Sophomore Homecoming

Freshman year prom gives Riz a certain idea about what school dances are like. That very night, as his mom drives him home, his clothes still covered in blood and viscera, he decides he’ll never attend a school dance again. But when homecoming comes around in the fall, The Bad Kids don’t hesitate in telling him he needs to give school dances another chance.

“I don’t see what the point would be,” Riz says, taking another sip from his thermos. The coffee’s cold already—tin does not make for good insulation—but he doesn’t care. He just needs to balance out his three hours of sleep last night with as much caffeine as he can stomach. “It’s not like I have a boyfriend or girlfriend who wants to go with me.”

“I’ll go with you,” Fig offers, elbowing him in the side. Her chocolate milk spills from the corner of its carton and she grimaces in apology as it stains Riz’s shirt sleeve. He shrugs off her concern. “It’ll be fun, dude, come on. Either it’ll be better than prom, which would be great, or it’ll be worse, which would be hilarious.”

“That’s what I’m looking for in my life,” Riz remarks sarcastically, “something hilariously worse than my current circumstances.”

“If you don’t take her, I will,” Kristen adds, pointing her spoon at Fig. “You would be a sick date to a dance.”

“Aw, thanks, Kristen. I bring the party wherever I go.” Fig beams. “But come on, Riz, you’ve got first dibs on my wonderful company. Don’t you want to try new things?”

“It’s not a new thing!”

“There won’t be a dragon this time; that’s fairly new,” Adaine cuts in, carving her chicken-fried steak into smaller pieces. She frowns at the beige meat.

“The rest of us are going, The Ball. You don’t want to be the only Bad Kid home alone that day, do you?”

Riz frowns. He doesn’t particularly care about spending a night alone—it’s one of his strengths, being alone—but he doesn’t want to seem like a spoilsport. If his friends start whispering about him behind his back, about how reluctant he is to join in on party activities, well, that doesn’t sound like a good way to build interparty relationships. Sure, they’ve all known each other for just over a year now, but that doesn’t mean they’re locked in for life. There are always the forms in Aguefort’s office to petition to remove an adventurer from a party.

Riz won’t let the Bad Kids even consider using one of those forms on him.

“Okay, fine,” he admits. “I’ll go with Fig to homecoming.”

“Oh, this is going to be so much fun,” Fig grins, teeth sharp and glinting in the cafeteria’s fluorescent light. “You have no idea how much trouble I can get us into without quite crossing the line into getting expelled.”

“Woah, woah, no.” Riz’s body clenches tightly, every muscle flexing at once. “I don’t want to get in trouble, Fig.”

“Oh, it’s not a school dance if you don’t bring a little bit of trouble with you, come on. They expect like thirty percent of the kids to break the rules. It’s factored in.”

“I’m not a rule-breaker, man. Can we please just have a normal time at the dance?”

“No,” Fig smiles, sweeping Riz up under her arm and squeezing him in a tight hug. “We absolutely cannot.”

Riz sips from the nonspecific “fruit”-flavored punch for lack of anything better to do at the dance. It’s not that he wanted to get out on the dance floor and boogie but he certainly expected there to be more dancing at a dance. Every last dance bard in the school is busting a move but he can’t see many other freshmen or sophomores bold enough to brave the dance floor.

“I thought there’d be more dancing.”

“There will be,” Fig says enigmatically. “Soon enough.”

Riz freezes in place. “Fig.” He presses his lips together. “What does that mean?”

“Hm?”

“Why did you say it like that? What did you do?” He narrows his eyes at her, taking the last sip of his second serving of punch so that he can put the cup down on the nearest banquet table and focus his attention on Fig.

His chest feels abnormally warm, he notices, as he takes a breath. When he turns his head back to Fig, his vision swims. He grips the side of the table in a tight fist. “Fig,” he whispers desperately, drawing her attention. “Fig, I think… I think I was poisoned. Fig, listen, I think the punch was poisoned. Fig.”

Fig throws her head back and laughs. “You can’t handle your liquor, can you?”

“What?”

“The punch, dude? It’s a school dance. Of course it’s gonna be spiked.”

“Someone spiked the punch?” Riz’s mouth falls open. He leans forward, gripping Fig’s hand in his. “We have to figure out who it was. We gotta… we gotta, uh, follow the clues. They’re gonna get in so much trouble for this. It’s—”

“I spiked it, dude,” Fig grins unapologetically. “And, look, it’s working.” She gestures to a group of six students who are making their way out to the dance floor, bumping and weaving their way to the clump of dancers and joining in shamelessly. “Everyone’s gonna be grooving in no time at all.”

“You poisoned us so that people would start dancing?”

“Poisoned?” Fig laughs again. “Riz, come on, it’s just vodka. It’s all-natural. I mean, hell, I stole it from my mom. That means it’s probably organic or something, too. ‘Poison,’” she repeats, shaking her head. “It’s just for a little fun.”

Riz shakes his head, the world swimming in front of his blurry eyes. “That’s not cool, Fig. I didn’t consent to this.”

Fig frowns, her laughter dying out instantly. “No, it’s not… it’s not that serious, Riz. I just wanted everyone to loosen up and have some fun. I wanted you to loosen up and have some fun,” she insists. “It wasn’t… I didn’t mean—”

Riz frowns. He opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. In the end, all he can do is sigh and turn away. Ignoring Fig’s protestation, he walks straight out of the school gym.

“Riz, stop! Don’t… come on, dude. Don’t leave. It’s fun. It’s all just for fun.”

“It’s not fun to get drugged by someone, Fig,” he bites back. Kneeling by the bike rack, he fumbles for his key, fighting to turn it in the bike lock’s keyhole. His hands are clumsy and nearly useless. “Fuck.”

“Riz, you can’t bike home drunk,” Fig begs him, grabbing his wrist. Riz rips himself away from her grip. “Riz—”

“Leave me alone, Fig,” he warns her, throwing a leg over his bike and taking off. He can’t quite keep a straight line but he’s moving and that’s all he can ask for. Anything to leave the memory of another school dance in his rearview mirror. Riz sighs to himself, letting the cold night air sober him up. “Shit.”

Twenty two minutes later, he pulls up to the Strongtower Luxury Apartment’s parking garage and locks his bike up noisily, slamming the metal lock against the rack without his usual coordination. He cringes at the echoing bang! but there’s nothing he can do. Besides, that’s not his major concern at the moment.

He’s about to greet his mother at the apartment door, as drunk as he’s ever been. “Shit,” he repeats.

His crystal lights up in his pocket. A column of texts appears, all from the same number.

FIG: riz im sorry

FIG: i didnt mean 2 freak u out

FIG: it wasn’t meant 2 be like a mean prank or anything

FIG: i just wantd u to have a good time at the dnace

FIG: riz please im so sorry

FIG: i feel terrible

FIG: fuck dude

FIG: i hope ur ok

FIG: can you text me when u get home pls

FIG: even if u nevre want 2 talk to me again, just lemme kno ur ok

FIG: ok?

FIG: im sorry

Riz sighs and types a response back as quickly as he can, cursing his lack of coordination.

RIZ: im safe

RIZ: dont want to talk rn

His crystal instantly chimes with another deluge of messages

FIG: im sorry riz

FIG: pls forgive me, pls pls pls

FIG: it was stupid. i didn’t mean 2 ruin things

RIZ: leave me alone for now, fig. please. i’ll talk to you later.

