Infinity Smashed: The Prom Story
Aug. 30th, 2018 03:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lb_leeSince it's the very end of the month anyway, I'm posting the whole story to cover both August and September's Patreon poll. Thanks, y'all!
The Prom Story
Series: Infinity Smashed
Summary: Raige, M.D., and Thomas are determined to go to prom and deal with Raige's dad.
Word Count: 6600
Notes: This story takes place immediately after the events of Coming Out to Raige’s Dad. It was sponsored by the Patreon crew, and would you believe I first started writing it during the Homeless Year? Took five years to actually make it.
Thomas opened the front door, bleary-eyed and still in his boxer shorts and undershirt.
“Morning,” I greeted. “Sorry for the hour, but I wanted to make sure you hadn’t headed out to work yet.”
“Nah, it’s fine,” Thomas said, yawning. “I was up already. You hungry? I got waffles.”
“I won’t be long,” I said, following him in. I had to give him credit; he was obviously groggy, but holding a conversation. Raige needed at least an hour, plus caffeine, and Biff… well, I’d never seen Biff up and verbal before noon.
Nobody else was in the house. Presumably Thomas’s mom had already headed on duty, his little brother to school, and who knew what his dad was off doing. The kitchen was clean and sunny and smelled like bacon, a platter of which Thomas shoved at me. I took a slice.
“So what’s up?” he asked.
“Raige’s prom is coming up.”
“I thought he wasn’t going?”
“I think he’s not going because he’s worried about the social ramifications of bringing two people to prom, one of them male. But I asked him, and after hemming and hawing for a few minutes, he admitted he wanted to go.”
Thomas nodded and shoved a couple frozen waffles into the toaster, then stood there waiting for them to pop. “Cool. So you ask him?”
I went to go search for butter and syrup in the fridge, since Thomas didn’t seem quite up to it yet. “Yup. He said yes. I also said I wanted you to come too and he agreed, but if you want to do the whole big romantic gesture thing, I don’t think he’d mind.”
“Sure.” He gave me a thumbs up. “I’ll call him when we’re awake.”
The waffles popped, and Thomas pulled them out and tossed them on plates. I passed him the butter and syrup and he made happy sounds, then asked, “So that’s all cool, but what’s the rush? Not like I’m not happy to see you, but you could’ve just left a note or something.”
I winced and twiddled my fingers. “Well, you see… it’s like this...”
Thomas looked up from his waffles, mouth full. There was no avoiding this.
“I don’t have anything to wear.”
Thomas set his fork down. His eyes were starting to gleam. “You mean…?”
“Yes. I am formally requesting your assistance.” I made obeisance over the kitchen table. “Please take me shopping, oh cool person with fashion sense.”
You have never heard such an evil laugh from a guy.
…
It wasn’t as though I was looking forward to going shopping with Thomas, or at all. It was just that he was the only human I trusted to make good choices in that department, and I wanted to at least be presentable at this absurd adolescent rite of passage. It was important to Raige, even if it wasn’t all that important to me. And Thomas, at least, knew what a dollar was worth.
It took us a while to sort out our schedules, but within a couple weeks, we went on our shopping expedition. Thomas seemed absolutely delighted to be going to some secondhand fancy dress shop to find something to wear, which was more than I could say for me.
“These are hideous,” I complained as we wandered the aisles of taffeta and chiffon, “and impractical.”
“What, you planning to fight a bear at prom?”
“Raige’s dad is only a short evolutionary hop away, but regardless, it’s going to be crowded with hormonal teenagers that I don’t want to get mental flashes of. I need something that covers me from the neck down.”
Thomas looked me over; it was clear by his face that he’d forgotten. “Yeah, dresses’re out, then. Don’t think we could pull that. How do you feel about tuxes?”
I rolled my eyes to the ceiling, shuffled my feet, and whined.
“C’mon, you gotta like something. You can punch Raige’s dad in a tux.”
“But they’re all so… black. We’ll look like a troop of penguins.”
The more exasperated Thomas got, the more he sounded like his mother. “Look, babe, those are your options, and you should own at least one formal Earth thing. Remember what you had to wear for your emancipation hearing?”
I shuddered. Yes, I did. “At least let’s try and find one that isn’t black.”
“The longer you stand around bitching, the longer it’ll take.”
I tried, really I did. But men’s suits, I discovered, were the most boring clothes on the planet.
Until we found the discount rack.
“Oh my god,” I said. “I want it.”
Thomas looked like I’d brought a rabid raccoon home for a pet. “Of course you do.”
It looked like something that Fred Astaire would’ve worn, had he lived into the ‘70s and consulted Liberace. It was gold and glittery and had enough ruffles to tie Raige’s dad up with and gag him afterward. Plus it came with a matching bolo tie. How could I say no to a bolo tie?
And this modern marvel of fashion was discounted so steeply, you’d think someone had been murdered in it. Even I could afford it—well, almost, after bartering with Thomas.
“Aren’t you getting anything?” I asked as I tried it on. (It hung off me, but who cared?)
“Nah, I got Marcus’s old tux; it’ll be fine. If you weren’t so freaking tiny, I’d ask around for you, but—”
“No way. I’m committed. I’ve found my formal outfit for the rest of my life.” I threw the curtain back and came out.
Thomas circled around, looking me over and rubbing his chin. “Needs roller skates.”
“Yes.”
“And hemming. And a belt. That, I can hook you up with. Now let’s get out of here.”
Money changed hands, and I was saved from shopping any further. Providence divine!
As we climbed into the Steed (the ancient rusty orange pick-up Thomas had joyfully inherited) and he rolled down the windows to try and make it less of an oven, I said, “Hey Thomas?”
“What’s up?”
“Thanks for this.”
“No problem. That outfit’s you. Like Vegas threw up, but you.”
“Not that. Well, not just that. But I sort of figured you’d want to shove me into a dress and give me a makeover or something.”
Thomas thought about it. “Maybe in the early days, I would’ve,” he admitted, “but now it feels like a dick move. And kinda gross. You know, like those photos where weird old people dress their pets up like George Washington and Betsy Ross, and you can just feel how much that wiener dog hates it.”
“I would definitely be that wiener dog in the Betsy Ross costume.”
“Yeah, and this’s the only prom any of us’re getting, so we should have fun and wear what we want. Not like we’re ever setting foot in Raige’s school again.”
The next few chunks of my Earth time were spent with Thomas and some friend of his (who was apparently studying Textiles and Apparel at UT) trying to bootstrap Liberace’s love-child into something that wouldn’t get me burned as a fashion witch. She measured and pinned and hemmed, and by the end, the outfit would stay on by itself without tripping me. She seemed pretty pleased with herself and even remarked how my outfit was “vintage,” which as far as I could tell meant it was so old and outdated that it came out the other side and became cool again.
Thomas, of course, didn’t need his friend’s services. He could’ve worn a trash bag and made it look good, so that hand-me-down tux from his older brother looked like it’d been made for him.
“Wait,” I said, “I recognize that! That’s what you wore to my hearing, right?”
He beamed and gave me a double thumbs-up. “Like I said: always have at least one formal outfit. Besides, Jasmina already altered it for me.”
His friend grinned and tossed her tailor’s tape over her neck like a feather boa.
After some brief discussion on who was doing what, we split. Thomas planned to drive to Arizona because he said he didn’t want to have to rely on Raige’s dad for a car, and also he apparently thought driving a thousand miles in a truck with no AC across the hottest part of the country in May would be fun.
“I’m making a road trip out of it,” he said. “I’ll hit Carlsbad, Roswell, the Petrified Forest, and the Grand Canyon on the way.”
“You’re insane.”
“You say. You’re staying with Biff. His AC’s not much better.”
True, but Biff on his worst day was still head and shoulders over Raige’s dad as far as I was concerned. They couldn’t have paid me enough to stay there. Besides, I’d slept in Raige’s house before, and it’d been awful. The rooms were too big and the pillows too fat. Biff had a nice saggy couch with flat pillows, like god intended, and I always slept better there.
