I loosen my tie and a kind of giddiness comes over me. It's much cooler to be here than at the prom. I bet Danny forgot to get Daria a corsage and she's already resenting him. I bet they're taking stupid posed pictures in front of some kind of draped cloth and a vase full of red, red roses. I bet that the chicken is rubbery and the music is bad. I bet he's forgotten that we were going to wear tuxedos on our little breaking and entering expedition and had to rent whatever was left. I imagine him in light blue with a ruffled shirt. That makes me almost laugh out loud, but my smile turns sour when I realize that it would actually be funny and I see us both in them, exalting in our dorkitude.
Maybe I should have just sucked it up and taken the pity date. I wonder if Danny is pissed that I hung up on him, if he thinks that I'm afraid of girls. Suddenly, I'm morose. Being drunk by myself in an old building doesn't seem as edgy as it did moments before. It seems sad and a little pathetic.
Just then, I hear a sound down the hallway. I get up, clumsy with booze. My fingers and tongue are so numb that it's almost pleasurable to stumble. I know that it could be one of the rent-a-cops the school's probably crawling with or even one of the administrators but my drunk brain can't help conjuring up a girl. In my fantasy, she just got dumped by her jock boyfriend, she's stunningly beautiful, and she goes back to the prom with me on her arm.
I walk in the direction of the sound and I see candles flickering there. In the center of a large room, six robed figures funnel dark liquid into silver flasks. At their center is Ms. Esposito. I'm so surprised that it takes my brain long moments to catch up with what I'm seeing.
I stumble a little and they all look at me. The whole thing is so surreal that I start to laugh.
"Ave,” one of them says. I walk a little closer and I see Xavier. He's second board in the chess club, which makes him a member of the Pawns.
I salute him with my almost empty bottle of Grey Goose.
"Potestatem obscuri lateris nescis,” he said. Some of them laugh nervously.
I frowned, trying to figure out what he was saying. “Did you just tell me that I don't know the power of the dark side?” More laughter.
Xavier grins and turns to the others. “He's okay,” he says. “He passed the test. Besides, I can vouch for him. He's down. And besides, cornix cornici oculos non effodiet."
A crow doesn't rip out the eyes of another crow. Nice.
Looking at their faces, I suddenly realize I know them. It's the Latin Club. Diego, Jenny, Ashley, Mike, and David. And their advisor, Ms. Esposito. Geeks, one and all. My people.
"What are you doing?” My words come out slurred.
"Bringing Bacchanalia to Wallingford,” said Jenny. “And you're going to help us."
I picture Jenny streaked with mud and blood, rolling around in an orgiastic frenzy, but the image doesn't stick.
"Quomodo dicitur Latine?” says Ms. Esposito.
I know that one. She wants Jenny to only talk in Latin.
"Paenitere,” Jenny tells her.
It's then that I notice sequins at Ashley's throat under the robe and Mike's gleaming dress shoes. A crazy grin grows on my face as I realize they're wearing prom clothes. All this creepy shit aside, I finally get it. They're going to spike the punch. This is a prom prank of epic proportions.
Danny won't be part of it. He'll be slow-dancing like an idiot. He'll feel left out.
"In vodka veritas,” I say and tilt back my bottle, pouring the last of it down my throat. I choke a little, but I swallow anyway. In vodka is the truth. I'm sure I declined that wrong.
Ms. Esposito doesn't smile, but she does hand me a vial of the whatever-it-is. I'm thinking Everclear. “Nunc est bibendum,” she says. Now it's time to drink.
They snuff out their candles and strip off their robes near a closet. The gleaming wood and lack of dust points to them meeting here before, maybe lots of times.
"Wow,” I say drunkenly to Xavier as we cross the quad. “This is pretty awesome. I had no idea Latin club was so cool.” And I hadn't. I'd always pictured the Pawns as the big geek rebels. I'm actually a little intimidated. I kind of want to join.
He grins. “Quidquid latine dictum sit, altum videtur."
That one takes me a while, but I finally figure it out. Everything's better when you say it in Latin. I restrain myself from rolling my eyes.
As we're about to enter the banquet hall, Mike turns to me and says, “Cave quid dicis quando et cui.” Basically, be careful what I say.
My plan is to be careful where I stand. I'm sure I stink of vodka and I bet that my eyes are glassy. Any advisor gets a whiff of me and I'm going to get hauled out of here.
"Look,” Xavier says, leaning close to me, and I'm startled to hear him speak English. “The rest of them probably don't care what happens to you, but I want to make sure you understand. That stuff in the vial is an antidote. Take a quick sip and you won't be affected."
