Chapter Text
Chapter 1, Part 1- Video Killed the Camera Star
January 4th, 1991. Redpark-Haven High School, Redpark, New Hampshire.
Christopher - "The Promise, When in Rome"
The auditorium is rocking.
I was surprised. The first day back to school after winter break doesn't come with surprises, but I guess a lot of people were looking forward to the yearbook superlatives announcements.
Now I wouldn't say 'I'd rather be anywhere else', but my plans for my first last day didn't involve a makeshift pep rally. I've got about a million things to do, and the darkroom is calling my name. Yesterday, I bought about 50 pounds of various chemicals to process the 3 rolls of black-and-white film I used for the football game last Tuesday. These were due yesterday for the yearbook, and Ms. Meyer is gonna kill me if she learned I was just sitting in the auditorium surrounded by meatheads.
Corey Jackson takes the stage, and the cheerleaders to his left start screaming. Clearly, they weren't told the plan because one looks around before she starts creaming in her pants. Corey grabs a mic from one cheerleader who was paying attention and commands the audience.
"REDPARK HAVENNNNNN. ARE YOU READY???"
Is this a concert?
The crowd screams in agreement. Redpark is so small, we had to join with another town in the 70s to form a full-fledged high school. Not too much goes around over here, so people get really excited about stuff like this.
I sigh and check my watch. Miranda is probably already waiting for me in the darkroom. I need to keep moving.
"REDPARK. We are here today, not to sound like a funeral like how all of you just did, but to celebrate me. Celebrate us. Celebrate the GRADUATING CLASS OF 1991!!!!! With our lovely yearbook staff-" Corey leans down to lend a hand to a group of girls with high permed hair like it's still the 80s. "WE ARE GOING TO CELEBRATE US IN OUR GAPING WHOLE ENTIRELY. Everyone is a winner...lying, you are all losers. So the yearbook picked a handful of losers to celebrate with accolades. When we call your name, come up, smile as you love us, and accept your award!!!"
Corey is handed a magician's top hat from the most permed cheerleader, and he begins rifling through the hat manically. He finds the paper he wants, and whips it out of the hat while grinning.
"LINDA TAYLOR!!! BEST HAIR!!!!"
The permed cheerleader jumps up laughing like she didn't write this herself?
She grabs the mic from Corey and pretends to cry.
"This is the greatest achievement of my life. Aqua-net may be tearing a hole in the ozone layer, BUT I DON'T CARE!!! MY HAIR WILL TAKE ME HIGHER THAN THE OZONE LAYER EVER WILL!!!" She waves off like a beauty queen and sits back down with the cheer squad, the rest of them laughing hard.
"Next up.....we have the best businessman....." Corey continues. For a split second, it almost looks like he's staring at me.
I'd call myself a sociable guy, but this is too much. All 1500 of us crammed into the auditorium, and I'd be expected to walk all the way down from the back row I'm sitting in. If Corey is doing this because I yelled at him for jerking one out in class last year, this is truly maniacal. Even for him, and I think he's cracked out.
Corey rifles through the hat. He finds the paper, rips it out.
"ADAM STEVENS!!!! COME DOWN HERE ADAM!!!!"
My heart sinks to the ground. It falls out of my ass probably. Corey definitely makes eye contact with me as Adam walks down to accept the award, cheesing the entire time. Get me out of here. Adam walks up to the microphone and begins, also pantomiming a cry.
"I'd like to thank the Academy, and God, and probably Jason over there-" Adam points to Jason, who's half-asleep and buried in his sweater, stoned out of his mind. "Without Jason's weed, I probably never could have made it to this point in my career. I'd also like to thank my biggest rival, who always...pushed me in the right direction." Adam waves his hand and walks off stage with his duct-taped trophy.
It could have been worse. Corey trails through a few more names, but I can't get how Adam looked out of my mind. Something about the way his hair fell perfectly into place, shining under the spotlight as his beautiful smile displayed his pearly white teeth. And his lips...I can't get him off of my brain. How his hands felt on my lower back as he breathed deeply, horsely into my ear. How he felt moving on me.I zone out for a minute until I hear what I didn't want to hear in the first place.
"CHRISTOPHER HAMPTON!!!!!! GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE BUDDY!!!" The auditorium goes slightly quiet as I look around, trying to remember what Corey said the category was. I don't move from my seat, and Corey pretends to look around.
"Chris? I know you're here man, come down and accept your award!!" He continues on.
I figure I have to bite the bullet. I stand up, and Chris cheers. As I'm making my way down the stairs, I walk past the row Adam is sitting in. I can feel his eyes burning a hole in the back of my head. I don't look at him and focus on my journey back down to certain death. The cheerleaders are grinning at me as I step onto the stairs to the floor of the theater. Corey hands me the trophy and pushes me towards the microphone. I glance down at the trophy to read the category I won.
"Biggest queer."
I drop the trophy and wake up from my dream, breathless and drowning in sweat.
My clock reads 7:05 am, and I decide to give up on sleep and get ready to drive to school. My hands are shaky as I try to forget my dream and focus on my unfortunately real list of things I have to finish today. I find a decent-smelling flannel and just keep on the same pair of jeans I fell asleep in. I usually like to look presentable for school, but there's something about my last first day of school that I just can't deal with this morning.
I pick up the Pixies CD I left on my nightstand last night, carrying it downstairs past the breakfast my mom got ready for me, and out to my beat-up Oldsmobile. First stop of the day? I have to go pick up Miranda. How are you almost eighteen, and you still haven't gotten your driver's license? She claims there's an inherent freedom in not being conscripted by the government for your data, but she's not the one driving 10 minutes out of her way to go pick her up.
It's freezing outside. I can barely grip the steering wheel but the voice of Black Francis guides me across down to Miranda's family's apartment. She's already outside waiting on the sidewalk for me, so I unlock the door and she lets herself in.
"I'm feeling positive about today. Today is not the day we poison ourselves with chemicals, inspiring cancer cells to take over our bodies." She says excitedly.
I shake my head and smile at her, still feeling upset over the dream I had. But there's no one to be upset with, besides myself?
Miranda keeps going while I trail off in my mind. She starts talking about the photography club we've been tasked to run but I interrupt her (kinda rudely).
"Have you ever thought about what you're going to do when we finally get out of here?" I ask earnestly.
She turns in the seat to look at me while I'm driving. I'm only a few minutes from the school parking lot, so I'm not sure if I should have engaged her on such a deep topic.
"Well, we're both dead-set on NYU. Me for acting and you for directing. We'll get in because we're super smart and cool and fun, and then when we start making real projects in New York, we'll build stories to tell interviews when we make our big break."
I pull into the parking lot, and park in my assigned spot, then turn to look at her.
"Why do you always talk about 'our' future plans? You really care about me that much?"
Miranda stares into my soul, or at least my eyes.
"You have no idea."
She leans in, and I instinctively kiss her. And it feels wrong.