Biff didn’t seem to know what to do with the idea of me going to prom, so mostly ignored it, which suited me well. We hung my suit on the bathroom hinge where the door normally would’ve been attached, since that was the only place to hang it, and then we went about our afternoon as usual.
“Do you have an iron?” I asked.
“Do I look like I got an iron?” He glanced up from the blender he was making smoothies with—it was way too hot to cook, and he was surviving by soaking his shirt in water every couple hours. “You coming back here tonight?”
“Most likely.”
He reached into his pocket, tossed a key at me. “Here. Got one made so you don’t gotta climb through my fucking window in that get-up. Someone’ll shoot you.”
“You’re the best.” I added it to the ring, along with the spares to Thomas’s and Raige’s places, plus Bobcat’s Jaunter’s League space. “My dream of being as cool as the school janitor is closer to fruition everyday.”
We ate (Biff’s breakfast, my lunch), played some cards and futzed around, and then I started getting ready. I braved Biff’s ice-cold door-less shower, got dressed, tightened my bolo tie, and examined the result in the mirror. Something was missing.
I pulled the ponytail holder out of my hair, brushed it out, made a face. I looked like the most infamous of glam rock, resurrected. I tried pulling my hair back again, double-tying it. Even worse. I took it down again with a sound of exasperation.
Biff had put down the cards to watch me from the card table. He jerked his chin at me inquiringly, but I didn’t answer, still staring at my reflection and trying to figure out what was missing.
His chair screeched back on the linoleum and I looked up. He was standing and pointing to the empty chair.
“Sit.”
I sat, and he took the brush and ponytail holder from me. Gripping the band in his teeth, he brushed my hair out, separated it into three sections, and began braiding with quick, methodical movements. He didn’t pull anything. As he brushed against me, I got bits and pieces of his mind: quiet, calm, focused only on the task. Then a sensory bubble: braiding soft cotton fluff hair through his fingers, coarse and curly—
He finished and pulled back before the memory could finish, then conjured up my reflection so I could see the results. I turned my head back and forth to check the details. Much better.
“I didn’t know you could do hair,” I remarked.
Biff looked offended. “I got sisters.”
That got my attention. “You do?”
“Yeah. Once.”
I tried to imagine Biff wrangling the hair of smaller, female versions of himself. Biff’s life before he came to Vaygo was mostly off-limits to discussion; I’d gleaned little bits and pieces over the years, but this was the first I’d heard of any siblings.
“How many?” I asked.
“Two.”
“Are they…?”
“Dunno.” He looked away. “You gonna be late.” Conversation over.
I met Thomas out front of Biff’s apartment building so he wouldn’t have to park; the Steed was so old and battered that it might’ve been safe to leave it alone for a while, but neither of us wanted to take any chances.
Thomas looked far fresher and well-rested than anyone had a right to after days in a truck. His hair was freshly gelled, his face shaved, and his hand-me-down suit (which was hanging from a hook on the door) looked liked it’d been freshly pressed just for the occasion. He even had a rose pinned to the button hole—a detail I’d forgotten.
He saw my dismayed face. “I got one for you.” He popped the glove compartment, narrowly avoided a tidal wave of maps, and pulled out a few dandelions bound with florist’s tape, which worked far better for my outfit than a rose.
“Best co-date,” I said, pinning the fuzzy yellow mass to my lapel. “Did you… you made this, didn’t you?”
“I’m a man of many talents and nobody sells dandelion boutonnieres, babe. You ready for this?”
“Born ready,” I declared. “Let’s go wreck Raige’s prom!”
And off we went.
Thomas had flowers to give Raige. I didn’t. What use could Raige possibly have for two bouquets? I had a hard enough time coming up with a purpose for one.
While we trucked up from south Vaygo to Oasis Valley, Thomas told me about his road trip, which admittedly seemed to have been pretty great, asides from the near-constant threat of heat stroke. But as the scenery changed from rock and sand to green lawns and McMansions, Thomas’s mood changed. When he parked in front of Raige’s dad’s enormous house, he turned off the truck, looked me dead in the eye, and said, “I want to handle Raige’s dad.”
“What? No! I can handle him!”
Thomas rolled his eyes at me. “Babe, who’s the charming one?”
“You.”
“Who’s the one with the social skills?”
“You.”
“Who’s the one who doesn’t have issues with authority?”
I made a face, but didn’t really have a leg to stand on.
“Look, this is important to Raige. Are any of us going to have any fun if you get in some big fight with his dad before we even get there? Then he’ll be sad, we’ll all be stressed out, and everything will suck. I don’t want this to suck.”
However I felt about Raige’s dad, I had to concede that I too wanted us to have a good time. If Thomas thought he could manage the miserable bear-walrus, well, let him. Me, I was still hoping that Raige would answer the door and bolt out before his dad even knew what was happening so we could avoid the whole thing.
Thomas got dressed in the truck (he even managed to make the process look somewhat graceful), put on extra deodorant, and straightened his lapels and boutonniere. “How do I look?”
I gave him a thumbs up.
He nodded, took a deep breath as though to prepare himself, and we got out to do battle.
Luck was not with us. Raige’s dad answered the doorbell and loomed at us like we were Mormons out to sell him house insurance in Heaven.
Thomas didn’t flinch. He gave Raige’s dad a dazzling smile, held up his bouquet of roses, and said, “Hi Mr. Unnigrutt, we’re here to take Raige to prom.”
Raige’s dad just stood there like a statue. I couldn’t read his face. Behind him, Raige skidded into view from the hall like he’d been running down the stairs, still buttoning his shirt and looking like he’d just been caught eating puppies.
“Hi guys!” he squeaked. “I was just—”
“I want to talk to you,” Raige’s dad said. “All of you.”
Silence. Raige looked petrified. I fidgeted and looked to Thomas, who seemed completely unruffled.
“Sure, Mr. Unnigrutt,” he said, and when there was space, he entered to give Raige the roses and kiss his cheek. “These’re for you. M.D. didn’t get you any.”
I didn’t respond; I was still watching Raige’s dad watch me. His face still didn’t tell me anything.
“Are you coming in or staying out?” he asked.
I came in.
After the heat of Thomas’s truck and Biff’s apartment, the air-conditioned house felt uncomfortably chilly. Raige’s dad ushered us into the living room and sat in a chair he’d pulled from the dining room; I guess the recliners didn’t give him the correct aura of authority. Raige and Thomas took the white leather couch. Me, I stayed standing. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but I didn’t like it one bit.
There was an uncomfortable silence, and then Raige’s dad cleared his throat.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Thank god Thomas had hammered into me that he was in charge; otherwise I would’ve surely said something regrettable. As it was, I looked to Thomas, and Thomas said, “huh?”
“I don’t necessarily agree with what you’re doing or who you’re doing it with,” this was said to Raige, “but I want to be a part of your life and I’m not going to get that, the way I’ve been acting.”
Raige said nothing. Neither did I—I was too busy wondering who this imposter was and what he’d done with Raige’s real dad. Thomas kept smiling, but he’d smile through anything.
“I don’t even dislike you, really,” Raige’s dad said to Thomas, but then he pointed a sausage finger at me and admitted, “You, I don’t like.”
Oh thank god, still the same guy. “I don’t like you either,” I said.
He just nodded, as though this was what he expected, and we both took a moment to relax in the comforting familiarity of our mutual dislike.
After a moment, he said, “So, have a good time. Use the car if you like. Be back by one.”
“You’re the boss, Mr. Unnigrutt,” Thomas said with a salute. He was still smiling, somehow.
I didn’t say anything. It just seemed the safest thing to do.
Raige seemed as stymied as I was, and finally settled on, “Thanks, Dad.”
For a moment, Raige’s dad softened, looked almost deeply sad. “Have a good time, son,” he said.
And then we made our escape before he could change his mind.
“I hate to say this, but we should use the Lexus,” I said as we headed across the front yard. “It’s actually intended to fit three.”
“I admit it’ll be pretty hot in there…” Thomas admitted.
But then Raige burst into tears and rendered the discussion moot; since he was too upset to drive, we would take the Steed. It meant I was squished between the door and a box of protein bars while I pulled comforting duty, but that was okay; I’d learned at least something over the years. I just patted Raige on the back and let him cry all over my ruffles and blow his nose on my glorified hanky (Thomas called it a pocket-square) while Thomas kept a concerned eye on him as best he could while still watching the road.
