The Ritual

And there she was.
         He thought it would be over by now, a buried throb, but at the sight of the girl in the white dress, her hair done up and her face split with a smile like a ray of sunlight—the hurricane formed again in his soul. Goddesses don’t die that easily.
         They had all separated last year, the old group. The Lanes gone to the city, the Colbys a few hundred miles south—to a land of humid winters and unlivable summers. The Johnsons here, the McCormicks there. His family had stayed put, but he was left to make new friends.
         But they—the moms mainly—had decided it would be nice if the old group got back together for the senior prom. It took a little finnegling and calling in of favors, but it was a small town, and all their moms were on good terms with the right people.
         “Joseph!” she said, and her voice had changed. Not noticeably, but it had. He swept her up in a hug that made her rise on tiptoes. “How are you doing?”
         “Repressed as ever,” Joseph said, laughing. “You?”
         Lily’s eyes were sparkling, as they always were, with green and flecks of something—an unnamed color, one not from the fields we know, but from the faerie lands beyond. “I’m good,” she said.
         “What’s new?” he said.
         She shrugged. “Lots. I… made some friends, in the city. Nice girls.” Nobody special, he could hear in her voice. Nobody I would go to the death for, nobody to go to the death for me. “Are you dating anybody?” she said. Have you moved on?
         “Naw,” he said. Oh, hell yes.
         “Joseph!” exclaimed a tall boy with a reedy voice.
         “Victor, you son of a bitch,” Joseph exclaimed, as they clasped hands and clapped each other on the back. Mrs. Johnson and Mrs. Colby threw him a look, but he didn’t care. “How are you?”
         “As well as I’ll ever be,” he said, and grinned at Lily. Lily grinned back. “Have you two lovebirds kissed and made up yet? Or does that part come later?”
         Lily smiled and turned deep red, and Joseph turned away. “I’ll kill you, bastard,” he muttered, half meaning it.
         True to form, the McCormick brothers had figured out that Christy Lane and Sandy Johnson were the two prettiest girls present who were also available. They were already chatting them up, hovering a little, flirting heavily. As far as Joseph could remember, neither Sandy nor Christy had dated either McCormick, and he wondered how they had been lucky enough to avoid it. He hugged all four of them briefly.
Jake got out of the car then, his jacket sharply cut, dark against a bright red shirt that somehow worked because, well, it was Jake. They embraced, clapping each other on the back. They made small talk about classes and credits and colleges, eyeing each other in the manner of two old predators. But—at least for Joseph—the unspoken question hung in the air: your long-distance girlfriend is here, now, for the first time in months. So why aren’t you over there with her?
         Lily, for her part, looked comfortable talking to Victor in a way Joseph had seen few people look comfortable in his life.
         Then Joseph went to the tall girl, standing alone and watching everyone. She was thin, pretty, wearing a gorgeous wraparound dress. Joseph hugged her, and she held him tightly for just a moment.
         “How are you doing, kid?” Joseph asked.
         She smiled. “Good, now. Have I mentioned my mom’s an asshole?”
         Joseph smiled, more from familiarity than humor. “A few times, yes.”
         She rolled her eyes.
         “Jasmine,” he said. “I…” he stopped. She looked at him. “I feel bad…”
         “That you never call or write?”
         He paused. “Yeah. That.”
         She waved him away. “To hell with that. We’re here, now. Fucking savor it.”
         They were all forced to group together and pose, and the moms cooed over the handsome young men and the beautiful young ladies, and took pictures and rearranged them and took more pictures. Then the girls posed suggestively while the women aimed their cameras and the boys whistled. And the boys posed and the girls made fun of them. And they were running late, so they all piled in the Johnsons’ van and roared off.
         Joseph ended up next to Sandy Johnson, actually a junior this past year but nobody minded. He talked to her about college decisions and life, and they dredged up some of the old in-jokes and laughed at them. Her younger sister, she said, had never stopped talking about his older brother, and was disappointed that he wouldn’t be at Joseph’s house tonight with the rest of the siblings.
         Lily, he noticed, was still not talking to Jake, but was engaged in some fierce girlish debate with Jasmine and Christy (Christy was a junior this coming year, but nobody minded that either). Jake was staring out the window, with an expression that would have been moody on anyone else. The McCormick brothers were singing a drinking song. Sandy noticed.