FIG: sorry

FIG: love u dude

Riz shakes his head and turns his crystal onto Do Not Disturb, slipping it into his pocket as he climbs the rickety stairs up to the third floor. He holds his breath as he crosses stained carpets and damp doormats until he can see apartment 317 coming up. He clenches his teeth together tightly, slipping his key into the door. As it swings open, he’s greeted with the sight of his mom, sitting at the kitchen table, sipping from a chipped mug of coffee, cold, he’s sure.

“You’re home early, sweetie,” she says, looking up at him. “You—”

“I’m drunk, mom,” he admits, ripping off the bandage at once. “It’s not my fault though.”

His mom tilts her head to the side. “Well, that’s a new one for me.”

Riz laughs weakly and slides into the chair next to her, tipping over to rest his head on her chest. “I’m sorry, mom.”

“Oh, sweetheart, whatever happened, it’s okay. You’re safe now. You’re okay.”

Riz nods weakly into her chest and sighs. He’s okay. His mom’s not mad at him, he didn’t make a fool of himself, and he’s not sick. For as betrayed as he feels by Fig’s actions, they really aren’t the end of the world, he realizes. “My friend was messing around and she spiked the punch. I didn’t taste the vodka, I guess.”

His mom’s body tenses up underneath him. “Which friend?”

Riz shakes his head. “I’m not a snitch, mom,” he protests, his words muffled by his mom’s sweatshirt. “You raised me right.”

She laughs, squeezing Riz just a bit tighter in the embrace. “Okay, kid, that’s fair. Well, I’m proud of you for getting out of there, though, if I hear about you riding your bike drunk again, I’m gonna be upset, got it? You call me if something like this happens again. I won’t get mad. I just want to make sure you’re safe, Riz.”

Riz nods again. “Got it, mom.” There’s silence for a moment, long enough for his eyes to droop shut. “I’m tired.” He sighs, going loose in his mom’s arms.

“Bedtime for drunken teenagers,” she says lightly. “Come on, kid. You’re too big for me to carry you.”  She helps him to his feet and guides him down to his bed in the corner of the living room. “You don’t have to brush your teeth tonight but that’s a one-time pass, okay?”

“Okay,” he mutters, collapsing into bed and burying himself in his blankets. “Got it.”

“You’re a good kid, you know that, Riz?”

Riz smiles and lets his eyes fall shut. “I love you, mom.”

“Love you too, sweetheart. Get some rest.”

As Riz drifts off, he realizes something. He already forgives Fig for what she did. There’s not a cruel bone in her body when it comes to the people she loves and Riz can count himself firmly in that camp. She didn’t mean to hurt him or even to scare him. It’s not her fault that he freaked out but, in a new, uncomfortable situation, of course he wouldn’t want to be forced under the influence. She just hadn’t thought that part of the equation through.

He’s not mad at her. He’ll text her in the morning and tell her that it’s okay. She’ll learn her lesson, he’s sure, and all will be well once more.

He falls asleep quickly, his usual insomnia cured by the alcohol in his bloodstream, and he dreams of dancing without any of his usual inhibitions.

Sophomore Prom

 Spring blooms fall from the cherry blossom tree that dwarfs the Bad Kids’ picnic table on Aguefort’s front lawn. Riz flicks the soft pink petals off his nose as they fall. “Prom season is so weird,” he says absentmindedly as he watches another student kneel in front of their partner and ask them to be their prom date.

“It’s so performative,” Adaine agrees. “Like, why are you asking each other to prom in public? So that your partner feels pressure to say yes?”

“Eugh, I didn’t even think of it that way.” Riz scratches his cheekbone, rubbing soft yellow pollen off his skin. “That’s gross.”

“Promposals are romantic,” Kristen protests. “They’re about love.”

“It’s high school, Kristen. Nobody’s in love with each other.”

“That’s not true; Tracker and I are definitely in love.” Kristen frowns, her nose wrinkling. “She just can’t come to prom. Which sucks, by the way.”

“We can skip it together, then,” Riz suggests. He’s now 2-for-0 when it comes to bad dance experiences. Prom is not happening this year, no matter what anyone says.

“Or…”

Riz’s eyes narrow. “Or?”

Fabian snickers. “I know what the look means. Kristen’s scheming.”

“I’m not scheming!” she protests. “I just think that we would have a better Friday night if we were at the dance, Riz. Versus tucking ourselves into bed and going to sleep early, y’know?”

“I don’t go to bed early.”

Kristen rolls her eyes. “Come on, dude. This is my promposal. Actually—” she leaps off the picnic bench and kneels in front of Riz with a flourish. “Riz Gukgak, my dear, dear friend, will you go to prom with me?”

Riz grimaces. “No.”

“Oh, come on!”

“I’m telling you guys, school dances are not for me. That’s not going to change.” He shrugs. “I’m not, like, bothered about it. It is what it is.”

“The Ball, she’s kneeling in damp grass for you,” Fabian remarks drily. “How can you tell her no?”

“Oh, man, it was raining this morning. Kristen, your jeans,” he grimaces again as she gets to her feet and exposes new grass stains covering her knees. “That sucks, dude.”

“That’s what Prestidigitation is for,” Adaine says, swirling her fingers in a tight circle until the stain is erased.

“Adaine, you’re on my side, right?” Riz asks, clinging to someone who might back him.

“Oh, I don’t know. I mean, the promposal stuff is weird but the dance itself… I had fun at homecoming.” She looks up at Gorgug, her date back in the fall, and smiles, laughing quietly at some sort of inside joke.

“You’re going to prom?” Riz asks, feeling betrayed.

“I mean, I have to. Fig doesn’t have a date otherwise.”

Fig nods, grave and serious. “The fact that Aguefort doesn’t allow non-student dates is a crime, by the way. It’s so unfair. Ayda deserves to experience a high school dance, too. But, yeah, thanks, Adaine, for accepting my promposal.” She shoots her a sharp grin.

“That’s so unfair. I don’t get to bring Tracker and the guy I promposed to turned me down?” Kristen pouts dramatically, throwing herself across the picnic bench. “Woe is me and woe is my life.”

Riz rolls his eyes but something in his heart does clench. He doesn’t want to be the reason why Kristen has a bad time at the dance. “I guess I can—”

“Yes!” Kristen exclaims. “He said yes!” She leaps to her feet and shouts to the entire school. “He said yes!” Half-hearted applause rings out from the crowd of students on the school’s lawn. “Oh, fuck yeah, dude. This is going to be awesome.”

Riz shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “As long as there’s no dragons and no alcohol, I guess it’ll be fine,” he says. “Can we all agree on those two rules?”

“No alcohol, The Ball? What’s the point of going, then?”

Fig’s eyes flash with dark fire. “No alcohol, he said,” she insists. “That means no fucking alcohol.”

Riz’s chest burns with warmth. Yes, Fig made a terrible mistake during homecoming but she’s done everything in her power since to regain Riz’s trust and he can’t resent her for that. “Thanks, Fig,” he murmurs quietly. She just puts a hand on the back of his shoulder and squeezes.

“Well, this is great news,” Fabian declares. “We all have dates which means we all have outfits to coordinate. I’ve booked out a few hours with my family’s tailor this afternoon after class. I better see you all there.”

Riz tilts his head curiously. “A tailor? Like, for clothes.”

“No, like a man named Taylor,” Fabian says, voice dry and flat. “Yes, The Ball. A tailor for clothes. You’re not planning on going to prom in one of your suits, are you?”