“Yo,” he said when he had a spare moment. “I’m just… gonna hit Tarzan’s ‘cause it’s like the only thing in Vaygo I can get to without a map and I’m starving. That cool? We cool?”
I nodded and even Raige managed a tearful “okay.”
So we ended up at our usual booth at Tarzan’s Pizza. At least Raige seemed to feel better was surrounded by the familiar heavy wooden furniture and pulp art of men in loincloths. Thomas took over comforting duty while I went and made our order—not that I really needed to. We’d been in so many times that the lady behind the counter knew our order by heart. And thank god for Vaygo social mores, which meant that under no circumstances were you to pay unusual attention to a crying stranger. She just gave me the Styrofoam cups with less disinterest than required, and I went to fill them up. Mountain Dew for Raige, iced tea for Thomas, and plain water for me. Maybe I couldn’t magically fix things for Raige, but at least I could hydrate him.
By the time I came back, his face was puffy and red, but he was no longer crying. “Thanks,” he sniffled, and took the soda.
I gave Thomas his iced tea and then sat across from them with my water, fidgeting the cup between my hands. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Sorry. I just… didn’t expect that from Dad. Seriously, I thought he was going to throw me out or something, but…” his hands fluttered. “You’d think I’d be all happy. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
I didn’t know what to say, so looked to Thomas again for help. He said, “Maybe it’s like a tension thing.”
“Yeah?” Raige said.
“Like, you’ve been holding it together and doing college apps like a beast, and now you can maybe breathe some.”
“Do you really think your dad’s pulled his head out of his butt?” I asked dubiously before Thomas could kick me in the shin. “I dunno…”
Thomas shot me a look telling me not to ruin this, but Raige nodded. “Dad’s not like that. He only says stuff he means. I mean, I think it’ll be weird, still, but I’m not scared he’ll kick me out now.” He took a deep shuddery breath, looked at us, really looked at us, and smiled. “I like your outfits.”
“It’s the best, right?” I said. “I can’t believe it was so cheap…”
And after that, things were okay. We ate our pizza. We talked. Raige smiled and laughed and the more time passed, the happier he looked, like a curse had been lifted or something.
Since we’d had to bolt from Raige’s house before he finished getting dressed, Raige had to knot his tie and finish up in the Tarzan’s bathroom. When he came out, I was pleased to note that we wouldn’t look like a troop of penguins; Raige wasn’t wearing a stitch of black.
“I hate it,” he said. “Wearing it, I mean. It reminds me of funerals.”
Instead, he was wearing a sort of grayish tweedy thing with a blue tie and brown shoes. He looked like a colossal dork, just the way I liked him. Thomas whipped out a dandelion/rose combo boutonniere he’d made for Raige, which made us both laugh. I put it in Raige’s button-hole, Thomas adjusted it so it wouldn’t droop, and off we went to have our quintessential high school experience.
It took us a while to find the place, and even longer to find some free parking, but we finally parked about a block away from the actual prom itself. While I tried to cram the Vaygo map back into the over-stuffed glove compartment, Raige started to tense up.
“What if people freak out?” he asked.
“Then I’ll give you tongue,” Thomas said.
I put my arm around Raige’s shoulders—sitting down, I could actually reach. “Think of it this way, milquetoast,” I said. “You never have to see any of these stupid bozos again.”
“Actually, I still have grad—”
“Shh. Never again.”
“Man, your grades are so good, they can’t do anything to you,” Thomas said. “You already got into VU, right?”
“It’s in process,” Raige said primly.
“Well, there you go! Let’s dance.”
The junior prom (which, due to Raige’s early graduation, was his senior prom by proxy) was held in some community hall… but this being Oasis Valley, it was a way fancier community hall than I’d ever been in. Getting in required searches to insure we weren’t carrying any alcohol, drugs, or condoms, plus us signing in, and here there was a slight problem. Turned out that if you weren’t a student at Oasis Valley High, you officially needed an Oasis Valley date… and only one was allowed, of the expected gender. So they’d let me in, but not Thomas—which nuked my idea of giving Thomas the ticket and just finding my own way in, probably through the window. For a moment, it looked like Raige might go back to crying.
But then Thomas stepped in. I don’t know how he did it, but for such a horn-dog, he could come off as incredibly wholesome when he wanted to be, and the prom guards must have been moms. It also might’ve helped that all three tickets had been paid in advance. Regardless, after a whole lot of “ma’am” and “sir” and “gosh, I don’t know how that happened, but we all got ready” and “I had no idea,” he got us in before Raige could melt down or I could get security on my tail.
The dance space in the community hall had been decorated with twinkling white Christmas lights, lots of dark blue, purple, and black crepe paper, and… glow in the dark stars? Then I realized the disco ball had been made up with rings.
“Is this… supposed to be outer space?” I asked.
Raige made the face that he said he thought something was unforgivably corny but didn’t want to admit to it. “The theme is ‘Out of This World, Class of ‘05.’”
Part of me was hoping we’d end up with appropriate silly sci-fi music and songs like “Planet Claire,” but no such luck; it was just Top Ten Radio, curated by a DJ who kept making atrocious space puns.
While Raige went over to say hello to his marching band crew, I sidled over to Thomas, trying to keep a pleasant expression on my face. “You aren’t going to be able to treat him like your boyfriend without getting thrown out, are you?”
Thomas kept smiling. “Nope.”
I sucked my teeth. Then I said, “Let me handle it.”
He raised an eyebrow at me.
“Look, you have the social skills, you have the charm, you took care of Raige’s dad. Let me take care of this.”
“You’re the anti-authority,” he said, and by the time Raige was back, I had my plan.
It took Raige a while to relax, but we made bad jokes and silly dance moves until he was smiling and laughing again. All three of us danced together to pop music, being careful not to touch or give any hints we were anything but friends. No problem for me, but I could tell Thomas had to work at it.
In-between sets, some of Raige’s band buddies came up to talk and ask for introductions. I worried Raige would stumble, but I guess after his dad, he was out of things to freak out about. He just said, “This is my boyfriend, Thomas, and my girlfriend, M.D.”
At least some of them must’ve known already, because they made sounds of recognition and shook our hands, saying things like, “Hi, I’m Ashley, first trumpet concert,” or, “I’m Chris, snare section leader,” and we pretended to know what they were talking about. Others looked super puzzled or suspicious but didn’t say anything. One girl snorted, which made me say, “Excuse you.” A few guys thumped Raige on the back and acted like he’d won the lottery.
A surprising number asked what school we were from. Thomas and I just said, “out-of-state,” and that seemed to satisfy them.
After that, Raige seemed to perk up completely, apparently oblivious to the whispering that folks were doing around him. We danced hard to some fast songs, along with a few of Raige’s band friends in a circle. Then, as the DJ switched to sappy slow music, folks started to pair off. Thomas and Raige gave me a questioning look.
“Oh, go ahead,” I said with a shooing gesture. “No offense, but slow-dancing isn’t my thing.”
Thomas spun off with Raige. Me, I kept an eye on the whisperers and loaded up on snacks and punch. Sure, I’d just eaten, but I was going to need the extra energy.
The boys made it through that set okay, and then it switched to fast music again and we were insulated by a horde of marching band kids, but I could tell we wouldn’t stay lucky much longer. A little social ripple was making its way out from Raige, and more and more people were starting to give us weird looks. Even Thomas’s charm wasn’t going to save us from this one.
When we got a break between songs, I told Raige. For a moment, his shoulders slumped, and I thought he’d break down again, but then he straightened up and said, “I don’t care.”
I wasn’t sure I believed him, but there were bigger fish to fry. “Well, that’s good,” I said, “because I have a plan.”
I’d anticipated on having to do some convincing, but to my surprise, Raige went for it right off the bat. Maybe he’d finally had enough. Maybe he was reassured by the knowledge that his marching band crew was still sticking by him, his dad wasn’t going to throw him out, and VU was highly unlikely to reject him. Or maybe I’d just been a bad influence on him. Whatever the reason, he started dancing like it was his last night on earth, and Thomas and I danced with him.
