A Match Made in High School

by Kristin Walker

  I’d already tried on every half-decent outfit, every quarter-decent outfit, even every limit-of-f-as-decent-approaches-zero-is-infinity outfit.

  Nothing said, Clothes to Wear When You Want to Impress a Guy You Initially Shot Down, But Now You Realize You Like Him and Want to Get Him Back. Where was the outfit for that? I’d called Marcie to ask her to bring over everything she had, but she was taking too long.

  Finally, I heard the doorbell ring, and her footsteps click-clacking quickly up the stairs. Marcie flew through the door, wearing a black spaghetti-strap dress and high heels. She looked straight off a New York runway. Totally chic. And not in a modest way. Her mother must’ve gone ballistic.

  She carried a shopping bag full of clothes. “You’re not wearing anything!” she cried.

  “Brilliant observation, Einstein,” I said back. “Besides, that’s not true. I’m wearing my contacts. And some makeup. I know—don’t faint or anything.”

  “Fiona, you could have put on panties and a bra.” She pulled a few fancy outfits out of the bag and laid them on my bed.

  “I did,” I said in the same patronizing tone she’d used. “Big ol’ granny ones. But then I thought, what if whatever you brought over required low-rise panties? Or, God forbid, a thong? I only own one, you know.”

  “Yes, Fiona, I know.”

  “And what if I needed a strapless bra? Or a halter?”

  “Okay, okay, I get it. Jeez, Fee. It’s just a dance.”

  “Well, I want to look . . . nice.” If Mar knew I was dressing up to impress Johnny, she’d never shut up about it. I flipped through her clothes. “What about this?” I held up a green dress with a tiny floral pattern and a crocheted sweater over it.

  Marcie stuck out her tongue. “Nah.”

  I tossed the dress and picked up a blue blouse and a—what was this? “A miniskirt?” I cried. “Are you freaking kidding?”

  “Look, I grabbed what I could and ran! Relax!”

  She was right. I was totally out of control. “I’m sorry,” I said and threw myself down on the clothes and buried my face in my arms.

  Marcie tossed a blanket over me. “Why don’t you admit that you like him?”

  I didn’t lift my head, so she couldn’t read my face. I just mumbled, “What do you mean?”

  “Johnny Mercer. You know you suck at hiding stuff.”

  I lied terribly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Give me some credit, Fee.”

  I sighed and looked up at her. “I just want to give him every incentive to like me.”

  She grinned. “He likes you.”

  “Did he say that?”

  “Well, not in those words, exactly. But I can tell these things. Now, here, put this on.” She handed me a deep red not-too-mini halter-dress. “But you’ll need to break out the thong.”

  “More like break in. It still has the tag.” I fished it out of the deep recesses of my underwear drawer and waved it like a stringy flag.

  Marcie scrunched up her face. “You didn’t wash it yet?”

  I froze midwave. “No. Do I need to?” A level of panic rose in me far disproportionate to what I should have felt about wearing an unwashed thong. Marcie must have read it on my face.

  “Nope. Nevermind,” she piped, snatching the thong and ripping off the tag in one movement. “It’s fine.” She smiled and thrust it at me. I knew she was full of crap, but I pulled the thong on anyway. I didn’t have time to indulge Marcie’s germophobia right then, at any rate. I twisted myself into a padded halter-bra and stepped into the dress. I wound my hair into a bun and held it in place with a pair of enameled chopsticks.

  Marcie rifled through my closet and pulled out my one pair of black heels, which Mom insisted I own.

  “Heels? You want me to wear heels?” I cried.

  “What are you going to wear, your sneakers? Now put these on and shut your mouth. Put on some earrings and lip gloss, and then we’ll go.”

  I stood stock-still for two seconds, and then did exactly as I was told.

  We got to the dance at about eight-fifteen. I was bummed that Johnny hadn’t asked me to the formal. But I knew that if he showed up, then there was still a chance he had feelings for me. So my heart thumped and my breath got all jiggly when I spotted him sitting over on the bleachers. Not only that, but a song by The Connells was playing, and I was pretty sure he’d picked it for me.

  Mar gave me a shove from behind, and I walked toward Johnny. I tried to ignore the thong riding up my butt, because I knew it was making my ass look great. Not that he could see; he was staring off at the people dancing in the middle of the gym floor. I tried to think of something clever and sexy to say to him if he didn’t notice me, but everything sounded moronic in my head. I got right up next to him and he still hadn’t seen me. Then I thought of the perfect thing to say.

  “Rectal-probe lube.”

  “Wha? Rectal wha—?” Johnny blinked several times and jumped to his feet. “Holy . . . yeow. Wow, Fiona. You look great.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “You too.” And, truth be told, he did. He’d scrunched his honey-colored hair with some kind of product. Putty, I think is what Mar calls it. It gave his hair the coolest messy look with his adorable little cowlick above his right eye. The cut of his dress jacket across his broad shoulders made him look strong. He was wearing a tie, but he also had on black jeans and his black Doc Martens. All in all, he looked kind of . . . dangerous. Like he could kick somebody’s ass, big-time, but with style. Like a suave, tough-guy super spy.

