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The students let their English teacher choose the theme for the first dance of the year and, for a wonder, not only liked Stede’s idea, but expanded on it.
He’d spent the first hour of the Under the Sea event not hiding by the punch bowl as in previous years, but being passed from group to group, the teens admiring his mermaid-scale suit jacket as they showed off the decorations and their own impressive outfits. Even the visitors from their sister school cast appreciative glances over his gold-tinted wingtips as they bounced around to the latest dance craze.
But then he slipped out of the decorated, strobe-lit gym for a breather—and maybe a cup of Lucius the drama teacher’s “Strictly for the teachers, this means you Shelley and Guillaume” punch—and suddenly, under the harsh fluorescent lights of the corridor, tacky linoleum underfoot, his outfit felt a bit over the top.
Especially when a breathless voice said, “Wow, look at you!”
“Yes, all right, maybe the teal trousers are—” He’d turned to greet the commenter and at the sight of Edward Teach, forgot the end of his sentence and was already halfway to forgetting his own name.
Teach had transferred to Stede’s school that very day, a midterm shakeup made necessary when their art teacher, Mary, had to take her maternity leave a few weeks early—baby Louis was fine, his sister, Alma, assured Stede, as she danced by with Shelley the Punch Sneaker—and their part-time art teacher, Doug, took his paternity leave at the same time.
Stede had been formally introduced to Teach at the all-staff meeting after lunch. Had shaken his hand.
Had not thought about him while dressing for the dance. Not at all...
“Are you kidding?” Teach—Ed. “I’m just Ed, mate,” he’d said, shaking Stede’s hand with a warm, firm grip—was saying. “You look like a mermaid! Merman. Merperson. It’s fantastic!”
“I did search for a costume tail,” he confessed. “But I wouldn’t make much of a chaperone if I couldn’t walk.”
“Or dance,” Ed said, and did he know that his eyes got all crinkly at the corners like that when he smiled? Had anyone told him before?
Stede curled his hands into fists to hold back his outlandish thoughts. “Oh, I don’t dance at these things. Have to keep up at least the illusion of cool in front of the students.”
“Oh, come on, I’ll bet they adore you.” Ed cocked his head towards the gym. “You don’t even dance when the Grease medley comes on?”
“The last time I did that, Lucius laughed so hard that Pete was thumping his back for 10 minutes, so...no.”
“Pete’s the math teacher? He seemed to know my art.”
“Oh, yeah, he always goes on about Blackbeard— Wait.”
Ed grinned. “You didn’t realise?”
Stede looked him over, from black boots to leather trousers, all the way up to the unfastened collar of his shimmery dark button-down, through which a strand of seed pearls showed, resting above an intriguing hawk tattoo. “I, uh, should have known...” Once again he lost the thread of the conversation, as his gaze came to rest on Ed’s silver and midnight curls, tumbling over his shoulders, and he figured it was high time he changed his syllabus to include a few—no, all—of Shakespeare’s sonnets, no matter how much the kids might groan.
“What about you?” Ed asked.
“Sorry?”
“What do you think of Blackbeard’s art?”
“I like your new stuff best,” he said swiftly. “Your style’s changed a bit in the past year, hasn’t it? I was just on my way to get some punch,” he rambled on. “Er, if you’d like to join me.”
“Love to. How long do we have before we have to get back in there?”
Let’s not and say we did. “Should be good for another 10 minutes or so.”
He hadn’t thought his plan through, forgetting about everything in the vicinity that wasn’t Ed, so the look on Lucius’ face as they approached the snack table startled him and his steps faltered, bumping him up against Ed.
“Well, well, well.” Lucius elbowed Pete. “It’s already happening.”
Roach, the school chef, paused in the act of dropping off more cupcakes. “You owe me 10 bucks.”
“What’s all this about?” Stede asked, stepping aside and straightening his lapels in an effort to present as calm and collected.
“Nothing to do with you, naturally,” Lucius told him, passing over a cup of punch. “Ed? Kiddie punch or a cup of I-can’t-believe-this-is-my-Friday-night?”
“The second one, definitely.” Ed’s gaze seemed to be caught somewhere in the vicinity of Stede’s hands on his blazer. “Though it doesn’t seem like such a bad gig.”
Torn between Lucius’ knowing wink and Ed’s soft smile, Stede did the only thing he could and tossed back his drink. “Guess we should head back into the fray.”
“Just in time,” Ed said, and downed his own punch. “This is a good one.”
Failing to not feel the combined weight of Lucius, Pete, and Roach’s stares on his back, Stede tripped along beside Ed towards the gym doors.
“I kind of like it, too,” he admitted, as they swung in on the beat.
“Then dance with me.” Ed held out his hand.
“Oh, I don’t know. We should really patrol the perimeter and— Okay.”
