by Tony Earley
“Oh, I’m planning on it.”
Inside the gymnasium, the floor was ringed with a crowd seven or eight people deep. The air was hot and close, stale with cigarette smoke, even though the tall windows were raised. The music — a reel Jim didn’t recognize — thumped and twanged over top of the thunderous stomping of the dancers. Jim could feel the floor spring beneath his feet in perfect time to the song and wondered what kept it from falling in. When he worked his way to the edge of the floor, he found squares of dancers cutting needle-and-thread figures on what seemed like every available inch of open space. When the sharply amplified voice of the caller sang out, “All join hands,” the squares unraveled and formed into two large circles, one inside the other. The circles slowly began to spin in opposite directions, a sight that never failed to impress Jim, no matter what kind of mood he was in. When the circles got up to speed, they generated a breeze that felt cool on his face. The breeze carried the scents of denim and gingham and calico and hair oil and tobacco and sweat and perfume and hot breath all rolled into a single warm smell that seemed somehow manufactured by the music. Jim turned around to ask Dennis Deane if he could feel the breeze, but Dennis Deane had disappeared.
At the far end of the gym floor, the Cherry Bounce Boys frailed at their instruments on the small stage, beneath a printed banner bearing their name and an advertisement for flour. They wore white shirts and red string ties and matching white cowboy hats, except for Joe Doug himself, whose black hat, cocked just so, identified him as the leader. Romeo Paris was the caller. In front of the band he gripped the microphone with both hands and rocked back and forth and smiled broadly at the spinning circles he had conjured. He was a preacher from New Carpenter who called cattle auctions and square dances on the side. The uncles explained away his name and slightly scandalous avocations by pointing out that he was a Presbyterian. Jim tapped his foot along with the music but stopped as soon as he noticed. He didn’t want anyone to think he was having a good time.
The Cherry Bounce Boys played the chorus through one more time and, on a signal from Joe Doug, ended the song on a shave-and-a-haircut, two-bits. The circles slowed and stopped and began to dissolve almost instantly, like smoke rings. Romeo Paris announced that the band was taking a break. The dancers, some of them still clapping, drifted past Jim toward the refreshment table and the door, their voices a happy buzz whose component parts were indistinguishable. Over there, Mama was leaving the floor holding on to Uncle Coran’s elbow with both hands, laughing as he told her a joke. Mama loved to square-dance as much as anybody Jim knew but would do so only with him or her brothers. Over here, Norma was thanking Buster Burnette for the dance and trying politely to back away. Jim smiled bitterly. Buster had bad acne and was dumb as a rock and had no idea he was a charity case. Jim would try to remember to sic Dennis Deane on him Monday morning.
He was looking around for Ellie Something, to make sure she knew how unhappy he was so she could tell Chrissie, when he saw Chrissie walking toward him, escorted by an older guy he had never seen before. The guy was tall, with dark, slicked-back hair. He wore sharply pressed suit pants and a shirt and necktie and two-tone gangster shoes. His necktie had flowers painted on it. Jim felt instantly ashamed of the dungarees and high-tops and letter jacket he was wearing, the uniform he wore every single day of his life, which identified him as nothing more than a boy.
When the stranger put his hand in the middle of Chrissie’s back to steer her through the crowd, Jim felt a sudden, sharp pain like a punch in his stomach. The guy was obviously Chrissie’s date, not someone who had simply asked her to dance. She had ridden all the way down here in his car — a Pontiac, at least, judging from the looks of the guy, maybe even a Buick — and after the dance they would drive together all the way back up the mountain. Somewhere along the way, the guy would pull off the road into some dark spot and cut the headlights; Chrissie would turn to him and smile. Jim’s soul flooded with hatred, not just for the stranger but for Chrissie. She had obviously lied to him about her predicament with Bucky Bucklaw just to get him off her back, and now this stranger was going to put his arms around her and kiss her, when Jim could not.