  I liked it.

  “Rectal-probe lube,” he said. “Good one. That would definitely be worse. I’ll have to get back to you on mine, though. I’m having a hard time thinking of anything disgusting right now.”

  I suddenly didn’t know what to do with my hands. “Um . . . thanks for the Connells song,” I said. “Was that for me?”

  He nodded.

  I tried to inhale without looking like I was trying to inhale. “So are you and Mar going to show off your new ballroom dance moves?”

  Johnny snapped his fingers. “Damn,” he said sarcastically, “I forgot to put a waltz or foxtrot on the playlist tonight.”

  “Well, tough. I want to see it. I think it’s cool that you guys learned how to fancy-dance.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “I do!”

  “Oh, that’s right,” Johnny said. “I forgot about your secret yearning for balls.”

  I smirked and punched him in the arm. He grabbed my hand and held it as “What a Good Boy” by Barenaked Ladies started playing. He pulled me to him and circled my waist with his right arm, placing his hand on the bare skin of my lower back. He held my right hand out with his left, and nestled his index finger below my grandmother’s rings. I looked up at him and watched his soft lips move as he spoke.

  “This is called dance position,” he said. “Now, you follow. I’ll lead.” He stepped forward and steered me around an invisible circle. I couldn’t have objected if I wanted to, because the fact that he was holding me against him scared away my command of the English language. But being shocked into submission also allowed me to move in total fluidity with him.

  He led me backward into a quick turn. His mouth was right next to my ear, so when he spoke quietly, his velvet voice was even deeper. “Remember the last dance?” he asked, referring to the diaper prank on Todd, I thought.

  I said softly, “Remember it? I have every moment burned in my memory.”

  “I wanted to dance with you so badly then,” he said.

  We took a few more steps and I said, “Why didn’t you ask me?”

  He spun me out in a circle and gently reeled me back in. “’Cause I couldn’t dance.”

  We took a couple more steps. I pressed myself lightly against him and lifted up my face. “But now you can?”

  He stopped our dancing and looked down at me. “Yeah,” he said. “I think I just realized that now I can.” And I knew he wasn’t talking a
bout dancing at all. He was talking about his feelings for me. And my feelings for him. And what he was going to do about them.

  “I’m glad you finally figured it out,” I said.

  Then Johnny slid his right hand up my bare back and skimmed his warm fingertips over the hair at the nape of my neck. He lingered there for a second, then cupped his other hand behind my head, too, and pulled my face to his.

  We kissed.

  It was, without a doubt, the sexiest moment I’d ever experienced.

  When we separated, I stared into his deep, hazel eyes shining with gold flecks. I felt him breathe against me and sensed the warmth of his hands on my body.

  He said, “If anyone had told me a year ago that I’d be kissing a cheerleader at a formal dance, I’d have . . . oh, I don’t know. Punched them in the face and run away.”

  I took what seemed like my first breath in an hour. “Punched them in the face?”

  He looked at me and we both started giggling.

  “Jonathan Mercer, you crack me up.”

  We caught each other’s eyes and held them. “Life’s weird, huh?” he said.

  I nodded. “Uh-huh.”

  “Hey,” he added lightly. “I like you calling me Jonathan. It sounds sexy when you say it.”

  I smiled. “Oh yeah? Then it suits you . . . Jonathan.”

  “Say it again,” he said smoothly, leaning toward me.

  “Jonathan,” I purred, leaning toward him.

  We met in the middle.

  Afterward, I saw Callie Brooks out of the corner of my eye staring at us like she’d just watched us shed our skins, revealing our true identities as lizard-people. I gave her the finger behind Johnny’s back. Callie checked left and right to see if anyone was watching, and then gave me the finger back. I laughed, and gave her a thumbs-up. I said to Johnny, “We should probably go find Marcie. She’s my date.”

  Johnny took my hand and said, “She was your date.”

  We found Mar standing against the wall near the refreshment table. She said, “You know, if you two had just listened to me in the first place, we could have avoided all this difficulty.”

  Johnny and I both said, “Yeah, yeah,” at the same time. Then we both said, “Jinx. You owe me a beer,” together. And then, “Anytime.” Then we laughed together, too.

  Mar said, “Doesn’t Fee look hot?”

  Johnny blushed, but I came to his rescue. I said, “I should. It’s your dress.”

  Mar smiled. “Yeah, but it’s your ass underneath it.”

  Johnny rotated away from us saying, “And that’s my cue to get drinks.” He wandered down to the end of the table.

  I said to Mar, “Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll even let you dance with your ex-husband.”

  Mar laughed and said, “You’re too kind.” She glanced behind me and her smile dissolved. Her face paled. I turned to see why.

  Gabe Webber swaggered toward us, listing to the side with his arms flailing like he couldn’t get his balance. His eyelids were half-closed and his mouth hung open. His white dress shirt was untucked and stained down the front.

  “Hey Marshie,” he slurred. He leaned past me, reeking of beer. “You look hot.” He turned to me. “F’yona. I hear yerrin love with me.”