When the music switched to slow again, him and Thomas paired off again, and this time, they didn’t act like they were being chaperoned. They kissed, they danced, and Thomas did what he did best.
And so did I. When I saw the chaperon coming for them, I dashed in to put myself between them.
“Hi!” I said. “Great party, right?”
She tried to get around me, then made a double-take as she recognized me; she must’ve been one of the people Thomas had sweet-talked. “Aren’t you his date?” she said.
“One of them, yes, and I want you to leave us alone.” Then, remembering Thomas’s effect on adults, “please. Ma’am.”
Apparently I wasn’t as good at it as he was. “This is against school policy. Do you even go here?”
What was with these people and their deep abiding interest in where I went to school? “My boyfriend goes here.”
“One date per student. That’s the rule.” She didn’t seem to know what to do with me, that I wasn’t upset about my boyfriend dancing with someone else. “And no… no naughty displays.”
I squinted at her. I glanced at Thomas and Raige, who were just slow-dancing. By Thomas’s standards of naughtiness, that was nothing. Plus there were certainly plenty of couples around them who seemed to be trying to exchange as many bodily fluids as possible without actually removing any of their clothes, but I guess they didn’t count.
“What exactly are your standards?” I asked.
You’d think adults wouldn’t pause to have an argument with me, but I kept that woman going for way longer than I expected. Maybe shoving me out of the way just because I was annoying seemed too drastic, or maybe all of this was making her uncomfortable enough that she felt like she had to justify herself to me, which was fine; it meant all I had to do was feed her just enough lines to keep her going. She obviously wanted to avoid a scene, and stay polite, and my refusing to just go along with it seemed to set her aback.
Eventually, she figured out what I was doing, though, and stopped engaging with me. I figured getting into a fistfight with a prom-mom would upset Raige, so I decided to keep it clean and start setting off sparklers instead.
They weren’t dangerous, of course; nor were they real. They were just colored fountains of light, bio-generated at a distance by yours truly. It wasn’t exactly what my abilities were meant to be used for—I got the sense it was the Dellan equivalent of learning to vomit in different colors, or fart the national anthem—and they were nowhere near the kind of show Biff could pull off, but that was fine. My goal wasn’t to impress or scare, just distract.
It certainly got the chaperon's attention for another little bit, and Raige and Thomas took their cue to escape. I myself followed them once they were good and gone; Biff could pull a pink elephant parade while driving and talking at the same time, but I was nowhere near his league and needed to stay focused and nearby.
By the time I made my own exit, Thomas and Raige had a good heart start on me and were full-on sprinting across the parking lot. Sure, why not, I didn’t want to hang around here either. No way could I catch up with them, but I made it to the Steed right as Thomas got it started. I vaulted into the truck bed, got my foot caught, narrowly avoided plowing face-first into the liner, and then off we went.
Well, I mean, a few blocks. Just enough to get some distance before Thomas pulled over to get me into the cab.
Raige was still doubled over laughing in the passenger seat, and he hugged me as I came in.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Alas, my formal clothes.” My knees and elbows were blackened from the crash with the liner. “I’m fine, though.”
“Cool,” Thomas said. “You think anyone got my license number?”
“I didn’t see anybody chasing us. Do you really think they’d take you down for that?”
“I don’t know how these people work! They pitched a fit because we paid for our tickets to a school we don’t even go to!” He turned to Raige. “You okay, man?”
Raige slumped back, giggling. “Oh man, Dad’s going to kill me.” I fully expected him to melt down again, but he seemed remarkably calm, even entertained.
When we arrived back at the house, the lights were still on, and when we came in, we found Raige’s dad in a florid maroon bathrobe, talking on the cordless phone in his high-powered executive voice.
“I see. Yes, I understand. A disturbance, you say?” He saw us come in and pointed to the floor in a stay-put gesture. Thomas and I each took one of Raige’s hands. “What do you mean by that? No, you’re being vague. Say it again, clearly this time.”
Well, at least Raige’s dad talked like that to everybody, including other adults.
“I see. I see.” He raised an eyebrow at us, but otherwise showed no emotion. “Is that so? Well, that’s your business. Yes, I will. No, I don’t care. Good night.”
He hung up. We just stood there, Raige and Thomas sweaty from the run and the drive, me with my clothes scuffed and dirty.
Raige’s dad looked us over, and tightened the sash on his bath robe as though it were his most professional tie. “That was your school. They said there was a disruption.”
“Well…” Thomas started.
“I—” I began.
He froze us both with a look. “I wasn’t talking to either of you.” To Raige, “well?”
For a moment, I thought Raige might buckle. But then he got a look of fierce determination on his freckled face, straightened to his full height, and I realized he was taller than his dad, just barely. He squeezed both our hands tight.
“They wouldn’t let them in to the dance, even though I paid for the tickets. Thomas got in by pretending not to be my date, and I just got sick of it and started dancing with both of them. They didn’t like it, and we left before they could kick us out.”
“I see,” his dad said. “They said it was…” he made a face like he’d swallowed a goldfish, and I could just see the word ‘naughty,’ go through his head, but instead he said, “licentious.”
Raige turned red, but he also looked angry, which wasn’t a first, but pretty close.
“We were slow-dancing,” he said. “God, Dad, I only just started dating them, and it freaked me out even going to prom with them. Do you seriously think I’d…”
Raige’s dad snorted, and I realized he was almost smiling. “No, I didn’t. I may not be winning any fatherhood awards, but I didn’t think I knew you that poorly.”
“Well, good, because that’s not what happened.”
I raised my hand, and it seemed to work; Raige’s dad looked at me. “Yes, what is it?”
“Frankly, guy, I like your son a lot—”
“Daww,” Thomas said.
“Can it—but I would throw up before I did any horizontal hoedowning with him in public.”
Raige’s dad looked at Thomas, who just spread his hands and said, “I don’t want to get arrested.”
“That’s what I thought,” Raige’s dad said. “Well, the school asked me to talk to you, and I have. Personally, I don’t care. You’ve been so well-behaved for so long, it’s about time you did something to irritate them. I’m glad.”
Raige said, “thank you,” probably because he didn’t know what else to say. Me, I was still waiting for the punchline.
It didn’t come. Instead, Raige’s dad looked at me and Thomas and asked, “Do you have someplace to stay tonight?”
“Yes,” I said quickly. Regardless of his sudden personality switch, no way was I spending the night under the same roof as Raige’s dad.
Thomas said, “No, sir, and I’d love it if I could stay here.” Suck-up.
“Good. I want you sleeping in a different room, and I want your doors open, but otherwise, I’ll see you in the morning.” And he swept off in his ridiculous bathrobe.
We looked to Raige, who seemed floored.
“Holy shit,” he said. “I think he’s actually proud of me.”
...
It was just as well Biff had given me his spare key. After all the excitement of prom and Raige’s dad being stolen by body-snatchers, I was all worn out and my elbows and knees were feeling their collisions with Thomas’s truck. Shinnying up the drain pipe for the fire escape just didn’t appeal.
To my surprise, Biff was still there, wearing a wet shirt and making enough pasta salad to feed Italy.
“Please tell me you didn’t wait up for me,” I groaned. “I’ve already got Raige’s dad liking me and I can’t take any more unpleasant surprises.”
He responded by turning around, pulling a camera from the counter beside him, and snapping a picture of me. When the Polaroid popped out of its slot, he gave it a few shakes to help it develop, looked it over, and smirked.
“I hate you,” I said.
“Hate you too,” he said, and snapped another.
I ignored him and staggered to the shower to wash off the party. By the time I was out, Biff was off to work, but he’d left the second photo on the arm of the sofa with the pillow and the blanket, along with a bowl of noodles and pesto. As I scarfed them down (the energy for that light show had to get replaced), I looked the Polaroid over.
My clothes were mussed, my braid coming undone, and I was rolling my eyes at the camera. On the back, Biff had written the date. I guess this one was for me to keep. I could hang it on the wall at home, or maybe at my workplace; Scorch and Flame would probably love it…
I fell asleep before I could decide.
