Chapter 117: Far, Far Away

Saturday, April 30, 1983 (continued)

Prom was much too significant a dance to be held in the gym. For several years, Memorial had held Prom at the Westchase Hilton, which was only a few miles from Brennerman’s (and perhaps five miles from Memorial). In another universe, Dave Winton had worked there for several years after college. He’d hosted his wedding party there a decade or so later.

It was, in short, a hotel with which I was much too well acquainted. I’d have to feign ignorance (or just claim I’d gone over to scope the place out, either way).

I pulled into a parking place near the ballroom when we arrived. There’s feigning ignorance, and then there’s ignoring the big sign saying ‘Ballroom.’ Anyone who could read would know about where to park.

There were a fair number of cars there already, with others arriving. I saw several people I only vaguely recognized heading in. We headed in, too.

The Social Committee had a table set up. Mel wasn’t anywhere in sight, but I recognized the able assistant who’d been pressed into service. I assumed the rest of the committee was behind the scenes making sure things worked.

“Hey, Andy,” I said.

“Hi, Steve! Mel’s got me taking tickets. Also, Cal and I are officially bouncers, though we’re not allowed to touch anyone and just have to call security.”

I chuckled. “Hopefully we won’t need bouncers.”

“Um. Yeah. Hopefully.” I got the feeling he was thinking along lines I was already near certain of.

“If we start heading down any ... interesting ... paths, check with me, or Tony, or Tom Myerson. Well, unless Principal Riggs is involved. Obviously, that trumps everything else.”

“Got it! I figured you’d be on top of things.”

“In this case? Hard not to be.”

We handed over our tickets. He handed us two pins. Each had a Mustang logo with ‘83’ superimposed.

“You’re supposed to wear those, but just keep them handy. We’re supposed to check them when people go back in.”

“Got it,” I said, carefully pinning mine just so through the boutonniere. Mikayla looked like she was going to put hers in her purse, then pinned it to her purse strap instead.

“I’m supposed to tell you not to sneak anything in,” Andy said.

“We’re not,” Mikayla said.

“Not even the wink-wink-nudge-nudge version either,” I said, getting a laugh from both of them.

“On in you go, then! Have fun!”

“Thanks! You, too!”

“I have a feeling I just might,” he said.

We headed in. The room was still largely empty. Recorded music was playing, though it was obvious we’d have a band. Everything was, as always, done up in red and white. With a ballroom to play with, rather than the gym, they’d gone about as all-out as a 1983 high school budget would allow. The Prom theme this year was ‘Far, Far Away’ and they’d gone with stars everywhere. Star-covered black paper over the walls, star confetti on black tablecloths, glittering mirror balls, and on and on.

I was certainly the only one who’d heard the theme and thought of ‘Shrek’ (immediately after thinking of ‘Star Wars’). While the book had been published during Angie’s first life, she hadn’t read it. I’d checked.

Principal Riggs was standing near the stage and spotted me. He gave me a wave. Even now, having the principal wave at me was ... odd. A good odd, but odd.

Tom Myerson smiled and nodded. No surprise there. On the other hand, Mr. Hannity’s friendly little nod was much more of a surprise. I guess involving him in the typing proposal was paying off already.

Some things never change, of course. Mrs. Higgins looked sour. To be fair, she looked sour about nearly everything, not just towards me. I might make it more personal before the night was done ... but, if so, I’d still not make the top of her list.

Tony and Angie were already there. Both of them gave me a wave, and Tony gave me a thumbs-up. Good. One part of the plan involved the Student Council acting as one. Anything else might screw things up.

People filtered in, and just at eight, when Prom officially began, the band came out and started getting set up.

By ten after, the room was perhaps two-thirds full. Principal Riggs went to the stage and up some steps, then stood behind a lectern. The PA carried his voice around the room.

“Greetings, Memorial Seniors and friends! It’s my honor and privilege to welcome you to Senior Prom 1983!”

That got the expected cheer. He let it go on a bit, then tapped the microphone.

“There’ll be time to talk about endings in under a month. For now, enjoy the night, have a great time dancing, and be nice to one another. And now I’d like to welcome Mel Riley, chair of the Social Committee, to the stage.”

He stepped back and Mel, who must have snuck up there when I wasn’t paying attention, stepped forward. She had on a dazzling black dress covered in sequins. She got a substantial round of applause, too, which pleased me.

“Thank you, everyone! On behalf of the Social Committee, I’d like to welcome our seniors to your last Memorial dance!”