Riz laughs at Fabian’s audacity. “I guess not,” he admits. “But I’m not paying for a new suit, either.”

“Oh, believe me, that’s been taken care of. I’ll consider it a tax for having fashionable friends.”

Riz shakes his head, still laughing. “Whatever, dude. Fashionable friends. Sure. Let’s get this whole dance over with and I’ll be happy.”

Riz leans against the wall as he watches the back of Kristen’s head for the seventh time this evening. “Again?” he mutters to himself. How many more times will she ditch him to dance with a random girl? He sighs. This is just about what he expected. The school dance feels much more like a trap designed to make him vaguely uncomfortable. He hasn’t seen the other Bad Kids in too damn long, and Kristen seems entirely devoted to whatever pretty stranger most recently approached her.

He can’t help but feel a little bitter. She was the one who asked him to prom and yet, here he is, alone and lonely, wishing he had just stayed home.

He sighs and contemplates a glass of punch before he realizes what a bad idea that might be. He’s sure that Fig learned her lesson about spiking things but who’s to say that there isn’t another troublemaking teenager somewhere in Aguefort’s ranks?

Instead, he watches Kristen dance with a stranger and plans what he’ll say to her next when the song ends and she returns to his side.

“Kristen,” he says carefully as she stumbles back to his side, giggling. “I’m gonna go home.”

“Nooo, why?” she asks “We’re having so much fun.”

“You’re having so much fun. Me? My date doesn’t even want to hang out with me,” he says pointedly and maybe a bit bitterly.

“What? Who’s your date? I’ll kick their ass.”

Riz scoffs. “You, Kristen. Remember?”

“Oh, right, but, like—” Kristen taps a finger on her bottom lip, “—but, uh… Shit. I don’t have a good excuse, do I?”

“For ditching me seven times in the past hour? No. You really don’t,” Riz sighs. “It’s fine, dude. I’ve learned my lesson. School dances are not for me. Next year, I’ll know better.”

“Dude, no… that sucks. I was supposed to show you they could be fun.”

“And yet.” Riz laughs. “It’s fine, Kristen. It’s not your fault or anything. We’re just not compatible as dates,” he jokes, elbowing her. “Next year, I’ll help you petition Aguefort to let non-Aguefortian students come to the dances so you can go with Tracker, okay? And then I get to spend the night at home and you get to spend it with your girlfriend. Sound good to you?”

“I mean, yeah, I guess. I’m just sad I couldn’t help you have a good time,” Kristen frowns. “Sorry, dude.”

“All good, man. I’m gonna try to find the others so I can say bye, but that girl over there with the pink hair has been staring at you for like fifteen minutes. You should go say hi.”

“Oh, yeah?” Kristens’s eyebrows raise. “On it.” She whips around and disappears into the crowd, leaving Riz laughing.

“Oh, Kristen,” he mutters to himself. A good friend, but a terrible date. He can’t hold it against her, though. He’s not sure if there exists a good date for him. Maybe he’s the problem.

Or maybe school dances are the problem.

Junior Homecoming

“School dances are not for me,” Riz insists, dropping his head back on the couch cushions. His legs stretch out in front of him across the shag carpet of Mordred Manor’s den. “I don’t know how many more times I have to say that.”

“Right, yeah, I get that,” Gorgug says. “But maybe you’ve just been unlucky.”

“Statistically, that would be fairly improbable,” Riz says, too tired to sound more conversational and less clinical. He sighs, words spilling out his mouth half-heartedly. "Three data points, three failed experiments. Could the sample size be larger? Yeah, of course. Does the small sample size mean that there’s anything wrong with the data, though? No.” He shrugs. “It’s still data.”

“But wouldn’t you say that other variables have had the opportunity to change since collecting that data?” Gorgug offers, instantly picking up on the science metaphor. Riz can appreciate that about Gorgug. Ever since he started dabbling in artificing, he’s been an incredible conversationalist when it comes to data, science, and math. Riz is grateful to him for that. Now, he has an outlet for all his nerdiest conversations.

“Well, yeah, I guess so,” Riz admits.

“Then wouldn’t it be the responsible thing to replicate the experiment under the new circumstances to get more up-to-date data points?”

Riz frowns. “I mean, yeah… Technically.”

Gorgug smiles softly. “Sounds like you need a date, then.”

“I volunteer,” Fig says eagerly, raising her hand in the air. “Pick me!”

“Hard no, Fig.”

“I’ll do it,” Kristen shrugs. “I should probably find a way to apologize for last year.”

“No offense but I’m good, Kristen.”

“Yeah, you had your chance,” Fabian remarks. He kicks at Kristen’s frizzy hair, ruffling it with static electricity. She scowls and swats away his foot, leaving him laughing.

“Will you go to homecoming with me?” Gorgug asks, a gentle offer in his words and his smile. “Only if you want.”

Riz can’t help but relent when he sees how earnest Gorgug looks. “I mean, yeah. I guess. But if this ends up like the last three dances—”

“It won’t,” Adaine says. “Gorgug doesn’t bring the kind of chaos that those two do, wherever they go.”

“Rude!”

“Uncalled for!” Kristen protests. “But, I mean… not inaccurate.”

Fig rolls her eyes, snuggling deeper under the throw blanket across her and Adaine’s legs. “I hope you two have fun, though,” she relents. “This time will be different, Riz. I’m sure of it.”

“This is kinda boring,” Riz admits, tapping his foot on the ground idly. “What are you supposed to do at a dance anyway?”

“Dance, I think,” Gorgug says. “But that’s not really my thing either.” They watch Fabian flowing like water across the dance floor, seamlessly morphing from style to style as the music changes.

“Hard to live up to certain other members of the party,” Riz remarks. He chews on a piece of cantaloupe from his small plate of fruit salad. At least there’s good food, he thinks. “What are you supposed to do if you don’t dance?”

“Maybe… uh, this is gonna sound weird.”

“Won’t be the craziest thing I’ve heard this week, I can guarantee that.” He thinks of Kristen’s latest crisis that she brought to him about the rash she got on the bottom of her foot from an activity that he wishes she had never elaborated on. Yes, he went with her to the drugstore to pick up an anti-inflammatory cream, but he wishes she had kept the story about how it happened to herself.

“Well, when I’m at a party or something and I feel kinda lost, I pretend like I’m on a quest. Or I try to get on a quest, I guess I should say. Find someone who has a task that needs doing and get to work, you know? Like… Kristen might be looking for Fabian so I go on Fabian-patrol for a little bit. Or someone drunk needs to sober up so I take them outside and give them some water. Or, hm… Or like, my friend Riz needs some guidance on how to have fun at a dance so I make it my quest to help him out.”

Riz’s cheeks burn with embarrassment, hot and sudden. “You think I’m a task on your list?”

“No, no,” Gorgug waves his hands frantically. “No. Not like something to check off my to-do list. Just a quest. Something that I want to do. Does that make any sense?”

“Kind of,” Riz says, ducking his head. “I don’t want you to think I’m homework.”

“I don’t, dude. This is fun for me, I promise. If you’re up to it, I think we could find an entertaining mission or two to do tonight.”

“Hey,” a drunken stranger shouts directly into Riz’s ear. He flinches away from the ginger halfling, hand going for the gun on his belt. “Woah, chill out, bro. I need your help.”

Gorgug raises an eyebrow, nodding at the quest that’s falling into Riz’s lap, quite literally.

