by A. E. Cannon
I grab his arm, but Quark shrugs me off. Then he stomps stiffly toward Ali’s house like he’s Franken-freakin-stein.
“DUDE!” I shout after him as he clambers up Ali’s front steps. “LIVE IN THE NOW! SCOUT DOES NOT WANT A BOYFRIEND WHO’S BEEN DEAD FOR FOUR THOUSAND YEARS!”
Quark ignores me. He doesn’t even look back, which is hard for mummies to do under the best of circumstances because of all those neck bandages. And these are definitely NOT the best of circumstances.
The next thing I know, Quark enters the Secret Chambers of Ali (otherwise known as Ali’s house) and disappears from view.
I spit out a Klingon swearword I found online: “guy’cha’” (which, for the record, is the stronger form of the more polite “ghay’cha’”).
And suddenly I find myself engulfed by an enormous tsunami of approaching guests, including this lady with a hairy little dog who tries to bite me even though she doesn’t have any teeth left. (The dog. Not the lady.)
Against my will, I am swept along inside.
For obvious reasons, it doesn’t take me long to spot Quark in Ali’s living room, which looks completely amazing. There are candles and strands of colored motion lights and paper lanterns. The air is thick with the sound of steel drums and the scent of spices.
There are people EVERYWHERE.
In fact, I have never seen so many people at a party. Different kinds of people too. You know how it is at most high school parties—jocks go to jock parties, braniacs go to brainiac parties, Klingons go to Klingon parties.
But here in Ali’s house it’s different. There are kids and parents, young guys with dreds and old guys with no hair, women my mom’s age wearing sweatsuits, skaters wearing jeans weighed down by heavy chains, men dressed like men and men dressed like women (okay, there’s only one guy here in a skirt).
Ali’s guests look like a collection of strangers standing together in a line at Disneyland, but here everyone is actually in a good mood—talking and sharing food and laughing, too, in spite of the fact it’s so crowded. Take this sweet little old lady standing next to me, for example. She’s speaking Dutch to a guy with a boa constrictor (I’m not lying) wrapped around his big thick neck. And across the room I see T. Monroe (and his mother) chatting happily to a tall thin girl dressed in drapes of black velvet accessorized by jewel-encrusted crosses. She holds a single white lily and beams like the Virgin Mary at T. Monroe.
The doorbell rings. One of the “mom” ladies answers the door.
“Why it’s the missionaries!” She squeals. “Come inside right this minute and I’ll get you something to eat. My oldest son is serving in southern Belgium….”
About the only thing I DON’T see is another person dressed up like a Klingon. Everybody else (not counting me and the Mummy Quark) obviously came as himself or herself—no matter how different that self might be.
I blush with hot shame beneath my mask. I also sweat beneath my mask because guess what? THIS MASK IS FREAKING HOT! (Seriously, you know that guy who played Worf on Star Trek: The Next Generation? Well, he should have definitely received a special Oscar for having to endure so much alien sweatiness.)
Meanwhile, Mummy Quark keeps searching for Scout, in spite of the fact that his neck motion is compromised by all those bandages.
That’s when it hits me. The answer to my prayer. I can fulfill my sacred vow by bringing Quark and Scout together.
Tonight.
I weave my way through the crowd until I am at Quark’s side.
“Don’t worry about anything,” I whisper into his left bicep. “I’m here for you.”
“Mmmmmmmmmmmm,” says Quark.
The doorbell rings again. Ali magically materializes and greets his new guests—Senhor Rick and Ellie’s aunt Mary.
“It’s the Governator!” I make gargling noises to express my EXTREME agitation in my native tongue, Klingon.
“Rick! I haven’t seen you at the gym lately,” I hear Ali say as Quark and I scurry away….
Scout’s Take
“OH MY GOSH,” I shout to Ellie over the music in Ali’s living room. “Look who just walked through the door!”
Ellie squints. “The guy from Star Trek?”
“It’s Ed. And I’ll bet the mummy is his neighbor Quark.”
