Shuffle: A Novel Part 21

I made a face at her as soon as she turned her back. Okay, maybe that was kind of mean. She did seem a bit terrified by the utter teenagery-ness of her surrounding environment. But hey, I shouldn't have to apologize for being young and awesome. She went off to terrorize some other corner of the room, and we dropped our "decorous ladies" facade just as quickly.

"Hey," Shelby nudged me, her eyes narrowing into a squint as she stared into the chaotic press of dancers, "Do you think Casey has a b.o.n.e.r right now?"

"What?"

Ellen leaned in. "He does seem to be having trouble unpeeling his torso from the front of Britta's dress."

"You guys are disgusting."

But of course I, too, squinted into the mess, trying to see what the situation was with his pants. It was like he was using Britta as a s.h.i.+eld, though. Couldn't get a clear view. I glanced over at Shelby.

"You don't like Casey, do you?"

She turned to me with a grin on her face. "Are you freaking kidding me? No."

"Um, well, you seemed to be getting along with him pretty well at the football game. Britta was worried."

Shelby turned up her nose and waved her hand like a n.o.bleman dismissing an unwanted servant. "Just, no. He's a cla.s.s A moron. He thinks the NBA playoffs are more fun to watch than March Madness. We weren't getting along; we were arguing."

She was pretty convincing. I almost bought it.

"Vi and Luke look pretty cute together," mused Ellen. I thought maybe I could detect a note of wistfulness in her voice.

"Yeah," I sighed. Shelby just nodded. We stared at them for a minute, and I'm pretty sure it was obvious who each of us was thinking about. Some pop-country song tw.a.n.ged as the couples swayed softly under high blue bulbs hung from the ceiling of the fieldhouse. I could see dust swirling on air currents. I followed it down... It looked kind of like snow.

Finally Ellen broke the silence.

"Oh my G.o.d, he definitely does have a b.o.n.e.r. I just saw it."

"Ew, how embarra.s.sing for him!"

We giggled and sat back to watch the rest of our cla.s.smates try to get into each other's pants as their teachers looked on. Seriously. High school dances are weird.

But we went with it when the music changed, brus.h.i.+ng bits of cookie off our laps and heading back out to jerk and swivel our bodies like idiots to the rap and hip-hop that kept blasting out of the big speakers on either side of the DJ. It was a little awkward. I didn't lose myself in rhythm like I had at Arbor's party a maybe it was the slightly uncomfortable dress, maybe the cavernous s.p.a.ce. Or the fact that my math teacher was literally standing twenty paces to my left. Anyway, I was having a good time. I was happy for George. His friends were coming up to him now, congratulating him on his game-winning catch.

Everyone except Jim.

"Well. I guess Rome wasn't built in a day," I said to Ellen, nodding over at Jim who was standing sullenly with Amanda, still refusing to dance.

"Sure it was," she said.

I snorted. "Wait, this doesn't have anything to do with your little..."

She turned her head, pursing her lips, and stalked off to the bathroom.

Oh my G.o.d. What did she have up her sleeve?

Just then the music cut out, and Princ.i.p.al Davis walked up onto the stage, carrying a microphone with him. Swish, swish, swish.

I gave Shelby a smack. "You've poisoned my mind!"

"I know, I'm such a b.i.t.c.h."

We laughed while Princ.i.p.al Davis made some boilerplate remarks about our victory over Boulder, the apparent life-or-death importance of showing one's school spirit at all times (not just during Homecoming week), and then capped off his speech with everyone's favorite, the cla.s.sic "having fun without drugs" lecture.

I craned my head, expecting Ellen to pop out of the bathroom any second. But she didn't appear. And the Homecoming King and Queen were just about to be announced. Someone emerged from behind the red curtain at the back of the stage and handed Princ.i.p.al Davis a large envelope, decorated with a suspicious amount of glitter...

Just like the glitter I'd seen under Ellen's fingernails the night before.

I edged a little closer to Shelby, and whispered in her ear, "I think we'll want to be over there soon."

Before she could answer, I grabbed her arm and pulled her nearer to where Jim, Amanda, and the rest of the nominees were standing. I also slipped my phone out of my bra and got the video capture ready.

"What's up?" Shelby mouthed at me. I shook my head and put a finger to my lips. Princ.i.p.al Davis was fumbling with the sparkly flap.