“Yes?”
“I think so.”
“Come on.”
And this time, when Ed held out his hand, he took it.
He’d been hesitant, with nearly three decades behind him of being told he was too much, of being advised to maintain his decorum, but thirty seconds on the dance floor with Ed upturned all his learned straightlaced attitudes, and had him jumping and twirling, daring Ed to keep up with him.
And Ed did. The song segued into another lively number and they landed side by side in a large group of students who welcomed them with cheers and waving arms.
Then came a slow song, one from a recent film, and as the teens coupled off or broke away to head for the snack table, he and Ed wended their way to the DJ booth.
“You’re not allowed to make requests anymore, Stede,” John told him, as soon as Stede was in earshot.
“Yeah, not after last time,” Frenchie chimed in. The Room People duo had been DJing at the dances and other school events for years; last year, at the winter cotillion, after Stede had unironically said he’d love to hear Last Christmas, they’d had Fang haul him away. Fang, the biology teacher, was the sort who, rather than a dead frog for dissection, brought in a puppy for his class to play with, so being dragged away in a Fang hug wasn’t a hardship, but it didn’t make John and Frenchie’s refusal any less firm.
Now, though, with Ed by his side—Stede tried to prevent his own heavy breaths from revealing how unused he was to such exertion, all the while listening to Ed’s breaths and resolutely keeping his gaze averted from the trickle of sweat on his brow—
“Sorry, what was that?” he asked Ed, having lost time once more.
“If you could make a request, what would it be?”
“I’m right here,” John said, as he faded in the next song. “I’ll know if you ask for a Stede song.”
“Even if you guys weren’t whispering in front of us, we’d know,” Frenchie added. “Stede’s stuck in the ’80s.”
“You can’t possibly object to Raspberry Beret!”
“I can. We’ve just played Prince. I can also object to Billy Joel and the Talking Heads,” John went on, barrelling over Stede, who’d only just opened his mouth.
“No ‘Sunglasses at Night’ either, I suppose,” Ed remarked, smiling, as if at a private joke.
“Well sussed,” Stede said bitterly. “I’ve tried that one.”
“Back to my question then: if there was one song, and only one song, what would it be?”
Ed seemed to have intuited that Stede had not had this chance before. Years of playing the wallflower at his own high school dances, and now, a life of many more dances behind and before him, spent skirting the edges, never experiencing the full spate of emotions brought about by a magical night of music in a transformed school gym. A chance meeting, a look in the eye, an arm about one’s shoulders... A hope and a promise.
Every song he’d ever wanted to dance to swirled about in his mind as he sifted through the rack of CDs.
“You get one last chance, Stedey-boy!” Frenchie told him.
“This one.” He pulled out the softcover CD single and slapped it into John’s waiting palm.
“Good choice,” Ed said, leaning over to look, then slipped his hand back into Stede’s.
“Yes!” Fang appeared beside the booth, gaze homing in on their clasped hands. “Hi, Stede, hi, Ed. Ten bucks to me,” he called up to Frenchie.
Stede didn’t have time to wonder why all these ten-dollar amounts were changing hands. Ed led him around the edges of the dance floor, greeting students as they passed.
“You’ve already learned many of their names,” Stede told him. “You’re a good teacher, Ed.”
“Hope so. This is my first teaching gig.” He grinned in the face of Stede’s startled look, and then Stede’s song came on and he whirled out into the middle of the room, taking Stede with him.
They skipped here and there, half-dancing, half-keeping tabs on the kids. Other teachers were in attendance, some chaperoning, some volunteering at the ticket and snack tables. Parents were, ostensibly, welcome; few ever took up the invitation. But as he and Ed flitted across the wooden boards of the gym, Stede caught sight of his least favourite parent, Mr Banes. Or, as he insisted he be called, Lord Banes. Some family connection from his past that purportedly meant he owned an estate somewhere. None of it had any connection with real life, but it did mean he was wealthy enough to be a consistent donor of large sums to the school, thereby securing fawning obeisance to his fancies.
Stede’s steps faltered as they drew nearer to Banes, and by the time they’d fetched up in front of him, he wore the mantle of social decorum once more, and had dropped Ed’s hand. “Lord Banes.”
“Why, Bonnet! I didn’t see you there.” Banes tittered. “Well, I saw your outfit, of course. Should have known it was you!”
“Yes. Quite. I don’t know if you’ve met—”
“Tell me.” Banes leaned in conspiratorially. “Is there a secret to this undersea theme I’m not aware of? Why are there so many...” He flapped a milquetoast hand in the direction of Alma and Shelley, dancing arm in arm to the latest slow song.
“So many teens having fun?” Stede ventured.
“You are meant to be chaperoning, are you not? Doesn’t this sort of display fall within your purview?”
