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Rockwell High School's dance didn't seem to be a huge deal despite all of the giant overdone posters with glitter and paper cutouts of famous men and women like Elvis Presley and Audrey Hepburn, movie stars and models from the magazines. It was no surprise to DG "Dead Guy" Deadguy that there was so many people as he stayed leaned on wall, away from everyone in that low-lit dance hall.
Some people called him Guy, like the two other "Guys" in the school, but it was only because no one really knew his real name. DG was his first initials, Deadguy (Dead-gy, yes Dead-gy) was his last, Unoriginal as it was, he was Dead Guy at the start to the populous.
The only difference was how no one really knew how he got there.
"A sudden transfer," he said with no excitement in his voice to a questioning classmate, "From Chicago." A made-up story about his mom and old man not wanting his rebellious ass anymore, so they dealt him to his military grandfather to 'turn him to a respectable gentlemen.' Fighting practice as the excuse for the brusies he would show on his face like trophies at school, before being handed to the school nurse. Some girls fawned over him but their attention was stale and he felt undeserving. Good looks like slick black hair, a nice face, and a leather jacket did weird wonders. That's what he said. Not to mention the "competition" from the local boys who've wrecked the streets longer than him.
Everyone ate up the lies like pie on Thanksgiving.
What wasn't a lie was on how nervous he was. He kept folding his hands over his pale knuckles, over and over, a toss and turn. His eyes looking down to his brown shoes. A light tap on his shoulder pulled his head upward to see the contender.
The first thing he noticed was their long black hair that reached to their shoulders which blended in to the black dress they wore. Their face had a look of sincerity. Dark eyes like a bottomless chestnut pool, their mouth slightly agape.
"Are you ok?" They asked, their voice clear. It was Ink, or-- well they called them Ink. No one knew their real name nor gender, so Ink fit them just fine, plus they chose it. The dress for? Supposedly, it was only just dresses and suits in the dance and if you looked like one thing you can't be the other, said the secretaries. Teachers tried to remove the rule, but it was as lost as the kids behind the bleachers.
In the background, you could clearly hear the 'King of Rock's' voice singing out to the teens.
"O-Oh, I'm-I'm fine," Dead Guy lied, his eyebrows narrowed. His face slowly restored to it's blank neutral state. Almost broke a sweat.
"You sure?" Ink asked, their hands now posted to their sides. Dead Guy noticed their legs. It wasn't the clearest sight, but those were definitely legs. That was ok, common for dresses nowadays much to the disdain of old geezers. As well as the gam shows at magazines and he might have saw familiarity in the model and the person in front of him. Blood was rising in his cheeks.
"Yeah, I'm-m sure."
"Okay... just checking."
The room was turned into a halt as the music slowly drowned out by the talking and the upset, "Aww," as they protested against the newfound silence. Between them, was silence.
"One for the money! Two for the show!" Rang out from the vinyl record player.
People were kicked up again as a new record played, this time another Elvis song, Blue Suede Shoes. People danced and jived, smiling ridiculous grins as their feet carried colorful streamers and confetti.
"Uuhh, Ink?"
"Hmm?"
Dead Guy's heart slumped. Their attention was diverted to the dancing crowd, their hands folded on the other in a jumble. They looked bored by every fiber of their being.
He was keeping them for too long. Stop keeping them too long, you don't de-
"W-would you like to dance with me?" His heart felt liked it stopped right then and there. The dark eyes could have right been crossed X's looking to the floor. Time had paused, the music and laughter have become muffled static before a happy voice cut through it like butter.
"I'd like too!"
It was said with a cherry sundae sweet smile, probably even a twinkle in their eyes.
A nervous grin crept on Guy's face as he took their hand and they walked to the dance floor of the school's dance hall.