"And now the moment you've all been waiting for," he said stiffly, as though he'd practiced saying it one too many times in front of the mirror. "Your Homecoming King is... Jim Holness!"

So, not a surprise then. I frowned slightly. I'd expected Luke to win for King and Vi to win for Queen. That is, if Ellen's secret project was fixing the election. I was starting to really wonder just what was up.

Princ.i.p.al Davis shoved the envelope under his arm and clapped loudly into the microphone along with the rest of us. Amanda squealed and gave Jim a kiss on the cheek, clearly playing to the crowd rather than sharing an actual emotion.

"Sucks," was Shelby's concise take on the situation.

"I voted for George," I said.

She nodded, shrugged. "Luke. Now I guess Amanda's a lock."

Jim cracked a smile and loped up onto the stage, nodding and waving to the sea of students below. I pressed the record b.u.t.ton on my phone, and got a fuzzy, wavering thirty-second shot of Jim doing a macho arm pumping motion, yelling "Woo!" a bunch of times and finally taking the mic to say a hearty "Thanks, yo" to the student body and the President. He was certainly acting like a cla.s.sic jock. A plastic, fake-jeweled crown was placed on his head and he went to stand to the side as Princ.i.p.al Davis reached for another envelope.

"And now the real moment you've all been waiting for," he said, to mild laughter. He had some trouble slipping his finger underneath the seal. The fieldhouse waited, hushed. "This is it, folks. Your new Homecoming Queen is..."

Princ.i.p.al Davis slid the card out. He stared at it for a moment, perplexed. A murmur went up among the crowd as he put his hand over the microphone and waved over an admin a the one who was in charge of the envelopes and the crowns. He showed her the card. She shrugged, shaking her head. They had a brief discussion, and then she stepped back. He uncovered the mic.

"I guess it was a write-in vote, everybody," said Princ.i.p.al Davis, "Because this is a bit of a surprise."

I swung my phone over to get a shot of Amanda. She was poised, expectant.

"Your new Homecoming Queen... er, rather, your second Homecoming King... is George Farmer!"

At first, there was no reaction.

"Um, I voted for Vi," whispered Shelby. There were similar whispers going up all around us. I kept the camera focused on Amanda's face, which was slowly tightening up in horror. She was turning to her friends, asking "Is this real? Is this real?"

Princ.i.p.al Davis started clapping, just like he had for Jim. "Mr. Farmer, come on up," he said, warmly.

The clapping spread. I stuffed the fingers of my free hand into my mouth and blasted a wolf whistle. Ellen, you ma.s.sive genius! Soon there were cheers, and stomps of approval. Amanda's hopeful expression disintegrated into one of disgust as George left Arbor's side and made his way up to the stage.

Then her face turned pink and she screeched, "This is ultra bulls.h.i.+t!" She stomped off to the bathroom, arms swinging. A woman intercepted her, the same one who'd chastised us earlier for not being "lady-like." Of course that's her mother. So obvious.

And I got it all on film.

But I left the two of them and swung my phone back up to the stage to capture George's crowning and speech. A tiara was placed on his head. He rolled his eyes and took it off right away. Then he stepped up to the microphone.

"I don't know how this happened," he said. "Three days ago I thought I had nothing to look forward to but rude comments, probably some fists coming my way, and definitely a football season's worth of hard, cold benches. I'd like to thank my date, Arbor, for standing up for me when no one else would."

People clapped and Arbor took a little bow.

George squinted and put his hand over his eyes, shading them from the bright lights trained on the stage. "I don't see him, but if you're out there, Mr. Pryce, thanks again for the help with our trick football counts. They really turned the game around yesterday."

I swung my head left and right, looking for Quentin, but it was impossible to find anybody in the darkened fieldhouse.

"And thanks, Princ.i.p.al Davis, for not lying about what was written on the card. That would have been easy to do."

Princ.i.p.al Davis smiled and nodded. The next moment he was almost blindsided by Amanda's mother, who was back from the bathroom, clutching what looked like a bunch of mascara-stained toilet paper. She'd rushed up on stage and was now giving him an earful.

George raised his eyebrows. "It's easy to lie about stuff," he continued. Mrs. Petrov's chorus of nasty provided the backing vocals for the rest of his speech. "Like who you are. It's also easy to back down under pressure. I'm not good at much besides football. But lying and backing down are two things that my football coaches have always taught me never to do, and so I'm not going to apologize or go back into the closet. I wish other people would..." He trailed off and looked over at Jim, who was standing stiffly in the same spot, crown on his head, looking terrified.

