Self-Portraits - 13. The Ball

I’m the first one off the bus, right outside the front gates of Crampon Collegiate.

A woman with big glasses comes marching up to me, holding a camera. “Are you the protestors?”

“No – not me!” I panic. “I’m just meeting my friends here.”

“Molly, hi!” Stu hops off the bus behind me. “You’re a legend, thanks so much for doing this.”

“Oh, hi Stu.” She smiles. “Love the suit! Is this bus full? Wow. Which one’s the girl who organised it?”

“This is her!” Vicky gets off the bus and Stu throws an arm around her. “Vicky, this is Molly.”

I back away from them all, away from protest crowd, filling up the footpath. I don’t know where to stand. I don’t want to stand with them, but I also don’t want to pass through the gates yet. I end up leaning against the gates, in limbo, and watch Molly getting everyone to line up for photographs. Then she takes Vicky and Stu to one side, asking them questions and holding up a tiny microphone to record their responses.

Everyone’s buzzing with energy and excitement, but not me. I feel as flat as a pancake.

I remind myself I’m just waiting here for Nicholas. It’s almost eight o’clock. He’ll be here soon, and our night together will finally begin.

*

At eight o’clock on the dot, the protestors start filing in through the front gates. Vicky is at the front, holding hands with Mark Bell’s girlfriend Donna, then Stu and Mark. More pairs must’ve arrived separately to join in, because there are more than thirty couples – boys together, girls together – all holding hands. My curiosity gets the better of me so, keeping my distance, I follow them towards the school hall. There’s a cluster of teachers standing out the front, including Mr Jane.

I watch his face as he realises what’s happening. He doesn’t give away much of a reaction, especially when Molly starts snapping away with her camera, but his face turns puce.

Vicky and Donna are the first up.

“Hi, Mr Jane,” Vicky says. “This is my girlfriend Donna, who’s in Year 11. We’re here tonight as a lesbian couple. We had to register for tickets if we used a male partner’s name, but there’s nothing in the rules that says we can’t introduce ourselves to you the way we truly are. Next year, we hope you’ll reconsider the rules so we can register for tickets like everyone else.”

Mr Jane presses his lips together in a thin line. He says nothing. After all, Vicky’s correct – they’re technically not breaking any rules. In fact, this is the politest she’s ever been to Mr Jane.

Stu’s up next, holding hands with Mark Bell. “Good evening, faculty,” Stu says, as cool as a cucumber, “this is my boyfriend, Mark. We’re not here to make any trouble. We just want to share the night together and hope you’ll consider letting us do the same for the Year 12 Ball next year.”

Still, Mr Jane says nothing.

I watch one pretend-gay couple after another. Molly’s camera clicking away. It feels like it’s never going to end.

Things hit a slight hurdle when Chris and Dale get to the teachers, arms around each other. “Mr J!” Dale shouts. “We suck each other’s dicks!”

“Alright, that’s it!” Mr Jane erupts, breaking his silence. “I can smell liquor on you both! I’m calling your parents!”

He drags them into the hall’s antechamber.

“Hey, don’t be homophobic!” Chris slurs, as the three of them vanish behind a slammed door.

Otherwise, the protest goes perfectly. All the couples have vanished into the hall. Their point has been made but, best of all, Vicky hasn’t been expelled.

“Hi.” Molly comes over to me. “You’re Vicky’s brother, right? That’s what Stu said.”

My relief’s short-lived. “Uh – what’s this about?” My voice comes out as a squeak.

Molly slides her camera into a bag. “I just wanted to say, your sister is amazing. I wish I’d been that brave at that age.”

I’m not sure what to say. “Oh, um, okay.”

Molly smiles. “Have a fun night.”

I shuffle back the front gates to wait.

I’m starting to feel like this might not be a fun night after all.

*

Another bus pulls up and another fifty kids spill out. Most of the boys are wearing black suits and white shirts, so at least I’ve gotten that right. There’s a procession of taxis and parental drop-offs. Couples and groups pass through the gates without noticing I’m standing there.

At quarter past eight, I text Nicholas. Just at the front gates

He doesn’t reply.

Before I know it, it’s eight thirty. It feels like I’ve been standing here forever.

A taxi pulls up and a girl steps out. She’s wearing a strapless silver dress and black heels. She teeters over to me.

“Richard?” she says.

“Yeah, are you Marta?”

She sighs, clearly disappointed, and for a moment it looks like she’s thinking about pretending she’s not Marta. But then she remembers that she needs me to get inside the hall and decides to tell the truth.

“Yeah,” she admits. “I’m Marta.”

“Where are the others?” I ask.

“At Carrie’s. It was so much fun.” Marta sighs again, resentful that she had to leave. “Nicholas said I had to come now, because you’d be waiting. They’ll meet us inside later.”