“What’s up?”

“My boyfriend went to the bathroom, like, fifteen minutes ago. I need a dude to go in and check on him. What if he’s dead, y’know? What if he died in there?” She slurs her words, desperate in a way that only a tipsy teenager can be.

“Yeah, okay, I’ll check,” Riz says, gently shoving her hands off his shoulders. “Gimme a sec.” He nods to Gorgug and darts into the boy’s bathroom. Over his shoulder, he shouts, “What does he look like? Or his name?”

“He’s hot! His name’s Antoni.”

“Well, one of those two pieces of information is useful,” Riz mutters to himself. He pushes open the door and finds himself greeted by the sound of wet smacking and light moans. “Oh, godsdamnit.”

“Get a room, dude,” a tall, dark-haired human snaps bitterly at Riz.

“I need to get a room? Me?” Riz raises both eyebrows as a girl in the human’s lap giggles. She presses more kisses down his throat, laughing as she sucks a hickey into his neck. “Can you two stop kissing for, like, ten seconds?”

“Can you leave us alone?”

Riz sighs. “You know, I really hope so. But it depends on if your name is Antoni or not,” he says. “Please say no.”

“How do you not know my name, dude? I’m the captain of the Owlbears’ gridball team. Everyone knows Captain Antoni.”

Riz rolls his eyes. He only has room for one captain of a sports team in his head and the spot’s taken. “Right, well, Captain Antoni, your girlfriend’s looking for you.” He turns around and darts out of the room before he can hear any chaos unfold between Antoni and his kissing partner.

As he steps out of the bathroom, he’s confronted with the short halfling. “Is he in there?” she asks desperately.

“I just decided that it’s none of my business,” Riz declares. “Sorry.”

He escapes from her pointed stare and scrambles through the crowd, guided by Gorgug’s tall silhouette on the far side of the school gym. “Hey, man,” Gorgug greets him. “How did the quest go?”

“Just about as poorly as it could’ve,” Riz says. “What about you? Did you take anything on while I was getting involved in a cheating scandal?”

“Uh, first of all, woah. Second of all, yeah. I helped Tessi find her lost earring.” He gestures to an earth genasi with two shining golden hoops in her ears, dancing with Fabian in the center of the dance floor.

“Damn,” Riz curses. “I love finding lost things.”

“Sorry, dude. Wish we could’ve switched quests.”

Riz shakes his head. “It’s fine, it’s—” He’s suddenly slammed across the back of his head by a swinging arm. “Hey!”

Gorgug lurches forward, stepping between Riz and his assailant. “Hey, man—”

“Shit, sorry, fuck.” The tabaxi kid stumbles over his words, curses coming out in breathy gasps. “I—Shit.” He stumbles over his own feet, letting Gorgug catch him and keep him upright.

Riz recognizes him from rogue classes. “Allandro?” He’s never been a particularly proficient rogue but he’s not bumbling either, not like this. “Are you good, dude?”

“I think I’m drunk. Oh, shit, my mom’s gonna kill me. I didn’t mean to drink this much, I just—I… I just…” He sucks in a breath. “Shit!”

“Hey, man, it’s okay,” Gorgug says. “Do you wanna go get some air?”

Allandro sighs and drops his head. “Yeah, bro. I need some air.”

Gorgug mouths one word over Allandro’s head. “Quest,” he says. Riz nods in agreement and puts a hand on Allandro’s back, guiding him into the hallway just outside the gym. Escaping the gym is a relief. Suddenly the cloud of humid sweat and the stench of a hundred teenagers dissipates and all that’s left is the dim light of the hallway, reflecting off the trophy cases that line the walls.

“Hey, he was telling the truth,” Riz says, studying the gridball team’s display. Antoni stands, tall and proud, in the center of each photograph, holding the trophy above his head in both his hands. His teammates beam by his side, proud of another win.

“I didn’t know we had a gridball team,” Gorgug remarks. “Huh.”

“I guess the bloodrush players get more attention…” Riz runs his finger along the glass idly, studying the other sports represented by the Owlbears that he’s never heard of, let alone supported.

“Oh, shit, I love our gymnastics squad. Look at those fuckers,” Allandro says, swinging his hand to point at the last trophy in the case. He trips over his own foot, careening forward, and his sharp claws collide with the glass, shattering it on impact. For a moment, the entire world seems to freeze, Gorgug, Riz, and Allandro going perfectly still as the glass clinks noisily on the linoleum floor.

“What the hell is going on out here?” A resonant voice booms from down the hallway. Riz has to decide in an instant. Run, hide, or stand his ground. If he were alone, he’d dash away in an instant, not willing to pay for a mistake that someone else made. But Gorgug isn’t as fast as he is and Riz isn’t going to let him get in trouble on his own. He plants his feet and grimaces, waiting for the punishment that he knows is coming.

A chaperone that Riz doesn’t recognize—maybe a paladin teacher, if his memory serves him right—emerges from around the hallway and pins each student in place with his discerning glare. “What have you students done?”

“He did it,” Allandro says, pointing at Riz.

“Oh, come on, dude,” Riz can’t help but exclaim. “I was trying to help you sober up and—”

“Vandalism, under-age drinking, what else?”

“I wasn’t drinking!” Riz protests.

“I saw him,” Allandro repeats, slurring his words. “He had alcohol. He told me I had to drink it, too,” he mumbles. “Peer pressure or whatever.”

Riz grits his teeth together. Gorgug puts a warm hand on his shoulder but the comfort doesn’t mean much to him, not when the teacher shakes his head in disappointment and tsks pointedly. “Detention. All three of you.”

“But I didn’t do anything!”

“I don’t waste my time with ‘he said, she said’s.” The paladin teacher shakes his head. “Detention. No arguments.”

Riz shakes his head, fuming with anger. This is what he gets for going on a quest, he supposes. “Fucking school dances,” he mutters. “When will I learn?”

Junior Year Prom

“I wouldn’t normally ask you,” Adaine says, her voice bordering on nervous. “But—”

“It’s fine, Adaine; what’s up?” Riz asks, his hackles instantly rising. He’s seen what happens when Adaine’s nerves get her worked up to the point of no return and, if there’s anything he can do to prevent her getting to that point, he will do so gladly. “Ask away. You know I’m always happy to help.”

“I know you are,” she says, laughing weakly. “Which is why I feel guilty asking.”

Riz narrows his eyes. “What did you do?” He would be more suspicious if he weren’t so fatigued but his exhaustion hardly lets him worry. He’s just… so… tired. Who knew skipping nights of sleep would have repercussions? Who knew his sleep deprivation would eventually catch up to him?

Adaine’s face pales. “I may have told Mazey that I could help her with prom.” She stares straight down at her hands, avoiding Riz’s narrowed eyes. “As in, I’d check people in and chaperone and all that.”

“Okay… and?” Riz waits for the other shoe to drop.

“I also told her I’d get at least one other person to sign up, too.”

Riz bristles. “How great that you have four other best friends who would be so happy to help you, then,” he says tightly.

“You see, that’s the thing. It’s a big day for Kristen’s campaign, you know? So she wants to make sure she’s campaigning on the floor. And Fabian, well, he’s never going to opt out of a dance. Even if I did get him to agree to it, he’d ditch me for the dance floor right away.”

“And Fig?”

Adaine cringes. “Fig has very big plans, her words, not mine, of ‘staying home to eat ice cream and cry.’”

