On the Road Again Flint MurdockChapter 9 Buttons Bows
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The main venue for the prom was the Great Hall. As I looked around, I saw a band setting up on the stage - middle-aged men with classical instruments for the formal dancing. Cayenne was holding court with her cheerleader friends near the stage but I couldn’t see my nerd friends anywhere. Some of the other classrooms had been opened as rest areas and, knowing my friends’ preference for quiet, I reckoned that’s where they might be.
I found my friends in the second room I tried, sitting round a table chatting to each other.
Maria D’Angelou was the first to notice me, the broad smile she suddenly developed alerting the others to my presence. Maria was wearing a cream-coloured dress, a pleasing contrast to her olive skin tone. She leapt to her feet to give me a hug. “You look really hot,” she said. “It’s a shame you’re gay.”
“You look absolutely stunning,” I said, causing Maria’s smile to intensify. Then after she released me, I turned to the others and said, “Hi guys,” getting mirror responses from my nerd friends. They were all wearing suits, the smartest I’d ever seen them, although I doubted very much that Dimitri could have fastened the buttons on his jacket. Michael and Dennis introduced me to their dates. Michelle Thomas was wearing a tight plain red dress which exaggerated rather than flattered her tall, slender figure a little too much, and Dem Braxencamp was wearing a floral dress which partially disguised her dumpy figure.
I pulled up a chair and joined them at the table.
“Man, you put us all to shame in that tuxedo,” said Dimitri.
“And that shirt and bow tie!” said Dennis.
“Sorry. They weren’t my choice,” I replied.
“Where’s your prom date?” asked Michael.
“Ruling the roost over the cheerleaders.”
“I thought they were joking,” said Michelle. “You’re really here with Cayenne Proctor?”
“Except today I’m not really me. I’m like Marcus Kafkasian mark two, only without the looks, the money and the throwing arm.”
That earned a round of fist bumps from my nerd friends, while the girls looked on quizzically.
“Sorry,” explained Dennis. “It’s a nerd thing.”
A final-year student called a warning through the classroom door, “Principal Hockstadler’s ready to start.”
“I’d better go and do my duty,” I sighed, getting to my feet. “I’ll catch you guys later.”
I made my way to the Great Hall. Cayenne was not happy. “Where have you been?” she hissed.
“Catching up with my friends. But I’m here for you now.”
Standing at the front of the stage, Principal Hockstadler took the mike and made a short welcoming speech. Fortunately he was as parsimonious with his words as he was with the school funds, so it was only a few short minutes before we were giving him a polite round of applause prior to him ceding way to the band.
As the music started, Cayenne ordered, “Take this hand in yours, put your other hand on my waist, try to sway in time to the music and shuffle your feet occasionally.”
“Can you dance?” I asked.
“Of course.”
“Then let’s dance properly.”
I adopted the proper position, which meant my hand on Cayenne’s waist again encountered bare flesh, and I led off. It wasn’t all sunlight and roses - I was out of practice and dancing with an unfamiliar partner who turned out to be less accomplished than me. It took a little while for us to familiarise ourselves with each other, but we were dancing pretty well together by the end of the first dance.
“I never suspected someone like you would know how to dance,” admitted Cayenne.
“You can blame my sister, Terri, for that,” I explained. “She’s a fantastic gymnast, but when she was younger her coach said she needed extra help with grace and fluidity, and recommended dancing lessons. Big brother got roped in to be her partner. I pretended to hate it just to wind up my parents, but really it was great fun.”
Cayenne had only specified a couple of dances but, contrary to expectations, I enjoyed dancing with her and didn’t protest when she kept me on the dance floor right up to the interval.