Stede was once again aware of Ed’s breathing beside him, this time a sharp intake, as if Ed were gearing himself up to intervene.
It wouldn’t do; Ed shouldn’t have to deal with this sort of incident on his first day. Not at his first school dance as a teacher.
“Do you mean a display of fun, Lord Banes?” Stede gave Banes a pointed sweep, from his bland shoes to his limp hair. “Did you not find out about the theme early enough?” He reached into the inside pocket of his blazer. “I do have an accessory for my own outfit, but perhaps you’d like to carry it for a while?”
He drew out the collapsible trident he’d bought at the costume shop, after he’d decided against the mermaid’s tail.
At that moment, three things happened.
Guillaume and another boy swung around Alma and Shelley, and the four of them went off dancing together. They high-fived with Ed as they passed.
Ed’s elbow knocked into Stede’s arm.
Stede extended his trident, just as Ed bumped into him, and two of the three plastic prongs jammed themselves on either side of his Lordship’s nose.
The third went up a nostril.
Banes let out a screech, Stede yanked the trident away, and Banes clapped both hands over his nose. “I’m bleeding! Principal Zheng will hear about this!”
“You’ll have to get past our vice-principal first.” Stede inspected his trident, which showed no signs of blood, then tapped it on the ground and set both hands to the base of the prongs, as if to the hilt of a sword. “Best go see nurse Boodhari.”
Jim and Archie, the physics and chemistry teachers, swayed past, punch in hand, and halted at Stede’s words. “Is one of the kids hurt?”
“No, it’s Mr Banes. He’s—”
“Lord Banes.”
“He’s well enough if he can insist on his title,” Ed whispered in Stede’s ear.
“Keep watching,” Stede whispered back. Out loud he said, “Mr Banes needs to visit the infirmary—”
“Aww, does he need a tissue?” Archie asked, slinging an arm through Banes’.
“Or a lie down?” Jim asked, twining their arm through Banes’ other arm.
Together, they spun him about and hauled him towards the door, his nose twitching as they went. “Where are you taking me?” he cried, his voice growing fainter under the beat of the latest hit song. “Do you know who I am? I’m a minor—”
The gym doors shut with a clang.
Stede waited a beat, then said, “Let’s go out the other way.”
“I’ll bet you could use another cup of punch,” Ed said, and set a warm hand low on Stede’s back as they moved off alongside the bleachers. “When you cut loose, you really cut loose, Mr Merperson.”
“Please.” He brandished the trident. “All in a day’s work for us, down in the briny depths.”
Ed laughed, and kept laughing as they emerged into the relative silence of the corridor. His laughter filled Stede’s ears like a song all its own, and once again he found himself skipping, as they rounded the corner and headed for Lucius’ table.
It was easy, laughing with Ed. Like breathing, really. Where he had to concentrate with others, make sure he said the right words, spoke properly, and as expected, he didn’t need to overthink with Ed. Nor did he have to hold back on his gestures, his excited hops, all the little movements he usually had to physically dial back on.
They hung out with Lucius and Pete, and Ed told them about his former art agent and why he would’ve gotten so annoyed at Sunglasses at Night. They ate some of Roach’s delicious desserts, and commiserated with each other when a group of teens walked by and snarked about a song from their youth: “What’s this one, dude?” “Some old thing, never heard of it.”
With a little over an hour left, they slipped back into the gym, swaying to the strains of another recent hit. Stede got pulled over to help find a missing purse, and once he’d found it, fallen beneath the bleachers, dug it out with the help of his trident. From somewhere near the ceiling came the squawk of a gull, so then he had to open the nearest window and make sure it could find its way out.
Then, finally, he was free to look for Ed. They rejoined in the middle of the gym, just as another slow song started.
“Swaying room as the music starts
Strangers making the most of the dark
Two by two, their bodies become one”
“I asked for this one,” Ed said softly.
“I like it,” he said, then stopped, clutching his trident as the room began to spin.
“Hey. You okay?”
He focused on the pressure of Ed’s hand on his shoulder. On Ed’s song choice and what the lyrics might mean for them. “It’s silly.”
“No, it’s not. Come.” Ed slid his hand down to Stede’s elbow and guided him towards the doors.
“But— Your song—”
“Can’t dance if you’re gonna keel over, mate.”
Ed led him all the way out the front doors, onto the covered front steps, and sat him down in the glow of the lamppost at the top. Fallen leaves skittered about in the night wind, and a soft rain dripped from the eaves.
Ed settled in beside him as Stede took great gulps of the fresh air. “Better?”
“Yes. Thank you.” He’d been about to explain, but Ed’s hand landed on his back, rubbing slow circles, and he put words aside and focused on his breathing once more.
“Too much punch?”