“Damn,” Riz curses. “She’s having a hard time with the Ayda-being-gone thing, huh?”

“Very hard.”

“And Gorgug?”

“Well, Fig refused to let Kristen go without her security detail for the night so she roped Gorgug into the role. Temporarily, obviously, but that means he can’t sit at a table with me for two hours, not if he has to keep an eye on our future president. Which means, um…”

“That I’m the only option left.”

“Yeah,” Adaine winces. “I’m so sorry, Riz. I know how you feel about school dances but—”

Riz sighs but raises a hand, cutting off Adaine’s words. “It’s fine,” he says through a yawn.

“You don’t have to do it, you know. You can tell me no and I’ll find some other way to, um… I don’t know. I can find another option, I’m sure. It’s just that—”

“Adaine, it’s fine. I’ll help you.” Riz shakes his head, chuckling lightly. “I mean, hell, I’ve gone to a dance with nearly every other Bad Kid. It’s about time that I go as your date, too.”

“It doesn’t have to be, like, an official thing,” Adaine offers. “I just need you to sit at a table with me for a couple of hours to check people in and keep an eye on the students. Make sure they don’t get into fights or anything crazy like that. No dancing required.”

“Honestly, Adaine, that doesn’t sound that bad. Who knows, maybe this is the one that’ll break my streak.”

“How many has it been now?”

Riz counts on his fingers. “Freshman year prom, dragon attack. Sophomore homecoming, Fig and her shenanigans. Sophomore prom, Kristen ditching me at every opportunity. And then, junior homecoming, landing in detention with Gorgug for trying to help a kid out. Four in a row so far. And hey, if this prom makes it five, at least that’ll be undeniable proof of my curse.”

“Your curse?”

“Riz Gukgak, cursed to always have a bad time at a school dance,” he jokes. “It’s my fatal flaw.”

Adaine laughs. “To be honest, not the most punishing curse in the world.”

“That’s true,” he laughs. “And who knows, maybe this time will break the streak.”

Adaine smiles tightly. “Yeah, um, maybe.”

“Did you buy a ticket?”

“No,” the freshman says weakly. “Was I supposed to?”

“Supposed to buy a ticket to get into an event? If you can believe it, yes.” Riz is tired of this line, despite the way that it’s already a well-practiced sentence on the tip of his tongue. How many students didn’t think ahead to the point of buying a ticket to the dance they want to attend and how is that even possible? He can’t fathom not planning ahead for something but these fourteen year olds walk around the school like it’s their first day in the realm.

“Can’t I just buy one now?”

“We’re all sold out,” Adaine explains. “It’s a firecode thing. We can’t let anyone else into the building.”

A warm wind blows in through the propped open-doors of the Aguefort school gym. Riz appreciates the breeze considering the sounds and smells coming from behind him. Two hundred dancing teens don’t smell incredibly fresh and Riz is glad that, for once, he’s not squeezed inside that clump of strangers but, rather, set apart. Not to mention the way that the fresh air keeps him alert and awake. He still hasn’t slept and the consequences are catching up with him. He’s practically falling asleep sitting up but Adaine’s frequent elbow nudges have been enough to keep him operational for now.

He and Adaine have been sitting side-by-side and admitting—or turning away—students for the better part of an hour with no breaks.

Adaine waves away the freshman with a piece of advice as they go. “Next time, I recommend putting even a single second of thought into your plans,” she says, impatience dripping from her words. “Gods.” She turns to Riz. “These people.”

“I know. They’ve got no concept of how the world works. No, I can’t give you a discount. No, you can’t buy a ticket at the door. No, two tickets is not enough to let three of you in.” He laughs at the absurdity.

“It’s okay, though, right? You’re not having a bad time, right?” Adaine’s eyebrows press together in sympathy.

“I’m fine, Adaine. This isn’t as painful as, you know, actually going to the dance. I hardly notice the dance at all.”

That much is a lie. Despite his back being to the dance floor, Riz feels hyper aware of it. Having his back to something is a guaranteed way to ratchet up his anxiety. He hears shouts and cheers from the students and he flinches. He sees the lights strobe and change and he feels his fight-or-flight instincts kick in. It feels like a battlefield is just over his shoulder and he’s forbidden from laying his eyes on it.

“Well, um, good news and bad news,” Adaine says. “Check-in’s just about over so we have to switch to full-on chaperoning.”

“Oh, like… watching the dance?”

“Yeah! Just, you know, keeping an eye on things. Making sure people keep their lips to themselves. Watching out for people spiking the punch—” Adaine’s words make Riz flinch. “—keeping everyone sober, safe, and not horny, basically.”

“Oh,” Riz says, turning around in his chair and eyeing the dance floor. He sees Fabian leaping across it like an ice skater. Gorgug and Kristen are gliding from group to group, chatting people up and offering them smiles and encouraging words. Adaine pushes herself out of her chair and Riz follows suit. “Okay. I can do that.”

“I need to go to the bathroom but I’ll be back in a second, okay? Just keep an eye on things until then.”

“Yeah, I got it,” Riz says. He waves her off and eyes the bleachers pushed against the wall of the gym. He leaps up, scrambling for the highest perch on them. From there, he can see the whole ecosystem of dancing teenagers. He watches a group of outcasts lean against the corner of the room, whispering to each other and offering judgemental glances at the rest of the gym. He looks for cigarettes in between their fingers but their hands look empty. Good. That makes his life a little easier.

He scoots further into his towering perch that overlooks the room. It’s a cozy corner, quieter than the rest of the gym, and far enough out of the way that he doesn’t feel as frantic or anxious anymore. With his birds-eye view, nothing can sneak up on him. It’s almost relaxing, being up here and watching the hypnotic movements of his fellow students dancing. He tries to watch for anything suspicious but his eyes drift shut. Without his permission, his body tips over, curling up on the hard metal benches on the bleachers and his mouth falls open. Before he knows it, he’s unconscious and drooling.

“Is he okay?”

“He’s finally just getting some rest.”

“Well, that’s good.”

“The Ball?”

Riz’s eyes blink open slowly. He feels them stick together with sleep. As they slowly crack, he sees four familiar faces crouched over him. He flinches back, lurching upright. “Woah—”

“You’re okay,” Adaine says. “You just fell asleep.”

Riz studies his surroundings. It’s quiet in the gym—and almost empty—just a few stragglers left by the snack table and two or three custodians sweeping the space. “The dance is over?” Riz asks, clearing his throat as the words come out raspy. “I missed it?”

“Well, I mean… you were here. Like, technically,” Kristen offers. “Made it through a school dance without anything bad happening. That’s an improvement, right?”

Riz snorts as Kristen sits down next to him with a hmph! of effort. “Yeah, nothing bad happened. That’s new.”

“Well—” Adaine’s voice is high-pitched and wavers slightly. “While you were asleep, um, something, or, well, someone… um—”

“Let’s just say it’s a good thing that Kristen knows how to cast Revivify,” Fabian cuts her off. “It was a great thing for her campaign, if nothing else. Kristen Applebees saves a life at school dance, that’s good optics, you know?”

“Someone died?” Riz exclaims. “And nobody woke me up?”

“I mean, what were you gonna do?” Kristen shrugs. “I had it under control.”

“I was supposed to be chaperoning,” Riz protests. “I should’ve… I could’ve… I shouldn’t have been asleep.”

“It’s fine, The Ball. You clearly needed the sleep.”

