WHEN HELL FREEZES OVER PARTY
OUT-OF-ORDER BATHROOM
8:22 PM
October 31st
The out-of-order bathroom was a tight squeeze for Layne and her oversized costume, so Claire was forced to sit on the toilet seat.
“I can't believe I let you talk me into this,” Layne said.
“You promised.” Claire finger-combed her blond hair and reapplied some clear gloss. “How many guys do you think will be into a girl they met on the toilet?” she asked Layne as she lowered herself onto the cold seat.
“We're being set up.” Layne tried to keep the corners of her costume from scratching the plaid Ralph Lauren wallpaper. “Why would she have us wait in a bathroom if she wasn't planning something humiliating?”
“Trust me.” Claire crossed her legs and bit into a Nerds Rope. “She just wanted us to meet her here so no one sees her talking to us in public.”
“Oh, that's all.” Layne shook her head. “Great, I feel sooo much better now.”
She adjusted her pillows. “You know, meeting boys in bathrooms is something runaways do. I feel like we're being filmed for some sort of public service announcement.”
They were interrupted by a light tapping on the bathroom door.
“Someone's in here,” Claire shouted.
“No, it's me, Massie.”
“Oh, come on in.” Claire jumped to her feet. She was about to pinch her cheeks so she'd have a little color until she remembered her face was covered by a mask.
Massie tried to open the door and it jammed into Layne's costume.
“This is stupid,” Layne snapped as she regained her balance. “I'm leaving.”
She had managed to wiggle past Claire and get halfway out the door when she came face-to-face with two tall, gangly, dark-haired boys. One was surrounded by a chunk of gray foam and the other was in all black with dinner rolls pinned to his clothes.
“I'm Rock,” said the chunk. “And he's Roll.”
“Have a blast,” Massie said. She turned and walked out of the cabana.
“Oh my God, that's hilarious,” Layne said to the rock. She tried to slap her knee, but all she could do was lift her arm half an inch into the air and then lower it. “Can you guess what I am?”
“Of course,” Rock said. “You're a couch potato. I've been watching you try to walk in that thing all night. You must be fried.”
Roll cracked up at his friend's potato joke and high-fived him.
“Oh my God, fried,” Layne said. “Claire, how funny is that?”
But Claire didn't think it was funny at all. She was more interested in why Massie assumed she would be into the garage band type. Layne might be “indie,” but Claire was pure pop.
“I'm Eli,” Rock said to Layne. “And this is Tristan.”
“Hi,” Claire and Layne said at the same time.
“Anyone wanna go for a skate?” Eli asked.
“Totally!” Layne said. “By the way, you rock.”
“Could she be any BOULDER?” Claire said to Tristan, hoping her dorky pun would break the tension between them.
“Huh?” he said.
Claire didn't bother repeating herself. Instead she watched Layne and Eli take off toward the skating rink. She was embarrassed to have positioned herself as the “boy expert” when it took Layne less than ten minutes to meet her indie soul mate. Meanwhile, Claire would rather have been left with her own brother than Tristan.
“Wanna dance?” he asked.
“Uh, sure?” she said. But it came out sounding more like a question than an answer.
Tristan held his hand out to Claire. His nails shimmered with silver polish. They matched the silver sparkles in his blue eyeliner. Claire bent down and pretended to adjust the strap on her Mary Janes to avoid his gesture.
“Where do you get your makeup?” Claire asked once she straightened up.
“My older sister.” Tristan looked proud. “I usually sneak into her room after she leaves for school.”
“Usually?” Claire asked. “You mean it's not part of your costume?”
Tristan raised one eyebrow and cocked his head.
“When was the last time you saw a roll wearing eyeliner?”
Claire searched his face for signs that he might be joking, but he held her gaze.
The DJ put on Pink's “Get the Party Started” and Claire was grateful for the distraction.
“Oh, I love this song,” she said. “Let's go.”
Claire led the way, figuring a dance with Tristan was better than standing alone. But the second they got on the floor, Tristan started flailing around like a mental patient trying to shimmy his way out of a straitjacket. At first she tried to overlook his mania, but once the dinner rolls starting flying off his costume, she found him impossible to ignore.
“What are you doing?” Claire asked.
Claire's moves were more understated than usual. People were already staring, and she didn't want to attract any extra attention to herself. The only thing she was grateful for was that Massie wasn't around to witness this spectacle.
“Tristan, if you move any faster, you'll experience time travel,” Claire said.
But he didn't hear her. He was too busy expressing himself. Claire decided no dance was worth this kind of embarrassment. So she backed away to the beat and made a run for the treats table.