"But . . . aren't we just spiking the punch?” I ask.
He laughs. “No way. Look around. People are drinking water and soda and energy drinks. No one drinks punch out of a central punch bowl any more. That's out of some eighties movie."
I look around. The theme of the prom is Under the Sea. Blue, white, and gold streamers hang from the ceiling and the tables are covered in sea-green chiffon cloth. Someone has spray painted real shells gold and scattered them on the tables, hot-gluing them around napkin rings. Stenciled numbers mark the round tables. I think I see Danny across the room, sitting at one of them, next to Daria. He has his arm draped over her shoulders.
But Xavier's right. Servers are clearing plates of cake, but there's no table with a cake on it. No punch bowl beside it to spike. “Wait, so what are we doing exactly?"
"Dude, aren't you tired of the beautiful people lording over you?
Of course I'm tired of it. I nod.
He tilts his head toward the stage and the DJ. The shimmering lights of the dance floor reflect in the lenses of his glasses, obscuring his eyes. “They think they're so smart, but all they do is screw up, screw around, and screw off. Tonight, they'll see their own true natures. You'll love it. One steaming hot plate of revenge coming right up."
Across the room, I see Ms. Esposito lift her hands. She starts chanting and next to me, Xavier starts chanting too, with a wink in my direction. They're speaking low and I can't make out the words over the music. I feel weird, violent and too hot. I want to yell at Danny; I want to feel my knuckles bruise against his jaw.
Xavier smacks the side of my arm. I look at him and he's miming drinking something. I remember the vial in my pocket and take a sip. It tastes too sweet, like fortified wine. Immediately, I notice that I'm been breathing like I'm already in a fight. I shake my head. Everything's fine. I'm fine.
I turn toward the dance floor. Couples are grinding against one another, hands roaming over satin. Boys start unlacing their ties and shrugging off jackets. That's funny, I think.
Across the room, Jenny and Mike are leaving. Ashley takes a picture of the head master as he leans down to kiss Ms. Perez, our newest and youngest English teacher. Surprisingly, neither of them seem to notice the camera.
Behind me, Xavier laughs. I start walking toward where I saw Danny and Daria last.
Couples are no longer dancing—they're kissing and groping. A few have moved to lying on the floor together. The captain of the football team knocks the shells and plates off the table and throws Missy Carthage on it. He climbs on top of her.
It's all happening so fast. Someone hits someone else. I don't see how it starts, but there is a sudden knot of fighting.
The music has stopped and only human sounds fill the silence. The camera flashes again.
"What's happening?” someone asks. There's a girl in a shimmering green dress with one sleeve and a heavy ruffle on the bottom. Her hair is spiked up and saturated with glitter and her eyes are heavily outlined in black kohl, but her skin looks blotchy around the neck like she's getting hives. She slouches against the doorway.
She doesn't even go to this school.
"You should leave,” I say, but then a boy catches her hand and pulls her into a kiss. She groans.
I grab her hand and pull her back to me. The boy lets her go and she slides into my arms. Her mouth comes against mine and we're kissing. I've only kissed three girls before and none of them kissed me like this, like they never wanted to stop, like they don't care about breathing. I pull back from her and she frowns, like she doesn't know where she is.
I shake my head, but that just makes me dizzy. The floor is carpeted in sequined gowns and black tuxedos. On top of them, bodies move together. I see the math teacher, Mr. Riggs, among them, writhing around with Jacob White and Nancy Chung. Amy Gershwin's purple bra is around her waist, like a belt, as she crawls toward them.
Across the room, three cheerleaders corner another cheerleader and swipe at her with their long, manicured nails. Scratches mark both her cheeks.
I stumble forward and see Danny. He's lying half-underneath a table, kissing Hannah Davis, who turns and kisses Daria Wisniewski. None of them are very dressed. Hannah is wearing Wonder Woman underpants.
There's a part of me that figures Danny deserves whatever happens to him at that point. I know it's an asshole thing to think, but isn't this what he hoped would happen at one of the prom afterparties anyway? Would he really have turned down a threesome with two girls? I mean sure, everyone is going crazy, but aren't they just giving in to what they really desire? Isn't he?
And it's not like I could stop him.
Then I think of the vial in my pocket. There's still some liquid in it. But then, maybe he wouldn't want me to stop him.
"Danny,” I say, still not sure. I want him to do something that will make him familiar again.
He turns toward me and his face is blank with desire.
I take out the vial, because I don't care what he wants or if he deserves it. I just want him to be Danny again.