Later? The Ball has already been going for thirty minutes. How much later are they going to be?

None of this is turning out how I thought. Marta and I walk up to the teachers. We don’t hold hands. In fact, she keeps as far away from me as she possibly can. Mr Jane’s still dealing with Chris and Dale in the anteroom, so I awkwardly introduce Marta to the awkward group of teachers, awkwardly hand over our tickets, then we’re in.

Marta’s unimpressed with inside of the hall, too. The benches have been stacked and pushed against the wall. The music’s not very loud, so nobody’s dancing yet, just standing around. The swirling lights they’ve put up look like the searchlights of a prison perimeter.

They’ve put drinks and snacks on a large table. Mrs Hansen is standing behind it, in a nice polka dot dress, handing out cups of punch.

“Do you want anything to drink?” I ask Marta.

“Not if it’s non-alcoholic,” she sniffs. “Do you have any friends here?”

“Yes,” I lie. “I got a ride with them.”

An hour ago, I pretended to the protest group that Nicholas’s group were my friends. Now, I’m pretending to Marta that the protest group are my friends.

Do I actually have any friends whatsoever?

I suddenly wish Harriet was here. Even if we just stood together and didn’t talk to anyone else, I’d have fun. More fun than this, that’s for sure.

Vicky and Stu are in the middle of the hall, with the rest of the protestors. They’re all talking and laughing and reenacting what happened. Chris and Dale’s stranded girlfriends, Sarah and Lacey, are the only ones who look unhappy.

I take Marta over to them.

“Oh, wow, you’re gorgeous!” Stu tells Marta. He turns to me. “You’ve got good taste, Sizzler boy.”

Marta looks at Stu like he’s a piece of gum on the sole of her shoe.

“Did you watch us come in?” Stu asks me. “Did you see Mr Jane? How do you think the photos will look?”

“Oh, is this the gay club?” Marta narrows her eyes at me. “Are you in the gay club?”

“No, I just got a ride with them.”

“Everyone’s welcome in our club,” Stu says. “Including girls with amazing fashion sense. Seriously, I reckon you’re wearing one of the best dresses tonight!”

Marta doesn’t acknowledge the compliment. She gives yet another sigh and looks around the hall, wishing Carrie would hurry up and rescue her from the freaks. And I sort of agree with her. Stu’s being a bit too friendly. I turn away from him and look around the hall as well.

And that’s when I see Nicholas.

*

Nicholas looks like he’s stepped out of an old movie. He’s chosen a classic black-and-white look too, so we’ll match. He’s wearing a bow tie and has combed his hair to one side. Right behind him there’s Carrie, in an emerald dress, her hair in perfect ringlets. Then there’s Darren Park with his shirt already untucked, and Lisa Meadows, looking like a supermodel.

“Finally!” Marta rushes over to rejoin them.

I doubt she’ll say another word to me tonight, but I don’t care. Especially when I lock eyes with Nicholas and he comes straight towards me.

I start to say hi, but there’s a look on his face, a look that says, Not here.

He takes my hand. Our fingers thread together. He’s smiling, and he’s got a look that says: Not here. Not in front of everyone.

He doesn’t stop moving. He keeps walking, pulling me after him, through the crowd.

We reach a closed door at the side of the hall. Nicholas glances around, makes sure nobody’s watching, and opens the door up that leads up onto the stage. I don’t know what he’s doing. If Mr Jane catches us back here, we’ll be joining Chris and Dale in the anteroom.

“Nicholas,” I say nervously, “where are we going?”

He doesn’t say anything, just pulls me after him, around the side of the stage. We’re behind the giant pieces of set they used for Oklahoma three months ago. Nicholas pulls me past a cornfield, then a picket fence, then a windmill.

“Nicholas,” I say again, “seriously, what are we doing—”

He stops, turns, and he pulls me into him. I stumble forward, our lips touch, and we kiss. The music gets louder, which results in a big cheer from the hall. It’s both exactly as I remember it, and completely new. Tonight, his kiss has a cool sharp taste – alcohol, sticky and sweet.

I want the kiss to last forever, but Nicholas pulls back.

“Wow, I’ve missed doing that,” he says. He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a hipflask. He twists the lid off and takes a sip. He offers it to me.

“No, that’s okay. But thanks.”

“You look really cute.” Nicholas puts the flask back. “I’ve wanted to talk to you all day. I’ve been around those people all afternoon, just thinking about getting here and seeing you.”

My heart swells. “I’ve been wanting to be with you all day too.”

What I really mean is: I want to be with you all week, all month, all year.

He leans forward again. I hope it’s to kiss me again, but this time he hugs me. His arms wrap around me tightly. In some ways, this is even better than kissing.

“Promise me one thing,” Nicholas says into my neck.

“Anything.”

