Alone Together

The kaleidoscopic lights flickered, the music blasted, and the young graduates danced their hearts out, jumping up and down, moving violently on the great hall. The garish colors on the painted backgrounds blurred with their manic movement. The noise was deafening. It was the early seventies, and the music was quick, excited, and energetic. Everyone had a partner –every guy with his gal –with the exception of two teenagers, cast to the side, sitting quietly and sipping punch from their plastic cups. They exchanged shy glances, neither one of them daring to say anything just yet.

The song ended, and there was a pause in which the thirsty youngsters went back to the tables for a drink and some snacks, before returning to the dance floor. For a moment the two wallflowers lost sight of the other in the multitude. They each thought, in their own words, well, perhaps I'm wrong. Perhaps they want to be alone. Perhaps their partner is a bit late. It would be strange if they were alone; after all, I'm alone. If the other was truly alone, then we ought to be alone together.

And then each one kept on staying still, waiting, like formal-dressed mannequins. Almost instinctively, Adam took off his glasses and wiped them on the sleeve of his black jacket. Barbara took her hand to her hair and tried to flatten it a bit, annoyed at the amount of bobby pins and bows her mother had stuck to her head.

When everyone left to go back to dancing and singing to "Beautiful Sunday", they checked on the other side of the table. The other teenager was there. So, bored from waiting for the other to make the move, each –completely by coincidence –stood up to refill their cups.

"Oh—"

"I'm sorry…"

"Excuse me…"

"Would you like me to…?"

"Hm?"

"Yes, would you like me to…?" said Adam as he gestured at her cup. Barbara looked back down at it and nodded.

Adam Maitland smiled as he poured the punch carefully into her cup. Barbara smiled, then picked up the other ladle that rested on the edge of the punch bowl, and served him as well.

"Oh –thanks," he said.

"It's no bother."

Barbara Davidson was about to go back to her side of the table, but Adam wasn't going back to his; and so they remained standing side by side, sipping punch –now in close proximity. Now the graduates were dancing the conga, making a line and kicking to the sides, like a huge colorful caterpillar. They laughed a lot, they tripped and picked each other up and continued dancing. They looked as if they were having a grand time.

"The… the music's good," said Barbara.

"Sorry, what?"

"I said, the music's good!" yelled Barbara. Adam nodded.

"Are you someone's partner?" he asked.

"What?"

"I said, are you someone's…"

"No, no, I heard you," said Barbara. "I said 'what?' because… As you can see, I've been alone all this time."

"Well, perhaps you're alone now because your partner is late," said Adam.

"Is your partner late?" asked Barbara.

"No," said Adam. "I'm just alone."

"I'm alone too," said Barbara. "As you may have noticed."

Adam was more than a bit embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult you…"

"Oh, no," said Barbara. "You didn't. Sorry if I came off too aggressive. I just thought you had noticed…"

They went quiet. Barbara took a deep breath. Her shoes were killing her feet.

"May we… Can we sit down, please?"

Adam hurriedly moved aside. They sat next to each other, since after exchanging these few words it was almost a given that they were to remain together for the rest of the night until one of them cut the tension and either invited the other to dance or said a goodbye and left for the restroom or for the other side of the hall. Adam bobbed his head and mouthed the lyrics to "Long Cool Woman", hoping Barbara didn't realize he didn't know the lyrics at all. Barbara tapped her kitten heels, swaying a bit from side to side, too tense and stiff to seem like she was truly enjoying it.

They both drank more punch.

"Are you someone's brother?" Barbara asked casually.

"No," replied Adam. "I'm a student."

"Really? I've never noticed you in class," said Barbara, and immediately shut her eyes in regret. "I'm sorry. I sounded pretty rude, didn't I?"

"No, don't worry," said Adam. "It's alright. I didn't notice you in class either."

Barbara's eyes –which were pretty big and bright and brown already, Adam thought –widened in surprise. Now Adam was even more embarrassed.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"You've never noticed me?" asked Barbara, raising her voice in excitement. "Oh, that's just fine by me!"

Adam frowned. "What?"

"Oh, it's just that… Um… I'm not fond of being too noticed. Do you know what I mean?" she asked him. He shook his head. "It's just that… I'm… I'm pretty tall, as you may have noticed."

Adam did notice that, but didn't think it relevant to point that out.

"Yes?"

"So, um… I'm usually noticed because of that. And not in a good way… Also my hair –you can see it, I tried to straighten it for tonight but it was a whole disaster –is so frizzy and difficult… When you look weird like me, it's better not to be noticed."

