The gym is decorated with bales of hay and mass-produced plastic pumpkins. The dress code for the annual Fall Ball is Farmer Chic, which translates to overalls and trucker hats for the guys, and short-shorts and plaid tops tied below the breasts for the girls. Kara and I are dressed in our street clothes. Chris is dressed in his usual ensemble of all-black clothing with a straw hat he spray-painted black. High school dances are the closest any of us have come to the gym since grade nine.
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t mildly turned on by all the cowboys,” I say out loud.
“I blame your obsession with Orville Peck,”
Chris says.
“His voice and masks are just so sexy,” I say.
“You’re not going to find Orville Peck in this crowd,” Kara says.
“I’m going to dance,” I say. “You guys coming?”
“You know how I feel about popular music,” Chris says.
“‘It sounds like it was written in a boardroom,’” Kara and I say in unison.
“Don’t be a stick in the mud,” Kara says to her brother. “Do you want to look back on your teenage self and see a guy moping by the wall?”
“It’s not moping,” Chris says. “It’s thinking
with style.”
Kara and I each take one of Chris’s hands and drag him onto the dance floor. Chris may pretend he hates dancing to pop music, but he loves it as much as Kara and I do. The three of us can’t wait until we’re old enough to drink and go clubbing at a real gay bar. In the meantime, we get our groove on at high school dances and throw little parties for ourselves in Kara and Chris’s basement.
“Don’t look now, but the ghost of dates past is right behind you,” Kara shouts into my ear.
I turn around and see Randall dancing behind us. He’s wearing a pair of 501s that look cut to the shape of his ass and thighs. I can see his nipples through his T-shirt, the sleeves barely cover his shoulders. He’s chewing a piece of straw. He looks like a cowboy in a gay porn. Not that I would know. Randall catches me staring at him. He snarls and turns around. Jerk.
“I need to pee,” I shout over the music.
Kara gives me a thumbs-up. Chris is off in his own little world, dancing to the beat of a completely different song than the one that is playing.
It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the light when I go back into the hall. I’m a little deaf from the loud music. The line for the bathroom goes all the way down to the cafeteria. I’m totally regretting the Red Bull I had before the dance. Someone punches me hard on the shoulder. It’s my brother. Ed’s grinning from ear to ear.
“Hey, Joshy,” Ed says.
“What did you punch me for?” I say, rubbing my shoulder. “I could have died.”
“Dramatic much?” he says. “Look who’s here.”
Ed steps aside. It’s Ivan! And he’s talking to Randall. My heart races and sinks at the same time. I want to push Randall out of the way, but I don’t want to make a scene. Who am I kidding? I totally want to make a scene.
“Hey, Josh!” Ivan says, like I’m the barista at his local coffee shop instead of the guy who beat him at hockey. “Do you know Randall?”
Randall and I scowl at each other. “Yes, I do,” I tell him.
Randall practically yanks Ivan’s shoulder to get his attention and says, “What were you saying about Hamilton?”
How dare Ivan discuss Hamilton with Randall. That’s our thing! I grab Ed by the arm and pull him down the hall where it’s quieter.
“Why would you bring Ivan to our high school dance?” I ask him.
“I don’t know, because he’s in high school. And it’s something to do on a Friday night,” Ed says. “What do you care?”
Crap. If I’m not careful, I could let the cat out of the bag.
“But he doesn’t go to our school,” I say. I should stop talking. Instead, I say, “He’s not even dressed like a cowboy. He probably feels out of place.”
“Neither are you.”
“I’m not dressed as cowboy out of principle.”
“Did someone spike your drink?” Ed says.
“I have to go the bathroom.” I leave as quickly as I can before I say anything stupid. I’m so frustrated I can’t even pee. I find Kara and Chris on the dance floor where I left them.
“Why the long face?” Kara asks.
“Bitchy rest face,” I say.
“Josh is keeping secrets again,” Chris says.
“Shut up and dance,” I tell him.
I’m not even paying attention to the song I’m dancing to. I keep seeing Randall’s beautiful blue eyes beaming as he was talking to Ivan in the hall. I can’t compete with that. I’m such a fool for even thinking Ivan was interested in me. He probably only spent time with me because I’m Ed’s kid brother.
I look across the dance floor, hoping another face will take my mind off Ivan’s. And there’s Ivan, dancing just a few people over. He’s dancing by himself. Ivan pretends to twerk and then he does the Floss. He’s a horrible dancer. It makes me smile. Ivan dances in
my direction.
“Did Ed suspect anything?” he asks.
“If he didn’t, he does now.”
“You ran off so quick. I was worried you went home without saying goodbye.”
“Would that have been such a bad thing?”
“Yeah, because I wouldn’t have had a chance to ask you out.”
My knees go weak.
“You want to go out with me?”
“I thought it was obvious.”
“I wasn’t sure,” I say. “Did Randall say anything about me when you were talking to him?”
“Not at all.”
Jerk! I mean, good that Randall didn’t say anything. But he’s still a jerk.
“So, it’s a date?” Ivan says.
“For sure.”
“Cool. I’m going to dance by myself again before Ed suspects anything. I’ll text you tomorrow.”
“I can’t wait,” I say. I hope I don’t sound too thirsty.
“Who was that?” Kara asks after Ivan dances away.
“A friend of Ed’s,” I say.
“That guy? The one who pretended to twerk?” Kara says. “He doesn’t act like one of Ed’s friends. He’s different.”
“I hope so,” I say.