Ellie squints. “How can you tell?”
“I’d know Ed’s shuffle anywhere.”
Ellie giggles. “Why are they dressed up?”
“You know Ed. Mr. Identity Crisis.”
“Should we go over and say alô?” Ellie asks, apparently ready to forgive and forget. Amazing!
Just seeing Ed all dressed up like Worf, shifting nervously from one foot to the other, fills me with familiar fondness, and I realize I don’t hate him anymore. Not that I ever really did.
On the other hand, it might not be a bad idea to let him suffer a little bit longer. Characters are always suffering in romance novels and it usually turns out to be good for them. Take Mr. Darcy in Pride and Prejudice, for example. Suffering made him stop being such a snob.
“Let’s wait,” I say, pulling Ellie into the hallway with me. I’m certain Ed and Quark haven’t seen us yet, and for now, at least, I want to keep it that way.
Ellie and I drift through the kitchen and into the backyard, which is also jammed with people. Baskets of tumbling red and purple flowers hang from the branches of trees, while paper bags weighted with sand and filled with lit candles line the patio. Dragonflies flit by on stained-glass wings. The sweet-scented evening air hangs over us like a canopy.
Ellie breathes deeply.
“Honeysuckle and white nicotiana,” she says. “Night bloomers. My grandmother grows them.”
In the middle of the lawn, tables spread with linens are loaded with food: stuffed mushrooms, pasta salads, shrimp pink as roses, scallops sheathed in bacon, thin crackers and marbled cheeses, dips with meaty chunks of artichokes, chips and thick mango salsa, cream cheese and lemon tarts, bowls of brown sugar and bowls of sour cream speckled with orange rind, strawberries swirled in chocolate and mounded raspberries on chilled pewter platters.
Ellie’s eyes grow large. “Wow!”
“I’m glad you approve,” says Ali, coming up behind us. “The Warrior Princess and I try to make this evening a special one for friends and friends of friends.”
We turn in time to see Ali give us a Cheshire smile before slipping into the crowd like the moon slipping behind the clouds.
Suddenly my chest feels full and light with gratitude for all the amazing things around me—food, music, dragonflies, flowers, the smell of flowers, bright lights and colored candles, happy people happy to be here, the warm midsummer night’s air, the moon high and shining.
And most of all I am grateful for the person who would care enough to create such a night for his friends and the friends of his friends.
“I love you, Ali!” I blurt after him, completely surprised that I am saying such an outrageous, initmate thing but realizing too that I have never meant it more than at this very moment.
Ellie gives me a quick hug. She doesn’t have to say it, but I know what has happened.
Her heart has been surprised by happiness too.
ED’S TURN
Time to spring into action here. My Springing-into-Action Plan involves looking for the object of Quark’s desire and staying the hell away from Arnold S.
“Let’s go find Scout,” I say to Quark with nobleness.
The nobleness part is completely wasted on him though. He’s already making a beeline for the backyard without me.
“Fine!” I shout after him. “Be that way! All you mummies are alike.” Then I follow him like the angry Klingon that I am.
After accidentally walking into a broom closet or two, Quark and I finally find Scout and Ellie in the backyard. They’re laughing and talking and nibbling on crackers like they don’t have a care in the world.
Quark takes a step toward them, but I grab his arm. “Wait. Let’s make a plan.”
Quark hesitates. Can it be he’s actually going to listen to me again? What should I tell him?
I stand in the shadows with Quark like a Klingon spy, mulling things over and watching the girls. Actually, I’m just pretty much watching Scout and the way her thick curly hair spills over her strong brown shoulders and the way she smiles and bites into a brownie with so much frosting that she has to lick her lips.
I almost stop breathing because I keep thinking how much I want to take her and lick all that chocolate right off those very full lips myself….
I think of Quark and smack myself upside the head because a sacred vow is a sacred vow, and (as everybody knows) a Klingon is bound by honor to do the right thing.
