Wade sighs into the mic.
“Seriously? Ok. Ok. ‘The following students have been reprimanded for public intoxication, and/or alcoholic, and/or drug para…para…’”
VP Rook steps back to the mic quickly. “Paraphernalia,” he says.
“What he said. ‘Para-something, and will serve all the remaining detentions and Saturday school sessions for the school year.’” He looks up from his paper and back to VPs Healey and Haley. “That’s gnar harsh.” Back to the paper. “’Milo Bevaqua. Sadie Chapaway. Duffy Deckert…’”
Beddy shivers. Scans reflexively around the room. The aggressor is still absent, as far as she can tell.
“’…Yesenia Khhgdfy. James Rdfggrrt-‘”
She is only partially listening. She continues to scan the room. It frightens her that he could be anywhere. Seated at one of the banquet tables at the back of the ballroom? Lurking in the women’s bathroom? Up on the catwalk, ready to bring one of those disco balls she elbowed earlier crashing down upon her head?
She went to this dance wanting him to see her, but not if she can’t see him.
“…Wade Scherer.’ That’s me!”
A cheer goes up from Wade’s comrades and she flinches. She looks over at them, and that’s when she sees a cluster of classmates onstage to the right of the DJ booth, standing with VP Rook. It’s dark in that spot, which explains why she missed them before, but she can make out Sadie.
Of course the students being punished wouldn’t be allowed to leave. Of course. Duffy isn’t among them, but he must have snuck out during the chaos outside.
“Two more. ‘Taryn Westdahl. And Cal Zajac. Your parents have been notified and they will receive you in the parking lot.’ Bummer.”
Wade crumples the paper up into a ball and drops it in front of him. It rolls forward and catches between two of the light bulbs.
“I also want to say…” he glances first to VPs Haley and Healey, then to VP Rook who is having words with Quaranteen, “…my boy JoJo, aka Destroyah, is putting out a new EP and I’m hosting the release party. It’s gonna be gemmy. This Sunday. Be there or be bitches.”
He plucks the mic from the stand and drops it on the floor. It lands with a discordant thump and shrieks through the speakers as he steps off stage to high fives. VP Rook comes bounding out of the booth and swoops it from the floor and turns it off.
Quaranteen addresses the congregation. “All right, Osmond High. We’ve had a great time tonight. We’ve made some…enduring memories. But now it’s time for that special event known as the last song. So grab your partner and hold them tight, DJ Quaranteen says big ups, good night.”
A schmaltzy R&B cover of “Good Night Sweetheart” oozes through the speaker system. Beddy looks around. Some people are partnering up and dancing. Others are filing out toward the exits, interpreting the last song as a signal that they can finally go home.
She doesn’t want to go out the front and face Miss Macht again, so she retrieves her shoes and makes her way from the dance floor to the back of the venue. As she’s leaving, she runs into a classmate from Spanish 2, Eliah, sitting alone at one of the banquet tables, looking anxious. He hunches over in his metal folding chair, wringing his hands.
Suddenly she is socked by a strange inspiration.
“Hey Eliah,” she says.
She slips on her heels. Extends her hand.
“May I have this dance?”