“Adaine,” Riz turns to her, recognizing her odd silence. “Mazey, is she going to be mad at you for—”

“Don’t worry about it, Riz.”

“But you asked for my help and I totally let you down.”

Adaine’s eyes soften. “It’s okay. Yeah, you sort of shirked your duties but it’s fine. We’re all just trying our best out here, you know? You helped for the first half of the dance anyway. Mazey can only be half mad at best.”

“But somebody died on my watch,” Riz cringes.

“It’s Aguefort Adventuring Academy,” Fabian remarks. “That’s par for the course.”

Riz laughs, more shock and surprise than actual humor, but then the others join in. The laughter peals through the nearly-empty gym and Riz revels in it. “Well, as for school dances, this has been my least painful yet, I’ve gotta say.” Now that he thinks about it, each dance gets a little less painful than the last. “Maybe next year’s will be even better.”

“You’re going to go again next year?”

Riz shrugs. “Gotta break the curse somehow.”

Fabian grins, broad and bright. “Well, The Ball, you’ve got one Bad Kid who you haven’t gone with yet.”

Shaking his head, Riz chuckles. “Is that your official proposal?”

“Oh, no,” Fabian says. “It’s going to be much more extravagant than that.”

“Please, no,” Riz protests, whining and pressing his eyes shut. “Nothing dramatic, please.”

“It’s hopeless,” Adaine says. “Once Fabian gets an idea in his head—”

“I’m the king of following through,” he says with a smile. “Good thing I have six months to figure this out. Oh, The Ball, this is going to be amazing.”

“Fuck me.” Riz buries his head in his hands. “What did I just get myself into?”

Senior Year Homecoming

Riz feels something in the air. He wonders if a storm is coming and then wonders when he developed the ability to detect atmospheric changes in the weather. He thinks of the days where his mom tells him, “Dress warm, honey, a storm’s coming,” because she could feel an ache in her knee.

He doesn’t think he has that superpower, though, so what is it that he’s feeling in the air today? What has the hair on his arms standing up? Why does he feel like there’s something breathing down the back of his neck? He climbs the stairs that lead to Aguefort’s front door and—

A loud clap sounds as Kristen slaps her hand on Riz’s back. “Hey, dude.”

“Good fucking gods, Kristen. Warn a guy next time.”

“Warn you? The guy who can hear footsteps from half a mile away? I think this might be the first time in your life anyone ever caught you off guard, man. What’s going on in your head?”

Riz scowls. “I’m just distracted, I guess. Something feels weird.”

“Weird like someone’s about to throw a Fireball on the school weird? Or weird like you’ve got some bad allergies today?”

“Weird like I’m waiting for something really bad to happen… Like—”

The front door to the school bursts open, flying off its hinges and Riz has to dodge the flying projectile. “Holy shit,” he mutters, grabbing his gun from his holster and drawing it. He points it at the shadowy figure that stands in the now-empty threshold leading into Aguefort’s open halls. “Kristen, get back!” he says, waving her behind him frantically.

He kneels on the stairs, balancing his gun on his knee and holds it steady as his vision clears and the figure comes into view.

“Fabian?”

Fabian, backlit by a sourceless golden light, smiles brightly. “The Ball.” Fireworks explode from over his shoulders, shaking the cement with the force of their explosions. Fabian flinches slightly before he can plaster his grin back on his face. Riz can hardly look at his face, so aggressively illuminated by the bright lights.

Suddenly, a fanfare begins to play from somewhere behind him, trumpets and a drumroll kicking off and vibrating Riz’s skull with its overwhelming volume. “What the fuck?”

“Fig,” Fabian hisses over his shoulder. “Drop the volume.”

“What?” Fig shouts back, something Riz can barely hear over the thunderous music.

“Turn it down, Fig!”

“What the fuck is going on?” Riz asks, standing up and lowering his gun.

Fabian waves frantically, gesturing for the music to quiet down. Fig peeks her head outside of the school and finally seems to get the memo. She turns a knob on the boombox in her hands and the music lowers significantly. “Sorry,” she calls out. “Keep going!”

“Keep going with what?”

“The Ball,” Fabian smiles again.

“Why are you glowing, dude?”

Fabian cringes at the accusation. “I’m… it’s…” He sighs and dismisses the Thaumaturgy. “It was part of the show.”

“Aw, I liked the light show,” Kristen adds from over Riz’s shoulder, startling him. “Whoops, sorry, dude. I’ll leave you to your moment.”

“What show? What moment?” Riz’s ears fold back against his head. The fireworks, the music, the luminous lights, the doors flying open… what the fuck are his friends planning? He’s as curious as he is offended. When did they get together and plan this with one another and, more importantly, without him? It’s a familiar feeling, being on the outside of an inside joke, being excluded from a group, but it’s not something he’s ever had to deal with amongst the Bad Kids. “Someone tell me what’s going on.”

Fabian flourishes his arm, triggering another colorful explosion of fireworks or Faerie Fire or something; Riz can hardly distinguish any single element of this enormous carnival of overstimulation. It’s all blending into nondescript sounds, color, shapes, and a general sense of discomfort that weighs on him. Fabian’s smile, however, does not drop. “I have just one question for you, Riz ‘The Ball’ Gukgak.”

Riz shivers in discomfort, hearing his name from Fabian’s lips. “Don’t call me that,” he mutters weakly.

“Sorry,” Fabian says, his performance fading for a single, earnest moment, before he puts his mask of theatricality back on. “The Ball, my question for you is this: will you go to homecoming with me?”

Fig cranks the knob of her boombox and the lawn explodes with music. Riz slams his hands over his sensitive ears, covering them from the direct attack.

“Turn it down!” Fabian shouts, eye flashing dark. “Fig!”

“Sorry!”

The music fades out, the golden glow is gone, the fireworks are, at the very least, temporarily absent. All that’s left in front of Riz is Fabian, earnestness bleeding into his expression, and the crowd of students that have begun to form around the chaotic spectacle.

“This is how you decided to ask me?” Riz asks, bewildered by the show. “Me?”

“Of course,” Fabian says. “You deserve nothing less, The Ball.”

Riz shakes his head. He didn’t ask for this. He didn’t want this. “I would’ve said yes if you asked me one-on-one,” he says, sucking in a sharp breath and hoping he won’t regret his next words. “But no, Fabian. Not after whatever the hell this was.” He gestures to the building door on the ground next to him, to Fig and her boombox, to the sky, still burning with firework ash. “No.”

Riz brushes past Fabian, letting his shoulder hit his hip, and walks into the empty halls of Aguefort. He ignores the calls behind him, as well as the oohs of the crowd, high schoolers eating up the drama of a public proposal being denied. Riz pictures the blood burning across Fabian’s cheeks but he doesn’t let the guilt turn him around. He storms down the halls, rushing past classrooms and down halls until he makes it to his locker. Blood rushes in his head, drowning out the sounds of whoever might be following him but, after a certain point, he hears the footsteps and indecipherable words fade away.

He stops, unlocking his locker with deft fingers, and his breath catches in his chest. That sucked, he decides. All that attention on him in public, all the ostentatious fanfare, that’s not what he likes, nor is it what he feels comfortable in. How little does Fabian know him if that’s the approach he decided to go with to ask Riz to the dance?

Riz can’t help but feel a little betrayed. “Fabian, what the hell?” he mutters to himself, grabbing books and shoving them in his briefcase. “Who does that?”

