It’s the Monday after Thanksgiving. Everyone spent the first half of the day talking about what they did for Thanksgiving and the second half starting the countdown until winter vacation. Sprinkled into many conversations was the Cotillion.
“Our dresses arrive tomorrow,” Nina says with a dreamy look on her face as she pulls a scarf out of her locker and winds it around her neck.
“Whoop. Dee. Doo.” Randi tugs up the zipper on her jacket with a hard yank.
“Can you guys wait a sec before we walk home?” Tanya says. “I’m breaking off with Del.”
“Where is Del?” I ask. I mean, even with the specter of Todd on Tanya’s horizon, Del had been in his customary place right next to Tanya. Until now, that is.
“I’m meeting him in the lunchroom. C’mon. This won’t take long.” Tanya signals us to follow her as she gives her hair a final check in her locker-door mirror. One’s hair should look good when dumping a guy, I guess.
I think it’s kind of odd that Tanya wants an audience for this, but what do I know about breaking up with someone? Besides, Nina and Randi don’t protest, so I’m not going to. On our way we approach Justin and Madison, who are heading in our direction. Justin has his arm around Madison. She is calling down the hall to Lola Lombard, who is one of her best friends, at least when they are speaking to each other. It seems that about twice a month Madison is not speaking to one of her best friends, Justin or all of the above. Needless to say, Randi loves it when Madison is not speaking to Justin, even though Madison is still glued to his side right through the silent treatment.
Since Madison is distracted at the moment, Justin gives Randi a lustful look, puckering his lips at her as they pass. Randi shoots a pucker right back at him. “Did you see that?” Randi whispers to me. “One of these days Justin is going to dump Madison for me.”
I don’t know how many times I’ve heard that, I don’t say. Instead I just murmur, “Mmm.”
The way Randi smiles with satisfaction, I’m sure she thinks I’m agreeing with her.
When we get to the doors to the lunchroom, Tanya says, “Wait here.”
Since there are windows in the doors to the lunchroom, Nina, Randi and I automatically move back and pretend we are very interested in the contents of our book bags. I mean, just because we can be witnesses to the dump-ecution doesn’t mean we have to be. Poor Del deserves to be left with some shred of dignity, after all.
It takes more than a few seconds, but less than a minute before the dirty deed is completed.
“Okay!” Tanya walks out of the lunchroom brushing the palms of her hands together as if she is wiping off chalk dust. “That’s done.” She starts walking briskly toward the front door of the school.
Nina, Randi and I quickly catch up with her. We see Todd standing on the front steps. As Tanya scurries ahead to meet Todd, Randi says, with a hint of admiration in her voice, “That was fast.”
“Yeah,” I say, figuring that Randi’s projecting ahead to when she thinks Justin will break Tanya’s record for moving on to the next lover the second after he dumps Madison for her. I suspect Randi has a long wait in store, but I’ve been known to be wrong before.
Nina just sighs and shakes her head.
Tanya and Todd are all arm-touching, leaning in close and exchanging each other’s exhaled breath, when it happens. Todd. Gets. On. The. Bus.
This is unprecedented in the history of Tanya’s love life. Okay, Todd is only the third guy to fit in that category, but still. The bus? If Todd lives far enough away that he takes the bus, how will he ever walk Tanya from home from school, to the library, to Funky Coffee or wherever Tanya’s little heart insists?
As the bus pulls away, Tanya runs over, puts her hand on window against where Todd has placed his hand. She runs along for a couple seconds just like some girl in a train station saying goodbye to her soldier-boyfriend in one of those old war movies Dad likes to watch on TV. I almost expect to hear the strains of, “We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when ….” somewhere in the background. Instead, Tanya skids to a halt to avoid bumping into Mr. Parr, who seems to be stuck filling in for one of the bus-patrol staff this afternoon.
Tanya does a quick U-turn and dashes over to us. “Isn’t Todd just the hottest?”
Hotter than Colin and poor Del combined, I’m tempted to say sarcastically. But I know the routine. “He’s hot.”
“The hottest,” Nina says, putting the emphasis on hot so that she’ll sound, you know, genuinely excited for Tanya.
“Yeah, the hottest,” Randi says with a complete lack of enthusiasm. That lack of enthusiasm is kind a breach of Best-Friends-Forever etiquette, but fortunately Tanya is so high on her own little private Cloud Nine that she doesn’t seem to notice. “Can we go now?” Randi says. “I’ve gotta get home, change clothes and catch the next bus to the mall.”
“Mmm?” Tanya says, all dreamy like. “Okay. Let’s go.”