"I mean..."

George didn't seem to know how to finish his thought.

The crowd filled the silence with encouraging applause and cheers. I think the fact that George's win so clearly came at the expense of Amanda Petrov helped to solidify the majority of the student body behind him. There was noticeable dissent, of course. The most noticeable being Mrs. Petrov's. But there was a lot more support.

I think Jim saw it too, because he walked up to the microphone and kissed George. Right in front of everyone.

The fieldhouse erupted. Everybody loves a love story, right? Total romcom moment! At some point Ellen had ninjaed her way to my side; now she pointed up to Princ.i.p.al Davis, who was guiding Mrs. Petrov as well as he could out of the limelight, to the back of the stage. He seemed to be standing up to her. In fact, he cut a pretty heroic figure.

"And I thought you were joking, Shelby," I mused. "About the hotness."

"Ha. I never joke."

Princ.i.p.al Davis. Kinda awesome. Who knew?

George and Jim gently broke their kiss, and walked down from the stage hand in hand. A pop ballad played over the speakers, and students moved out to make a circle. The two Homecoming Kings danced together, staring into each other's eyes like they'd never look away.

"Good job, babe." I put my arm around Ellen and squeezed. "I'm sorry he wasn't the one."

"Thanks." She gave me a smile. "I'm really all right."

I believed her.

"Someday I will force you to tell me how you got George's name in that envelope."

"You know," she whispered slyly, "Jim's name wasn't supposed to be there either. It was Arbor who really won the vote."

Vi and Luke joined in the slow dance, along with the rest of the Homecoming court (minus one A. Petrov, still absent). Britta and Casey recreated the vacuum seal between their torsos. Ellen and Shelby danced together.

I felt a warm hand on my waist.

"Arbor," I breathed.

"Your observation is correct," he replied.

"Shut up," I said, softly. He drew his hand up my back and the next thing I knew we were swaying gently in a world of violet light.

"My date seems to have taken up with another man," he said. "So, Evangeline, may I have this dance?"

"I think you already have it," I answered.

He smiled then. That predator's smile. "You weren't supposed to come tonight." The words seemed to escape his lips in a soft hiss.

"And why is that?" I asked.

"Because I said so."

I stiffened. His touch felt so good, but I couldn't take this kind of c.r.a.p. Which is why the next words out of my mouth were, "I can't take this kind of c.r.a.p. You don't get to tell me what to do."

He sighed, relaxing his hold on me. "I know," he said. The mask dropped away. His voice was suddenly full of regret. Genuine regret.

"I'm sorry, Evangeline. It's just that sometimes I feel responsible when..."

At that moment, the song ended. The student body turned toward the stage, where Princ.i.p.al Davis was back on the mic, congratulating the Homecoming Kings and the football team. He said, "We have a little surprise for you, this year." He swept his arm out in a grand motion. "The curtain, please."

The red curtain whooshed open on his command, and bright yellow stage lights winked on overhead.

"Oh, Jesus, Jesus..."

There were screams, and a stampede for the exit. Princ.i.p.al Davis's surprised words echoed in the microphone. Arbor drew his arms around me, turning my head to his chest, covering my eyes. But I'd already seen it.

In front of a banner that said CONGRATULATIONS PHS FOOTBALL, in front of a table loaded with door prizes, Quentin Pryce was hanging by the neck. Dead.

Chapter Twelve.

"And the last time you went backstage, it was to... "

"To get the tiara for the Homecoming Queen a King! I mean a anyway yes, that was the last time. It was all dark. I... I couldn't see anything. I didn't look up, even. But... I don't think that the body was, um... there... yet."

Callie pursed her lips as she questioned the admin, furiously jotting everything down on her notepad. Princ.i.p.al Davis was standing nearby, having a conversation with Lieutenant Collier. The fieldhouse was bright, with the overhead lights on, and empty of students. It was all EMTs and cops. The cutouts and crepe paper looked like cheap garbage. There were crumbs on the tables, and dirty napkins and pop tabs littered the floor. I had been instructed to wait for Callie by the doors and not interfere with the investigation. Arbor was waiting with me; he refused to go home.

"And how much time went by between you getting the tiara and the curtain opening?" she asked. "Just your own estimate."