minute late. Even still, they all beat me there. Dahlia is in a panic, wanting everything to be perfect. It isn’t. I have to send a couple boys home.

Half-way through decorating, Dahlia stops and asks everybody, “Where is the haunted house? I thought Jerry and Steve had last period off and would be here before us.”

Shaking my head, I tell her, “You realize that you left it up to a couple farm boys? They were bringing in pigs brains, sheep eyes and cow intestines instead of peeled grapes, jello and spaghetti. We have enough traumatized people, so I sent them home until the dance starts. We aren’t having a haunted house this year.”

“What? How dumb are those boys?” Dahlia screams in frustration. She is disappointed, and it shows the rest of the time we are decorating.

As we start to finish, Gun and Jane walk in, arms loaded with food from different places. I had them slip off and get each of my girls their favourite fast food. By now, everybody else helping with the decorations has headed home to eat and change into their costumes. My girls brought their costumes with them and intended just to order out. We had all sat down when the DJ for the evening arrives. We let him in and sit in the bleachers to eat.

I am almost dreading finishing my meal. It means I have to change. I was the last one to head to the changeroom. My girlfriends are coming out as I am heading to the boys’ room. The pants are white tights, and the shoes are ballet slippers. Next is a form-fitting t-shirt and on top of that is a white and grey jacket, with gold trim. There are shoulder pads that stick out to the sides and frilly cuffs. The front almost looks like a tux, except there is a Chinese style collar around the neck. It is a good thing I am secure in my masculinity.

As I come out of the changeroom, Moira greets me as Ariel, the mermaid in the Disney movie, to be released next month. She chose a more provocative look, wearing a purple shell bra and green bikini panty. She steps up, hugging me while giving me a sensual kiss.

“And here I thought it was Dahlia that was the exhibitionist.”

“Don’t be silly. I just want the guys to be jealous of what you have. Dad loved my selection. Of course, Mom almost lost her top when she saw me.”

Moira giggles then runs back into the changeroom, coming out a moment later with a mermaid tail/skirt. It is a long tight skirt that would make it difficult for her to walk if there weren’t a zipper up the side. With the zipper closed, it is a fairly good representation of a mermaid tail. With it open, she can walk and dance. She informs me, “No, I’m not the exhibitionist. This body is only for you, and so is the other version of the costume.

Before we could finish the conversation, Dahlia interrupts, butting in for a kiss. She is dressed as Snow White. I ask, “Isn’t Snow White supposed to be a little more pale, kind of like how you were last year? You have quite a bit more colour now. I think it might have something to do with you being a different person who actually has friends that make sure you get a little time outside.”

“Snow White is 14-years-old. Not only am I dressing up as Snow White but also as the person I used to be. Thank you for showing that pale girl what it meant to have friends and be normal.”

With Dahlia on my right, I kiss her again and say, “You are always welcome.”

I feel a hand on my jaw that guides my lips to Carol’s. Pulling away from our kiss, I see that she is dressed in old worn-out clothes, and she carries a bucket with soapy water.

“You must be Cinderella. I don’t think I have ever seen you in such revealing clothing, not even at the beach.”

“Dahlia talked us all into being sexy. Then she wears that yellow and blue dress ... I should go change.”

“I like it. Just, no slow dances with anybody but me.”

“You know I don’t like dancing with anybody but you.” I kiss her again then let her go to look at the last of my girlfriends. Kim stands there, acting shy, wearing a sheer blue nighty and a blond wig. “My Sleeping Beauty, come here for your kiss so I can wake you up.” Stepping forward, I wrap her in my arms and kiss her passionately. Personally, I don’t like the look of a blond oriental, but the rest of the costume is HOT.

She blushes and complains, “I can’t believe Dahlia talked me into wearing this thing.”

“What happened to your other costumes. You are all the same princesses as you were on Tuesday but are a bit more risqué.”

As proud as can be, Dahlia says, “I got rid of them and gave them the costumes they now wear.”

“Are you trying to turn us all into exhibitionists?”

The girls all giggle at my pathetic attempt at a joke.

People are arriving, and we need to mingle for a bit before we form our little clique. I am relieved to see that the dance turns into a typical high school dance. The only real difference is the punch is in a locked cooler with a spigot, so everybody knows that it isn’t spiked. I understand the danger is over, but a few times, I chastise girls for drinking from a cup that they put down to go dance. They may be safe now, but when they go off to university, they will not be. It is best to get them in the habit of being safe.

Half-way through the dance, the lights are turned on, and everybody gathers for the judging of the costumes. Those of us in costume, walk a circle so the judges can see us all.

Across the way, there is a commotion as the teachers kick Noah Williams out of the lineup. I am surprised. Noah is one who usually keeps to himself. During the evening, he has been more outspoken than ever, asking girls to dance. He isn’t very good, but at least he is dancing. I am kind of proud of his attitude this evening.

When I circle around to Noah, who looks crestfallen, I step out of line and ask him, “What happened?”

“They disqualified me, saying my costume is rented and professionally done.”

He is dressed as a 13th-century knight, covered head to toe in chainmail.

“Is it?”

“No. I made it myself.”

“Come with me.”

I grab his hand and drag him to the teachers. Mr. Higgenbottom asks, “What seems to be the problem?”

“I believe you were unjust in disqualifying Noah.”

“We will not accept rented costumes, just like we will not accept store-bought ones.”

“I do not believe that you were given any such mandate.”

“We are the judges, and we will decide.”

“Ok, let’s pretend you have the right to do that, even though you don’t. I am providing the awards, so as I see it, the decision is mine. But forget that for now. Noah, did you make your costume?”

He doesn’t want to be a part of this conversation, but he does give a tentative, “Yes.”

Mr. Higgenbottom counters with, “He is lying. No kid could make that.”

“Just like no kid could become a self-made millionaire and no kid could fix the corruption in a place like Fort Grand. Noah, how did you make the rings for the chainmail?”

“I have a mandrel that I wrapped the steel wire around, making a long spring. I then cut the rings off the spring with an end-cutter. You know, the kind of pliers used to take the nails out of a horseshoe when reshoeing a horse.”

“How did you flatten the ends and rivet the rings?”

“That is simple. I made a small mechanical press to squeeze the metal flat then I used a jeweller’s drill to make a small hole. I cut small pieces of solid brass wire to make rivets. In old times they used to hammer the rivet. I hammered one side and slid it in the hole then used a special plier I have to crimp the rivet in place.”

“Thank you. You see, he did make it himself. I will be pissed if you don’t give him first place.”

Mr. Higgenbottom argues, “That is not your decision to make.”

“Noah, can you please excuse us. I know you are uncomfortable being in this conversation. Let me deal with it.”

He doesn’t say a word, but you can see the relief on his face as he takes off.