by Zoe Aarsen
The usual suspects were all in attendance at the dance. Coach Stirling surprisingly wore a tea-length gray dress and shoes that were not sneakers. Mr. Dean wore a brown suit with a paisley tie. Principal Nylander brought his wife as his date, as he usually did, and our town was so small that everyone knew Katie Wayne from the freshman class was babysitting the Nylanders’ two kids that night. I felt a twinge of embarrassment for my old friends, Cheryl, Kelly, and Erica, who had intentionally bought identical dresses. They’d come to the dance together, dateless, as a threesome. I would have been with them, sitting at their table in the far corner giggling over cups of punch in a matching forest green dress, a year earlier.
Mischa wore her hair up and looked like a tiny fairy in her hot pink strapless gown when she entered the ballroom on Matt’s arm, with Candace and Isaac right behind them. Candace looked sedate and serene in a teal gown with spaghetti straps, her hair curled like a movie star’s around her shoulders. The moment I saw them, I felt a twinge of resentment toward Violet, because I knew they had probably all driven to the dance together with Amanda and Brian. I had to remind myself that I had volunteered to be the one who remained close to Violet, even if it meant missing out on group fun.
Trey and I lingered to the side of the ballroom, silently watching everyone with our hands locked together tightly beneath the table, where no one could see. A few chaperones had questioned me with their eyes when we entered, clearly indicating that they considered us to be somewhat of an odd pairing. Trey had surprised me with a white rose corsage; I had no idea when he had the time to choose it or pick it up at the florist since we’d walked home from school together, but I suspected his mom had something to do with it.
All day long, I’d had a throbbing headache and a suspicion that something significant was going to happen at the dance. Everyone had been rowdy in classes all day in anticipation of the night’s big event, but I’d been lost in daydreams, caught off guard when I’d been called on to describe the weather using the future tense in Spanish. When I’d arrived home from school, I was annoyed rather than happy to find my mom home from work early, eager to help me prepare for the big night. I’d snapped at her when she suggested that I curl my hair and allow her to do my makeup, and then had ultimately given in. After all, she had agreed to drive me and Trey to the dance, and to pick us up.
“There she is,” Trey informed me, trying to be discreet, as he nodded in the direction of the ballroom entrance.
Violet, looking downright gorgeous, stood nervously in the wide doorway to the ballroom, lit from the bright hallway behind her. Her hair was loose and wavy, and her light blue minidress fit her perfectly. More than one guy turned his head to check her out, and a moment later she was joined by Tracy and Michael, who looked more handsome than usual. Tracy and Michael had struck up a rather unsurprising partnership since the student election had begun, and they actually looked kind of cute together as a couple, despite their combined annoyingness. Tracy had made an impressive effort, with her hair pulled back tightly in a French twist, showing off her long neck. But it was Violet who, without any real competition, stole the show.
Eventually, after fetching cups of punch and saying hello to other students, both girls made their way over to the table where Trey and I sat, and I did my best to greet them cheerfully.
“Oh my God, McKenna! You look so pretty!”
I blushed, mostly because the lavender dress I’d bought such a long time ago hardly seemed suitable now that the night of the dance had finally arrived. I felt like I’d been a different person completely when I’d bought it, and I had cringed at home when I looked in the mirror. Mom had insisted on my wearing her amethyst earrings to match, and while the dangling gems felt extravagant for me, they were nothing in comparison to the excessive jewelry Tracy had piled on. She had jewel-encrusted combs in her hair, chandelier earrings almost reaching her shoulders, and an enormous cocktail ring on her left hand. Violet wore her gold locket, as always, but with a dainty pair of diamond earrings.
We exchanged compliments on one another’s dresses and gossiped halfheartedly about the dresses worn by some of the more popular senior girls. I nodded but didn’t contribute to the conversation when nasty comments were made about Cheryl, Kelly, and Erica. Amanda Portnoy looked phenomenal in a gold sequined dress that definitely had not been bought at any of the stores near Willow. I couldn’t help but wonder how magnificent Olivia would have looked, had she lived to attend the dance.
It took a while for people to loosen up enough to venture out onto the dance floor, but once they did, they were ready to party hard. Isaac challenged Coach Highland, the boys’ football coach, to a dance-off, and everyone was clutching their guts with laughter. The DJ played Kool & the Gang’s “Celebration,” which no one could resist, other than Trey and me. We remained fixed in our seats, communicating entirely with expressions, watching. Waiting.
“Guys, come on and dance! It’s a party!” Tracy yelled at us, red in the face from jumping up and down during “Rapper’s Delight.” She grabbed me by the hands and attempted to drag me off my chair onto the dance floor.
“Nah, I’m not a good dancer,” I refused.
“Come on, Trey! Tell your girl to get on her feet!” Tracy encouraged Trey, as if they were friends.
Trey was not the kind of guy to welcome false friendliness, even if he looked far less intimidating that night in a suit than he normally did. “McKenna doesn’t want to dance,” he stated firmly.
“Well, you’re missing out!” Tracy cautioned us, ignoring his bitterness and trotting back out onto the dance floor with a smile, where Michael, clapping his hands, was waiting for her.