When Chrissie saw Jim she stopped for a moment and stared. Jim saw her eyes widen. He had caught her. He stared back at her with angry satisfaction, slowly shaking his head in disapproval. She turned and stood on her tiptoes and whispered something into the guy’s ear, then turned and started quickly for the door near the bandstand on the far side of the gym. Before the guy followed Chrissie, he stared blankly in Jim’s direction but obviously didn’t know who or what he was looking for. “You’re looking for me, chief,” Jim said, but the crowd was too noisy, the stranger too far away, to hear him.
Jim watched them cross the floor and leave the gym together, then forced his way through the crowd and into the hallway. He heard Mama call after him, but he didn’t stop. He thought he was going to be sick, and he knew that the restroom would be crowded. He banged open the door to the stairway and ran up the steps into the darkened hallway on the second floor. He ran past Miss Brown’s room and kicked open the door of the bathroom, where he startled two young boys, maybe ten years old, who were leaning against the sinks importantly smoking cigarettes.
“Get out of here,” Jim said.
“You ain’t my daddy,” the larger of the two boys said.
Jim felt himself shaking. He stepped forward and slapped the cigarette out of the kid’s mouth.
“Get out of here now!” he yelled.
The boys clawed at the door in a panic as they tried to get away. Jim listened to them running down the hallway. He went into a stall and sat down on the toilet and shoved the heels of his hands into his eyes but could not stop seeing Chrissie turn toward the stranger inside the stranger’s darkened car. The stranger stroked her hair. Jim got on his knees in front of the toilet and waited to throw up, but nothing happened. He couldn’t get sick and he couldn’t get better. He thought about praying but didn’t want to humble himself, to anybody, when he hadn’t done anything wrong. He was the one who had been lied to. Eventually he became aware of the dull percussion of the stomping dancers working its way through the floor. He got up and washed his face. From the mirror over the sink some stupid boy in a stupid jacket stared back at him. He trudged back downstairs and into the gym, even though it was the last place on earth he wanted to be. Sure enough, as soon as he shoved his way through the crowd, he spotted Chrissie happily dancing with her date. She laughed as she ducked and twirled beneath the guy’s arm.
Jim spent the rest of the evening watching her. He watched her while she danced, the way her hair bounced and jumped from side to side on her back as she clogged, marking time to the music, a sight that twisted his heart like a rag. He watched her while she drank punch and talked with the stranger on the sidelines during the few songs they sat out. She glanced at him only occasionally, never long enough to see in his eyes how much he despised her. The stranger never looked at him at all. The Cherry Bounce Boys played what seemed like ten thousand songs. Romeo Paris called dance after dance after dance. He knew all the dances in the world. When Jim pushed up his sleeve and looked at his watch, he was surprised to see that it was only ten minutes until ten, and not the darkest middle of the longest night of his life.
Ellie Something tugged on his sleeve.
He leaned toward her so that she could hear him over the music. “Go away,” he said.
“I need to talk to you.”
“I don’t want to hear it, whatever it is.”
“I’ve got a message from Chrissie.”
Ellie Something’s cheeks and lips were flushed, and she stared at him intently. He raised his eyebrows and waited.
“Chrissie says, cut it out.”
“Cut what out?”
“You know what.”
“Tell Chrissie she can kiss my long, bushy tail.”
Ellie Something looked startled. “What did you just say?” she asked.
�
�You heard me,” Jim said. “Now, go away.”
“No,” she said firmly. “Chrissie’s my friend and you’re going to get her in trouble.”
“How can I possibly get somebody like that in trouble? She’s already a liar and a tramp.”
“I’m not going to tell her you said that.”
“I don’t care what you tell her.”
Ellie Something stomped her foot.
“I ought to just slap you silly,” she said. “That boy she’s with is Bucky’s cousin, from over by Casar. The only way the Bucklaws would let her come down here to a dance was if that boy right there brought her. This is her senior year, too, you know, and this is her Big Day as much as it is your Big Day, and you stand over here like some kind of hotshot, staring at people like you know everything, when you don’t know nothing about anything.”
“Wait a minute,” Jim said. “That’s Bucky’s cousin?”