Scout’s Take
“The mummy is over there in the bushes watching you,” Ellie says. “And so is Ed. You’re the most popular girl at the party!”
My heart skips a quick beat as a slow smile grows across Ellie’s face.
“Do you like Ed? Tell me the truth,” she says.
I don’t answer but my face gives me away.
“I knew it!” She laughs. “I suspected something after I told you I liked Sergio.”
Still I say nothing.
“What’s the matter, Scout?” Ellie asks.
“I’m afraid.” There. I’ve said it. Out loud. For the first time ever. No taking the words back now.
“What are you afraid of?”
“Oh. You know. Ed’s my best friend. What if I screw up our friendship?” Like an icy hand, fear touches my throat.
Ellie thinks this over. “That could happen, I guess. Life gets complicated whenever you love someone else.”
The hand grows tighter….
“I’ve made mistakes, Scout,” Ellie says slowly. “I’ve even made the same mistake twice. But I honestly hope that won’t stop me from falling in love again.”
Coming from Ellie, this truly makes me want to cry. The music around us grows louder, making the leaves in the trees above our heads sway like dancers. Ellie takes my hand and I look at her.
“If you fail you fail. Meanwhile, you won’t lose the kisses that are meant for you. Don’t be afraid, Scout. Don’t be afraid.”
ED’S TURN
I CANNOT BELIEVE HOW FREAKING BLIND I’VE BEEN.
How could I have gone to work day after day after day and not seen Scout’s magic? How did I get THAT so wrong too?
I want her, okay? But I cannot want her because I cannot have her because Quark wanted her before I did, which means he gets her, which means she’ll spend the rest of her life (and mine) belonging to another man.
Wait a minute. That sounds like a bad movie script. Not even a bad movie script. A bad daytime TV script. Full of clichés and stuff. But you get the idea.
MEMO TO ED: You already screwed Quark over once. You cannot and will not do it again.
“Stay here,” I say to Quark. I can tell that fear of initiating contact with the female of the species is making him momentarily docile.
Time to put my little plan into action. Time to turn into Cyrano and woo Roxanne.
Scout’s Take
“Tell me about Ed. What’s he like in real life?” Ellie asks as she bites into a chocolate strawberry. We’re now sitting together on a hammock strung between trees.
“He’s smart. Funny. And in spite of the rotten thing he did to you, he can be very kind when he isn’t mixed up about who he is.”
Ellie thinks this over. “For example?”
“He makes it a point to talk to my grandfather the family outcast, for example, whenever he sees him sitting alone at one of my soccer games.”
“Ed does have a great smile,” Ellie says.
“Yup,” I agree.
“And hair.”
“That too.”
The hammock swings gently—to and fro, to and fro.
“What about his friend?” Ellie asks.
“Quark? I don’t know him that well. But he’s nice. Really nice.”
“Nice is good.” Ellie gives Quark a long second look. Then she laughs. “Ed’s on his way over here, although he keeps glancing over his shoulder.”
“He’s probably trying to stay off Ali’s radar.” Suddenly I feel as giddy as a romance-novel heroine. “Let’s pretend we still don’t notice him.”
Ellie nods, then points. “Look who else is here. Mary and Rick!”
She waves. Mary and Rick wave back, and I think how strange it is that we’re all connected. The world is just so small, really—as small as an oyster.
“You’re on your own, lover girl,” Ellie says. She threads her way through the crowd to join her aunt.
“Excuse me.” Ed is at my side now, trying to disguise his voice. He doesn’t sound very Worf-ly. I don’t let him know that I know who he is and that I have always known who he is.
“Hi,” I say, looking up at him from the hammock. “Great party, right?”
Ed grunts.
“I’m Scout, by the way. And you are?”
Pause. “Worf.”
“Ah,” I say.
“I have a friend who admires you very much,” Ed/Sergio/Worf says.
Could he be talking about himself? Again, that spark of hope lights inside of me.
“A friend? Do I happen to know this friend?”
“He tells me you’ve met him a couple of times. Once in the library. Once at the place where you work.”