“Maybe. But I get overheated easily. And running up and down and under the bleachers just now...”
Ed set the back of a cool hand to Stede’s temple, brushing lightly with his knuckles. “Still dizzy? D’you want to go home?”
“No,” he said on a gasp, fighting the sudden urge to lean into Ed and puddle in his lap. “I’ll be fine. Only half an hour or so left.”
Ed’s other hand kept up its rhythmic movements and, after a while, Stede did let himself rest against Ed’s shoulder. He realised now that when he’d seen Pete do the same for Lucius, after the laughing fit that turned to coughs, his main emotion had been...envy.
But tonight, with Ed... He’d had, for the first time, the sort of night he’d always longed for.
After a few quiet moments, in which they matched their breaths to each other’s pace, he said, “I think I’m ready to go back in.”
Ed kept a hand on his shoulder as they pushed through the doors and re-entered the heat and closeness of the hall.
He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the dark windows and came to a stop. He collapsed his trident, stowing it back in his pocket, then tried to tug his dishevelled hair back into some semblance of order. One stubborn curl refused to stop flopping over his forehead.
“Looks fine to me,” Ed said, suddenly so near that his voice rumbled directly into Stede’s body. “Like you’ve had a fun night.”
“Well, that’s—” He broke off as the distinct guitars of Stairway to Heaven floated out through the gym doors, now propped open. Last song of the night. He dropped his unruly hair, and slipped a palm against Ed’s. “Shall we?”
They glided in and moved towards an empty corner, away from every spotlight, out from under the disco balls, feet tangled in swirling mists of dry ice. Ed’s arm came around his waist, under his blazer, his other hand at Stede’s shoulder.
Stede couldn’t settle, starting out by curving his hands around Ed’s arms, directly above his elbows. But they began to shuffle in place, spinning slowly, and he left his hands there after all.
Gradually, their heads came together, foreheads touching first, then cheeks glancing.
“Did you, then?” Ed asked, a purr in his ear. “Have a fun night?”
“The best.” He pulled back to touch foreheads again. “All I’ve ever wanted from a school dance, ever, is to dance to songs I love, to stand up to bullies, to get tipsy and hang out with friends. You gave me all that tonight.”
“Is that everything?” Ed asked softly. The sparkle from the nearest disco ball shone in the depths of his dark eyes.
“No. There’s one more...”
“What else would you like?”
“A kiss.”
“From me?”
“Yes.”
Ed cupped his cheek and drew him in, even as Stede inclined his head towards him and, just as the second half of the song kicked in, they kissed. Their lips touched, briefly, and he tasted the sweet punch off Ed’s mouth, and then they kissed again. Both of them made hesitant “we should really...” sounds, yet kept moving in for more, breathing the same air, unable to part.
He cradled Ed at his nape, fingers digging into the lovely thickness of his hair, and then the song was winding down and he recalled where he was, just as Ed dropped his hands and pulled back.
They grinned sheepishly at each other, and moved over to lean against the wall, affecting casual. No one seemed to have noticed, except Frenchie over at the DJ booth, who sent them a thumbs up. Stede chose to interpret it as confirmation that none of the students had noticed his sudden—delicious, intoxicating—total absence of decorum.
The song ended, the kids filed out, as the gym lights flickered on one by one. He and Ed stayed behind to help with clean up, then wandered out to the parking lot together, the ground shiny with the rain from earlier.
“What happens now?” he asked, just as Ed said, “Are you hungry?”
“Famished,” he said, just as Ed asked, “What do you want to have happen?”
“A late dinner seems like a good start. Where should we go?”
“There’s a great place called Spanish Jackie and Dutchman Swede’s. But it’s a bit further out...”
Ed glanced over at the bike shed, and Stede understood. “Here, let’s take mine. My car. I mean— I should go home to change first and—” Yet another sentence he couldn’t finish. Now it sounded as though he was inviting Ed over after one kiss.
But Ed didn’t seem to have any trouble following Stede’s half-formed phrases. “Why do you have to change?” Ed slid forward a foot, closing the gap between them. A light drizzle misted the air. “I like you just the way you are.”
“I like the way you are,” he replied nonsensically, and tipped his head for more kisses.
When they eventually arrived at Jackie and Swede's, after midnight, they walked in to find Ed’s slow song playing.
”Slowly now we begin to move
Every breath I’m deeper into you”
There wasn’t a dance floor, but a disco ball hung from the roof of the covered porch. They wrapped their arms about each other and danced beneath it, and the light caught the raindrops and refracted them into a million sparkles, a million glittering hopes for the future.
“I’m crazy for you
Touch me once and you’ll know it’s true
I never wanted anyone like this
It’s all brand new
You’ll feel it in my kiss
I’m crazy for you”