Cindy and the Prom King (7 page)

nineteen

Cindy liked selling tickets. It gave her something to do. She felt useful. She got to see who was with who even though she didn’t know many of the names. Best of all she didn’t feel like an outsider. She even saw a few kids she knew, like Victoria, who gave her a ride to the dance with another Chinese girl, and Scott, her friend from geometry. Maybe going inside the gym after selling tickets wouldn’t be so bad. Even though she’d be blasted by the DJ’s choice of ear-splitting music while pouring punch for ungrateful students.

Just when she was congratulating herself on being part of a social function without the stress of having to look like she was having a good time, the new headmaster, who was checking students at the next door for any alcohol consumption, spotted a couple freak-dancing on the other side of the gym.

He came up to Cindy, eyes bulging, his throat constricted so that Cindy was afraid he was going to explode. Perhaps such behavior hadn’t occurred at Cuthbert. But Cuthbert was hardly some kind of Amish school where the girls wore long dresses and bonnets and the boys drove a team of horses instead of sports cars. What kind of dancing did they do at Cuthbert? The Macarena?

Cindy admitted if the man had never seen freak dancing, and if the couple weren’t wearing clothes, (if you can call a micro-miniskirt and a bare midriff clothes), he might have thought they were having sex right on the dance floor. Maybe that’s what he did think. After all, it was pretty dark in there.

“Here,” he said to Cindy when he found his voice. “Take my Breathalyzer and check everyone out. I’ll be right back as soon as I put a stop to this. It’s the music. It makes students behave like animals. This is just disgusting.”

“But wait,” Cindy said, holding the Breathalyzer out away from her body like a lethal weapon. “I don’t know how to use this.”

“The student blows through the mouthpiece for five seconds. The sensors here measure the alcohol level of air in the lungs. It’s simple enough to do.”

“But what numbers…”

“There’s no acceptable level. Any number that shows up is too much. Don’t let them in.” With that he stomped off across the room while Cindy stood in the doorway watching him push his way between couples rocking to Gwen Stefani’s song “Hollaback Girl.”

This was ridiculous. There was no way she could sell tickets
and
make anyone take a Breathalyzer test. Even if she did and they failed, how would she make them leave? They’d just laugh at her and go in anyway.

Speaking of laughing, Cindy was not amused to have her sisters arrive at that moment with their cheerleader clique. They were talking about the soccer match that afternoon against their rival, Saint Paul. If Cindy hadn’t had to work at the salon she might have … what, gone to the game? It was in another town. She might as well wish to go to the World Cup in Germany. While waiting in the ticket line, they talked nonstop about Marco. The goals he made, the goals he saved, the kicks he made, the assists, the red cards, the penalties. Cindy was well aware of the team members’ not-so-friendly rivalry with each other, which extended both to their cheerleading stunts as well as to who had the inside track with Marco.

“What are you doing here?” Brie asked Cindy when she stopped talking long enough to realize who was selling tickets.

Cindy wanted to say,
I go to school here, remember? I go to dances and games and join clubs… or I could if I had time to.
Of course she didn’t. Instead she said, “Selling tickets and
…”
Tell her sisters about the Breathalyzer test? No way. “You know, just hanging out,” she added weakly.

“Well, don’t hang out around us,” Brie said, giving Cindy a brisk once-over to make sure she wasn’t wearing any of her clothes.

Hang out around that crowd? Cindy would rather hang out with a group of serial killers.

“Who’s that?” one of their friends asked Lauren, pointing a long red fingernail at Cindy.

Lauren shrugged. “Her? Nobody. Trust me, she’s nobody you’d want to know.”

“Let’s go,” Brie said impatiently, slapping a wad of dollar bills into Cindy’s hand and leaning into the doorway of the gym “I love this DJ. He looks just like the rapper Nelly with the same tattoos and the Band-Aid on one cheek. I’m going to request that Paris Hilton song, ‘Stars Are Blind.’ She actually has an album, you know.”

Cindy was glad to see them disappear into the dark cavern of the gym where the theme was Water World. Blue water-based wallpaper from some party store was stapled onto the walls. Cardboard fish cutouts hung from the ceilings. If only one of those cardboard sharks could come to life and swallow up her sisters. That would be worth the price of admission.

The DJ was now playing a song by the Killers way too loudly. Or maybe it was the Strokes. Brie and Lauren would know. They’d been playing those songs nonstop at home until Cindy had to use her earplugs to do her homework.