I check Tanya’s feet just to be sure they are touching the ground. Meanwhile, I notice Randi is bringing up the GPS app on her cell phone. I think she’s been trying to figure out where Justin heads after school by plotting out routes from the corner of Willamette Street. It doesn’t seem to occur to her that he probably doesn’t go to the same place every day, but if she wants to play detective that’s her business. Since she’s going to the mall—and hasn’t asked any of us to go with her—I’m guessing she’s hoping to “run into” Justin there. As if he wouldn’t have Madison pasted to his side, even if she found him.
As we’re passing the school parking lot, Duke waves as he pulls away in his Mercedes. I give a little half-wave, but Nina, Randi and even Tanya, who seems to have pulled out of her Tim-trance, wave wildly. For good measure, they also squeal with glee at the sight of him. Is there something wrong with me that I don’t recognize Duke’s appeal, or am I the only sane one in the group? I remind myself that Colt holds pretty much the same opinion of Duke as I do, but Colt, while a great study partner, is not female. He and I do sort of fit in the same dork category, though, so maybe that’s the source of our common viewpoint of Duke. It is we who are Out Of It.
* * *
At dinner, Mom drops a little bombshell between the Cream Cheese/Olive/Walnut casserole and the Cinnamon Fruit Salad. “I’m going to be a chaperone at the Cotillion!”
Just as I’m coughing up a melon ball, Mom discharges a second barrage. “And Dad and his band will be playing there too!” She turns to Dad. “I hope you’ll play a couple of show tunes.” Mom likes to blast music when she’s doing stuff she finds boring, such as dusting, and old show tunes are her favorite. Mom has a ton of Broadway music. “Something romantic.”
Okay, now I happen to know there’s already a band signed on for the Cotillion. What a relief Mom is delusional and therefore her preceding announcements are not true. “Um, Mom, The Radical Tires will be playing at the Cotillion,” I say slowly, carefully enunciating each word, so that Mom will be sure to understand.
“Yes, yes,” Mom says, as cheery as a bird in spring. “But your father’s band will play when Radical Tires takes a break!”
I still don’t believe this. “Wait a minute. I know Dad talked about getting together with the guys he had a band with in college, but he never did.”
“We’ve been practicing,” Dad says. “Every other Saturday afternoon in Freddie Gayer’s garage. I’m an adult. I don’t have to tell my children everything, you know.”
I open my mouth, but my breath is caught in my lungs. I’m not sure if I’m more surprised or annoyed by what Dad said.
“Dad, you have a gig? Before I do?” Ray slaps the table with his fork. Apparently his dominant emotion is annoyance, tinged with anger. “That’s not fair!”
“Son,” Dad says patiently, “We have way more experience, so, of course—”
“That’s just it!” Ray sits up ramrod straight with an air of superiority. “You’re old!”
“And proud of it.” Dad shoots Mom a conspiratorial wink. “That’s why we call ourselves ‘The Fossils.’”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” I say.
“Completely.”
I am so going to lock myself in the kitchen when Dad’s group plays at the Cotillion. Now how am I going to dance with Brent, with Mom and Dad there? Not that they’d stop me or anything, but there would be too many questions I wouldn’t want to answer, more from Mom than Dad. I can hear it now.
“Isn’t that Brent boy going with that Claire girl?”
“Don’t you think you’re too young to be dancing with a senior?”
“Is the ‘help’ allowed to dance?”
“Mrs. Alphin came by earlier today and test-tasted my Double-Chocolate Fudge Cake. She gave it her approval for Minda’s ninth birthday party.” Mom is good at switching subjects in an effort to avoid dinner discord. “She was in a tizzy, though, because the clown canceled and she’s having a terrible time finding a replacement at the last minute. Every clown, magician and balloon-twister is already booked weeks ahead.”
I never went for the entertainment-at-birthday party thing. Cake, ice cream, some gifts and maybe a few games and I was happy. I always thought sitting watching some guy with a red ball glued to his nose was boring. Just as I was thinking this, though, I had an idea. “What about Ray’s band?”
“What about Ray’s band?” Mom says.
“Yeah, what about my band?” Ray asks, sounding all suspicious.
“For entertainment. At Minda Alphin’s ninth birthday party.”
“That’s a great idea!” Dad says.
“I don’t know ….” Mom shakes her head.
“Ew! Play for a bunch of fourth graders?” Ray curls his lips in disgust.
“Why not?” I say. “Look at it this way. They are fourth-graders. You and your band are sixth graders. Minda and her friends will be totally impressed! Word will get around. Soon the whole school will hear about how great you and your band are. You’ll be flooded with requests to play. Station KFRA will feature you on the Local Talent segment of the evening news .…” I pause to try to think of some more completely fantastic scenarios.
During the pause I can almost see the little gears turning in Ray’s mind. A slow, dreamy smile spreads across his face. “Yeah ….” He looks straight at Mom. “Tell that Mrs. Alphin about my band! Just say we had a last-minute cancellation and can squeeze in this gig.”