         “Sons of bitches aren’t even sauced yet,” she said.
         Joseph looked at her. “That’s a very ladylike thing to say.”
         She rolled her eyes. “What, you didn’t expect me to pick up all you guys’ stuff?”
         He shrugged. “You didn’t used to.”
         She sat back, slumping a little. The shimmering silver fabric of her dress wrinkled, sliding on her shoulder. “Moving changes you.” She looked at him. “Y’know?”
         “Yeah,” said Joseph.
         They arrived outside the school to the sound of the girls pointing out places associated with memories. Jake glanced at Joseph, then pointed to a spot in the parking lot. “That’s where I first fought someone.”
         Joseph nodded to another spot, a few feet over. “That’s where we first fought each other. Why’d we do that?”
         Jake shrugged. “It was ninth grade. We were assholes.”
         They piled from the van, the McCormick brothers at the doors, helping the girls down. The group joined the steady stream of groups and couples, heading for the open, inviting gym doors.
         “You look wonderful! Have fun!” Mrs. Colby and Mrs. Johnson called after them. Mrs. Colby called something about modesty, but it was lost in the chatter and flow.
         Lily’s right hand was holding Jake’s right, which was draped around her shoulders. She smiled contentedly.
         As they neared the door, Joseph saw a security guard—actually, he realized, the assistant principal, but he was a big man and imposing in his tux—patting down the boys for contraband.
         “Flask on you?” Joseph murmured to the oldest McCormick, Owen.
         “No idea what you’re talking about,” he replied. “Though if I did, I would certainly not crotch it. I learned my lesson about that. Crisco is much better in that particular area.”
         “Toilet seats?” Joseph said.
         “Naturally, my dear fellow.” Owen grinned.
         The assistant principal was so happy to see them, he didn’t even pat them down, and a few people were able to slip in unnoticed. He pumped Vic’s hand enthusiastically, and enthusiastically asked how things were going. Vic, nearly a head taller than the assistant principal, said that things were going fine, just fine.
         They found a table away from the door. Joseph took a chair facing the doors, checking exits. There was, he already knew, an emergency door there, and over there a pair of doors that led into the hallway (tonight, watched closely by a frowning chaperone).
         Between them, the McCormicks had three old flames approach in the first fifteen minutes, and each got their picture taken with one of them. Joseph took a picture with Jasmine, following the over-worked photographer’s instructions clumsily. Jasmine laughed at him, silently. Victor got his picture between Christy and Sandy, he kneeling and they resting their elbows on his shoulders.
         Jake and Lily got theirs together, looking both solemn and very cool.
         Then they sat around the table, talking and laughing, waiting for the food to arrive. They returned to the old familiar jokes, the old topics, while carefully avoiding the old sore spots. The old sore spot. One would never know anything had happened, that night last August.
         The food arrived to find Sandy and Christy dissolved in fits of laughter over something Vic had said, barely able to recover and sit up straight before their plates, drawing odd looks from the servers. When everyone was served, they quieted and looked at Joseph, some with half-smiles, some solemn.
         Joseph sighed. “All right, fine, I’ll do it. For old times’ sake.” Then, glancing furtively around, he bowed his head and quickly recited, “Rub-a-dub-dub, thanks for the grub, yay God!” He raised his head and reached for his fork, muttering, “Cheesy thing to do, anyway.”
         Sandy threw a roll at him, and he tossed it back at her. A chaperone came over and reprimanded them, his voice low. Jasmine looked around at the other tables, whose occupants seemed very genteel. “We always did have the least sane table.”
         Owen grinned. “They just haven’t tasted the flavored punch yet.”
         Christy glared at him, and Joseph could see, behind her eyes, a slight loss of admiration. “Did you…”
         Owen raised his hands innocently. “I’m clean on this one. I’m just saying, I can tell the difference between punch and punch spiked with undetectable clear alcohol.”
         “Plus I already had some,” said his brother, who did seem a little unsteady.
         “Asshole,” said Owen.
         Joseph glanced at Lily, and she rolled her eyes. A thrill shot through him, the old familiar thrill that had turned to an ache. He glanced away, muttering, “Stupid kids.” Jake laughed.