“From over by Casar. He brought her all the way down here as a favor. All Chrissie wanted to do was come to a dance before she graduated. Just one. Her daddy never would let her go to a dance in Oklahoma, and now she’s got the Bucklaws to worry about. So the last thing she needs is you treating her like she’s trash.”
Jim stared darkly at the stranger. “I’m sick of the Bucklaws,” he said. “I’m sick of them thinking they own everybody and I’m sick of them pushing people around.”
“She’s not crazy about them, either, you know.”
“What kind of car does he drive?”
Ellie Something’s eyes widened comically. She grabbed his sleeve and twisted it.
“No!” she cried. “Promise me you won’t do anything! You’ll get her in so much trouble. The Bucklaws might make her quit school and stay in that awful cabin, and then she won’t be able to go anywhere ever again in her whole life. Promise me, if you love her as much as you act like you do, you won’t do anything at all.”
“Let go,” Jim said.
“Promise me.”
“All right, already. I promise.”
Ellie Something patted the wrinkles on his sleeve. “Okay,” she said. “Good.”
“I just wanted to know what kind of car the jerk drove. That’s all.”
“Oh. Sorry. I thought you wanted to fight him. It’s a black one, I think.”
“It ain’t him I want to fight,” Jim said. “Will you give her a message for me?”
“I don’t know. It depends on what it is.”
“Tell her I said . . .”
“That you love her?” She batted her eyes at him and giggled.
Jim blushed. “Oh, Lord, Ellie, no. Just tell her I said that . . . she looks nice when she dances.”
“For such a stuck-up boy, you sure can come up with some sweet things to say.”
“Cut it out,” he said.
Norma and Dennis Deane appeared on his other side. “Jim,” Norma interrupted, “we need to talk.”
On the dance floor, Chrissie was waltzing gracefully with Bucky’s cousin. Jim had never learned how to waltz, even though Mama had offered to teach him. He wondered who had taught Chrissie.
“I’m tired of talking,” he said.
“You’re gonna want to hear this,” Dennis Deane said. “Hey, there, Ellie Something.”
Ellie Something’s face instantly went red. “Hey, there, Dennis Deane.”
“Jim, this is very, very, very important,” said Norma. She leaned around Jim and spoke to Ellie Something. “If you’ll excuse us, please.”
Ellie Something placed her hand on Jim’s arm. “Don’t worry, Jim,” she said. “I’ll give you-know-who your message.” Then she crinkled her nose at Norma and stalked off.
“What was that all about?” Norma asked. “Who’s that nosy little girl delivering your messages to?”
“Nobody,” Jim said.
“What were you two talking about, anyway?” asked Dennis Deane.
“Nothing,” Jim said. “I thought y’all said you had something important to tell me.”
“We do,” said Norma. She tilted her head toward the gym entrance. “Don’t stare, but look over there and tell me what you see.”
Jim moved his head slightly and looked toward the door. The kid whose cigarette he had slapped onto the floor was pointing in his direction. Gathered around him were eight or ten tough-looking guys in their twenties. Mill hands. They were all staring his way. The kid was talking a mile a minute.
“Uh-oh,” Jim said.
“Please tell me you didn’t slap that little boy,” said Norma.
“I didn’t exactly slap him,” Jim said. “But I can see why he might be telling people that.”
“I don’t know what you did to him, but the little bastard’s telling every linthead he can find that you slapped him in the face,” Dennis Deane said. “Norma heard him out in the hall and came and got me.”
Jim looked around wildly. “Are the uncles still here?”
“No,” Norma said. “They left about an hour ago.”
“So that makes you General Custer,” Dennis Deane said.
“We’ve got to get you out of here,” said Norma.
“How?”
“Door by the stage,” Dennis Deane said. “Before they get organized and head us off at the pass.”
“Dance with me,” said Norma.
“Now?” Jim said. “Are you crazy?”
“No, silly. Waltz me over to that door.”
“But I don’t know how to waltz.”
“You daggum better learn,” said Dennis Deane.
Norma held out her arms. “Remember. It just goes one-two-three, one-two-three.”