The Prom Story
Series: Infinity Smashed
Summary: Raige, M.D., and Thomas are determined to go to prom and deal with Raige's dad.
Word Count: 6600
Notes: This story takes place immediately after the events of Coming Out to Raige’s Dad. It was sponsored by the Patreon crew, and would you believe I first started writing it during the Homeless Year? Took five years to actually make it.
Thomas opened the front door, bleary-eyed and still in his boxer shorts and undershirt.
“Morning,” I greeted. “Sorry for the hour, but I wanted to make sure you hadn’t headed out to work yet.”
“Nah, it’s fine,” Thomas said, yawning. “I was up already. You hungry? I got waffles.”
“I won’t be long,” I said, following him in. I had to give him credit; he was obviously groggy, but holding a conversation. Raige needed at least an hour, plus caffeine, and Biff… well, I’d never seen Biff up and verbal before noon.
Nobody else was in the house. Presumably Thomas’s mom had already headed on duty, his little brother to school, and who knew what his dad was off doing. The kitchen was clean and sunny and smelled like bacon, a platter of which Thomas shoved at me. I took a slice.
“So what’s up?” he asked.
“Raige’s prom is coming up.”
“I thought he wasn’t going?”
“I think he’s not going because he’s worried about the social ramifications of bringing two people to prom, one of them male. But I asked him, and after hemming and hawing for a few minutes, he admitted he wanted to go.”
Thomas nodded and shoved a couple frozen waffles into the toaster, then stood there waiting for them to pop. “Cool. So you ask him?”
I went to go search for butter and syrup in the fridge, since Thomas didn’t seem quite up to it yet. “Yup. He said yes. I also said I wanted you to come too and he agreed, but if you want to do the whole big romantic gesture thing, I don’t think he’d mind.”
“Sure.” He gave me a thumbs up. “I’ll call him when we’re awake.”
The waffles popped, and Thomas pulled them out and tossed them on plates. I passed him the butter and syrup and he made happy sounds, then asked, “So that’s all cool, but what’s the rush? Not like I’m not happy to see you, but you could’ve just left a note or something.”
I winced and twiddled my fingers. “Well, you see… it’s like this...”
Thomas looked up from his waffles, mouth full. There was no avoiding this.
“I don’t have anything to wear.”
Thomas set his fork down. His eyes were starting to gleam. “You mean…?”
“Yes. I am formally requesting your assistance.” I made obeisance over the kitchen table. “Please take me shopping, oh cool person with fashion sense.”
You have never heard such an evil laugh from a guy.
…
It wasn’t as though I was looking forward to going shopping with Thomas, or at all. It was just that he was the only human I trusted to make good choices in that department, and I wanted to at least be presentable at this absurd adolescent rite of passage. It was important to Raige, even if it wasn’t all that important to me. And Thomas, at least, knew what a dollar was worth.
It took us a while to sort out our schedules, but within a couple weeks, we went on our shopping expedition. Thomas seemed absolutely delighted to be going to some secondhand fancy dress shop to find something to wear, which was more than I could say for me.
“These are hideous,” I complained as we wandered the aisles of taffeta and chiffon, “and impractical.”
“What, you planning to fight a bear at prom?”
“Raige’s dad is only a short evolutionary hop away, but regardless, it’s going to be crowded with hormonal teenagers that I don’t want to get mental flashes of. I need something that covers me from the neck down.”
Thomas looked me over; it was clear by his face that he’d forgotten. “Yeah, dresses’re out, then. Don’t think we could pull that. How do you feel about tuxes?”
I rolled my eyes to the ceiling, shuffled my feet, and whined.
“C’mon, you gotta like something. You can punch Raige’s dad in a tux.”
“But they’re all so… black. We’ll look like a troop of penguins.”
The more exasperated Thomas got, the more he sounded like his mother. “Look, babe, those are your options, and you should own at least one formal Earth thing. Remember what you had to wear for your emancipation hearing?”
I shuddered. Yes, I did. “At least let’s try and find one that isn’t black.”
“The longer you stand around bitching, the longer it’ll take.”
I tried, really I did. But men’s suits, I discovered, were the most boring clothes on the planet.
Until we found the discount rack.
“Oh my god,” I said. “I want it.”
Thomas looked like I’d brought a rabid raccoon home for a pet. “Of course you do.”
It looked like something that Fred Astaire would’ve worn, had he lived into the ‘70s and consulted Liberace. It was gold and glittery and had enough ruffles to tie Raige’s dad up with and gag him afterward. Plus it came with a matching bolo tie. How could I say no to a bolo tie?
And this modern marvel of fashion was discounted so steeply, you’d think someone had been murdered in it. Even I could afford it—well, almost, after bartering with Thomas.
“Aren’t you getting anything?” I asked as I tried it on. (It hung off me, but who cared?)
“Nah, I got Marcus’s old tux; it’ll be fine. If you weren’t so freaking tiny, I’d ask around for you, but—”
“No way. I’m committed. I’ve found my formal outfit for the rest of my life.” I threw the curtain back and came out.
Thomas circled around, looking me over and rubbing his chin. “Needs roller skates.”
“Yes.”
“And hemming. And a belt. That, I can hook you up with. Now let’s get out of here.”
Money changed hands, and I was saved from shopping any further. Providence divine!
As we climbed into the Steed (the ancient rusty orange pick-up Thomas had joyfully inherited) and he rolled down the windows to try and make it less of an oven, I said, “Hey Thomas?”
“What’s up?”
“Thanks for this.”
“No problem. That outfit’s you. Like Vegas threw up, but you.”
“Not that. Well, not just that. But I sort of figured you’d want to shove me into a dress and give me a makeover or something.”
Thomas thought about it. “Maybe in the early days, I would’ve,” he admitted, “but now it feels like a dick move. And kinda gross. You know, like those photos where weird old people dress their pets up like George Washington and Betsy Ross, and you can just feel how much that wiener dog hates it.”
“I would definitely be that wiener dog in the Betsy Ross costume.”
“Yeah, and this’s the only prom any of us’re getting, so we should have fun and wear what we want. Not like we’re ever setting foot in Raige’s school again.”
The next few chunks of my Earth time were spent with Thomas and some friend of his (who was apparently studying Textiles and Apparel at UT) trying to bootstrap Liberace’s love-child into something that wouldn’t get me burned as a fashion witch. She measured and pinned and hemmed, and by the end, the outfit would stay on by itself without tripping me. She seemed pretty pleased with herself and even remarked how my outfit was “vintage,” which as far as I could tell meant it was so old and outdated that it came out the other side and became cool again.
Thomas, of course, didn’t need his friend’s services. He could’ve worn a trash bag and made it look good, so that hand-me-down tux from his older brother looked like it’d been made for him.
“Wait,” I said, “I recognize that! That’s what you wore to my hearing, right?”
He beamed and gave me a double thumbs-up. “Like I said: always have at least one formal outfit. Besides, Jasmina already altered it for me.”
His friend grinned and tossed her tailor’s tape over her neck like a feather boa.
After some brief discussion on who was doing what, we split. Thomas planned to drive to Arizona because he said he didn’t want to have to rely on Raige’s dad for a car, and also he apparently thought driving a thousand miles in a truck with no AC across the hottest part of the country in May would be fun.
“I’m making a road trip out of it,” he said. “I’ll hit Carlsbad, Roswell, the Petrified Forest, and the Grand Canyon on the way.”
“You’re insane.”
“You say. You’re staying with Biff. His AC’s not much better.”
True, but Biff on his worst day was still head and shoulders over Raige’s dad as far as I was concerned. They couldn’t have paid me enough to stay there. Besides, I’d slept in Raige’s house before, and it’d been awful. The rooms were too big and the pillows too fat. Biff had a nice saggy couch with flat pillows, like god intended, and I always slept better there.
Biff didn’t seem to know what to do with the idea of me going to prom, so mostly ignored it, which suited me well. We hung my suit on the bathroom hinge where the door normally would’ve been attached, since that was the only place to hang it, and then we went about our afternoon as usual.