"Why?" asked Adam, blinking his blue eyes –which just now were noticeably blue, as they caught the flashing lights from behind his glasses, thought Barbara.

"Because… Because people can be cruel," said Barbara, sounding rather upset. She knew she wasn't likely to have a good time at the prom, but she didn't expect to have to explain why she might not be liked among her classmates to someone who was supposedly part of that same group. "And they tease, and joke about you…"

"Yes, I know what that's like," sighed Adam, looking down at his unfashionable shoes. "But it's okay, I guess. One gets used to it."

"One shouldn't have to get used to being the punchline."

"Yeah, I agree, I just said… I think that one just learns to live with it. If there's nothing that can change that…"

"What do kids teased you for?" asked Barbara. She took a good look at Adam, trying to guess what part of him could be used as ammunition in other people's jokes. There was nothing that truly stood out as abnormal to her –besides the glasses, which for some reason she never understood were seen as something that marked one as weak or vulnerable.

"I'm still not sure," said Adam. "I mean, I've had my share of beatings and insults, but nothing very particular. What you say, about your height and hair… I don't think is something to laugh at, but I kind of guess why someone would try to get on your nerves by mentioning it."

"So you don't think my height or my hair is funny, or unusual?"

"No, not at all," said Adam, and smiled. "You look like a regular girl to me."

Barbara smiled back. It felt nice to smile with someone else.

"What some kids tease me for," said Adam. "Is being in this –I guess you've heard of it –the Nerd Club?"

"Oh, yes, of course."

"Well, I'm an official member."

Barbara frowned. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"I didn't know that. And I kind of know these boys –Ryan, Alvin, Bert –I've seen them… A few are the ones who call me giraffe gal and beanstalk and birch and Big Bird and Broomstick Davidson and other names since the eighth grade," she said a bit more softly. "But I didn't know you were one of them."

"I'm not the most prominent member."

Barbara laughed. "But isn't that kind of an honor? Means you're smart enough to be with the people who are teased for being too smart."

Adam laughed, too. "I assure you, they had to consider my application for the longest time."

They both laughed quietly. The song was ending, but there would be no break, just another song starting immediately where the other left off, so nobody had to stay still for a single moment.

"Are you in a club?" asked Adam.

"No –but I helped to paint these backgrounds," said Barbara, pointing at them. "They weren't the colors I'd chosen, I'm not such a fan of colors that are so eye catching. I prefer pastels. Softer things. I wasn't in charge of the whole thing, I was just someone the art club knew had a steady hand and long arms."

"So… You're not in the art club, but still they asked your help."

"Yes."

"And do these people, form the art club, tease you for your height and your hair?"

"No, no –they know that if they did I wouldn't want to help them –but they've never accepted me officially in the club either. They say I'm too much of a square. They say I'm not daring enough to be an artist."

"… So you're, say, an associate unofficial member of the art club."

"Yes," chuckled Barbara, "I guess you could call me that."

"I've read about you, I think, in the school news," said Adam. "You're who last year helped make that beautiful scenery for the drama club's production of Midsummer's Night Dream."

"Yes, that was me!" she said. "That time they let me design the whole thing –except the costumes. I really wanted to do that, but just to be allowed to do the scenery of the night forest, with all the flowers and the willow trees, and the star-speckled stream, and the bright full moon… It was wonderful."

"So, then, you're Barbara?" asked Adam.

"Yes," she said, smiling. "And you must be Adam."

"Indeed I am. Adam, official member of the Nerd Club."

"Pleased to meet you. Barbara, unofficial member of the art club."

Barbara and Adam shook hands. They burst out laughing. Adam was glad that she had her gloves on, since his hand was pretty dang clammy. Barbara was also glad she was wearing gloves, because her own hands were sweating furiously.

Finally, as the night went on and it became almost midnight, the band began playing slower music. It became time for the ballads and love songs, and the couples who had been shaking and twisting became completely different people, languid and gentle, embracing their partners. The two wallflowers watched in silence. Again, the tension that came from being the only two without a plus one grew and grew, as a song ended and a new one started, and the girls leaned their heads on their boys' shoulders.

Barbara finally dared to glance at Adam. He glanced back. And she lifted a trembling hand, offering it to him. Adam gulped –he had never danced with a girl before –but something told him that she had never danced with a boy, so that kind of leveled the ground. He accepted the offer. And, hand in trembling hand, they stepped onto the dance floor, together.