         Vic picked up his soda glass, held it before him solemnly. His voice cut through the table’s conversation. “I’d like to propose the traditional toast.” Talking stopped, and everybody picked up their glasses silently. “To me,” Vic said. “May I live forever.”
         The words were music to Joseph’s ears. The glasses made hollow clinks as they crashed at the center of the table. The soda tasted harsh on Joseph’s throat.
         A voice came over the speakers. “Those of you toward the center, please get up, as we need to clear the dance floor. We’ll be starting the music soon.”
         Joseph glanced around the table. The McCormick brothers were eying each other, silently debating who would ask Sandy, who Christy. Vic was craning his neck, looking for… someone. Jasmine, well, she wouldn’t dance the first dance. She just wouldn’t. Jake had settled more deeply into his seat at the announcement.
         Swaying swing rhythms blared over the speakers, forcing movement into the limbs of even the unwilling.
         Owen got to his feet. “I’m dancing. Sandy? Christy? Anybody want to help?” They both leapt to their feet. Owen’s brother grasped Sandy’s arm and the pairs swept out onto the floor.
         “You looking for someone?” Joseph asked Vic.
         “I saw Jewel around here somewhere,” he said.
         “Oh,” said Jasmine. “She went lesbian. Didn’t you hear? You turned her off of men.”
         Vic glanced at his sister. “You really know how to build a guy up.”
         Lily laughed. “She just figured if it couldn’t work out with a guy like him, what hope was there for the rest of the gender?”
         Vic shook a finger at her, craning his neck to address Jasmine. “Take a lesson.”
         Joseph caught Lily’s eye. He jerked his head at the dance floor, raised one eyebrow. She got up, and he came around the table and met her and swept her out onto the floor. From the dusty corners of his mind came steps learned years ago, and they were soon in a comfortable rhythm.
         
Oh this old house is gettin’ shaky
This old house is gettin’ old
This old house has seen the rain
This old house has seen the cold
Oh his knees are gettin’ chilly
But he feels no fear or pain
‘Cuz he sees that angel peepin’
Through the broken windowpane

         More and more couples appeared on the floor. Soon they were in the midst of a swirling mob, and Joseph spun her away and brought her back, just to clear some space. The beat had truly infected him now, and he danced because there was nothing else he could do, and he spun her when the music told him to. And the song stopped but there was another on its heels, with the same beat, and they kept dancing because there was no stopping. They became one eddying breaker in the sea, tossed about at the whim of the wind. He spun her out, brought her back… and the music stopped. He breathed in deeply. She smiled, and he grinned, and dropped his arms. “Thank you, m’lady,” he murmured.
         As he dropped back into his seat, Jasmine was pulling on her brother’s arm, looking decidedly undignified. Vic sat, unmoved in body and expression. “What’s this?” he murmured to Jake.
         Jake stopped himself from rolling his eyes. “Vic won’t dance.”
         Joseph grinned. “You should dance, man,” he called across the table. “You’re good at it.”
         Vic turned his head. “Okay. And who do you suggest I dance with?”
         Joseph pointed to a girl, pretty, with brown hair and wide eyes. She stood by herself on the edge of the dance floor, watching calmly. “Her. She’d like to dance with you.”
         Vic arched his eyebrows skeptically. “Or was she just the first random girl you saw and pointed at?”
         Joseph shrugged. “Random? Or could it be destiny?”
         Jasmine tugged at Vic’s arm. “Come on. I’ll… I’ll have Joseph beat you up otherwise.”
         “I’d like to see him try,” Vic said, rising. He ambled toward the brunette, and the lights from the gym and the dancers swirling beyond them outlined the pantomime of his awkward offer and her gracious acceptance.
         Jasmine sat next to him, a little heavily. “Bastard’s hardly worth the trouble.”
         Jake grinned. Lily, on his other side, laughed softly. “Good dancer, though,” said Joseph, watching Vic sweep across the floor. He thought he could identify the moment the brunette decided to just follow his lead.
         The next dance came on, a bit slower than the previous ones. Joseph turned to Jasmine. “Would you like to dance?”
         She smiled, and flushed a little, and nodded. Even she blushes, thought Joseph. Interesting. He took her hand, put his other at her waist. He decided this was two-step music.
