Chapter 18

Thursday passed in a blur. I'm pretty sure I showed up in all my classes, but you'd have to look at the attendance record to know absolutely. The only thing that I do remember was buying the tickets to the dance at lunch.

I know that because I kept checking to make certain that I hadn't lost them. Marilyn and I were having coffee and talking about what we were going to wear to the dance when John Wayne walked in. I never knew what gobsmacked meant until I saw his face. I waved him over but he just ran back out and didn't even take his coffee.

If Thursday was a blur, Friday went so slowly that I was ready to scream by half way through gym. We were starting a new unit on badminton. I couldn't keep the rules straight. The other girls weren't much better. We giggled and whispered through the whole class. Fortunately the afternoon classes were cancelled so the dance committee could decorate and the rest of us could primp. I'd never primped before and I was looking forward to it.

Marilyn came by and picked me up at seven. Ne just honked the horn and I ran out the door. I was so wound up that I had spent the last twenty minutes bouncing between the living room window and the front door. My mom and dad just looked at each other and made sure that I had the tickets and that my cell phone was on and in my purse.

While I'm running out to Marilyn's car I'll answer the question that I know half of you are asking. What did I decide to wear? I think I've mentioned that I'm shapely in the same way that a sack of potatoes is shapely. My mom had this brilliant suggestion that rather than trying to force the AAA's that nature has inflicted on me to become something more arresting, like say fill an A cup, I should work with what my genes have given me, (or rather not given me) and go flapper style.

I found this astounding sequined dress at a thrift shop in the next town. Mom sewed some fringe on the bottom and I put an almost matching head band on. Mom showed me a picture of her grandmother from the Twenties and we could have been twins. For the first time in my life I thought that I looked good!

Marilyn gave me a wolf whistle as I slid into the passenger seat of the generic econo-box that ne'd borrowed from nirs mom. I didn't care. Cinderella's pumpkin wouldn't have looked better.

We pulled up to the school and headed for the doors. Marilyn was wearing something that was a cross between a man's suit and pencil skirt, with the goatee and make up the effect was surreal. I loved it. As promised ne was wearing a pair of killer heels. I had no idea how ne managed to drive in those things.

We made quite the entrance. Chastity and her newest boyfriend, Rickard, were just checking through security. Uniformed cops checked for booze or anything else that could turn a high school dance into mayhem. The dance committee took their tickets. I don't know what to call the look that Rickard gave me, but the glare Chastity sent my direction should have left me a smoldering pile of ashes.

I gave her and Rickard my most brilliant grin. I let the cops glance in my microscopic handbag that had cost more than the entire rest of my outfit - a gift from my dad. Marilyn let them check nir pockets. Neither cop even batted an eye at my friend's outlandish look. After letting the dance committee member tear our tickets for us we were in.

The sound was blaring loud enough that I briefly wished I had taken my dad up on his offer of industrial ear muffs. They wouldn't have gone with my outfit. There were a few brave souls already on the dance floor. Most of them were couples that had been going together since starting high school, or at least this year's version. Marilyn led me right out onto the floor and we started dancing. I learned two things simultaneously. I couldn't dance to save my life, and Marilyn was good enough for both of us and then some.

"Just relax and have fun," ne shouted. I mouthed words back at nem and let the music take over. Very quickly we collected a circle of admirers, or at least an audience. I let Marilyn pull the fancy moves and just let the music wash over me.

Do you know it takes just as much effort to dance badly as it does to dance brilliantly? That's how I felt anyway. We'd take a break and drink the punch that was being guarded by Mr. Hand himself. He looked away from the punch bowl only long enough to glower at me. I didn't care. Tonight there was nothing that could touch me. I could have danced all night, or at least until the midnight that school dances always finished at.

All that punch was starting to make its presence felt. I mouthed the words "washroom" to Marilyn and ne shrugged and walked me to the door of the gym. I headed for the girls while Marilyn started on the long walk to nir private washroom in the senior's hall.

"I'll meet you back here in a few minutes," ne said.

I walked along the almost deserted hallway. I could hear frantic breathing from more than one alcove as couples took a different kind of break from dancing. I had an intellectual interest in the subject. No one gets to their senior year in physical education without learning the requisite facts of life. Not if you're paying attention anyway. What neither those clinical drawings and pictures, nor the more sordid ones like the porn that John Wayne sent me, could tell me is what it would feel like. I had a hard time imagining caring enough about someone to do that.

I did my thing at the washroom and even collected my first ever compliment on my looks from one of the cheerleading squad. I headed back toward the gym. I was ready to dance again.

That was when the hand grabbed me and pulled me down a dark hallway. I think the corridor went to the shop classes. I would have screamed, but for two things.

I lost my voice in a fire.

I felt the cold touch of steel on my throat.