Well, that question is easy to answer, he realizes. Fabian Aramais Seacaster does that. And Riz would bet that nearly every other student at Aguefort would be delighted to have that much of his attention on them, not to mention the attention of every other student drawn in by the show.

Riz isn’t every other student, though. And he thought Fabian knew that.

A pebble taps against Riz’s window. It’s the fifth in as many minutes but Riz refuses to fall for it. He knows if he opens the window, Fabian will be standing two floors down with an apologetic look on his face and an I’m sorry on his tongue. Riz doesn’t want to hear it. Today was embarrassing enough. He doesn’t need to be reminded of it.

He continues to scratch at this essay, his pencil getting duller and duller with each word.

Another pebble.

Another.

Riz keeps writing.

Another one.

One more.

Riz refuses to look away from his work.

Another pebble.

The window shatters. Glass scatters across the windowsill, the floor, and Riz’s bed, pressed up against the window.

“Man, what the fuck?” Riz shouts instinctively. “Fabian!” He stands up, dodging glass shards, and sticks his head out the now-open window to nail Fabian with a glare. “You idiot!”

Fabian’s face is flushed dark with blood. He flounders, his mouth half open but no words coming out. “I, uh, I—Um. I’ll pay for that.”

“Yeah, you will,” Riz declares. “Fabian, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“Shut up!” A neighbor shouts from the next window over.

“Sorry! I need to apologize properly, The Ball. Buzz me in and we can talk. Please.”

“Leave me alone. Except to pay for a new window, good gods, dude. This is a dangerous neighborhood, you know. I don’t have a window.” Riz curses under his breath as he imagines a robber leaping up the fire escape and directly into Riz’s open bedroom. “Oh, man. I gotta call the emergency maintenance line.”

“Let me. I know a guy who can fix it in an hour. Just let me come upstairs, The Ball.”

Riz sighs, rubbing his fingers across the bridge of his nose. “This sucks, Fabian.”

“I can fix it. I promise.”

“Not just the window, man.” Riz groans, pressing his fingers into his aching temples. The headache spikes with the pressure and he can only sigh. “Fine. I’ll buzz you in.”

Fabian perks up, grinning, young and boyish. He scrambles to the front door of Strongtower Luxury Apartments and yells up a thank you! to Riz.

Riz sighs and shakes his head, buzzing Fabian in and unlocking his front door. He waits impatiently for Fabian to climb the stairs and race down the hallway. While he waits, he counts new stains in the carpet. He sees a long line of garbage juice, muddy pawprints, and the wear and tear of a thousand footprints. It’s not the nicest place in the world, this apartment building, but it is home to Riz. Every last bit of it, all the way down to the newly-shattered window in his bedroom.

Fabian finally reaches Riz and he greets him with an apologetic smile. “I texted the handyman who works on the manor. He’s on his way.”

“Fabian, why are you here?” Riz asks, exhausted.

“To apologize,” Fabian admits, looking as guilty as he ever has. “I thought the, uh, events of today would be a fun, little way to invite you to the dance—”

“‘Little?’”

“Okay, not-so-little. But… this is gonna sound terrible, The Ball, but the way I thought about it—how do I say this without sounding like an asshole?” Fabian rubs his eye with his fingers, scrubbing hard. “Can I come inside?”

“Yeah,” Riz relents. He steps aside, gesturing Fabian inside, and points out the dining room chairs. “I guess.”

“Thanks. I suppose I just wanted to give you the big dance proposal because I wasn’t sure if anyone else was ever going to give that to you.”

Riz freezes. “Wow.”

“I know; it sounds really bad,” Fabian admits, deflating. “But I—”

“Fabian, I…” Riz takes a deep, slow inhale. He lets it out in a laugh. “I can’t tell you how much I do not care if I never got that big promposal. I would be perfectly fine if I never had to experience whatever that was today. Like… thanks? I guess? For trying to help me get the full high school experience or whatever your weird logic was but I’m good, actually. It’s not for me.”

Fabian chuckles humorlessly. “Yeah, I figured that out pretty quickly. Sort of hit me like a truck halfway through all the chaos.”

“Too little, too late,” Riz suggests.

“Just a bit,” Fabian laughs. “But I’m still sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten caught up with what a dance invite is supposed to look like. I should’ve thought about what you wanted.”

“I didn’t want anything, Fabian. I don’t know how many times I have to say it: school dances aren’t for me.”

“Right, right. Except for the fact that you don’t know that for sure, yet.”

Riz sighs and rolls his eyes. “What crazy idea do you have in your head right now?”

“I’m just saying! You can’t say with certainty that dances aren’t for you because you’ve never gone to a dance with Fabian Aramais Seacaster before.” He tips his chin in the air, all the flamboyance of a stage performer. “So you have to give one more dance a try, alright? Senior year homecoming with yours truly as your date. Please?”

“I don’t know, Fabian, I—”

“You said if I had asked you one-on-one, you would’ve said yes, The Ball. Don’t go back on that now.”

Riz laughs. He can’t help himself. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”

“I do.”

“Yes, I’ll go to homecoming with you but only because I feel guilty.”

“Guilty?” Fabian’s eye widens.

“Every other Bad Kid has had the pleasure of my company,” he says, channeling Fabian’s self-confidence, “except for you. How could I deny you that?”

Fabian laughs, loud and bright, and grins widely. “If that’s what it takes, sure. You and me, The Ball. Next Friday at 5:00 PM. I’ll send you a text for your fitting sometime tomorr—”

“I’m not getting a new suit for a stupid school dance, Fabian. I’m just gonna wear one of my dad’s suits.”

Fabian freezes, looking like he wants to protest. He keeps his lips firmly sealed though, fighting the clear instinct that flashes in his eye. “Okay,” he finally relents. “Whatever makes you comfortable.”

“Nothing about this situation will make me comfortable,” Riz jokes, “but I’ll put up with it for you.” Riz thinks reluctantly of his usual Friday night plans: video games and a sleepover at Seacaster Manor. He thinks of eating too much food, staying up too late because he and Fabian can’t stop their conversations, then sleeping in long past sunrise every Saturday morning. He mourns his loss, knowing that they won’t have their perfect sleepover next weekend.

He’ll survive it, though. It’s just a single day.

“Thanks, The Ball.”

“You owe me one,” Riz accuses Fabian, pointing directly at his chest and nailing him with a glare.

Fabian grins, crooked and loose. “I know.”

“You’re having a terrible time,” Fabian declares.

Riz sighs. “Is it that obvious?”

“You’re getting easier to read.” Fabian flicks Riz’s twitching ear with a finger.

“Hey!”

“You’re in luck, you know?”

Riz shakes his head, swatting Fabian’s hand away from his other ear. “Oh yeah, why’s that?”

“Because,” Fabian says, checking his watch, “we have officially been here for exactly as long as I planned to be.”

“What? The dance just started.”

“Forty-five minutes ago,” Fabian says. “I told myself I’d give the dance a chance to change your mind and then if—no, when—it didn’t, we’d go to plan B. Well, forty-five minutes have passed and the dance has not managed to entice you, has it?”

“I mean,” Riz sighs, “the snacks are good this year.”

“Incredibly glowing review,” Fabian says sarcastically. “It’s fine, The Ball. Don’t torture yourself to come up with something nice to say about it. It’s like you said: school dances aren’t for you.”

“Finally,” Riz smiles, “someone gets it.”