She paused long enough to see Mr. Jefferson, the fat science teacher, stuffing himself with cookies from the snack table while eyeing the dancers suspiciously. But she didn’t see the headmaster anywhere. Maybe the dancers had been tipped off and had retreated before he caught them. According to her sisters, Jefferson made a habit of humiliating students who weren’t paying attention in class. Cindy would like to see anyone try to humiliate those two. They could give lessons in humiliation techniques.

She cringed at how tacky the whole scene was. Somehow she’d imagined the fall Welcome Dance at Manderley would have talented live musicians and tasteful decorations in autumn colors. Maybe she’d give up and go home after her stint at the door.

The next group to arrive was her brain-dead partner Toby, who she now knew was a well-known slacker, with his friends and the blond athlete Steve, who Victoria would be excited to see. She could smell the alcohol on all of them. No Breathalyzer test needed, but what was she supposed to do? How could she make them leave?

“Um, have you guys been drinking?” she asked.

“Who, us?” said one of Toby’s friends while Toby stood there looking pretty much like he always did, totally out of it. “Of course not.”

Cindy peeked into the gym again, but the headmaster was still MIA. In fact the dancing had deteriorated even further. The DJ was now playing a rap song, and the students were bumping and grinding and freaking on each other. Toby and the guys he was with bought their tickets and walked into the dance as if they were sober while Cindy watched helplessly for a few minutes, then turned around and sold more tickets.

Suddenly the music changed. The lights on the dance floor blazed. Students froze in place. The DJ who’d deserted his post and had been dancing with one of the twins stopped abruptly and stood openmouthed in disbelief. No wonder. The song that filled the gym was the theme song from Barney.

Barney comes to play with us.

Whenever we may need him.

The new headmaster was no longer checking for alcohol consumption. He’d taken over as the DJ. Who else would have the nerve to do it?

twenty

After that, everything was a blur. Even for Cindy, who hadn’t had a drop to drink except for a sip of the fruit punch. After a brief pause, the lights went down again, the DJ was back, playing mopey but danceable rock music while the headmaster went on another mission. After his success in changing the music, he turned to the one thing he’d most wanted to do before he got sidetracked.

This time he was concentrating on rooting out all the students who’d somehow gotten in with alcohol on their breath. Cindy didn’t know how he found them in the crush, but the first to get the boot were Toby’s friends. Toby’s friends, but no Toby. How had he escaped the headmaster’s wrath?

The headmaster pulled the guys outside and began dialing on his cell phone.

“I’m calling your parents to come and get you,” he said, lining them up and taking their names and numbers just like he no doubt had done in the Marine Corps.

“Wait, I’m safe to drive,” one of them said. “I just blew a point-zero-eight on the Breathalyzer.”

“Oh, no you’re not,” Kavanaugh said. “There is no acceptable level of consumption that makes it safe to drive. I’m not having a potential accident happen on my watch. Any alcohol that enters a person’s body can impair reflexes, motor skills and cognitive abilities.” The man sounded like he was reading from a manual.

Cindy could have told him those guys probably didn’t have much to work with in the way of cognitive ability anyway, except for Steve, but she kept her opinions to herself as she’d been taught.

“Need some help?”

Cindy whirled around. She knew that voice, that accent. Yes, it was Marco, looking more gorgeous than ever. Under the mercury-vapor light above the school entrance she could see he wore perfectly fitted clothes straight out of
GQ,
the Italian version. Which made her even more conscious of her own old but carefully ironed jeans and her blue silk shirt, another hand-me-down. Now she wished she’d borrowed some better clothes and let Scott cut her hair as he’d offered. Too late.

“Hello, Marco,” Kavanaugh said with a smile. It may have been the first time he’d smiled since he came to Manderley. “Nice to see you. You played a magnificent game today.”

“Thank you, sir,” Marco said.

“First time Manderley has beaten Saint Paul for three years. Just shows what we can do with some decent talent and a little extra money thrown at athletics.”

Marco shot a glance at the group of miscreants. “Can I be of some help?” he asked.

“I’m sending some students home. Students who willfully ignored my warning about drinking. Naturally they can’t drive.”

“I would be happy to drive them home. The van the team took to the game is parked in the lot out there and I still have the keys if you think…”

“That’s very generous of you. Thank you, Marco, but I’m afraid you’ll miss part of the dance.”

“Non importa,
” he said with a smile. “It doesn’t matter. The dance will still be here when I return, no?”

“Of course.”

“I see my tutor is here,” he said with a devastating smile.