Trey nudged me and nodded his head in the direction of where Pete and Violet had struck up what appeared to be a friendly conversation near the punch bowl. Pete appeared to be telling her that she looked nice, and she was shrugging her bare shoulders bashfully and flirtatiously placing one hand on his forearm. Pete looked hot as always, wearing a different suit from the one he’d worn to Olivia’s wake. He’d left his jacket on the back of a chair somewhere, and had a pink carnation tucked into the breast pocket of his white button-down shirt. My heart was pounding with fury as I looked around to see if Mischa and Candace were witnessing what I saw, but when my eyes found them in the crowd, they were oblivious, dancing together.
Pete. So maybe snaring Pete was part of Violet’s motive. Trey raised one eyebrow at me. He was thinking the same thing.
At nearly ten p.m., Principal Nylander stepped up to a podium carrying two envelopes, and the DJ cut the music after a slow dance ended.
“Attention, everyone! Attention!” Principal Nylander said, tapping the microphone to make sure it was working. The crowd on the dance floor calmed down, and Trey and I shifted our chairs so that we could watch the principal’s speech. He cleared his throat. “I’d like to thank all of you for joining us tonight and showing some admirable school spirit. Now, I know our school year has already been marred by tragedy, but tonight the good time we’re having in each other’s company shows that the students of Willow High School have the strength to celebrate the life of our lost friend, Olivia Richmond, and move forward with positivity.”
There was light applause; people were a little surprised that he had chosen to mention Olivia by name.
“Now, we were a little surprised when we tallied the votes for homecoming court this year. Quite a number of you wrote in Olivia Richmond’s name, and we felt it was the right thing to do in her memory to mention that and acknowledge your votes.”
Whispers filled the ballroom. Principal Nylander hadn’t specified whether or not Olivia had actually won. No one knew exactly what to expect next.
“However, while we all acknowledge that Olivia was very much a beloved member of our high school community, in the interest of moving forward into the future, it brings me great pleasure to announce this year’s homecoming king and queen.”
Now excitement was building. Chatter in the bal
lroom swelled in volume, and Trey and I exchanged confused looks. How could any other girl have received votes? I wondered. I’d written in Olivia’s name, and so had everyone I knew. Amanda, who had been the previous year’s homecoming queen when she was a junior, looked outraged where she stood across the ballroom, saying something directly to Mischa.
Principal Nylander tugged the first envelope open, flanked by Coach Stirling to his left, and Mr. Paulson, the wood-shop teacher, to his right. He leaned forward to speak into the microphone again, reading off of the piece of paper that he had removed from the envelope. “This year’s homecoming queen is . . . Violet Simmons.”
I couldn’t control my reaction: I lurched forward to my feet and my jaw dropped open. Trey stood behind me and placed his hands on my shoulders to keep me from leaving our table. The crowd erupted into jubilant applause, and I had to remind myself that no one but me, Trey, Mischa, Amanda, and Candace really had reason to be upset by Violet’s win. To everyone else in the junior class, Violet was just the mysterious new girl who had been close friends with Olivia. For them, it was probably perfectly natural that she had received the most votes after Olivia.
But for us, it was plainly obvious that Violet might have been the only person in the entire junior class who had voted for herself, and that one vote had probably been enough to earn her the title of queen. In disbelief, I watched as the crowd of students closed in on Violet. Girls with happy tears in their eyes patted her on the back and urged her toward the front of the ballroom. Violet had covered her mouth with her hands in surprise and was shaking her head as if she just couldn’t believe that her name had been called. It was impressive acting, indeed, since it was unlikely that she was truly surprised.
“Congratulations, Violet. And next, our homecoming king is . . . Peter Nicholson. Congratulations, Pete!”
Principal Nylander was beaming proudly at the crowd as Pete rose to his feet from the chair on which he was sitting, urged by the other guys on the basketball team. He, unlike Violet, appeared to be embarrassed to have won anything, and impishly took his place standing next to her. After greeting her with a shy smile, he looked down at the floor, his hands fidgeting nervously.
“Way to go, man!” a male voice yelled from the crowd, causing Pete to reluctantly nod in acknowledgment.
“Something’s going to happen,” Trey said, grabbing my arm. “Do you feel it?”
I did feel that something was about to occur, but I couldn’t explain how. The room still felt warm, but the hairs on my forearms were standing on end. Something about the whole experience of standing next to Trey and hearing applause felt like déjà vu. Then a nauseating feeling washed over me as I heard the first chords of a song I’d never expected to hear that night. Trey reached for my hand and squeezed, realizing in unison with me what was happening. “Soul Meets Body” by Death Cab for Cutie filled the ballroom of the Ortonville Lodge as Pete put one arm loosely around Violet and they bowed to be crowned. After Principal Nylander placed gaudy plastic crowns on both of their heads, they looked up to face the applauding crowd, and tears of joy were falling from Violet’s eyes, stained purple from her eyeliner, glistening beneath the spotlight shining down on her. I felt like I was in a dream, where everything that was happening was wrong, and all I could do was watch.