That could’ve been maudlin, but Mel got it right, drawing cheers and not sniffles.

“We are proud of every event we’ve planned, but we’re the most proud of this one. On the other hand ... for those of you who are not seniors ... we’re not done yet!”

Another round of applause followed that. Good.

“Now, I’d like to welcome Jeff Pratt and the Pratt Pack. Hit it, guys!”

Cute band name. Not great, but cute. I liked it well enough. They could play, too. They started with Huey Lewis’s ‘Do You Believe In Love?’ Great Prom opener, and they were up to the challenge. Mikayla and I hit the dance floor right off and got to dancing, carried away by the music.

Six songs in, just as the band was closing down Air Supply’s ‘All Out of Love’ (perhaps, but not really, a more questionable Prom song), I got an expected tap on my shoulder. I looked, and Cammie was there, looking ... nervous? That’s probably about right.

“It’s on,” she said, and that was enough. I looked at Mikayla, who nodded, and the two of us started heading towards the door.

When we got there, about the only thing to see was the currently inexplicable little crowd forming. Tony and Angie, me and Mikayla, Troy and Jess, Amit and Sheila (who shouldn’t have been there, but no one was going to pay attention to that right now), and Theresa Nakamura and her boyfriend were assembled. Several senior cheerleaders, most notably Cheryl Hall (along with her boyfriend), were here, and I saw others moving around. I also spotted a few football players lurking further back, including (surprisingly or not) Brett Stone. Whether that was Jess twisting an arm, or whether Brett had turned over a new leaf, I didn’t know and didn’t care.

I could see that all was quiet outside the door. Andy and a couple of others were sitting at the table checking in a couple who weren’t the inspiration for all of this.

Just after they came into the dance, the moment arrived. Lizzie, wearing a tuxedo jacket with a perfectly matching black skirt, a pink rose in her lapel, and Janet, in a frothy pink dress that was both amazing and threatened to be overwhelming, walked up to the table and presented their prom tickets.

Andy, of course, simply looked them over, smiled, said a few things (I strongly suspect they were the same things he said to everyone else), and issued them their pins.

It was never going to be that easy, of course, and we all knew it. Principal Riggs stepped outside and gestured them aside. Their conversation was quiet. Perhaps one day I’d find out what was said, and perhaps I wouldn’t, but there was no shouting, and everyone seemed calm and polite. I saw Lizzie shake her head twice, but not emphatically, and then nod.

That was that. He stepped back, Lizzie and Janet stepped into the room, and...

Of course, Mrs. Higgins was there. Not just her, but a number of students that I recognized as being pretty conservative.

This time I was close enough to hear what was said.

“This is inappropriate!” she said. “You cannot do this!”

“We just talked to Principal Riggs...” Janet said.

“The School Board overrules him, and the District code on dances says couples are one boy, one girl.”

I had no idea if that was true? Probably. I knew the District’s counsel wouldn’t be pleased about it, and I doubted it would survive the inevitable meeting this would trigger. But, if it was the case, it was the case.

Principal Riggs stepped over and said something to her, and they started to argue. Meanwhile, the other group of students formed a line.

“We’re not letting you in,” said one guy (I think his name was Peter), who seemed to be the spokesman.

Lizzie just smiled.

“What?” he said, sounding surly.

That was our cue. Jess took the lead. Who else could cut right through a group without incident but her? We could’ve led with the big guys, but no one in their right mind would’ve laid a hand on Jess. Physically, she was no threat to anyone (or so it seemed; my guess is that, with her self-defense training, that wasn’t true at all).

“Gentlemen and ladies,” she said, smiling. “Please step aside so my Student Council colleague and her lovely date may join us.”

I think the shock of Jessica Lively putting ‘her lovely date’ in a sentence caused them to lock up. Something did, anyway. That gave us our opening.

The rest of us stepped into place, forming two lines. Student Council people, athletes, cheerleaders, and a bunch of others all joined hands and created a corridor.

Lizzie grinned. “Don’t mind if we do!” and then she and Janet walked in, to some shouts from the conservatives. We dropped hands as they passed to applaud.

The applause got everyone’s attention, of course. First a few, then more, and then pretty much everyone started watching.

This was the riskiest part. We’d done what we could, and we were a pretty potent force, but we were still at most fifty kids, not all seniors, out of around three hundred fifty seniors and five hundred total in the room. We had presence, but not numbers.