“Promise me that this will be the funnest night of our lives, okay?”

“I promise.”

“You’ll have a fun night, okay?” Nicholas says.

“Of course.”

“With me?”

“Of course.”

He takes a step back again. This time, there are tears in his eyes. “You’re the best guy I’ve ever met. You’ve known me forever. I know things have been weird lately, but just be patient with me, alright? I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” I say. “You never will.”

“Perfect.” He wipes his eyes, then takes my hand again. “Come on. Let’s go have the greatest night ever.”

*

Nicholas takes me back onto the floor.

Most people have started dancing now that the music’s louder. If you can call it dancing. Most people are sort of jumping and shouting the song lyrics at each other. I follow Nicholas back to the group he came with.

Marcus Cruikshank is in the middle of the group, jumping up and down, and shouting the words to the song in Carrie’s face. Carrie looks unimpressed, an identical expression to Marta. Darren’s hanging around Lisa’s neck like an anchor. I’m nervous about joining their group, but most of them don’t seem to notice I’m there.

When Darren sees Nicholas, he unhooks his arms from Lisa and reaches into Nicholas’ jacket. “Give me a sip.”

“Okay,” Nicholas hands him the hipflask, “but don’t get caught, for fuck’s sake.”

Darren scurries away with the hipflask and the rest of the group starts dancing. The girls are quite good dancers. Nicholas is too. I’m jumping more than I’m dancing and I’m doing my best to shout the lyrics.

Nicholas keeps giving me little signals. He brushes my hand, touches my shoulder, presses his hand against my back. Whenever I catch his eye, he smiles.

Out of nowhere, Lisa Meadows turns to me and shouts over the music: “Have you seen what Mrs Hansen’s wearing?”

“Yeah!” I shout back.

“She looks like a fucking ladybug!”

I laugh. I want to say something funny back, but I can’t think of anything fast enough.

Darren comes back with Nicholas’ hipflask. Marta wants some, or maybe she’s just interested in Darren. Either way, the two of them go off together. Lisa doesn’t seem to mind, even though she’s Darren’s date. I certainly don’t mind Marta going off with Darren either. And Nicholas doesn’t mind that he hasn’t gotten his hipflask back yet.

Nicholas and I are together. That’s all that matters.

After half an hour of jumping, I’m dying of thirst. I ask Nicholas if he wants to come get some water with me, but he tells me to go without him.

“I’ll stay right here,” he promises.

So I head away from the sweaty dance floor and towards the back of the hall, to the drinks table. I suppose Mrs Hansen does look a bit like a ladybug with the red and black spots on her dress. She’s spooning alcohol-free punch into plastic cups.

“You’re looking wonderfully funereal!” Mrs Hansen tells me when I get to the front of the queue. “Can I interest you in a fizzy peach libation?”

“Just water, please,” I say.

She hands me a cup of water, with a slice of lemon in it.

“I’ll have the same, please!” shouts a voice behind me.

It’s Stu, pink-faced and grinning.

“Looks like you’re having a good time out there,” he says. He takes a cup of water from Mrs Hansen. “Thanks!”

“I’m just keeping hydrated.” I slurp my water quickly so I can get back to Nicholas.

“That girl you brought is so pretty,” Stu says.

“Yeah.” I have another gulp of water.

“I didn’t realise you hung out with Lisa and her friends. You know everyone.”

I shrug. I wish Stu would leave. I know he’s just being himself, but for some reason it’s bugging me.

“So, what’s the deal with that guy Nicholas?” Stu asks.

“Nothing’s the deal with him,” I say.

“Are you friends with him?”

“Best friends, actually.” I finish the rest of my water and put down my empty cup. “So I’d better get back to him.”

I push my way back through the very-crowded dance floor.

I find the spot where I left Nicholas only a few minutes ago, but he’s not here. None of them are. I turn in a slow circle. They can’t have gone far, surely.

Then I see him.

Nicholas, only a couple of metres from where I left him.

But he’s kissing Carrie. Their mouths are locked together like they’re trying to suck the air out of each other.

“Oh, are those two actually together?” Stu’s by my side again, in my ear.

I grit my teeth. “I don’t know.”

“I always got a gay vibe from him,” Stu says.

“You’re wrong,” I snap. Then, before I can help myself, I say, “Stop trying to get everyone into your club.”

I turn my back on Stu, who takes the hint and leaves me alone.

And I can’t do anything but stare. I’m not sure how Nicholas and Carrie can still breathe, kissing like that.

“Fucking finally,” Lisa says, coming up beside me. “I thought those two would never get it on.”

I laugh hollowly.

“Hey, perverts!” Lisa goes over to them, dragging them apart. “I’ve called a taxi to take us to Anton’s.”

“Anton’s?” Carrie sneers. “We only just got here!”