“Well, let’s not force the issue, then.” Fabian smiles and puts a warm, steady hand on Riz’s back. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Wh—wait, what? You’re serious?”

“Yeah, man. This isn’t, like, a labyrinth that you can never escape. It was meant to be fun. If it’s not fun, let’s go have fun somewhere else.”

“Holy shit.” Relief pours off Riz’s body in heavy waves. “I get to just… walk out? You’re not gonna force me to—”

“The Ball, come on. Let’s blow this popsicle stand. I’m not here to be an accomplice to your misery. Besides, it’s a Friday night. We have better plans.”

“That’s what Plan B is?” Riz asks, eagerly, letting Fabian lead him out into the parking lot. He grins helplessly up at Fabian and hopes to see truth in his eye. “Our usual sleepover?”

“I’d hate to go a Friday without it.” Fabian shrugs. “That cool with you?”

“More than cool,” Riz says, leaping onto the back of the Hangman and wrapping his hands around Fabian. He presses his cold palms against Fabian’s thin, silk button-down, making him flinch away from the freezing sensation. “Oh, shit, sorry.”

“Good gods, The Ball, you’re freezing.”

“It’s cold out here, sorry. I’ll use the grip bars, my bad.” He moves his hands to the passenger handles on the side of the Hangman but Fabian catches them and moves his hands back to his waist.

“It’s all good. I’ve got plenty of heat to share. Fire elemental, remember?” He turns over his shoulder and offers Riz a smile. “Go ahead, warm yourself up.”

Riz hesitates but eventually relents, letting his hands press against Fabian’s shirt. He lets his heat soak through to Riz’s cold palms, shivering with the relief of it. “Thanks,” he mutters, face pressed up against Fabian’s back. “Now, let’s get out of here. Plan B sounds pretty good right about now.”

Riz can hear Fabian chuckle and kick off from the pavement, revving the Hangman’s engine. “Sounds good to me,” he agrees. “Who needs a school dance anyway?”

Riz laughs, muffled against Fabian’s blazer. “Not me,” he says. “That’s for sure.”

Senior Year Prom

“Aw, come on, dude.”

“It’s senior year!”

“It’s our last chance.”

“You’ll regret it if you don’t go.”

“Please?”

Riz could not roll his eyes any harder if he tried. “Guys—”

“Don’t say no yet!” Fig interrupts. “Come on, really think about it.”

“I have been thinking about it for four years, Fig. I’ve come to a conclusion. Stop me if you’ve heard this one before: school dances aren’t. For. Me.” He laughs at how comfortable the words feel on his tongue, well-practiced over his high school career. “That includes this one.”

“But it’s prom,” Kristen says. “Senior year prom. You can’t miss it.”

“I can and I will.”

“Are you sure you want to, though?” Gorgug asks carefully. “I know you’ve gotten kinda unlucky with other dances—”

Riz scoffs. “An understatement if I’ve ever heard one.”

“—but this is the last time you’ll ever have the opportunity to go. You’re only a highschooler once, and all that…. I just mean, like, think about it before you decide for sure, you know?”

Riz presses his lips together and closes his eyes. He takes a single breath, in-and-out. Then, his eyes snap open. “Yep. I’ve thought about it. Gonna be a no from me, guys.”

“What if we all went together?” Adaine offers. “I mean, I think we’ve done every possible combination already anyway. Wouldn’t it be more fun if we went as a whole party?”

“I’m sure it’d be more fun, yeah. But that won’t necessarily mean it’ll actually be fun. It’s still a dance. I mean, just statistically speaking, it’s gonna be a disaster.”

“If anything, you’re due,” Fabian offers.

“What do you mean?”

“You know, six bad dances in a row, you’re due for a good one. It’s like flipping a coin seven times. It’s not gonna land on heads all seven times. The next flip is bound to be tails.”

“That’s not how probability works, Fabian,” Adaine tries to explain. “It’s—”

“It doesn’t make sense probability-wise or logic-wise,” Riz adds. “If anything, six in a row proves the theory. I’m cursed. Or school dances are cursed. Or both. Hypothesis posited and proved.”

“How fun would it be to find the exception to that rule, though?” Fig suggests. “How cool would it be to prove the universe wrong, you know? Say, fuck you, I can have fun at dances! How awesome would that be?”

Riz sucks in a breath and sighs. “I mean…”

“Oh, we’ve got a hook in him,” Kristen says, clapping her hands together. “Come on, dude. One of these arguments has got to work on you.”

“Lay ‘em out for me?” Riz asks, feeling himself giving in a little more with every word his friends say.

“It’s your last chance,” Gorgug says.

“It’ll be fun to go with everyone,” Adaine adds.

“You’re due for a good one,” Fabian says.

Fig smiles. “You can prove the universe wrong.”

Riz presses his lips together tightly, considering everyone’s words. “Kristen?” he asks. “Do you have an argument?”

“Uh, yeah. Cool kids go to dances.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah, that’s it,” she laughs. “Is it working?”

Riz bursts out laughing. “I mean, not on its own,” he says, his words carefully chosen. “But—”

“But?” Fig echoes eagerly. “But?”

“But, fuck it. Fuck it! It’s one day in the entire rest of my life. If you guys all want me to go so badly, I’ll do it. The Bad Kids take on senior year prom. I can’t promise my curse won’t make things fall to shit but—”

“We can handle it if it does,” Fabian declares quickly. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

Riz groans. “Don’t say shit like that,” he complains. “Come on, dude. Now we’ll be lucky if the world doesn’t end during the dance.”

Fig snorts. “The world ending? On our watch? Impossible.”

“Taking a note of you saying that so that I can repeat it to you verbatim when we’re both trapped in superhell after the Material Plane gets destroyed on prom night,” Riz says, scribbling down Fig’s words in his notebook. “Can’t wait.”

“No one’s going to superhell,” Kristen says. “The six of us will be together. Maybe something does happen but if—”

“When.”

“—it does, we handle it. It’s what we do.”

Riz sighs. “I mean… I guess. Yeah. If anyone can, it’s us. But I get to make some ground rules, alright? I have five rules.” The others nod their agreement and Riz goes on. “No drinking or drugs,” he looks at Fig. “No ditching one another,” he looks at Kristen. “No—actually, you know what? No. Fuck it, no ground rules. Let’s just do it. Let’s just fucking do it!” He amps himself up, fueled with half-panic and half-optimism.

“Hell yes!” Kristen says, slapping his hand in a sloppy high five. “Let’s do this thing!”

Riz looks down at his dad’s old suit, once pristine, now soaked in viscera, blood, and effluvia. “But, hey,” he remarks to himself, as he slumps against Gorgug’s side, “at least it’s not my own blood.”

“Hm?” Fabian asks, brushing gelatinous ooze off his clothes. “You good, The Ball?”

Fig reaches over and ruffles his hair. “He’s good, right?”

Riz laughs, relief pumping through him. He survived the last school dance he’ll ever attend. He’s free. “All good. Fight’s won, we all survived, the world didn’t end.” He smiles lazily at his friends, his eyes drifting shut as the adrenaline of the fight drains from his bloodstream.

The gym is a warzone, torn to shreds, threatening to collapse on the students who were brave enough to withstand the onslaught. Riz doesn’t care. He feels invincible in this moment, surrounded by his friends, five flawed dates on their own but one perfect blend as a party.

He laughs to himself, a tired grin hanging on his face. “And you know what?”

“What’s that?”

“I think we broke the curse.”