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Night Vale High School Gymnasium, May, 1992
It was supposed to have been "Stairway to Heaven." That was the prom theme voted on by the combined Junior and Senior classes. But then the more religious elements of the town had piped up about supposed "Satanic or occult elements" in the chosen song and theme, and so, in the end, it had been watered-down to "The Funky Seventies." And the school gym is "decorated", if you can call it that, with a disco ball and streamers, and there's a DJ with a bunch of speakers at one end and a table with a punchbowl and cookies at the other. And the kids, understandably upset, had retaliated with vocal protests and a boycott.
At least they would have, if they had cared. Really, though, wasn't prom just an excuse to get drunk and laid? So everyone's there anyway. They're all decked-out in tuxes and formal gowns, pictures of teen Americana. Well, except for a few.
One of the few is Earl. He doesn't have a date. He didn't ask anyone, but none of the girls seem to be too broken up about that. He's too... normal. Too straight-laced and proper. Too responsible. Too good. No date, so there was no reason to get all dressed up. Instead, he stands around with the other nerds. They're all wearing a sort of uniform -- uncomfortable khakis and button-downs and ties, and they're helping the adults to corral the unruly and the obviously intoxicated.
And then there are the jokers. Ronnie Sandero, the Senior class clown, is wearing a white polyester suit and curly wig. Larry Leroy, apprentice Junior class clown, is wearing a powder-blue leisure suit and fake sideburns. Both are performing exaggerated disco moves, regardless of what song is playing. Their dates sit on the sidelines, glaring at them.
But the obvious standout is Cecil. He's living the dream of the Seventies in his look. He is wearing a short, furry-looking vest and a pair of hip-hugging bell-bottoms that are just shy of indecent, apparently stuff that used to belong to his mother back in the day. It's surprising that's he's been allowed to come to prom dressed like that, but it's even more surprising he's been allowed to attend prom at all, seeing as how he's been fucking up left, right, and center. But there he is. He always tells Earl that adults will let you get away with anything if they feel sorry for you, and it looks like he's right.
A fuzz-tone guitar starts. Earl finds himself grabbed by a long, lovely, wiry arm and drawn into a circle of dancers.
Never been a sinner, never sinned
He finds himself hip-to-hip with Cecil as they circumnavigate, Cecil's date (third-runner-up for homecoming queen -- quite a score, apparently, and there's that sympathy thing again) on his other side. Earl finds warm fingers inching under his tucked-in Oxford shirt, bony hips bumping against his.
Whoa, send up me to the Spirit in the Sky
The hand leaves his hip, leaves his skin tingling, and they're all spinning around, hands above their heads, waving in imitation of the churchfolk that have messed with their prom. The music fades, and they all giggle in their boldness and rebellion. Then the lights soften and couples move together in some unconscious cue that Earl can't quite intercept.
She packed my bags last night, pre-flight
The boys and the girls cling to each other, and Cecil is moving away from him, an absence that is nearly solid in his chest. He's holding onto the girl by her waist and spinning in slow circles.
Earl leaves the dance floor and joins the other "stag" kids, many of them Eagle Scouts like himself. He watches the mating ritual unfolding on the dance floor and wonders why he feels no connection to the kids out there, hugging and kissing and reluctantly moving apart under direction from the chaperones.
And I think it's going to be a long, long time.
Earl watches.
He watches someone in particular. A certain someone with beautiful golden skin and white blond hair. He watches him say something funny, and he watches that someone's date giggle and bury her face in his faux-fur covered shoulder. Then the music changes back to something fast, and the fog machines and lights start to strobe.
I like to dream, yes, yes, right between the sound machine.
That someone breaks away from his date and moves to the music, all smooth belly and swiveling hips. That someone swivels his hips around to Earl's direction and they lock eyes.
That someone grins broadly and winks. Earl feels his knees go weak and grabs the punch table.
"You okay, Son?" asks his dad, who just happens to be one of the chaperones, and the Scoutmaster to boot.
"Yeah, I think it's just hot in here. I gotta... uh... I gotta go sit down for a minute."
"Take a break, Soldier." Earl nods and walks out of the gym.
Ooh, child, things are gonna get easier...
It's a slow dance again, and Earl can imagine Cecil curling around that girl. He imagines Cecil kissing her. He imagines Cecil marrying her. A knot tightens in his stomach.
He trudges aimlessly until he finds himself in the A/V club's booth, overlooking the dance floor. It's like looking down into a controlled orgy. He sees couples doing things that Jesus SURELY would not approve of, chaperones breaking them up, other couples doing stuff on the other side of the dance floor until a disapproving adult eye can separate them.
Oogah chacka oogah chacka...
The door to the booth slams open and a force of nature enters, wearing a stupid fur vest and a too-tight pair of bell-bottom pants, and suddenly Earl's lap is full of Cecil.
Lips as sweet as candy
Earl's about to ask him what the hell he thinks he's doing, but then Cecil's mouth is on his, and Earl never knew that was what he wanted, not until that moment. Suddenly everything makes sense, the not wanting a prom date, the annoyance at Cecil's endless stupid prom plans, the tingles...
Cecil melts atop him in the booth, bangs flopping in his face, over his eyes, kissing, biting along his neck and his jawline.
You got me thirsty for another cup of wine
Cecil's mouth tastes like alcohol and cigarettes. He should bang him in for it, a good Scout would, but it also tastes like sweetness, and it tastes like Cecil...
Oogah chacka oogah chacka
And he should feel guilty, because surely this is wrong, but Cecil's over him, he's ravenous, kissing, grinding down on his lap... They lock lips again, and Cecil's long legs tighten around his hips. Then the song ends.
Strings swell, and pink light suffuses the dance floor below. Cecil pushes back from him and groans.
I'm not in love, so don't forget, it's just a silly phase I'm going through...
"Shit, a slow song, gotta go." Cecil presses a last, desperate kiss to Earl's lips. "I wish I was dancing with you. Meet me behind the school after the dance, Early?"
All Earl can do is nod, and watch as Cecil runs out of the booth and to his date. He gives himself a moment, then adjusts himself and resumes his vigil near the punch bowl, shaking inside. The song changes again, and he watches that certain someone dance. That certain someone again catches his eye, and he bites his lower lip and runs his long, lovely hands down his own body, then tosses his hair and dances back into the crowd.
You're fine and you're mine and you look so divine
A tornado has just blown through Earl's life. Everything he thought about himself, everything he thought he wanted, everything has been upended and storm-tossed. And somehow, he can't stop smiling.