He’s there as part of the prom Gestapo unit, ready to pounce on anyone who veers the least little bit off the highway of bland. I’m just going back for a second helping of the chorus of “You’re Nobody ’Til Somebody Loves You” when his grip clamps down on my arm.
“All right, that’s enough, Mr. Keely. Time to head back to your table.”
“But this is what it’s all about,” I tell him with perfect sincerity. “This is the gospel according to Dino.”
“Sit down!” somebody yells from the crowd, probably the same person who came up with Puttin’ on the Ritz as a theme.
“Bite me,” I intone in my deep microphone voice.
“That’ll be enough,” says Mr. Asterhole, tugging at my arm.
“But, Mr. Asterhole,” I say, still keeping it low and smooth. “This is our last night to be young, or did you forget how that feels?”
I should point out that the whole thing, the “Mr. Asterhole” part and all, booms out through the mike. A couple of whoops go up, along with a couple more “Sit downs,” and Mr. Aster’s eyes bulge.
“Okay, that’s it,” he says. “Your prom’s over.”
I swear he’s so hot it looks like his hair might catch fire. But I’m just like, “That’s cool. This carcass is ready for the morgue anyway.”
“Out, Mr. Keely. I’m not going to say it again.”
Walking back to the table to collect Aimee, I maintain perfect dignity. Okay, so a couple of people call out, “Go home, dumbass,” but who cares? The ones who get it are on my side. “Way to go, Sutter,” they tell me. “See you at the after-party, dude!”
Leaving early doesn’t disappoint Aimee at all. She’s already gathered her things by the time I reach the table. As soon as we hit the cool air outside, we both take long swigs of our drinks. Yes, the next stage in the life of the buzz is kicking in.
Chapter 53
There are plenty of after-parties to hit, but most of my friends will be at Cassidy’s best friend Kendra’s house. The party is likely to last all night, so we have plenty of time to stop at our motel room. The plan is to change clothes, refill our flasks, and take off, but Aimee has something else in mind.
Before I can get my jeans pulled up, she comes out of the bathroom in just her panties, walks over, and kisses me on the chest. “We don’t have to go to any more parties,” she says.
“But it’s prom night.”
She runs her finger along my stomach. “We can make it special right here.”
The girl is a rookie, see. She doesn’t understand the stages of the life of the buzz. I kiss her long and hard, then pull away. “We can make it special here after the party. Now, come on, get dressed. We want to be there when they pop the cork on the champagne.”
“But do we have to go to a party where Cassidy’s going to be?”
“You’re not still worried about that, are you? Look, she’s my friend. You have to get used to being around her. Come on now. Have a little faith in the Sutterman. The best part of the night is just beginning.”
“Really?”
“Really. Now go get dressed.”
This stage in the life of the buzz is truly fabulous. It’s not even a buzz anymore. It’s a roar. The world opens up and everything’s yours right here, right now. You’ve probably heard the expression—All good things must come to an end. Well, this stage in the life of the buzz never heard anything close to that. This stage says, “I will never end. I am indestructible. I will last fabulously forever.” And, of course, you believe it. To hell with tomorrow. To hell with all problems and barriers. Nothing matters but the Spectacular Now.
Not everyone can get all the way through to this stage. It takes practice and dedication. It’s like learning how to pilot a plane—you have to put in your air miles before you can really fly on your own.
And believe me, by the time we get to Kendra’s, I’m soaring. Crowds gather round and I’m making up jokes, doing the Italian mobster routine with Shawnie Brown, chugging glasses of champagne while standing on my head—bringing the crazy fun. A couple of people egg me on to climb up on the coffee table and sing some more Dino, and you can be sure it doesn’t take much egging. This is how a party should be. Not an adult anywhere near to shut us down. Kendra’s parents are geniuses. They turned the house over to her and said, “We trust you, honey, just don’t let anyone get in the pool.”
Right. Good luck with that!
The only downside is no Ricky. The dude promised he’d show, but where is he? For all I know, he’s actually playing school-sponsored laser tag with Bethany right now. Of course, Cassidy’s here with Marcus, and every once in a while I catch her staring at me, flashing her little Mona Lisa smile and shaking her head. I know what she’s thinking: “Why did I ever trade in someone that’s so awesomely fun for Mr. Stone Cold Sober in the kitchen discussing politics?”
What can I say? Everyone makes mistakes.
At some point, I lose touch with where Aimee is. Last time I saw her she was sitting on the end of the sofa with her drink in her hand and an awkward smile on her face, so I’m glad she got up and started mingling. I really do mean to check on her just in case she’s stuck listening to the blather of someone foul like Courtney Skinner or worse, Jason Doyle, but I end up getting a little sidetracked.
The thing is, just as I start to look for her, Brody Moore grabs me by the arm and whispers a beautiful suggestion in my ear. “The swimming pool is calling,” he says. “It only takes one person to dive in first.”