Confused, I look at Ed/Sergio/Worf.
“My friend wants to get to know you better,” he says. “I think you might like him. He’s tall for his age.”
Ed practically chokes on his own words as I (sort of) begin to understand. Quark. Ed is talking about Quark.
Quark?!!!! Has a crush on me?
Whereas yesterday this information might have made me cry, tonight it makes me laugh. Out loud. Ellie is right. Life is just too complicated for words. Complicated and funny and delicious.
Don’t be afraid.
Suddenly I’m on the high dive again, just like in my dream, peeking past my toes into the deep, beautiful blue of the water below. This time I jump.
“I’m sure your friend is nice,” I say slowly, “but actually I prefer men who are short.”
I hear a quick intake of air through the mask. Is Ed excited? Or is he just suffocating?
“You do?”
“Yes,” I say. “I do.”
I see Ed hiding behind his silly mask, and suddenly I realize that I have been hiding too. I have been hiding from myself because the truth is that while I am a girl who kicks butt on and off the soccer field, I am also a girl with deep romance in my soul. I am Aurora Aurelia Arrington and I am not afraid.
I turn my full gaze on Ed and let it linger lovingly on his Klingon ears. Then I part my mouth and run the tip of my tongue over my lips, after which I say, “Let me tell you about this short guy I work with.” I laugh a throaty laugh full of implication as I swing lazily in the hammock.
Ed stands there, rooted to the spot. Finally he says, “Will you excuse me for a minute please?”
He turns around and heads straight for the house, crashing like a bowling ball into everyone who gets in his way.
ED’S TURN
“Excuse me,” I say to the person I have just bowled over, although what I really want to say is, “Did you hear what Scout just told me? She likes short guys!”
Short guys! As in Ed “Get Shorty” McIff. She likes us. She likes me.
ME!
She likes me me me me me me me me!
Did I already mention that Scout likes me?
So what am I going to do? What is Quark going to do? What am I going to do with Quark and what’s he going to do with me? What’s he going to do TO me?
One thing’s for sure. I gotta get out of here right now so I can think straight. And breathe straight too. It’s getting harder to breathe with this stupid mask on. Time to take it off.
I should have taken it off a long time ago.
Scout’s Take
Ali looks like he’s hovering in midair, although he’s just standing on a picnic table.
“May I have everyone’s attention please?” he says in his deep rolling voice.
As if on cue, everybody in the house comes surging outside to join the rest of us standing beneath the flower-filled trees and strands of twinkling lights. Ed looks like he’s trying to find a way to escape—tugging on Quark’s bandaged arm and pointing back at the house. But in the end he gives it up. Meanwhile, the crowd gathers round to hear Ali speak in reverent tones.
“May I present to you your hostess for this evening—the Warrior Princess.”
The crowd parts and the single most gorgeous woman I have ever seen appears among us, walking slowly and surely with regal, even steps toward Ali. She is tall and sleek with black-gold skin. Her hair and eyes are tawny, and she wears a gold halter top and tight leopard-skin pants. A blue parrot, the color of hyacinths, rides on her shoulder.
Gasps of admiration and awe follow as the Warrior Princess joins Ali on the table and takes his hand. She smiles at him and turns to the rest of us standing below.
“Thank you all for coming, friends and friends to be,” she says in a low smoky voice. “And now let us have a song for Midsummer’s Eve.”
“A song! A song!” The crowd chants. “Who has a song?”
“Ellie does!” It’s Rick, taking Ellie by the shoulders and pushing her forward. Mary smiles and claps her hands.
I would die a thousand slow and painful deaths if someone volunteered me to sing in front of strangers, but the look on Ellie’s face says that she’s pleased as she makes her way through the crowd. Ali and the Warrior Princess step down from the table so that Ellie can take their place. With a little smile and a slight nod of the head—first to the Warrior Princess and Ali and then to the crowd—Ellie says, “It will give me great pleasure to sing for you an aria from the opera La Wally.”