>
I loosen my tie and a kind of giddiness comes over me. It's much cooler to be here than at the prom. I bet Danny forgot to get Daria a corsage and she's already resenting him. I bet they're taking stupid posed pictures in front of some kind of draped cloth and a vase full of red, red roses. I bet that the chicken is rubbery and the music is bad. I bet he's forgotten that we were going to wear tuxedos on our little breaking and entering expedition and had to rent whatever was left. I imagine him in light blue with a ruffled shirt. That makes me almost laugh out loud, but my smile turns sour when I realize that it would actually be funny and I see us both in them, exalting in our dorkitude.
Maybe I should have just sucked it up and taken the pity date. I wonder if Danny is pissed that I hung up on him, if he thinks that I'm afraid of girls. Suddenly, I'm morose. Being drunk by myself in an old building doesn't seem as edgy as it did moments before. It seems sad and a little pathetic.
Just then, I hear a sound down the hallway. I get up, clumsy with booze. My fingers and tongue are so numb that it's almost pleasurable to stumble. I know that it could be one of the rent-a-cops the school's probably crawling with or even one of the administrators but my drunk brain can't help conjuring up a girl. In my fantasy, she just got dumped by her jock boyfriend, she's stunningly beautiful, and she goes back to the prom with me on her arm.
I walk in the direction of the sound and I see candles flickering there. In the center of a large room, six robed figures funnel dark liquid into silver flasks. At their center is Ms. Esposito. I'm so surprised that it takes my brain long moments to catch up with what I'm seeing.
I stumble a little and they all look at me. The whole thing is so surreal that I start to laugh.
"Ave,” one of them says. I walk a little closer and I see Xavier. He's second board in the chess club, which makes him a member of the Pawns.
I salute him with my almost empty bottle of Grey Goose.
"Potestatem obscuri lateris nescis,” he said. Some of them laugh nervously.
I frowned, trying to figure out what he was saying. “Did you just tell me that I don't know the power of the dark side?” More laughter.
Xavier grins and turns to the others. “He's okay,” he says. “He passed the test. Besides, I can vouch for him. He's down. And besides, cornix cornici oculos non effodiet."
A crow doesn't rip out the eyes of another crow. Nice.
Looking at their faces, I suddenly realize I know them. It's the Latin Club. Diego, Jenny, Ashley, Mike, and David. And their advisor, Ms. Esposito. Geeks, one and all. My people.
"What are you doing?” My words come out slurred.
"Bringing Bacchanalia to Wallingford,” said Jenny. “And you're going to help us."
I picture Jenny streaked with mud and blood, rolling around in an orgiastic frenzy, but the image doesn't stick.
"Quomodo dicitur Latine?” says Ms. Esposito.
I know that one. She wants Jenny to only talk in Latin.
"Paenitere,” Jenny tells her.
It's then that I notice sequins at Ashley's throat under the robe and Mike's gleaming dress shoes. A crazy grin grows on my face as I realize they're wearing prom clothes. All this creepy shit aside, I finally get it. They're going to spike the punch. This is a prom prank of epic proportions.
Danny won't be part of it. He'll be slow-dancing like an idiot. He'll feel left out.
"In vodka veritas,” I say and tilt back my bottle, pouring the last of it down my throat. I choke a little, but I swallow anyway. In vodka is the truth. I'm sure I declined that wrong.
Ms. Esposito doesn't smile, but she does hand me a vial of the whatever-it-is. I'm thinking Everclear. “Nunc est bibendum,” she says. Now it's time to drink.
They snuff out their candles and strip off their robes near a closet. The gleaming wood and lack of dust points to them meeting here before, maybe lots of times.
"Wow,” I say drunkenly to Xavier as we cross the quad. “This is pretty awesome. I had no idea Latin club was so cool.” And I hadn't. I'd always pictured the Pawns as the big geek rebels. I'm actually a little intimidated. I kind of want to join.
He grins. “Quidquid latine dictum sit, altum videtur."
That one takes me a while, but I finally figure it out. Everything's better when you say it in Latin. I restrain myself from rolling my eyes.
As we're about to enter the banquet hall, Mike turns to me and says, “Cave quid dicis quando et cui.” Basically, be careful what I say.
My plan is to be careful where I stand. I'm sure I stink of vodka and I bet that my eyes are glassy. Any advisor gets a whiff of me and I'm going to get hauled out of here.
"Look,” Xavier says, leaning close to me, and I'm startled to hear him speak English. “The rest of them probably don't care what happens to you, but I want to make sure you understand. That stuff in the vial is an antidote. Take a quick sip and you won't be affected."