         “They like real dance music here, don’t they?” she said softly.
         “Yeah,” Joseph said, a verbal shrug. “A lot of moms were involved with the music choices.”
         They swept around the dance floor, Joseph trying for elegance, Jasmine actually achieving it. They sat and Cotton-Eyed Joe was playing, sung by what sounded like Mickey Mouse on speed.
         “Aren’t you coming?” Lily called, as she and Jake went to join the line.
         He grinned and shook his head.
         Lars McCormick came back to the table then, for what must have been the first time since the music started. He had a girl in tow, a redhead in an elegant blue dress. He sat and tried to pull her onto his lap, but she laughingly beat him off. Joseph saw one of the chaperones start from her position against the wall, then drop back.
         “You all right, there?” Joseph called.
         Lars picked up a cup of punch, and grinned. “Fine! I’ve had far too much of this!”
         Joseph laughed. “I think she wanted to dance with you.”
         Lars set the glass down. “Who?”
         Joseph pointed vaguely behind Lars. “Her, over there.”
         Lars got up and stumbled away. Christy left the line then, and sat next to Joseph. He put an arm around her shoulders. “And how are you doing, kid?”
         She looked at him, and her eyes were wet. “Does high school always suck? Just… Just in general?”
         “Yeah,” Joseph said quietly. “It tends to.”
         “Does it get better later?”
         Joseph laughed a little. “It has to, doesn’t it?”
         She laughed, too, but there was a bit of a sob in it. “Anything particularly… wrong?” Joseph asked.
         She shook her head, wiping her eyes a little. “Just life. Gets you down sometimes, you know?”
         “Yeah,” said Joseph. He shrugged. “Just don’t think about it.”
         “Hey!” came Lily’s voice, behind him. “You puttin’ the moves on my sister?”
         Joseph turned. “I don’t see why you care. We’re both adults.”
         She swatted him on the cheek, affectionately. “She’s sixteen, you bastard.”
         Joseph turned to Christy. “You—you never told me that! How could you lead me on? I thought we really had something!”
         Owen drifted past then. Christy called his name. “Dance with me!” she said, taking his hands and leading him away. Owen looked confused, but shrugged and followed.
         Jake did pull Lily down on his lap, and she draped her arm around his shoulders and looked into his eyes and smiled. One of the chaperones started forward, but just then a fight started a couple tables away.
         Joseph got to his feet and began working his way along the edge of the dance floor. There—he recognized a girl from Latin. A redhead, wearing a white dress with sequins in it, looking not quite ready for her wedding.
         He touched her arm softly. “I—I don’t believe I remember your name,” he said.
         She smiled. “Carolyn,” she said.
         “Carolyn,” he said. “Would you like to dance?”
         She smiled and flushed a little. “I’d love to.”
         He led her onto the floor, and the song was fast swing. Wondering if she cold keep up, and praying he could, he started the step. She turned out to be a really good dancer, taking the lead if he wasn’t careful. The dance ended, and a salsa beat began. Joseph dropped his arms.
         “Spanish,” he said. “I’m out.”
         She made an indignant noise and grasped his arm. “You mean you’re just going to leave me?”
         “I don’t know the dance, baby,” he said.
         She grinned. “Don’t you want to learn?”
         Three Spanish dances later, he had some idea what he was doing. She dropped her arms, and he hadn’t noticed how red her face was, nor how wet his own forehead had become. “Shall we get some punch?” she said.
         Joseph narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”
         Her eyes widened. They were a vivid green. “Is that what’s up with that stuff? I knew something was weird. Still,” she shrugged. He followed her over.
         “I don’t mean to be nosy,” he said. “But didn’t you have a boyfriend somewhere?”
         She snorted. “Yeah, somewhere. Asshole didn’t want to come tonight. I told him not to bother with me anymore if he didn’t.” She paused. “I wonder if I was too harsh.”
         Joseph shrugged. “If it was that important to you,” he found himself saying, “he probably should have cared enough to come.”
         She looked at him, and something deepened behind her eyes. “Yeah,” she said. She leaned against him, draped an arm over his shoulder. “I like you, Joseph,” she said. “I have ever since… Well, a long time. Since you were dating that bitch, anyway.”
