“All right. Thanks for doing this Zachary. I can’t tell you how much it means,” David said.
“It means about seven blow jobs by my estimation.”
“You never change.”
“I prefer the morning. A week of wake and blows.”
David shook his head. His smile faded. He took a deep breath. “If I don’t see you again, I hope things work out for you.”
Zachary ogled him, dumbfounded, then looked around and made sure no one was listening.
“You’re a good person, David. I’m sorry I tried to kidnap you that time.”
Zachary extended his hand, and David shook it.
“Uh, it’s okay. I like you too.”
Zachary let go and gave his eyes a quick wipe.
“Shit, you’re making me mess up my makeup.”
Zachary whipped the tablecloth back down.
“Good luck, honey thighs. Cannot wait to see what you do to Hilary,” Zachary declared through the cloth.
“Me neither,” David said with an empty chuckle.
They listened to the footsteps of Zachary and his entourage as they walked away from the cart. David could barely hear Zachary proclaim, “I’m here!” in the distance.
“What are you going to do?” Lucy said.
He looked at her. Her face was nearly pressed against his face shield. Her eyes were wide open and jittery.
“Smooth-talk her?” David said.
“Please tell me you’re joking,” Lucy said.
The cart started to move. They were on their way.
“I just need to get close to her. When I have her off guard, that’s when I’ll grab the gun. Don’t worry,” David said.
But he was worried. He was getting more worried the more he thought about it. The cart paused, and he could hear the low voice of what he assumed was one of the Varsity guards. David wondered if he knew the guy, and what he would do if he discovered them. He heard the Varsity guard say, “Have fun,” then the cart started rolling again.
It was too quiet. He’d expected to hear people partying in the commons. The shouts of a big crowd. Instead, what he heard was a low murmur, drowned out by a blaring pop ballad. David almost knew it by heart from the countless times Hilary used to play it in her car. It was an insufferable song called “Ask Myself Out” where the singer sang about how they look so hot, they’re about to ask themselves out. The refrain, Ask myself out, ask myself out, lookin’ so good gonna ask myself out, repeated for six minutes.
The refreshment cart came to a stop. He stared into Lucy’s eyes and wished that he could do anything but get out from under that tablecloth.
“Is it time?” Lucy said.
“Yep, let’s go,” he said, assuming a brave tone. He slipped his head out and saw that the cart was in the shadow of one of the thick cement columns of the commons, and that no one was around. He got out and Lucy followed. She had her hands on his back, and he could feel her looking over his shoulder as he edged into the light and peered around the side of the column.
The two-story room had been transformed. Bark textures and knotholes had been drawn on the wide concrete columns that held up the second-floor balcony, to make them look like massive birch tree trunks. Geeks were at strategic spots throughout the room, agitating glass jars full of apple juice and chicken bouillon cubes in front of robust stage lights taken from the auditor-ium. The light that shined through the sloshing liquid lapped at the ceiling and walls, its golden brown light undulating, the colors of lemons and honey and molasses. The entire underside of the balcony was covered in paper leaves, cut from college-ruled three-ring binder paper. More light was projected up through lime-flavored Gatorade in jars, drenching the leaves in green. The place was stunning. Zachary had outdone himself.
David studied the crowd. Most of the school was here, whether they wanted to be or not. This was where the action was. A chance to get ahold of the most powerful object in school. A chance to see some blood spilled. He hoped that there were some kids here who only wanted to dance. A lot of boys wore a basic “tux” of dyed-black pants and white T-shirts with buttons glued down in a line. Each T-shirt had a cardboard collar with a black paper shape of a bow tie glued to the front. Girls wore toilet paper corsages. The toilet paper squares had been folded into petal shapes and curled, then stitched together into blooming paper blossoms. Some girls had new dresses, but most wore old ones with a little bit of extra effort put in, like a satin bow in their hair, or homemade high heels. One girl wore a ruffled poodle skirt that had been stuffed with pink insulation fluff. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to David, after having Zachary as their personal dresser, but he and Lucy looked overdressed.
And then there was always the matter of the gas mask on his head. There was no blending in. Whatever plan of action he was going to take would have to be swift. His recycled breath blew heavy in his ear. It was getting harder to breathe.
He gave Lucy’s hand a squeeze. “Have a look around and see if you can find where she has Will. I’ll handle Hilary.”
“I don’t have a good feeling about this, David.”
“When I get the gun,” he said, as if he hadn’t heard her, “we’ll leave out that exit over there and go straight to the quad. I don’t think we’ll be able to run and keep everyone at bay. But I’ll watch the crowd if you and Will look out for ambushes.”
Lucy nodded, her bottom lip wobbling.
“I’ll see you in a minute,” he said.
“Okay,” Lucy said, her voice cracking apart. She squeezed his hand back so hard it hurt. “Last time I said good-bye to you … you died.”
“That isn’t going to happen,” he said. He hoped he was right.
“You make sure. You hear me?”
“I will.”
They embraced, and when they let go, she walked away. She only looked back once and her face was pinched with tension like she was trying not to cry. Lucy headed toward the west wall, keeping to the shadowed areas. Whenever she stepped into the light, it would make her dress glow a shimmering pink, and catch the fine pink lines of her body. She disappeared around the curved staircase to the second floor. He hoped that wouldn’t be the last time he saw her.
The music shifted nicely from Hilary’s ballad into a dance track, but the crowd in front of him didn’t respond. A few swung their bodies to the bass beat, but most people were staring at the dance floor. David got closer. People were packed in close together, except for a twenty-foot circle of clear floor in the center, where Hilary danced by herself. A spotlight followed her. She held the silver revolver over her head and it shined so brightly in the spotlight’s beam that David had to squint. Hilary started to spin in a circle, laughing, with her arms outstretched like she was spinning gleefully through a field. The gun was leveled at the crowd’s heads now. Gasps rippled through the crowd as they ducked.