“But this sucks,” Lisa says. “I’m practically sober again. Anton’s will be fun.”

Nicholas looks at Carrie. “Anton’s would be fun.”

“I’m not leaving Marta here,” Carrie says.

“We’ll find her and bring her with us,” Lisa says. “There’ll be four seats in the taxi.”

I stand there, invisible, as Lisa, Carrie and Nicholas stumble away, disappearing into the crowd. I’m not sure what to do, so I go after them. I’m technically Marta’s Ball partner, after all. But the dance floor is too crowded. Within five seconds, I’ve lost them.

I walk around the perimeter of the hall. Lacey and Sarah are both on their phones, furious that their boyfriends didn’t even get in the front doors. I pass right in front of the speakers and nearly go deaf from the noise. Nobody speaks to me. Nobody even sees me. I’m still just the school ghost.

There’s no sign of Nicholas. No Lisa, no Carrie, no Marta.

I spot Stu jumping up and down with Mark Bell and his girlfriend Donna. I definitely can’t hang out with them after losing my temper with Stu.

Eventually I make it back to the front of the hall, where Mrs Hansen dreamily stirs the punch with her ladle.

“Thirsty again?” she asks.

“No, I – um – I’m just looking for, um ... my friend.”

I do one last look around. There are a few people sitting up the back, away from the dance floor, sipping Mrs Hansen’s punch. I’ve got to accept it: Nicholas has left. He’s on his way to “Anton’s” – whoever that is.

I send him a text. Hey! Where did you go? I stare at the screen, waiting for a reply that doesn’t come.

I put my phone back in my pocket.

And then I see something in the corner.

Two people sitting on one chair – a girl, sitting on a boy’s lap, kissing him.

I recognise the boy first. It’s Darren Park.

For a second, I think the girl he’s kissing must be Marta.

But it’s not. The girl kissing Darren Park is Vicky.

*

I’ve probably set a world record for earliest departure from a school dance.

It’s not even nine thirty yet.

Outside, the streets are quiet.

The image of Nicholas and Carrie kissing is stuck in my brain. Then I get the occasional flash of Darren and Vicky. Did I hallucinate that? Vicky has always despised boys like Darren.

And when did everyone start kissing so much?

Then I start wondering whether I also hallucinated my kiss with Nicholas behind the windmill. Those things he said – did I dream that? I’ve daydreamed about Nicholas so often, I wouldn’t be surprised if I’d started imagining things.

By the time I get home, I want nothing more than to have a hot bath, six slices of cinnamon toast, then fall into a deep dreamless sleep. But my heart sinks when I see both Cheryl and Rosemary’s cars are still parked in the driveway.

Even before I open the door, I can hear music playing, louder than it’s ever been played in this house before. Because of the music, nobody hears me come in.

In the living room, Cheryl has kicked off her shoes and is standing on the coffee table, holding a cocktail (spilling most of it) and belting out the lyrics to the song that’s thumping from the speakers. Rosemary’s dancing up against the wall, wrapping the curtains around her shoulders like a cape.

And my own mother is standing on the couch, barefoot and singing, drinking straight from a wine bottle.

Rosemary sees me first.

“Richard!” she squeals. “You’ve come back for the real party!”

“What – no, I—” She grabs me around the waist and pulls me into the room. “Rosemary, no!”

“Dance with your mother!” Rosemary commands.

“Yes!” Mum shouts. “Come dance with me, Richie!”

“Doesn’t he look foxy in his suit?!” Cheryl cries.

Rosemary lifts me up onto the couch. Mum grabs my hands.

“I don’t feel like dancing!” I shout but Mum doesn’t let go.

When she finally does, Rosemary refuses to let me leave the room. Eventually, I’m allowed to leave but only to help Cheryl make cocktails, even though they all keep spilling most of their drinks.

“Did you have a smashing Ball?” Cheryl asks as she free-pours vodka into a cocktail shaker.

A smashing ball? Well, I felt as though a wrecking ball was smashing into me when I saw Nicholas kissing Carrie. I don’t tell Cheryl that, though.

“It was good, thanks,” I lie.

Cheryl looks at my forehead. “No lines.” She sighs wistfully. “You’re lucky you’re young.”

I carry the tray of cocktails into the living room, where I’m then coerced into participating in a conga line.

By the time I’m able to slip away, I’m too tired for a bath. I crash onto my bed, still wearing my suit.

I check my phone yet again. Still no reply from Nicholas.

On my bedside table is my copy of David Copperfield. I think back to the first chapter, to that very first sentence, and how it made me think about whether I was going to end up being a main character in my own life. I’m surrounded by main characters – Nicholas, Vicky, Harriet, even Mum and Dad in their own way. Everyone around me is dancing and singing and kissing, but I’m not.

I’m lucky I’m young, Cheryl?

Well, I don’t feel lucky.