“Do you have an iron?” I asked.
“Do I look like I got an iron?” He glanced up from the blender he was making smoothies with—it was way too hot to cook, and he was surviving by soaking his shirt in water every couple hours. “You coming back here tonight?”
“Most likely.”
He reached into his pocket, tossed a key at me. “Here. Got one made so you don’t gotta climb through my fucking window in that get-up. Someone’ll shoot you.”
“You’re the best.” I added it to the ring, along with the spares to Thomas’s and Raige’s places, plus Bobcat’s Jaunter’s League space. “My dream of being as cool as the school janitor is closer to fruition everyday.”
We ate (Biff’s breakfast, my lunch), played some cards and futzed around, and then I started getting ready. I braved Biff’s ice-cold door-less shower, got dressed, tightened my bolo tie, and examined the result in the mirror. Something was missing.
I pulled the ponytail holder out of my hair, brushed it out, made a face. I looked like the most infamous of glam rock, resurrected. I tried pulling my hair back again, double-tying it. Even worse. I took it down again with a sound of exasperation.
Biff had put down the cards to watch me from the card table. He jerked his chin at me inquiringly, but I didn’t answer, still staring at my reflection and trying to figure out what was missing.
His chair screeched back on the linoleum and I looked up. He was standing and pointing to the empty chair.
“Sit.”
I sat, and he took the brush and ponytail holder from me. Gripping the band in his teeth, he brushed my hair out, separated it into three sections, and began braiding with quick, methodical movements. He didn’t pull anything. As he brushed against me, I got bits and pieces of his mind: quiet, calm, focused only on the task. Then a sensory bubble: braiding soft cotton fluff hair through his fingers, coarse and curly—
He finished and pulled back before the memory could finish, then conjured up my reflection so I could see the results. I turned my head back and forth to check the details. Much better.
“I didn’t know you could do hair,” I remarked.
Biff looked offended. “I got sisters.”
That got my attention. “You do?”
“Yeah. Once.”
I tried to imagine Biff wrangling the hair of smaller, female versions of himself. Biff’s life before he came to Vaygo was mostly off-limits to discussion; I’d gleaned little bits and pieces over the years, but this was the first I’d heard of any siblings.
“How many?” I asked.
“Two.”
“Are they…?”
“Dunno.” He looked away. “You gonna be late.” Conversation over.
I met Thomas out front of Biff’s apartment building so he wouldn’t have to park; the Steed was so old and battered that it might’ve been safe to leave it alone for a while, but neither of us wanted to take any chances.
Thomas looked far fresher and well-rested than anyone had a right to after days in a truck. His hair was freshly gelled, his face shaved, and his hand-me-down suit (which was hanging from a hook on the door) looked liked it’d been freshly pressed just for the occasion. He even had a rose pinned to the button hole—a detail I’d forgotten.
He saw my dismayed face. “I got one for you.” He popped the glove compartment, narrowly avoided a tidal wave of maps, and pulled out a few dandelions bound with florist’s tape, which worked far better for my outfit than a rose.
“Best co-date,” I said, pinning the fuzzy yellow mass to my lapel. “Did you… you made this, didn’t you?”
“I’m a man of many talents and nobody sells dandelion boutonnieres, babe. You ready for this?”
“Born ready,” I declared. “Let’s go wreck Raige’s prom!”
And off we went.
Thomas had flowers to give Raige. I didn’t. What use could Raige possibly have for two bouquets? I had a hard enough time coming up with a purpose for one.
While we trucked up from south Vaygo to Oasis Valley, Thomas told me about his road trip, which admittedly seemed to have been pretty great, asides from the near-constant threat of heat stroke. But as the scenery changed from rock and sand to green lawns and McMansions, Thomas’s mood changed. When he parked in front of Raige’s dad’s enormous house, he turned off the truck, looked me dead in the eye, and said, “I want to handle Raige’s dad.”
“What? No! I can handle him!”
Thomas rolled his eyes at me. “Babe, who’s the charming one?”
“You.”
“Who’s the one with the social skills?”
“You.”
“Who’s the one who doesn’t have issues with authority?”
I made a face, but didn’t really have a leg to stand on.
“Look, this is important to Raige. Are any of us going to have any fun if you get in some big fight with his dad before we even get there? Then he’ll be sad, we’ll all be stressed out, and everything will suck. I don’t want this to suck.”
However I felt about Raige’s dad, I had to concede that I too wanted us to have a good time. If Thomas thought he could manage the miserable bear-walrus, well, let him. Me, I was still hoping that Raige would answer the door and bolt out before his dad even knew what was happening so we could avoid the whole thing.
Thomas got dressed in the truck (he even managed to make the process look somewhat graceful), put on extra deodorant, and straightened his lapels and boutonniere. “How do I look?”
I gave him a thumbs up.
He nodded, took a deep breath as though to prepare himself, and we got out to do battle.
Luck was not with us. Raige’s dad answered the doorbell and loomed at us like we were Mormons out to sell him house insurance in Heaven.
Thomas didn’t flinch. He gave Raige’s dad a dazzling smile, held up his bouquet of roses, and said, “Hi Mr. Unnigrutt, we’re here to take Raige to prom.”
Raige’s dad just stood there like a statue. I couldn’t read his face. Behind him, Raige skidded into view from the hall like he’d been running down the stairs, still buttoning his shirt and looking like he’d just been caught eating puppies.
“Hi guys!” he squeaked. “I was just—”
“I want to talk to you,” Raige’s dad said. “All of you.”
Silence. Raige looked petrified. I fidgeted and looked to Thomas, who seemed completely unruffled.
“Sure, Mr. Unnigrutt,” he said, and when there was space, he entered to give Raige the roses and kiss his cheek. “These’re for you. M.D. didn’t get you any.”
I didn’t respond; I was still watching Raige’s dad watch me. His face still didn’t tell me anything.
“Are you coming in or staying out?” he asked.
I came in.
After the heat of Thomas’s truck and Biff’s apartment, the air-conditioned house felt uncomfortably chilly. Raige’s dad ushered us into the living room and sat in a chair he’d pulled from the dining room; I guess the recliners didn’t give him the correct aura of authority. Raige and Thomas took the white leather couch. Me, I stayed standing. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but I didn’t like it one bit.
There was an uncomfortable silence, and then Raige’s dad cleared his throat.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Thank god Thomas had hammered into me that he was in charge; otherwise I would’ve surely said something regrettable. As it was, I looked to Thomas, and Thomas said, “huh?”
“I don’t necessarily agree with what you’re doing or who you’re doing it with,” this was said to Raige, “but I want to be a part of your life and I’m not going to get that, the way I’ve been acting.”
Raige said nothing. Neither did I—I was too busy wondering who this imposter was and what he’d done with Raige’s real dad. Thomas kept smiling, but he’d smile through anything.
“I don’t even dislike you, really,” Raige’s dad said to Thomas, but then he pointed a sausage finger at me and admitted, “You, I don’t like.”
Oh thank god, still the same guy. “I don’t like you either,” I said.
He just nodded, as though this was what he expected, and we both took a moment to relax in the comforting familiarity of our mutual dislike.
After a moment, he said, “So, have a good time. Use the car if you like. Be back by one.”
“You’re the boss, Mr. Unnigrutt,” Thomas said with a salute. He was still smiling, somehow.
I didn’t say anything. It just seemed the safest thing to do.
Raige seemed as stymied as I was, and finally settled on, “Thanks, Dad.”
For a moment, Raige’s dad softened, looked almost deeply sad. “Have a good time, son,” he said.
And then we made our escape before he could change his mind.
“I hate to say this, but we should use the Lexus,” I said as we headed across the front yard. “It’s actually intended to fit three.”
“I admit it’ll be pretty hot in there…” Thomas admitted.
But then Raige burst into tears and rendered the discussion moot; since he was too upset to drive, we would take the Steed. It meant I was squished between the door and a box of protein bars while I pulled comforting duty, but that was okay; I’d learned at least something over the years. I just patted Raige on the back and let him cry all over my ruffles and blow his nose on my glorified hanky (Thomas called it a pocket-square) while Thomas kept a concerned eye on him as best he could while still watching the road.
