Chapter Thirteen: September
It's the typical homecoming. The gymnasium is a glittery shindig. The lighting initially gives the room a red tint, until her eyes adjust and it cools to a warm pink. All the fun cutouts hanging from the ceiling almost distract from that permanent scent of a mother's old perfume clinging to the breasts of some Junior whose date is probably sweating from every clogged up pore on his face because no one has bothered to open a window.
Balloons of the highschool colors are strewn across the floor and kicked into the corners because people had become fed up with tripping over a few of them. A few unlucky teachers huddle near the folded up bleachers, because they don't really want to spend their Friday night watching kids that aren't their own.
It was around nine when Lynda got a little handsy with Joey on the dancefloor. A couple boys elbowed poor him when Lynda wasn't looking. Every athlete or bully that's ever had a crush on his date suddenly has something against him — because how does Joey McKiernan land a catch like that? But, Laurie who stands near the punchbowl with a cup hanging from her hand, knows Joey doesn't have any game. Lynda has strung him along so far because she's flunking math and who else is better to tutor her than a boy who's gullible enough to fall for the baby blues of her eyes?
And then, the commotion starts. A girl on the dancefloor gasps. It's Lynda. All breathy, stunned. The surprise on her face makes her look vulnerable. Joey Mckiernan had fallen on his ass, sprawled out on the ground, holding his nose. Standing in front of him is someone Laurie didn't expect to see.
"Get off him, Bob!" Lynda shrieks.
The handful of teachers look towards Joey McKiernan, their star pupil, and the music cuts. The horde of highschoolers on the dancefloor wordlessly create a circle around Joey and Bob. The latter has the upper hand and the former aimlessly throws his punches in vain.
Someone whispers, "This is sad."
Laurie thinks, This is not fair. And with it, follows frustration. It's not his fault. He didn't ask for this. Lynda is cruel, she's not even standing up for him. Look at her face! Under the makeup, she is relishing the attention. Every girl wants to be fought over.
Two male teachers break up the fight because no student intervenes. Not even the athletes who are supposed to represent the school values of justice, integrity, and unity. They're all just watching and gloating, because if they can't have Lynda Van der Klok, anyone who has her deserves to have their ass handed to them.
As an afterthought, Laurie wonders if Ben Tramer would've done something.
By the time the two boys are separated, Bob's glasses still sit on his face, and Joey's glasses are broken in half on the floor.
The dance ends an hour early.
Annie and her boyfriend linger outside with Laurie, as the swarm of departing students thins out.
"We can drive you home," Annie offers.
Laurie is tempted but she knows her mother would hate that she didn't come home with Michael, for it would certainly be her fault that he didn't pick her up, so she declines and Annie doesn't seem too concerned for leaving her friend behind. After all, what's there to fear in Haddonfield? Nothing happens here.
Annie leaves Laurie a gentle kiss on her cheek, steps toward her boyfriend and smiles a bright smile that scares away the darkness and disappointment that dwells in Laurie's heart.
"Goodnight beautiful."
And Laurie is left alone.
Luckily, the month of September has yet to see summer's passing otherwise she would be cold in her thin dress. Luckily, this doesn't add to her disappointment.
She grows impatient in the absence of her brother and wonders if he had forgotten. She wouldn't be surprised if he did. What with their interactions, what obligation did he have to her?
The question makes Laurie's heart well with hurt, and suddenly the anxiety takes purchase.
From outside, Laurie sees the auditorium light turn off. The last faculty member leaves through the entrance doors, passes Laurie, but doesn't notice her.
The parking lot is finally empty.
The symphony of chittering crickets reminds Laurie of velvet dark and smatter of stars in mid July which bring hope of the dawn. Of nights of sneaking out of the house when her parents are asleep to the lake, skimming rocks across a black mirror which reflects twilight. Of early mornings when the sunlight has yet to rouse Haddonfield, where she waits beside her late sister's grave with a gladiolus that matches the color of the dress she currently wears.
It's nights like these that call to Laurie's heart.
And then, Laurie starts walking. Down the road in the direction of home.