         Joseph started up from the table edge, and her arm fell away. “Which one was that, now?”
         She looked at him with wide eyes, as if wondering whether that had been a mistake. “Um… You know, what’s-her-name, the one who moved away.”
         Joseph turned his back on her. He joined Vic, at the edge of the dance floor. The music had slowed to a lilt, and someone was crooning something about love. Vic was watching Jake and Lily, who moved slowly across the floor, pressed close, arms draped, heads touching. Her wispy brown hair mingled with his straight, severe black. Joseph’s eyes were burning.
         “’S not dancing, that,” Vic said, motioning at them.
         Joseph grinned. “True. Do you think they care?”
         “Naw. Still doesn’t make it right.”
         Owen appeared on Joseph’s other side. “Hey,” he said, and looked Joseph in the eye when Joseph looked at him. “Want to step outside?”
         Joseph nodded, and they headed for the door. The assistant principal started forward. Joseph said, “A couple of the girls forgot their purses. We thought we’d go get them.”
         The assistant principal hesitated a moment, then nodded. They took a wide loop toward the side of the building, walking toward the parking lot until they were out of sight of the assistant principal. The sun had mostly succumbed to the approaching horizon, and the world was enveloped in a gray mist that seemed to coat the eyes. At the back of the building, night had taken premature hold.
         Owen took out his flask, and even its sheen was somehow dimmed. He offered the flask to Joseph, who took it and took a swig. Something burned down his throat and into his stomach.
         “Strong stuff,” he said, handing it back.
         “Only kind to use,” said Owen. He looked at the sky, gray with gray clouds pressing down on them. “No moon tonight,” he observed.
         Joseph smiled, thinking, as he knew Owen was, of a night almost a year ago. A cloudless night, in the woods in the park, with the grass and the trees on all sides oppressing them, and the night sky spread wide above them. The moon looking down with interest from her wide lawn. Nine of them, three times three, perfect number times perfect number, arranged in a circle. Vague symbolisms from old books he’d read, creeping into his head.
         “Getting any action lately?” Owen said.
         Joseph shrugged. “Not really. Just don’t… feel the need, you know?”
         “Yeah,” said Owen. “I prefer drinking myself.”
         Joseph looked at him.
         “I…” Owen stopped. “I’ve stopped drinking and doing it, because in the morning I never remember. But they always seem to. And you can… never be sure, you know?”
         Joseph grinned and shook his head. “I guess,” he said wryly.
         “Trust me.”
         Joseph took the flask back and took another gulp, and the sky seemed to deepen, somehow. “What did we used to want to be, Owen?” he said.
         Owen looked at him. He knew this mood of Joseph’s, but, for once, he went with it. “Different,” Owen said. “We were gonna be pirates, if I recall.”          
         Joseph grinned. “Think that got to be more of a metaphor as we got older.”
         “Yeah.”
         “Thing I noticed about pirates,” Joseph said. “They don’t have great love lives. Oh, sure, all the girls want them. But as for finding one and sticking with her—it just doesn’t work.”
         Owen shrugged. “You always make sacrifices.”
         “Not virgins, I hope.” Lily came around the corner of the building.
         Owen laughed. “Not this time.” He left, and Joseph still had his flask.
         He offered the flask to Lily, who shook her head. “No moon tonight,” she said.
         Joseph sunk against the side of the building. “She always was a bitch anyway.”
         She sank next to him, gracefully. Her dress shimmered even in the darkness, and her eyes were deep pits darker than the dark around them. “Do you ever regret anything?” she said.
         “Only… Only some of the shit I did to you.”
         She sighed a little. “Don’t.”
         He looked at her, and her gaze was focused on his face in the way only she could manage. Unable to bear it, he turned his head away. He looked back a few moments later, and saw her face in profile. It was beautiful, as always. And as always, his heart began to jackhammer.
         “August seems like forever ago,” he said.
         “And yet,” she said. “I remember like it was yesterday.”

         They had met in the park. Joseph’s idea, and he had been vague about why. Whatever the reason, the others had decided, it would be good to do one last… one last thing, before they all parted ways.
         Joseph met them at the opening of the forest trail, led them along the path past the WRONG WAY signs, then off the path. They walked without speaking, each snapping twig, each crackling leaf, each footfall resounding in the silence. The moonlight fell around them, silver eyes tracking their progress.
