Page 47 of Electricity

I laughed and he laughed and then we were driving in the evening light to prom.

I got out of the car when we reached Redson High’s parking lot, before he could run around and open my door. I forgot that was a thing. I never even knew that was a thing that happened, expect for in really old movies.

“You look nice,” he said, standing by my door.

“Thanks.” His suit fit him nicely, making his shoulders look sharp and his waist narrow. “You look nice, too.”

“Thanks. This is the suit I wore to my grandfather’s funeral.”

My eyes went wide. “Oh, I’m so sorry?—”

“Don’t be—he was a jerk,” he said, then winced. “I have no idea why I said that. Please forget that I said that.”

“Done,” I said, with a smile. Then he smiled back and—in a perfect world, now is when I would kiss him. But we were still officially paused. After prom. I would kiss him after prom. He took a step away from me, giving me an expectant look, and I went after him, following him in.

Other girls more tied into the social hierarchy than me, ones that seniors and juniors could bully into caring, had spent the last few hours gussying up the gym for us.

But not everything was running smoothly yet—there were couples queued outside, waiting to give their tickets and go in, holding hands, leaning against each other.

Whereas Darius and I stood, close, but not touching.

I, uh, let my hand bump against his and then he caught it, and I caught his back, and then I was marveling at the wonder of where his skin was smooth and where his fingers were bony and how warm his hand was in mine.

I looked over and up at him out of the corner of my eye, and saw him looking back, and suddenly this was a full on crush.

Then someone shouted, “Darius!” once we got inside, and attempted to take him away from me.

Alcohol was not allowed at prom. This did not stop some people from drinking before they got here. Mason’s friend Bruce lurched in, trying to have a private conversation with Darius.

“Got any more of that stuff you gave Mason?” He thought he was whispering—he wasn’t.

“I’m off the clock tonight,” Darius said, pulling me closer by example.

“Come on, man?—”

“I’m busy,” Darius said, louder, and then took me and pulled me completely aside, so we both turned our backs on him, stepping out of line. “Sorry about that.”

“Hazards of being with a popular boy, I guess.”

“I am not popular. I’m a necessary evil. But popular’s not the word.”

We remerged with the line where we had been.

“You could be, if you wanted to though.” It seemed to me though that popularity wasn’t a choice—you could try, up to a point, but after that it was something that you had or that you didn’t, that you were or were not.

Darius had that extra something innately. It wasn’t just the dealing.

“No. That’s what got me into trouble back home. It’s easier not being popular, believe me.”

Maybe. If being popular meant dealing with people like Danny. Or worse yet, being him. “Do you miss it? Home?”

“Every day. The people, the weather, the places. I hate to tell you, but it’s a thousand times better out there.”

Anywhere was better than here, by default. “I believe you.”

“You only see half the state on TV. Not everyone’s tan, and not everyone surfs.

But the vibe is just different. When you’re there, you know.

” He stroked his thumb down mine and I missed the fact that the line started moving until he pulled me forward.

“I know you just want to ask how come I got stuck out here.”

I pulled back but didn’t let go. “I was working up to it. I kind of figured you didn’t start dealing in Kansas, what with our state’s friendly drug laws.”

“You’re right. My parents thought a location change would give me a fresh start.”

“But why did you need one?” I pressed against him as other couples crowded us.

“Because I was stupid, and young, and running with a rough crowd. I was smarter than that, I just got caught up in having something to prove.”

We could finally see into the gym ahead of us through the open doors—with the fog machines cranked it looked like a cave of wonders. “And now?”

He handed over our tickets and we went in. “I’m still dealing—but I’m safe. Out here, there wasn’t anyone worth proving anything to, until I met you.”

Suddenly I knew exactly how Dorothy felt when she got whirled up into that tornado. I was definitely not in Kansas anymore.

“Do you want a drink?” Darius asked, helpfully covering my awkward silence.

“Yes, please,” I said, letting him lead.

The corners of the gym were anchored with emerald towers comprised of balloons, along with life-sized cardboard cut outs of iconic Oz characters, ready for you to take selfies with.

Even the Wicked Witch made an appearance, twirling slowly overhead on a broomstick where for other dances I assumed a disco ball would be.

A yellow brick ‘road’ had been carefully taped down across the gym’s surface to lead to the dance floor, only to disappear and reappear on the far side leading to a table full of tiny cans of sodas, water bottles, and a carefully supervised bowl of what was labeled Flying Monkey punch.

“Water, soda, or whatever that is that I’m frightened of?”

“Diet Coke,” I said, and he finally let go.

The third wall of the gym had a stage set up with a projection screen showing someone’s Images of Oz screen saver set, hopping through important scenes every ten seconds.

I followed the light back up to the projector, hanging from the ceiling in a wooden shield, and then followed its cables back up into the darkness of the gym’s ceiling.

“Here you go,” Darius said, returning to hand my soda to me.

“Thanks,” I said, taking it from him. I’d been stupid to get a drink, now I had something to actually hold, instead of him.

Kids kept coming in, two by two and then twelve by twelve, if the excited screaming was to be believed.

I saw the intermittent flash bursts of the photo booth starting—sorry, Mom, but I was not going to get one with Liam—and the DJ, trapped in one corner behind his equipment wearing a green sequined suit, started playing, which led me to making my second-most stupid decision of the night, asking, “Back in California, did you dance?”

“Any time I could,” he said seriously. Then he set his drink down on a table. “Come on.”

I…had never danced except for in the privacy of my own room with the music turned up. I was just about to explain this to him when the DJ’s mic came on and shouted:

“Redson High Juniors and Seniors welcome to your prom!” Lasers jetted out from the DJ’s booth like we were in a space war, more tornado-like fog billowed out, and then everyone was clapping and screaming and we were on the dance floor.

Something fast with an electronic beat came on, and Darius swayed from side to side, and I did my best to imitate him, and then I just closed my eyes and did my own thing because maybe if I couldn’t see anyone else they couldn’t see me.

One song in, I felt less stupid than I had.

Two songs in, I was actually enjoying it, the way that we were near each other moving: even without touching or the other world, we were projecting energy back and forth.

Three songs in, I was having an amazingly good time—which was why I didn’t know Lacey was there until she tackled me.

“Jessie!” she screamed in my ear.

I startled then hugged her back. “Hey!”

“Look at you!” she shouted, over the song.

“Look at yourself!” I shouted back.

“I know!” she said, and twirled so I could see.

Her dress was floral and long sleeved, because it still had to pass Ms. Harper’s inspection someday, but it had a low-cut neckline and an oddly, for her, short skirt.

“Safety pins,” she shouted. “Jonah helped me,” she whispered.

“Don’t let me go home without ditching them. ”

I laughed, and turned to Darius. He was just about to say something when the lights, already dim, dimmed further, and the music took on a slower pace.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the first slow song of your prom!” the DJ’s booming voice echoed overhead.

And at that, Darius put his hand out for me. Before I could lose my nerve, I took it.