Chapter 44: The Dance

I was nervous as hell.

Why am I nervous?

Because you don't know how this is all going to turn out, said the cautious Sean, perched on my shoulder like an albatross.

The game is afoot, as the British say, and I'm in it all the way.

You're an idiot, retorted the cautious Sean, just before he disappeared.

I adjusted my bow tie for about the twentieth time. I was standing in front of the full-length mirror on the back of my parents' closet door. I was wearing my father's tuxedo. My hair was freshly cut, I was as dapper as I could get, and I was jittery. It was all on the line.

I'd be much surer of myself if this was a soccer game, I told myself.

I looked at my watch for about the fiftieth time. I clomped down the stairs and paced in the family room. I still had another fifteen minutes to wait before I left.

Michael and his girlfriend, Gayle, were in the family room with my dad, trying to watch TV. I kept on walking in front of them.

Finally, Michael growled, "Sean! Sit down, for Chrissakes."

I glanced at them, startled to find them in the room with me. "Can't," I said.

Gayle was lounging with her back against my brother's arm. She was a tall brunette, leggy with what my dad called "good, childbearing hips," which I loosely translated as having somewhat of a wide ass. It didn't matter to Michael, and it didn't matter to me. She was very nice, and she loved my brother as deeply as he loved her. They shared an apartment out in the sticks, where it was cheaper to live, and they were planning on getting married in the fall. My mom, along with Gayle and her mother, were in wedding planning mode, which meant all other things were put on hold until further notice. In fact, there were books of sample invitations spread out on the coffee table, with pieces of scratch paper marking pages in some of them.

"It's okay, Sean. Pace if it makes you feel better," said Gayle with an indulgent smile.

"Was I this stupid when I was his age?" asked Michael rhetorically.

"I didn't know you then," said Gayle, "but you probably were."

My dad grunted and nodded.

"Thanks a lot, both of you," grumbled Michael.

Finally, it was time to leave. With one last adjustment of my tie and a kiss on the cheek from Gayle, I headed out.

I drove over and parked the car in the driveway. I got out, gave my tuxedo jacket a tug to make sure it was unwrinkled, and walked to the front door. I knew her parents would want to take photos. It was standard operating procedure for parents. I knocked on the door, and her father opened it.

With a smile, he said, "Come in, Sean. She'll be down in a minute."

I stood by the front door, still nervous, until I saw her coming down the stairs. As she has nearly always done in the past, she took my breath away. She truly was beautiful, and I felt honored to be in her presence. She was wearing a pale lavender gown with delicate white lace at the neckline and the hem, and there were tiny white flowers woven into her long hair.

She smiled at me fondly. "I think my dad's going to want to take some pictures," she said. She took my hand and led me into their formal living room.

We stood together, arm in arm, posing for the camera. We put up with it with as much tolerance as we could. It was a pain for us, but the parents just didn't see their young ones dressed up very often, and they always seemed to want to mark the occasion with photographs. Finally, after posing this way and that, standing side by side or in each other's arms and our heads turned toward the camera, they felt they had enough. Either that, or they had run out of film. We were free to leave.

"Have fun!" Her parents stood in the doorway and watched us walk down the sidewalk to my car. Her brother came out and stood with her parents as we left, and we waved to him, as well. As I opened the door, she brushed back her strawberry-blonde hair and leaned toward me. She kissed me softly.

"What's that for?" I asked, glad nevertheless to receive her kiss.

"For luck," said Molly. She slipped gracefully into the passenger seat of my car.

We were heading to a resort hotel where the event was being held in a giant tent out on the spacious lawns. Dr. Osgood knew we were coming, and had arranged for our entrance, despite the fact we no longer attended school there. He was standing at the entrance when we arrived, and he smiled as he saw us.

"Ah, Mr. Porter, and Ms. O'Toole. Welcome to Prom."

"Thank you for allowing this, Dr. Osgood," said Molly graciously.

"Anything at all for two of my all-time favorite students," he said, his eyes crinkling. He shook our hands and ushered us inside.

The event had been going on for over an hour, so just about everybody was finished eating. I looked around at all the kids, dressed up in their finest.

"Were we ever really this young?" I whispered to Molly.

She smiled. "And younger, and probably more foolish," she replied.

Some of the kids were looking at us. We began walking around the perimeter of the room, looking for a group I knew would be together. As we walked, we saw a number of friends and acquaintances from our own high school days, and we waved and said hello, receiving a number of stares and whispers in return. We found the group we were searching for, over on the far side. Tracy Evanson, my first call from Kansas City and my Number One Co-Conspirator, had her friends arranged in a large semicircle, just like we had planned.

Molly and I came up on the group quietly. Tracy and her date were facing us. I knew she had seen us, but she gave no indication. Her date looked at us a little curiously, and then didn't pay us any mind. He had been well coached, and he was following the script. Stephen and Tara were there, but they were engrossed in the conversation and didn't see us.

As we got closer, Brandon leaned toward the pale-haired girl sitting next to him. They had their backs to us, facing Tracy and her date in the circle of chairs. "He's treated you like shit," he said heatedly. Even from where I was standing, I could see the hurt in his expression. "He can't love you more than I do."

Kayla sighed, and I heard something in her voice that nearly broke my heart. Is it longing? Desperation? I wanted to rush to her side and scrub away all the memories of my failings, cleanse her soul of the smudges I put there.