         They emerged, nine of them, from the trees into a clearing. Tall grass and weeds impeded their progress, but they beat them down. There was a patch of grass that had been flattened, as if a deer had lain there. A wooden bowl and a bottle of wine waited.
         “Form a circle,” Joseph said softly, but his voice seemed to carry and echo in the dark silence.
         They formed a circle, and he poured the wine into the bowl. Then he backed away, and took his place between Vic and Lily. After a few moments, the moonlight swept across the dark pool of wine, shimmering on its surface, revealing the darkness within. Joseph took Vic’s and Lily’s hands. He waited until the circle was joined, then began speaking, softly, not sure where he was going till he got there.
         “Moonlight, come softly, find us, bind us, so that even in parting we may be joined. Tie us together, so that no breaking save death can tear us apart. Though we scatter to the four corners of the earth, let our destinies mingle. And,” knowing Lily would like this, “let us all be together in the hereafter, forever.”
         He stepped forward, picked up the bowl, and stepped back into the circle. He sipped from it, then handed it to Lily. She began to sip—
         A harsh yellow light swept across the clearing. Joseph’s heart froze. “Shit,” said Vic softly, and the circle broke up.
         Lily dropped the bowl and tore off for the darkest part of the woods, Joseph close behind her. They ran by instinct, based on years of night games and daylight wanderings. Ignoring everything else, but hoping fervently that the others had gotten away, they tore across to the other side of the park, emerging in the parking lot.
         “Did anybody else bring a car?” Joseph gasped, breathing shallowly.
         “Just Jake and me,” Lily said. She handed him her keys. “I’ll drive Jake’s home.”
         “I’ll wait—”
         “No,” she said. “We can switch in the morning. Just get out of here.”
         “Lily,” he said. She turned back to look at him, and her face was splashed with moonlight, pale and beautiful. “Whatever else I’ve ever said, I love you.”
         “I know.”
         Three of them were hauled in: Owen, Lars, and Jake. Joseph always wondered, though he would never ask, if the McCormick boys had let themselves get caught to let the others get away. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d gotten hauled in, nor the last. Jake—well, his best guess was that it was an act of defiance, a screw to his straight-laced father, the guy moving him away from his new girlfriend.
         The police knew there was at least one other person there, so in accordance with their strict policy of not snitching on girls, they ratted on Vic, who took it good-naturedly. He was the logical choice, but Joseph always wished it had been him.

         “That’s what I regret,” she said softly.
         He looked at her. “I know it didn’t fit with your faith,” he said. “I was just… Just trying to do something unique. To… I don’t know why. So we wouldn’t forget, or be forgotten.”
         “That’s not the part of it I regret,” she said.
         He looked at her, and comprehension dawned. “What did you see?”
         She turned to face him, looking him directly in the eye. So few people did that these days. Hers were soft and deep like wells of pure water, and now they were haunted. Images buried, memories willingly forgotten, emerged and danced behind them.
         “We were all there,” she said. “All in one place. I was there, and my parents, and my sisters. My grandparents, who I still remember even though they died so long ago. And their parents were there, and theirs. And so many others… People I had left behind, and forgotten, but still saying goodbye had carved a scar on my soul. We were all together, and we would never have to say goodbye again. We were whole, forever. And tears ran down our cheeks, and someone came and wiped those tears away. And we were buried in a light like none on this earth, and we emerged from that burial purified…”
         Her voice trailed off. Joseph sat with his face turned toward the dark, trying to hide the threatening tears. He took a deep breath.
         “I,” he said. “I saw… I was in a dark room, by myself. And faces swam in front of me. You, and Vic, and Jake, and Christy, and Jasmine, and Owen, and Sandy, and Lars, and you were all crying out. I couldn’t hear you. You were all saying different things. It was… awful. Your faces faded, and there were memories. The memories were comforting. But they were also tortuous, because I knew that’s all they were. All they would ever be. Soon, the memories faded, and I was all alone. And the darkness pressed in on me. There was no one, you understand, no one. I was completely separate from… From everything. Everybody. I was unwatched, unknown. I was nothing.”
         She reached out and squeezed his hand. “It was a dumb idea.”