Through the crowd, I saw Mischa and Matt. Our eyes met, and she looked furious, angry enough to cry. Matt had his arm around her shoulders and was stroking her cheek, whispering in her ear, trying to calm her. The boys in the senior class, in their Sunday-best suits, were chanting and hollering with their fists in the air, “Kiss her! Kiss her!” Pete turned to Violet, smiling uncertainly, not wanting to disappoint the crowd. I tried desperately to remember how much of our suspicions about Violet we had shared with Pete after the accident and realized that we might not have told him anything at all, wanting to spare him more emotional anguish. It was very possible that he just thought Candace’s rambling was an effect of her own grief over Olivia’s death.
Trey shook his head slowly as Coach Stirling and the wood-shop teacher placed sashes over Pete and Violet’s shoulders. Only as Pete took Violet’s hand in his and raised her arm over their heads in victory did I notice Isaac struggling to hold Candace back. She was writhing with anger and yelling toward the back of the crowd, but I couldn’t hear what she was saying over the volume of the music. All the care she had put into her appearance was overpowered by her animalistic rage. She looked monstrous, clawing at Isaac to release her, her face red. He lost his grip on her arms and she rushed for the podium, moving so quickly that she nearly tripped over her own heels. As she tumbled toward the front of the ballroom, shoving anyone standing in her way off to the side, she looked like a roaring cannonball, ripping through the crowd too fast for anyone to really put together was happening. She barreled into Violet, knocking the podium over on its side as she and Violet both hit the floor. Violet hadn’t even seen her coming; she’d been too busy waving dreamily to the rest of the students at the dance.
“Holy . . .” Trey trailed off.
The dance immediately turned into a scene of chaos. Teachers swept in, pulling Candace off of Violet. Pete and Coach Stirling helped Violet back up to her feet, and as she regained her balance she realized that her nose was dripping blood all over the front of her baby blue dress. Her crown had been knocked to the ground in the tussle, forgotten behind the podium. Melissa, the girl who had been along for the drive with us to Kenosha the night of Olivia’s accident, dashed to the banquet table and returned with a stack of soft white napkins to press against Violet’s face. Pete concerned himself with Violet and cast an angry glance at Candace as Mr. Paulson dragged her away. Several teachers called for ambulances and police, so within minutes, sirens could be heard outside. No one within the ballroom knew quite what to do; everyone was looking around in helpless surprise. The music had been silenced, and the entire grand ballroom was filled with the curious murmurs of confused teenagers.
“Let’s go.” Trey motioned for me to follow him, and then led me by the elbow through the double doors that returned us to the hotel’s lobby. Hotel guests looked in wonderment at all the baffled teenagers spilling out of the ballroom in their evening attire. Candace had been dragged out to the front of the hotel and was being held back by Mr. Paulson and one of the physics teachers. Through the hotel lobby’s floor-to-ceiling windows, we could see the two of them, grown men, struggling to restrain her as she tirelessly thrashed in an attempt to break free of them. We watched, stunned at her behavior.
“She definitely doesn’t seem like she’s under hypnosis,” Trey observed.
It was true; Candace seemed more possessed than hypnotized. A paramedic gave her an injection of something, presumably a sedative, and she fell slack about four seconds later, her knees buckling beneath her. The paramedics caught her before she hit the sidewalk, and gently positioned her on a rolling gurney before sliding it into the back of the ambulance.
“Somebody call an exorcist,” grumbled a senior girl passing behind us, returning to the dance from the ladies’ bathroom down the hall. We were lucky to have made our way to the front lobby quickly, because behind us, other chaperones and hotel administrators were preventing other students from leaving the ballroom, urging them to stay calm until the medical professionals had an opportunity to attend to Candace. Isaac was among them, and his attempts to explain that Candace was his girlfriend didn’t gain him access to the lobby. “Stay calm, everyone,” we heard Principal Nylander commanding everyone over the microphone in the ballroom. “The night is still young.” Trey and I watched as the ambulance carried Candace away, trailed closely by two police cars. Behind us, we heard the music resume, and homecoming continued on as if nothing had happened.
As far as our classmates were concerned, all they had witnessed was an explosive catfight, one started by a girl who was off her rocker. I was stunned. Olivia’s ghost had been haunting my bedroom to warn me about this. She had brought that song to my attenti
on so that I would realize something important was going to happen, and I was furious with myself for not understanding the clue.
“I just don’t get it,” I complained to Trey after we were herded back into the ballroom by Coach Stirling. “What comes next?”
“Candace’s death in the game. How did Violet describe it? Is there any chance she’s going to die on the way to the hospital, or at the hospital?” Trey asked me.
I had to think back to remember the details of the story that Violet had concocted for Candace. “It was drowning. On a beach. In deep water. She said fish would eat off Candace’s face.”
Trey put his arm around me and pinched my shoulder tenderly. “There aren’t really any beaches in Wisconsin, silly, other than rock beaches around the lakes. Olivia must have wanted us to take notice of something else. Maybe just that Violet wants Pete? That much is pretty obvious.”