She didn't react to Brandon's declaration. She had apparently heard it before. Quietly, she said, "I've always thought Sean was the only one for me, for as long as I've known him. But what if I'm wrong?"

I stepped closer and leaned down to whisper in her ear. "What if you're right?" I said.

She whirled around, disbelief flooding her face, until she saw me. She glanced at Molly, but the recognition wasn't there at that point. She stood up, her hand to her mouth, and stared at me with wide eyes.

"Sean?"

"Hey," I said. "Don't I at least get a hug?"

She knocked over her chair in her haste to come to me, and she leapt into my arms, hugging me around my neck as tightly as she had ever clung to me.

"How did you ... why ... where..." It was a struggle for her to speak. For myself, I didn't trust my voice to respond very well, either, so I just held her, glad for the reaction I got. My eyes were stinging, and I closed them and savored the moment.

Finally, she loosened up and looked at me. She had that gleam in her eye again. I glanced over at the rest of her party. Stephen and Tara were standing, holding hands, watching Kayla and me. Tracy had a huge smile on her face, and her date just looked perplexed. Brandon was standing, also, and he looked angry.

"You set me up, didn't you?" Kayla said with a happy smile.

I nodded. "I had Tracy's help all the way," I said. I nodded to Tracy, and she jumped up and down, clapping her hands in joy.

Kayla twisted around in my arms and looked over at her friend. "You," she said in mock accusation. She turned back to me. "And you. You were so sure of yourself, and you were so sure of me, weren't you?"

"Actually, no," I admitted. "But I had to do something to get your attention."

She gazed at me with shining eyes. "Ooooh, it's a dangerous game you play, Sean Porter."

"But did it work?" I asked, already suspecting the answer.

She looked into my eyes for a moment before answering. "Maybe," she admitted, favoring me with a knowing grin.

She finally let me go and we both turned toward the group. Everybody was standing together, except for Brandon. He stood off to one side. He had high spots of color on his cheeks, and his fists were clenched. I knew, in that moment, I had made an enemy for life. I stepped over to him, but he stepped back, away from me.

"Look, Brandon, I understand you're upset," I said.

"You understand shit," he snarled.

"I'm not surprised you're here, and I'm not surprised at your reaction. Maybe I can make it up to you a little."

"How could you possibly make it up to me?" He looked at me as if I had lost my mind.

I stepped up to him and stood next to him, so we were looking back at the group. "You know that girl?" I asked, nodding toward Molly.

"Sure," he answered tersely.

"She's one of my very best friends," I said.

"So? Lucky for you."

"No, lucky for you," I said. "She agreed to come with me tonight, and she's agreed to be your Prom date for the rest of the evening."

That made him swivel his head and look at me. "What?"

"As a favor to me, she's going to spend Prom with you."

He started to protest and walk away, but I took him by the arm and brought him close to me again. I leaned in toward him and said, "Think of it this way. There's only one other boy here who has the same opportunity as you tonight. You know what that is?"

"What?"

"To claim to have a Homecoming Queen as their date to their Senior Prom."

I could see the wheels turning. He was a smart kid. The only reason I disliked him was because of his relationship with my Luscious. Hell, if she liked him, I should be able to find some qualities in him that I could like. Right? Right.

Besides, he knew he had lost. He was bright enough to understand that. He could either storm out in anger, or he could swallow his pride and take the gift that was offered, pale though it might be in his eyes.

He turned to me. "What would have happened if Kayla had said no to you?" he asked quietly.

I looked him straight in the eye. "Molly and I would have danced the night away. Tonight is for dancing. Tomorrow is for sorrow."

He stared at me for a moment, and then he tersely nodded. "Okay," he said.

I took a big breath in relief. Before I could do more than relax, though, he grabbed my arm and squeezed it hard. He was stronger than he looked, and he held me tight, even though I didn't make any effort to jerk away from him. "I still don't like you, Porter. I love her. I've told her often enough. But she loves you, and I don't know why. If you hurt her in any way..."

Under any other circumstances, his implication would have been almost laughable. There, dressed up and surrounded by our friends, I understood his sentiment completely. "I can't say I'm crazy about you, either, Brandon. But for Kayla's sake I'll smile and get along the best I can. Deal?"

"Deal," he said.

Everybody knew who Molly was, of course, but I made the introductions anyway. Molly, gracious as she nearly always was, sat down next to Brandon, and I held Kayla's seat for her before taking the chair next to her. We had acquired an audience, a bunch of students and a few chaperones, during our entrance. Once we settled down, though, the small crowd dispersed. I could hear a lot of quiet talking over the music as they wandered away, back into their own social groups. We were creating a new Class of '85 legend, a story that would be retold at every reunion this class would ever hold.

"You really know how to make an entrance," said Stephen, a look of admiration on his face.

"Boldly go," I said, "or down in flames trying."

"Is that going to become your new slogan?" asked Tracy with a smile.

"It's been my mantra for many months now," I replied.

"You two, you've been planning this for a long time, haven't you?" asked Kayla, looking first to me, and then to Tracy.

Tracy giggled. "It's been so hard keeping quiet about it," she said delightedly. "I'm so glad it's over."

"You owe me the whole story," said Kayla to her friend. "But not right now." She turned to me. "Right now, you owe me a dance. Or two."