  I recoiled at the stench of his breath. Apparently, some of the beer had made a repeat appearance, because his breath also stank of puke. “Piss off, Gabe. You’re disgusting.” I grabbed Marcie’s hand and tried to pull her away, but he positioned himself right between us.

  “Come on, Marshie. Yannow you wanna get back with me.” His head teetered from side to side. Marcie froze. I tried to elbow Gabe away, but he turned and shoved me hard and then made a grab for Marcie.

  Johnny was at my side in an instant and caught me before I fell. He straightened me up, then in one motion, wheeled Gabe around and pinned him up against the concrete-block wall. “Back off, Webber.”

  “Whaddrya gonna do about it, tonsofun?”

  Johnny’s face hardened. He inhaled and leaned into Gabe. “Wanna find out?”

  I reached up and held Johnny’s arm. “Just let him go. He’s wasted. He’s a waste.” I felt Johnny’s arm relax beneath my touch. He slowly eased back from the wall.

  Gabe stumbled out from under Johnny’s arm and muttered, “Pussy.”

  Johnny grabbed Gabe’s shoulder, spun him around, and hauled back with a huge, clenched fist. I grabbed his wrist and hung on. I did not want to get kicked out of this dance. I hadn’t worn heels for nothing. “Don’t,” I said. “Please just leave it. He’s not worth it.” I could feel the muscles in Johnny’s arm, rock-hard and trembling. But he didn’t swing. He shoved Gabe away, but Gabe staggered back toward us saying, “Ya wanna know whass not worth it?” He hitched his thumb at Marcie. “Tryin’ to get anywhere with that tight-ass fuckin’ prude.” He closed his eyes and laughed.

  And then something welled up inside me. I lost complete control over my body. It was as if I was standing outside myself, watching. I saw myself ball my fingers into a fist, draw my right hand back, step forward with my left foot, and crack Gabe across the cheek with all my strength. Gabe’s head flew sideways and backward; his body followed, and a second later, he was laid out on the gym floor.

  Pain like a knife blade shot through my knuckles, especially in my ring finger. I shook my hand to try to get it to stop throbbing. Only then did I notice that I was the only person moving in the whole place.

  Until Principal Miller pushed through the crowd and called for the music to stop. “What happened?” she cried. “Who did this?” Mr. Evans was with her. He crouched down over Gabe, who was coming around. Blood seeped from a scrape in Gabe’s cheek where Nana’s diamond had caught his skin. Mr. Evans leaned in for a closer look, but when he got a whiff of Gabe’s breath, he jerked his head back and said, “Phew. He’s drunk, Barbara.”

  Principal Miller’s hands fluttered to her hair. “Um, thank you, Jero—uh . . . Mr. Evans. Did he pass out, then?” She looked around for an answer.

  “Yup,” Johnny said. “Just passed out cold.”

  “That’s what I saw,” Marcie said.

  Principal Miller scanned the crowd. “Can anyone else confirm this?” Her eyes darted from face to face.

  “I saw him fall,” a voice called out. The crowd separated and Amanda stepped forward with Todd beside her. She lifted her chin toward Gabe. “He was just standing there. Then he fell,” she said.

  “That’s what happened,” Takisha King called from the other side of the circled crowd.

  “Yup,” Simone Dawson chirped. “Just fell over. Cracked his face on the floor.” She smiled at me and winked. I couldn’t help but smile back at her.

  Mr. Evans shouldered Gabe to his feet. Gabe staggered forward a few steps and vomited all over Principal Miller’s suede pumps. She gasped and shuddered and turned her head away, but she didn’t move her feet an inch. “Jerome, would you please see that this boy’s parents are called, and stay with him until they arrive?”

  “I’ll do it?” Mr. Tambor boomed. He marched forward, took Gabe by the back of the neck, and steered him through the crowd and out the door. Mr. Evans went to Principal Miller and said, “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.” He took her hand gingerly in both of his and led her into the locker room. A few minutes later, he returned with a mop and bucket and cleaned up the puke. We didn’t see Principal Miller again.

  The music came back on. I asked Johnny to dance with Marcie to cheer her up, and I walked over to Todd and Amanda.

  “Thanks,” I said. “You didn’t have to do that. I mean, I’m glad you did, but I know you didn’t have to. So thanks.” I smiled.

  Amanda rolled her eyes and tossed her hair. “Gabe Webber is a dick, anyway.”

  “Hey,” I said, “you know what’s hilarious? And kinda disgusting now, but still funny? I swore that I’d touch Gabe Webber by the end of the year. I guess technically I did.”

  “Sure as hell, you did,” Todd said. “Hauling that wa
ter cooler must’ve built up some muscles.” His face beamed. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have said he looked proud. Just a tiny bit.

  Callie Brooks poked me in the back. “Look at that,” she said, pointing to the dance floor. Johnny and Marcie stepped and twirled and dipped and swirled as a crowd of people stood watching.

  “Check out Mercer,” Todd said.

  Callie sighed. “I can’t believe you’re with a guy who can dance like that. You’re so lucky.”

  I laughed. I was lucky?

  Now that was a shocker.

  But really, when you think about it . . .

  By then I should have known.