| Prom Wear |
| "Do I look okay?" he demanded of me. "I mean, really okay?" "You look fine," I told him. "What about me? Do I look okay?" Really okay?" He stuck out his tongue at me and returned his attention to the mirror. They hold the prom at the Santa Rosa Convention Hall every year. Judging by the number of cars in the lot, nearly everyone else had arrived there before we had. We found a parking spot some distance away from the entrance (that's what happens when you're late) and got out and walked. Adam's shoes were giving him some trouble, so we proceeded slowly. A few of the kids hadn't gone in yet; instead, they were standing near their cars, talking and laughing. The ones who saw us passing stopped talking and nudged their friends, who in turn, stopped laughing and turned to watch us pass. I think they were probably too surprised to say anything, which was probably just as well, all things considered, given what they'd normally have to say on the subject. I pretended not to see them as we passed, but I watched them from the corner of my eye. The girls' faces displayed utter shock, and , in a few cases, distaste. But it was the boys' expressions that frightened me. There was something hard in their eyes, something hateful--like they would hurt us if they could. It was all I could do to walk past them with my head held high. Like I said before, the evening wasn't going to have been easy to get through anyway. Adam and I had set it up specifically not to be, which really says a lot for our intelligence. But, also as I've said before, our being late had compounded the problem. Because everyone had arrived before us. Which meant they were all there at once to see us arrive. And see what we were wearing. There are some blessed, blessed places in this world where a girl arriving at her prom in a tuxedo wouldn't cause even a stir. There are decidedly fewer where there would be no comments about her arriving as the escort to a boy in a dress, complete with corsage (care of his sister). The town of Rosita, Texas, was, and is, definitely neither. Of course, we'd known that before we went. Since prom night is on the last day of senior year in Rosita, the whole stunt was supposed to be a final, less-than-fond farewell to the students and faculty of Rosita High. The silence spread gradually. First the people nearest the door went quiet, then those who were elbowed by those closest to the door, and so on farther and farther back, to where you could see people craning towards the entrance, trying to figure out just what the hell was going on. Some people had that same hardness in their eyes that the boys in the parking lot had had. We were in that dream state where you're beyond caring. Ever been there? You're not nervous or anything because you know that, whatever happens now, it's all out of your hands, and that knowledge, for some reason, makes you very calm inside. Funny how the human brain works. Adam and I moved towards the dance floor. Some girl tittered shrilly, breaking the strained silence, and small groups of people began to whisper frantically. "Faggots." That was Brad Keller, football stud and all-around American boy. Neither of us flinched, though I do recall having an urge to go teach him proper terminology (you know, so he could insult me accurately). As we reached the dance floor, though, the whispers were gradually replaced with conversation of a more or less normal variety. The song on the speakers was for a slow dance. I smiled at Adam. As long as I was here, I was going to have fun. Whether anyone else liked it or not. I extended my hand to him. "May I have this dance?" Adam gave me his best smile and put his hand in mine. We started to box step, carefully at first, because Adam still wasn't used to the height of his heels. At first we were the only couple on the floor. Then this girl I knew--Leah Thompson, her name was--and her boyfriend, Rob, joined us on the dance floor. Leah sat behind Adam in our English class. She wasn't a very memorable person in any way, really--brown eyes, brown hair, medium height, quiet--but I remember that once, in English class she told Brad to back off when he and his brainless friends were tormenting Adam. And she never used the words for Adam and I that the other kids used. Once on the dance floor, Leah and Rob fell into each other's arms; that was their usual state of being. When circumstances allowed, they were generally inseparable. What was unusual was that Leah took her eyes off Rob's for a moment and smiled at me. Rob turned his head slightly to see what she was looking at and grinned approvingly. "Nice outfits," he said. Apparently Rob and Leah's entrance into the dancing area was the 'it's okay to dance' signal, because, soon after, the floor was packed with couples. I remember thinking, as Adam and I swayed together to the syrupy music, that what happened later didn't matter. What Adam's parents would say, what the walk through the parking lot would be like. It was wonderful to be there, in the arms of my best friend, trying to show the world that we didn't care. I had told Gran about our idea, and she had been afraid for us, but hadn't tried to stop us. Dancing there, I suddenly couldn't wait to tell her everything. |
| By Stephanie Chichester, CA |
| 2003 KarMel Scholarship Entry |
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