“Well ….” Mom clears her throat. “Maybe … maybe I should hear your band first.”
“You mean we have to audition?” Ray rolls his eyes.
“Well, um, I think it would be a good idea,” Mom says carefully. “I mean, I know you can sing, but I haven’t heard the band. You always practice over at Nick’s.”
“‘Cause he’s got that big garage out back where no one can here us, so we don’t ‘bother’ anybody!” Ray crosses his arms in front of his chest.
“I wasn’t complaining,” Mom says. “Just sayin’. Anyway, I can’t recommend a band I’ve never heard.”
“Oh. All. Right.”
“How about tomorrow after school?” Mom says. “Then, if I like what I hear—and I’m sure I will—I can call Mrs. Alphin right away.”
Ray nods his head so vigorously it’s a miracle it doesn’t fall off.
“Oh, and what’s the name of your band?”
“Bones, Inc. Remember?”
“Oh. Yes. Nobody has any tattoos, do they, because I’m sure Mrs. Alphin wouldn’t approve.”
“No tattoos!” Next thing, Ray skips dessert so he can rush off to call his band and set up the “audition.”
“That was a good idea,” Dad says, “suggesting your brother’s band for the birthday party. It took the heat off me for having gotten a gig first.”
“Uh, thanks,” I say. Too bad I can’t think of a way for Dad to be un-hired for playing at the Cotillion.
* * *
The next day Kylie rushes up to me, Nina, Randi and Tanya just after lunch. “Your dresses are due to arrive this afternoon. Meet me in room thirty-two as soon as school is over!” With that, she dashes off, all giggly with excitement.
When the last bell rings and we’re all gathered at our lockers, Randi moans about the dresses in advance. “Boring! They look like something from a Little Miss Pre-Teen Pageant or something.”
“I don’t know.” Nina manages a pirouette, despite the fact that the hall is still crowded. “I think they have a nice floaty look.”
“They’re okay,” I say, mainly because I’ve pictured myself so often in the dress as I dance with Brent that I’ve basically gotten used to it.
“Yeah,” Tanya says, as she cranes her neck searching the hall for Todd. He always shows up just late enough that she starts to get concerned. “The dresses are okay. Not great, but okay.” Suddenly she breaks into a wide-open smile. “Hi, Todd.”
“Hey, babe.” Todd slips his arm around Tanya’s waist.
I worry that Todd is not quite the devoted little lovesick puppy type that Tanya is used to. He strikes me as more of the any girl is lucky to have me kind of guy. But, what do I know about relationships?
Tanya bats her eyelashes as she looks up at Todd.
[Note to self: Try the eyelash batting thing at home some time to check on quality of my lash-fluttering capabilities.]
“The Cotillion dresses arrived,” Tayna says to Todd. “Wait for me while we check them out?”
Wow, she posed that as a question. With Colin or Del it would’ve been a command.
“Sorry, babe. You know how I feel about waiting.” Todd gives Tanya a bland half-smile and kisses the top of her head. “See ya.” With that, he turns and leaves.
“Call me?” Tanya directs her voice down the hall at Todd’s back.
Todd half turns. “Yeah, yeah.” He disappears around a corner.
Nina, Randi and I pretend to be totally absorbed in closing our locker doors, so Tanya won’t think we were just witnesses to her social discomfort. The Queen Bee of Control has met her match.
“We’d better, like, hurry,” Tanya says, much too cheerfully.
On the way to room thirty-two I do notice she makes eye contact with at least five guys. Maybe she’s already looking for an immediate escape hatch, one that will welcome her with open and more willing arms than Todd. Or maybe she’s just reassuring herself that there are other guys on the planet to keep in reserve while she tries to gain the upper hand with Todd.
This is one of those reminders that my wish to flash forward to life after college is a sensible one. I mean, I can’t even manage a non-romance with Brent that exists only in my mind. I can’t imagine trying to juggle all the relationship fine-points in Tanya’s life.
When we get to the room, I push all thoughts of romance, real or imagined, out of my head. I’m anxious to see the dresses. I hope mine fits okay. I mean, these are rentals, so it’s not as if we can get them altered.
“There you all are!” Kylie stands next to a pile of boxes. “These each have your names on them, so we don’t have to figure out which dress is whose. Take your box and open it. I’ll guard the door. I want you to try them on, so I can see how they look on you.” Kylie’s eyes actually brim with delight. “This is so exciting!”
We each find our own boxes and start tearing them open. I actually have a happy, fizzy feeling in my stomach. My Cotillion dress! Okay, so it’s not a gown I went and picked out and it’s not as if I have a date. I’m just a waitress. But, still! Inside the brown box stuffed with plastic peanuts is a white box with a lid. I remove the lid. I carefully lift the layers of white tissue paper.
I stand there, blank. Shaken. What is this?