"But . . . aren't we just spiking the punch?” I ask.
He laughs. “No way. Look around. People are drinking water and soda and energy drinks. No one drinks punch out of a central punch bowl any more. That's out of some eighties movie."
I look around. The theme of the prom is Under the Sea. Blue, white, and gold streamers hang from the ceiling and the tables are covered in sea-green chiffon cloth. Someone has spray painted real shells gold and scattered them on the tables, hot-gluing them around napkin rings. Stenciled numbers mark the round tables. I think I see Danny across the room, sitting at one of them, next to Daria. He has his arm draped over her shoulders.
But Xavier's right. Servers are clearing plates of cake, but there's no table with a cake on it. No punch bowl beside it to spike. “Wait, so what are we doing exactly?"
"Dude, aren't you tired of the beautiful people lording over you?
Of course I'm tired of it. I nod.
He tilts his head toward the stage and the DJ. The shimmering lights of the dance floor reflect in the lenses of his glasses, obscuring his eyes. “They think they're so smart, but all they do is screw up, screw around, and screw off. Tonight, they'll see their own true natures. You'll love it. One steaming hot plate of revenge coming right up."
Across the room, I see Ms. Esposito lift her hands. She starts chanting and next to me, Xavier starts chanting too, with a wink in my direction. They're speaking low and I can't make out the words over the music. I feel weird, violent and too hot. I want to yell at Danny; I want to feel my knuckles bruise against his jaw.
Xavier smacks the side of my arm. I look at him and he's miming drinking something. I remember the vial in my pocket and take a sip. It tastes too sweet, like fortified wine. Immediately, I notice that I'm been breathing like I'm already in a fight. I shake my head. Everything's fine. I'm fine.
I turn toward the dance floor. Couples are grinding against one another, hands roaming over satin. Boys start unlacing their ties and shrugging off jackets. That's funny, I think.
Across the room, Jenny and Mike are leaving. Ashley takes a picture of the head master as he leans down to kiss Ms. Perez, our newest and youngest English teacher. Surprisingly, neither of them seem to notice the camera.
Behind me, Xavier laughs. I start walking toward where I saw Danny and Daria last.
Couples are no longer dancing—they're kissing and groping. A few have moved to lying on the floor together. The captain of the football team knocks the shells and plates off the table and throws Missy Carthage on it. He climbs on top of her.
It's all happening so fast. Someone hits someone else. I don't see how it starts, but there is a sudden knot of fighting.
The music has stopped and only human sounds fill the silence. The camera flashes again.
"What's happening?” someone asks. There's a girl in a shimmering green dress with one sleeve and a heavy ruffle on the bottom. Her hair is spiked up and saturated with glitter and her eyes are heavily outlined in black kohl, but her skin looks blotchy around the neck like she's getting hives. She slouches against the doorway.
She doesn't even go to this school.
"You should leave,” I say, but then a boy catches her hand and pulls her into a kiss. She groans.
I grab her hand and pull her back to me. The boy lets her go and she slides into my arms. Her mouth comes against mine and we're kissing. I've only kissed three girls before and none of them kissed me like this, like they never wanted to stop, like they don't care about breathing. I pull back from her and she frowns, like she doesn't know where she is.
I shake my head, but that just makes me dizzy. The floor is carpeted in sequined gowns and black tuxedos. On top of them, bodies move together. I see the math teacher, Mr. Riggs, among them, writhing around with Jacob White and Nancy Chung. Amy Gershwin's purple bra is around her waist, like a belt, as she crawls toward them.
Across the room, three cheerleaders corner another cheerleader and swipe at her with their long, manicured nails. Scratches mark both her cheeks.
I stumble forward and see Danny. He's lying half-underneath a table, kissing Hannah Davis, who turns and kisses Daria Wisniewski. None of them are very dressed. Hannah is wearing Wonder Woman underpants.
There's a part of me that figures Danny deserves whatever happens to him at that point. I know it's an asshole thing to think, but isn't this what he hoped would happen at one of the prom afterparties anyway? Would he really have turned down a threesome with two girls? I mean sure, everyone is going crazy, but aren't they just giving in to what they really desire? Isn't he?
And it's not like I could stop him.
Then I think of the vial in my pocket. There's still some liquid in it. But then, maybe he wouldn't want me to stop him.
"Danny,” I say, still not sure. I want him to do something that will make him familiar again.
He turns toward me and his face is blank with desire.
I take out the vial, because I don't care what he wants or if he deserves it. I just want him to be Danny again.