“Yo,” he said when he had a spare moment. “I’m just… gonna hit Tarzan’s ‘cause it’s like the only thing in Vaygo I can get to without a map and I’m starving. That cool? We cool?”
I nodded and even Raige managed a tearful “okay.”
So we ended up at our usual booth at Tarzan’s Pizza. At least Raige seemed to feel better was surrounded by the familiar heavy wooden furniture and pulp art of men in loincloths. Thomas took over comforting duty while I went and made our order—not that I really needed to. We’d been in so many times that the lady behind the counter knew our order by heart. And thank god for Vaygo social mores, which meant that under no circumstances were you to pay unusual attention to a crying stranger. She just gave me the Styrofoam cups with less disinterest than required, and I went to fill them up. Mountain Dew for Raige, iced tea for Thomas, and plain water for me. Maybe I couldn’t magically fix things for Raige, but at least I could hydrate him.
By the time I came back, his face was puffy and red, but he was no longer crying. “Thanks,” he sniffled, and took the soda.
I gave Thomas his iced tea and then sat across from them with my water, fidgeting the cup between my hands. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Sorry. I just… didn’t expect that from Dad. Seriously, I thought he was going to throw me out or something, but…” his hands fluttered. “You’d think I’d be all happy. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
I didn’t know what to say, so looked to Thomas again for help. He said, “Maybe it’s like a tension thing.”
“Yeah?” Raige said.
“Like, you’ve been holding it together and doing college apps like a beast, and now you can maybe breathe some.”
“Do you really think your dad’s pulled his head out of his butt?” I asked dubiously before Thomas could kick me in the shin. “I dunno…”
Thomas shot me a look telling me not to ruin this, but Raige nodded. “Dad’s not like that. He only says stuff he means. I mean, I think it’ll be weird, still, but I’m not scared he’ll kick me out now.” He took a deep shuddery breath, looked at us, really looked at us, and smiled. “I like your outfits.”
“It’s the best, right?” I said. “I can’t believe it was so cheap…”
And after that, things were okay. We ate our pizza. We talked. Raige smiled and laughed and the more time passed, the happier he looked, like a curse had been lifted or something.
Since we’d had to bolt from Raige’s house before he finished getting dressed, Raige had to knot his tie and finish up in the Tarzan’s bathroom. When he came out, I was pleased to note that we wouldn’t look like a troop of penguins; Raige wasn’t wearing a stitch of black.
“I hate it,” he said. “Wearing it, I mean. It reminds me of funerals.”
Instead, he was wearing a sort of grayish tweedy thing with a blue tie and brown shoes. He looked like a colossal dork, just the way I liked him. Thomas whipped out a dandelion/rose combo boutonniere he’d made for Raige, which made us both laugh. I put it in Raige’s button-hole, Thomas adjusted it so it wouldn’t droop, and off we went to have our quintessential high school experience.
It took us a while to find the place, and even longer to find some free parking, but we finally parked about a block away from the actual prom itself. While I tried to cram the Vaygo map back into the over-stuffed glove compartment, Raige started to tense up.
“What if people freak out?” he asked.
“Then I’ll give you tongue,” Thomas said.
I put my arm around Raige’s shoulders—sitting down, I could actually reach. “Think of it this way, milquetoast,” I said. “You never have to see any of these stupid bozos again.”
“Actually, I still have grad—”
“Shh. Never again.”
“Man, your grades are so good, they can’t do anything to you,” Thomas said. “You already got into VU, right?”
“It’s in process,” Raige said primly.
“Well, there you go! Let’s dance.”
The junior prom (which, due to Raige’s early graduation, was his senior prom by proxy) was held in some community hall… but this being Oasis Valley, it was a way fancier community hall than I’d ever been in. Getting in required searches to insure we weren’t carrying any alcohol, drugs, or condoms, plus us signing in, and here there was a slight problem. Turned out that if you weren’t a student at Oasis Valley High, you officially needed an Oasis Valley date… and only one was allowed, of the expected gender. So they’d let me in, but not Thomas—which nuked my idea of giving Thomas the ticket and just finding my own way in, probably through the window. For a moment, it looked like Raige might go back to crying.
But then Thomas stepped in. I don’t know how he did it, but for such a horn-dog, he could come off as incredibly wholesome when he wanted to be, and the prom guards must have been moms. It also might’ve helped that all three tickets had been paid in advance. Regardless, after a whole lot of “ma’am” and “sir” and “gosh, I don’t know how that happened, but we all got ready” and “I had no idea,” he got us in before Raige could melt down or I could get security on my tail.
The dance space in the community hall had been decorated with twinkling white Christmas lights, lots of dark blue, purple, and black crepe paper, and… glow in the dark stars? Then I realized the disco ball had been made up with rings.
“Is this… supposed to be outer space?” I asked.
Raige made the face that he said he thought something was unforgivably corny but didn’t want to admit to it. “The theme is ‘Out of This World, Class of ‘05.’”
Part of me was hoping we’d end up with appropriate silly sci-fi music and songs like “Planet Claire,” but no such luck; it was just Top Ten Radio, curated by a DJ who kept making atrocious space puns.
While Raige went over to say hello to his marching band crew, I sidled over to Thomas, trying to keep a pleasant expression on my face. “You aren’t going to be able to treat him like your boyfriend without getting thrown out, are you?”
Thomas kept smiling. “Nope.”
I sucked my teeth. Then I said, “Let me handle it.”
He raised an eyebrow at me.
“Look, you have the social skills, you have the charm, you took care of Raige’s dad. Let me take care of this.”
“You’re the anti-authority,” he said, and by the time Raige was back, I had my plan.
It took Raige a while to relax, but we made bad jokes and silly dance moves until he was smiling and laughing again. All three of us danced together to pop music, being careful not to touch or give any hints we were anything but friends. No problem for me, but I could tell Thomas had to work at it.
In-between sets, some of Raige’s band buddies came up to talk and ask for introductions. I worried Raige would stumble, but I guess after his dad, he was out of things to freak out about. He just said, “This is my boyfriend, Thomas, and my girlfriend, M.D.”
At least some of them must’ve known already, because they made sounds of recognition and shook our hands, saying things like, “Hi, I’m Ashley, first trumpet concert,” or, “I’m Chris, snare section leader,” and we pretended to know what they were talking about. Others looked super puzzled or suspicious but didn’t say anything. One girl snorted, which made me say, “Excuse you.” A few guys thumped Raige on the back and acted like he’d won the lottery.
A surprising number asked what school we were from. Thomas and I just said, “out-of-state,” and that seemed to satisfy them.
After that, Raige seemed to perk up completely, apparently oblivious to the whispering that folks were doing around him. We danced hard to some fast songs, along with a few of Raige’s band friends in a circle. Then, as the DJ switched to sappy slow music, folks started to pair off. Thomas and Raige gave me a questioning look.
“Oh, go ahead,” I said with a shooing gesture. “No offense, but slow-dancing isn’t my thing.”
Thomas spun off with Raige. Me, I kept an eye on the whisperers and loaded up on snacks and punch. Sure, I’d just eaten, but I was going to need the extra energy.
The boys made it through that set okay, and then it switched to fast music again and we were insulated by a horde of marching band kids, but I could tell we wouldn’t stay lucky much longer. A little social ripple was making its way out from Raige, and more and more people were starting to give us weird looks. Even Thomas’s charm wasn’t going to save us from this one.
When we got a break between songs, I told Raige. For a moment, his shoulders slumped, and I thought he’d break down again, but then he straightened up and said, “I don’t care.”
I wasn’t sure I believed him, but there were bigger fish to fry. “Well, that’s good,” I said, “because I have a plan.”
I’d anticipated on having to do some convincing, but to my surprise, Raige went for it right off the bat. Maybe he’d finally had enough. Maybe he was reassured by the knowledge that his marching band crew was still sticking by him, his dad wasn’t going to throw him out, and VU was highly unlikely to reject him. Or maybe I’d just been a bad influence on him. Whatever the reason, he started dancing like it was his last night on earth, and Thomas and I danced with him.