Cindy smiled weakly. “Hi, Marco,” she said.

“Can you come along with me? Ride along as my, how do you say…”

“Co-pilot?” she suggested as her heart thumped so loudly she was sure everyone could hear it above the loud music.

“Si, andiamo,
” Marco said.

Cindy looked at the headmaster. He looked at her. There was a long pause. She held her breath. Did she need his permission? But the moment passed before she could act. Too late. Too late.

Her sisters, whose antennae had somehow detected the hottest guy around was outside, rushed out of the gym and almost ran her over in their excitement. They enveloped Marco in hugs and congratulations for a game well played. While Cindy watched, Brie, Lauren, Marco, a few other random kids and Toby’s friends disappeared into the night, trailing laughter behind them.

Marco turned to look back at her. It was too dark to see his face clearly. What was he thinking? That she didn’t want to go? That she was too shy, too hesitant, not enough of a rebel to push her way in, to insist on sitting next to him as his co-pilot? If he thought that, he was right.

Cindy stood there, deserted and alone while everyone else went off to have fun. It was her own fault. She could have gone. The music came wafting out of the gym. The song they were playing? Daniel Powter’s “Bad Day.”

twenty-one

Toby crawled across the wet grass in the dark and watched his friends get into the new sports van while the music faded into the background. For once he’d escaped, thanks to his weak stomach. If he’d been on the dance floor when the Nazi had busted his friends, then he’d be with them now, on his way home with the Vanderhoffer twins. Wait a minute. How did that happen? Had they been drinking too? Who hadn’t? Should he have crawled after them and confessed so he wouldn’t be left out? Jared must be in hog heaven. Squeezed into the van with the girls of his dreams. In between the two of them, if dreams really did come true. If the rumors were valid, God only knew what Jared would get out of the ride to his house, besides a ride to his house.

Even in the dark he could see the twins were wearing dresses that used to be worn only by prostitutes, but which must have cost in the three-digits. And yet Cindy, their so-called stepsister, was wearing some denims and a shirt that was a size too big for her. What a contrast.

He’d never be able to explain to his friends why he’d escaped getting caught. He didn’t want anyone to know that he’d gone outside to throw up in the bushes. What a way to end a perfect day.

Was it any better to be lying on the grass, feeling physically wretched but spared from having some Italian jock pull up in front of his house and have the neighbors see him stumble out like he’d just been let out of prison?

Yes!

In a few minutes, or a few hours, he’d work his way to the parking lot and find a way home. He didn’t know why he’d even come tonight. The whole thing had been totally lame, starting with Rich and ending with him alone and flat on his face. He wondered drunkenly if he should give up alcohol. He couldn’t seem to drink anymore without getting sick. Classes went by in a haze. Friends came and went. Or were they really friends? What was the point of making an effort for them like he had tonight?

Maybe he should give up high school too. That might be harder to do unless he could get his father or mother to home-school him. Fat chance.

There were no girls at this school that excited him. Take the Vanderhoffer twins at one end of the hot scale and their stepsister, Cindy, queen of the geeks, at the other end. The dances had never been much fun, but they’d gone from tame and over-chaperoned to stupid events out of a Manga book like the dance tonight.

When his cell phone rang and he saw it was Jared, it was only a dull curiosity that made him answer.

“Where are you, man?” Jared said.

“You know, still here, hanging with my homies,” Toby lied, getting to his knees. “What happened to you?” As if he didn’t know.

“You don’t know? We decided to cut out early. Couldn’t find you. You’ll never guess who gave us a ride home.”
“Are they tall and blond and have a sister?” Toby asked. “Shit. How did you know?”

“Just a lucky guess. How did that happen?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’ve just got what it takes. Girls can’t get enough of me. Once those hotties saw me they were all over me like I was the new Double-Oh-Seven or something.” “You were lucky to fight them off, I guess.” Toby finally got to his feet and walked slowly and unsteadily toward the parking lot. The more Jared bragged, the better Toby felt about his escape. And the happier he was he hadn’t taken a ride with them. And the more he thought about stopping drinking. Oh, not altogether, just cutting back a little. At least for now. To see if it made any difference.

“Yeah, okay, talk to you later. Gotta go now.”

Toby could hear Jared’s dad yelling in the background and Toby wasn’t sure if he missed having a dad around who cared if he got drunk or if he was happy to be on his own. If he did stop drinking, it wouldn’t be to please his father; his father didn’t know or care. He had to do it for himself. There wasn’t anyone else.

Only thing was, how was he going to get home?