While we were dancing, I kept a lookout for my friends and saw Dimitri and Maria, Michael and Michelle, and Dennis and Dem all braving the dance floor from time to time. Coached by Dem, she and Dennis managed a passable performance but the repertoires of the others were mainly limited to shuffling and swaying. I also spotted Cheryl Winters, wearing a very sexy gold dress, dancing with Melinda Burge, who was wearing a rather unfortunate white dress that made her look like something you’d see on a dessert trolley. Saddest sight was the one time I saw Joanna Kafkasian on the dance floor. She looked absolutely gorgeous, wearing a classy forest green dress, but she was trying desperately to avoid man-mountain and non-dancer Jaymon Solassie standing on her feet.
Principal Hockstadler brought the first part of the prom to a close. “The buffet is now open,” he announced, “but more importantly, so is the voting for Prom King and Queen. You have fifteen minutes to submit your votes so don’t delay.”
I felt guilty at voting for Cayenne Proctor for Prom Queen because it felt like my vote had been bought, yet I suspected I would have felt even more guilty if I had risked screwing things up by voting for someone else. I considered nominating one of my friends for Prom King but, whoever I voted for, it would have been unfair on the others. Then a cruel idea came to me; I knew Jaymon Solassie stood virtually no chance of winning but I nominated him anyway. It would have been fitting payback for Cayenne’s feet to suffer when the Prom King and Queen had their dance.
I submitted my votes then joined up with my friends and their partners to raid the buffet, which had been laid out in an adjacent classroom. I was glad my friends still had their partners with them to inhibit any discussions of witches and missing girls.
“They’re about to announce the Prom King and Queen,” announced a final-year student.
“I’d better go in and show support for my prom date,” I said to my friends.
They followed me back into the Great Hall, probably more out of morbid curiosity rather than genuine interest.
Principal Hockstadler was back on the stage. “First the voting for Prom Queen,” he said. “Second runner-up is Georgina Tomkins.”
A cheerleader. I didn’t really know her but she hung out with Cayenne Proctor’s crowd. She seemed happy with third place and gave a little wave.
“First runner-up is Bella Vinetti.”
Another cheerleader. She too gave a grateful wave.
“And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, let me introduce your Prom Queen for this year, Cayenne Proctor.”
There was an enthusiastic round of applause. I knew she had been a shoo-in for the title but I felt some measure of relief that I hadn’t screwed it up for her.
Cayenne mounted the stage, where she was adorned with a sash and a tiara. Another round of applause ensued.
“And now the voting for Prom King,” announced Principal Hockstadler. “Second runner up is Kevin Randell.”
There was enthusiastic applause from my friends but horrified gasps of surprise from many of the rest of the attendees, accompanied by murmurs of, “But he’s gay!” and “Not Prom Queen?” However I’m pretty sure they weren’t as shocked as I was. Still, I stuck up my hand and gave a wave of acknowledgement.
“First runner up is Will Tesh,”
A footballer. He too acknowledged his applause with a wave.
“And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, let me introduce your Prom King for this year, Jaxon Addendale.”
A quarterback for the football team and likely replacement for Marcus Kafkasian next year. He got a round of applause but it was considerably more muted than Cayenne Proctor had received. He ascended the stage where a crown was put on his head. Another lukewarm round of applause followed.
A space was cleared on the dance floor for the Prom King and Queen to stand next to each other for photographs. Then Bella Vinetti and Will Tesh joined them on the right and Georgina Tomkins and I joined them on the left, so photographs could be taken of the six of us in a line. I found I was standing next to Cayenne Proctor.
“If I’d known you stood any chance, I would have asked the cheerleaders to vote for you,” she whispered.
The band resumed playing and, following tradition, the six of us danced with our peers. Both Jaxon Addendale and Will Tesh were shuffle and swayers, to the dismay of their partners.
“Can you dance?” I asked Georgina.
“I can do the cheerleader moves, but that’s all. I’m more at home humping bales of hay and mucking out horses so they use me for my strength,” she replied.
That’s when I realised the girl caked in make-up to look like a Barbie clone was actually a rather sweet farm girl.
Mei
- 31.10.2022
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