Jim sought out Chrissie and Bucky’s cousin and watched them and silently counted. Then he looked over at the gym door. The kid was still talking and pointing. Jim had never seen so many lintheads in his life. Wasn’t anybody working second shift?
“One-two-three, one-two-three,” he said out loud.
“All right, all right,” Dennis Deane said. “Everybody knows how to count. Now just count your way over to that damn door and run like hell.”
Jim took Norma’s right hand in his left and placed his right hand in the middle of her back. Norma smiled and blushed a little. She looked very pretty. What had he been thinking when he broke up with her? She wasn’t that bad. He looked down at his feet, which looked huge and so far showed no inclination to start dancing.
“One-two-three,” Norma said.
Jim rocked back and forth without quite going anywhere.
Norma giggled. “Stop moving your lips,” she said.
“I’m counting.”
“Count faster,” said Dennis Deane. “Maybe skip some numbers.”
“Move me out onto the floor,” said Norma. “No. Left foot first. Good. Here we go. Here we go. One-two-three. One-two-three. Don’t go straight toward the door, or they’ll know what you’re doing. But don’t get us too close to them, either. They might grab you. And stop stepping on my feet.”
He looked down. His feet didn’t seem so much to be dancing as they did violently pursuing Norma’s. “Sorry,” he said.
“Stop looking at your feet,” she said.
“I’m not. I’m looking at your feet.”
“Well, stop it. You’ve got to watch where you’re going.”
“Norma, stop leading.”
“I’m not leading,” she said. “I’m just trying to keep you from running over somebody.”
Jim turned Norma so that she was facing the door. “Are they coming?”
“No. But they’re still talking to that little boy. Keep going.”
He tried turning Norma again so that he could look for himself, but ran solidly into someone behind him. When he turned he found himself face-to-face with Bucky’s cousin.
“Careful, there, friend,” the guy said.
“Sorry,” said Jim.
Chrissie looked furious. She stared angrily at Jim and mouthed the words, Leave. Me. Alone.
“Excuse me?” Norma said.
/> “Sorry,” Jim said again, his face burning. “I’m sorry. Well, bye.” He gave up trying to waltz and began pushing Norma more or less directly toward the door.
Norma tried to look back over her shoulder. “Slow down, Jim,” she said. “Slow down. You’ve got to make it look good.”
“I don’t care how it looks,” he said.
As they passed the bandstand, Joe Doug looked down at them and winked and touched his hat with his forefinger. Norma stepped away from Jim but held on to his left hand. She pushed open the door. On the landing outside, Romeo Paris was smoking a cigarette, which he hurriedly tried to hide in his palm when he saw them.
“Excuse us, Reverend,” Norma said, starting down the steps.
“Where are you two running off to in such a hurry in the dark?” he asked.
“To see a man about a dog,” Jim said.
“Pray for us,” Norma called over her shoulder.
At the bottom of the stairs, still holding Norma’s hand, Jim broke into a run. They sprinted around the corner of the building and into the schoolyard, where they crouched and ducked between the parked cars. With the light from the gym behind him, he had no trouble seeing and was able to pick a path through the maze at almost full speed. When they cleared the cars, they sprinted down the driveway toward town. They had a good head start, but Norma wasn’t very fast. He couldn’t tell over the sound of her shoes scuffing the pavement if anybody was chasing them. Below them, all three of the uncles’ houses were dark. Everybody had already gone to bed. Wake up, Jim thought. Wake up! When they reached the bottom of the hill they crossed the highway without breaking stride. The road felt like the boundary of enemy territory, so he slowed and looked back over his shoulder. He didn’t immediately see anyone, so he stopped altogether for a better look. He heard Norma panting beside him. He felt a pulse pounding in his palm but couldn’t tell if it was hers or his. Nobody was chasing them. Jim felt strangely disappointed. A minute ago, he had been important enough for a posse of lintheads to want to kill him. Now he wasn’t important at all. He should have stayed and fought, even if it meant getting beaten up.
“It worked,” Norma said.