When the music switched to slow again, him and Thomas paired off again, and this time, they didn’t act like they were being chaperoned. They kissed, they danced, and Thomas did what he did best.
And so did I. When I saw the chaperon coming for them, I dashed in to put myself between them.
“Hi!” I said. “Great party, right?”
She tried to get around me, then made a double-take as she recognized me; she must’ve been one of the people Thomas had sweet-talked. “Aren’t you his date?” she said.
“One of them, yes, and I want you to leave us alone.” Then, remembering Thomas’s effect on adults, “please. Ma’am.”
Apparently I wasn’t as good at it as he was. “This is against school policy. Do you even go here?”
What was with these people and their deep abiding interest in where I went to school? “My boyfriend goes here.”
“One date per student. That’s the rule.” She didn’t seem to know what to do with me, that I wasn’t upset about my boyfriend dancing with someone else. “And no… no naughty displays.”
I squinted at her. I glanced at Thomas and Raige, who were just slow-dancing. By Thomas’s standards of naughtiness, that was nothing. Plus there were certainly plenty of couples around them who seemed to be trying to exchange as many bodily fluids as possible without actually removing any of their clothes, but I guess they didn’t count.
“What exactly are your standards?” I asked.
You’d think adults wouldn’t pause to have an argument with me, but I kept that woman going for way longer than I expected. Maybe shoving me out of the way just because I was annoying seemed too drastic, or maybe all of this was making her uncomfortable enough that she felt like she had to justify herself to me, which was fine; it meant all I had to do was feed her just enough lines to keep her going. She obviously wanted to avoid a scene, and stay polite, and my refusing to just go along with it seemed to set her aback.
Eventually, she figured out what I was doing, though, and stopped engaging with me. I figured getting into a fistfight with a prom-mom would upset Raige, so I decided to keep it clean and start setting off sparklers instead.
They weren’t dangerous, of course; nor were they real. They were just colored fountains of light, bio-generated at a distance by yours truly. It wasn’t exactly what my abilities were meant to be used for—I got the sense it was the Dellan equivalent of learning to vomit in different colors, or fart the national anthem—and they were nowhere near the kind of show Biff could pull off, but that was fine. My goal wasn’t to impress or scare, just distract.
It certainly got the chaperon's attention for another little bit, and Raige and Thomas took their cue to escape. I myself followed them once they were good and gone; Biff could pull a pink elephant parade while driving and talking at the same time, but I was nowhere near his league and needed to stay focused and nearby.
By the time I made my own exit, Thomas and Raige had a good heart start on me and were full-on sprinting across the parking lot. Sure, why not, I didn’t want to hang around here either. No way could I catch up with them, but I made it to the Steed right as Thomas got it started. I vaulted into the truck bed, got my foot caught, narrowly avoided plowing face-first into the liner, and then off we went.
Well, I mean, a few blocks. Just enough to get some distance before Thomas pulled over to get me into the cab.
Raige was still doubled over laughing in the passenger seat, and he hugged me as I came in.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Alas, my formal clothes.” My knees and elbows were blackened from the crash with the liner. “I’m fine, though.”
“Cool,” Thomas said. “You think anyone got my license number?”
“I didn’t see anybody chasing us. Do you really think they’d take you down for that?”
“I don’t know how these people work! They pitched a fit because we paid for our tickets to a school we don’t even go to!” He turned to Raige. “You okay, man?”
Raige slumped back, giggling. “Oh man, Dad’s going to kill me.” I fully expected him to melt down again, but he seemed remarkably calm, even entertained.
When we arrived back at the house, the lights were still on, and when we came in, we found Raige’s dad in a florid maroon bathrobe, talking on the cordless phone in his high-powered executive voice.
“I see. Yes, I understand. A disturbance, you say?” He saw us come in and pointed to the floor in a stay-put gesture. Thomas and I each took one of Raige’s hands. “What do you mean by that? No, you’re being vague. Say it again, clearly this time.”
Well, at least Raige’s dad talked like that to everybody, including other adults.
“I see. I see.” He raised an eyebrow at us, but otherwise showed no emotion. “Is that so? Well, that’s your business. Yes, I will. No, I don’t care. Good night.”
He hung up. We just stood there, Raige and Thomas sweaty from the run and the drive, me with my clothes scuffed and dirty.
Raige’s dad looked us over, and tightened the sash on his bath robe as though it were his most professional tie. “That was your school. They said there was a disruption.”
“Well…” Thomas started.
“I—” I began.
He froze us both with a look. “I wasn’t talking to either of you.” To Raige, “well?”
For a moment, I thought Raige might buckle. But then he got a look of fierce determination on his freckled face, straightened to his full height, and I realized he was taller than his dad, just barely. He squeezed both our hands tight.
“They wouldn’t let them in to the dance, even though I paid for the tickets. Thomas got in by pretending not to be my date, and I just got sick of it and started dancing with both of them. They didn’t like it, and we left before they could kick us out.”
“I see,” his dad said. “They said it was…” he made a face like he’d swallowed a goldfish, and I could just see the word ‘naughty,’ go through his head, but instead he said, “licentious.”
Raige turned red, but he also looked angry, which wasn’t a first, but pretty close.
“We were slow-dancing,” he said. “God, Dad, I only just started dating them, and it freaked me out even going to prom with them. Do you seriously think I’d…”
Raige’s dad snorted, and I realized he was almost smiling. “No, I didn’t. I may not be winning any fatherhood awards, but I didn’t think I knew you that poorly.”
“Well, good, because that’s not what happened.”
I raised my hand, and it seemed to work; Raige’s dad looked at me. “Yes, what is it?”
“Frankly, guy, I like your son a lot—”
“Daww,” Thomas said.
“Can it—but I would throw up before I did any horizontal hoedowning with him in public.”
Raige’s dad looked at Thomas, who just spread his hands and said, “I don’t want to get arrested.”
“That’s what I thought,” Raige’s dad said. “Well, the school asked me to talk to you, and I have. Personally, I don’t care. You’ve been so well-behaved for so long, it’s about time you did something to irritate them. I’m glad.”
Raige said, “thank you,” probably because he didn’t know what else to say. Me, I was still waiting for the punchline.
It didn’t come. Instead, Raige’s dad looked at me and Thomas and asked, “Do you have someplace to stay tonight?”
“Yes,” I said quickly. Regardless of his sudden personality switch, no way was I spending the night under the same roof as Raige’s dad.
Thomas said, “No, sir, and I’d love it if I could stay here.” Suck-up.
“Good. I want you sleeping in a different room, and I want your doors open, but otherwise, I’ll see you in the morning.” And he swept off in his ridiculous bathrobe.
We looked to Raige, who seemed floored.
“Holy shit,” he said. “I think he’s actually proud of me.”
...
It was just as well Biff had given me his spare key. After all the excitement of prom and Raige’s dad being stolen by body-snatchers, I was all worn out and my elbows and knees were feeling their collisions with Thomas’s truck. Shinnying up the drain pipe for the fire escape just didn’t appeal.
To my surprise, Biff was still there, wearing a wet shirt and making enough pasta salad to feed Italy.
“Please tell me you didn’t wait up for me,” I groaned. “I’ve already got Raige’s dad liking me and I can’t take any more unpleasant surprises.”
He responded by turning around, pulling a camera from the counter beside him, and snapping a picture of me. When the Polaroid popped out of its slot, he gave it a few shakes to help it develop, looked it over, and smirked.
“I hate you,” I said.
“Hate you too,” he said, and snapped another.
I ignored him and staggered to the shower to wash off the party. By the time I was out, Biff was off to work, but he’d left the second photo on the arm of the sofa with the pillow and the blanket, along with a bowl of noodles and pesto. As I scarfed them down (the energy for that light show had to get replaced), I looked the Polaroid over.
My clothes were mussed, my braid coming undone, and I was rolling my eyes at the camera. On the back, Biff had written the date. I guess this one was for me to keep. I could hang it on the wall at home, or maybe at my workplace; Scorch and Flame would probably love it…
I fell asleep before I could decide.
no subject
Date: 2019-10-20 09:09 pm (UTC)