Trouble is a Friend of Mine

I hated that Bill was enjoying this.

‘And you.’ Sloane turned to Bill. ‘Just sticking on a cloche hat doesn’t make it twenties, okay? Put on a sombrero and you’d be a Mexican widow in that outfit.’ Sloane turned to Henry. ‘What’s she doing here, anyway? I thought you said Digby and Zoe were a thing.’

Henry looked mortified.

Felix, still recovering from the Count Chocula burn, said, ‘You’re a thing?’

‘No!’ Digby and I said together.

Felix and I went off on our own when we got to the dance. We got formal photos taken and I let him introduce me to both the backgammon and astronomy clubs as his date. I even put my arm through his.

I had to say it. ‘This place looks great.’

Sloane’s mother had impeccable taste. Instead of cheap crafty decorations, we got mini-chandeliers, silver and black balloons, and twinkling fairy lights. There were seating areas with potted trees and old-timey metal benches. Attendants wearing striped shirts and boaters handed out paper cones of fresh-popped corn. They even laid down a black-and-white tile dance floor.

The two schools’ students were huddled on opposite sides of the room, sizing each other up. Sloane had already found her Chester B. Arthur double: the flirty cheerleader hitting on Henry at practice. They were trying to outdo each other with showy sexy-dancing around their poor dates. Teachers stepped in when Sloane and her competition ran out of ideas and busted into straight-up stripper moves.

It was nice seeing everyone in their outfits. Of course, a group of girls turned up as Barbies because, you know, the theme said ‘dolls.’ On the bright side, though, the Film Appreciation Club came dressed in suits and fedoras, carrying plastic Tommy guns, and ‘smoking’ unlit cigarettes (that were confiscated almost immediately).

Henry sidled up. ‘So, you didn’t set Digby up with Bill?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘It was a surprise to me.’

‘But you and Digby aren’t …’

‘No.’

‘I assumed –’

‘Don’t.’

‘Because you spend a lot of time together.’

‘Yeah, but not like that. Our time together’s mostly just him mocking me and me getting him food every couple of minutes,’ I said.

‘Okay …’ Henry said. ‘Hey, you want to dance?

‘But …?’ I pointed at Sloane.

‘She’s with her girls. I did my bit already. She won’t need me until coronation,’ he said.

Walking to the dance floor, I tried to stop my knees bending and unbending jerkily. I couldn’t look him in the eye while we danced.

‘You look nice! Did I tell you that?’ He had to shout to be heard over the music.

I bobbed my head side to side to make sure he understood I was remaining humble about the whole thing.

Henry said, ‘You usually dress more …’

‘Casual?’

‘Butch.’

Ouch. ‘I mostly dress for comfort … the weather …’

Henry couldn’t hear my fumbling response, but before I could clean up my answer, Digby butted in. ‘Sloane’s looking for you.’

Henry gave me an embarrassed smile and ran off. Sloane was dancing with her crew. She wasn’t looking for Henry or, in fact, looking for anything other than more attention.

‘You’re welcome,’ Digby said.

‘What?’ I said.

‘I’m saving you from yourself, Princeton. As a great poet once said, “Illusion never changed into something real”,’ Digby said.

Sloane and her posse finished a choreographed line dance, and a slow song from Britney’s golden age came on.

‘You know, they’re only popular because you make them popular. Those girls live off your hate. Look away and you starve them of their oxygen,’ he said. ‘It’s a pull-my-finger situation. Stop pulling her finger.’

‘It’s impossible to look away. I mean, she made up that choreography and made them learn it. Who does that outside of a teen movie?’ I said. ‘And look at this place … this is the gym. Imagine how her house looks.’

‘You’re really angst-y tonight. What’s with you?’

‘Everything’s bugging me. Plus I’m not excited about Bill’s scam.’

‘So you really didn’t set up my date with Bill?’

‘No.’

‘I’m relieved, Princeton. I thought you were sending me a message.’

‘What message would that be?’

Digby shrugged.

I suddenly realized we’d been slow-dancing this whole time and I felt weird and awkward. I stepped out from our embrace.

‘Where is your date, anyways?’ I said.

He gestured vaguely. ‘Checking out cigarettes someone found in the faculty lounge trash …’

‘That’s lame.’

‘Especially since I have a whole pack. She could’ve just asked.’

‘You don’t smoke.’

‘No, but I pay some of my guys in cigarettes.’ His phone buzzed. ‘Speaking of … one of them just spotted Ezekiel at the 7-Eleven downtown.’ He showed me the picture of Ezekiel that he just received on his phone. ‘We’ve got to jet.’