         “It really was,” he said.
         “You,” she said, then stopped.
         “What?”
         She shook her head, smiling. “You were always so dramatic. Remember when we were kids? That tree in my front yard? It was always the pirate ship, or the castle, the rocket, the moon. You were never happy just to climb a tree.”
         She reached out and plucked a little yellow flower from the grass. She held it up to his face. “What do you see?”
         He looked down, grimacing in disgust. “A dandelion. A weed.”
         She laughed. “That’s just it. Look closely. The petals? They’re arranged in concentric patterns. I would love to be able to paint something like this so perfectly, so beautifully; this flower is perfect as a matter of course.” She tapped the dandelion. A few yellow leaves dropped from it. “This is where you find magic, in this old world.”
         Joseph took the flower and put it in her hair, and it was beautiful.
         Jake appeared around the edge of the building. He paused a moment, staring, then headed toward them as his eyes adjusted.
         “You guys missed Vic doing the Chicken Dance.” He took the flask Joseph offered and drank from it. He handed it to Lily. She took a small sip.
         They sat in silence for a few moments. Jake settled in next to Lily. Joseph rose.
         “I guess I’ll head back in.”
         “We’ll be there soon,” said Jake.
         “Take your time,” said Joseph over his shoulder.
         Going through the gym door was like emerging from underwater. He burst from a world of soft voices and subdued color into one of bright light, loud music, stomping feet, shouts, laughter. He asked a girl to dance, but she refused. It took him a moment to realize she was one of Carolyn’s friends. By the time he found someone who would, the song was about ended. A slow dance started then, and the girl smiled, a little embarassed, and slipped away.
         He found their table again, and sat next to Jasmine. For a few moments, they just watched what must have been every couple in the senior class slow dancing. Or not dancing, Joseph thought with a grin.
         “Disgusting, aren’t they?” Jasmine said after a bit.
         “Yeah. The good ship Latitude’s Revenge would have done away with this crowd in about one cannonade.”
         She laughed. “I’d forgotten about that. How old were we?”
         “Summer of freshman year, I think. We figured we’d run off to Arabia, ‘cuz they have the best-looking ships. Plunder the coast of Africa, move up to Europe, burn London…”
         “I think we decided to spare Scotland.”
         “Well, yeah, because Scotland’s cool. But Canada. We were gonna rule Canada. I think there was a plan to challenge the Flying Dutchman too.”
         “Oh yeah… How were we supposed to do that?”
         He shrugged. “Relying on our native cool, I think.”
         “Yeah… And after a while, find some Polynesian island and retire with our riches, become the pirate king and queen…” Her voice trailed off.
         “Sounds good,” Joseph said.
         “And what about your plan?” she said. “You were all hot on it last summer… You were gonna go off, see the sights, hitch hike places, do whatever work you ran across. Closest thing to pirate you could find, was what I think you said.”
         Joseph grinned and shook his head, sad or amused.
         Vic showed up then, a redhead in tow. They sat. Joseph turned to her.
         “Marie! Didn’t you get rid of this son of a bitch once?”
         She laughed. “Aw, he’s not so bad.”
         Joseph looked at Vic. “She’s a keeper, this one.”
         The girl laughed and flipped him off.
         Jasmine took his hand. “Dance with me.”
         As they stepped onto the floor, he recognized the first strains of Roll Over Beethoven. He looked around vainly for Lily—they both loved this song. But hey, Jasmine was right here.
         It was a thrilling song to dance to.
Returning to the table, they discovered Owen and Lars and Sandy and Christy singing… something, with debatable proficiency. Jake and Lily, who had apparently been watching, waved at Joesph and Jasmine with bemused expressions. Vic showed up at some point.
         Realizing they were being made fun of, the singers trickled to a halt. Lars, head against the table, continued to mumble something faintly.
         “While we’re here,” Joseph said, picking up a mostly-empty glass of… something. “I’d like to propose a last toast.” He raised the glass higher. “To us all—may we live as long as Victor.”
         The glasses clinked.
         The DJ announced the last dance. The McCormicks went off with Sandy and Christy. Jake and Lily followed. Vic caught up with the redhead, and she blushed and nodded to the unheard question. Joseph looked at Jasmine.
         “Guess that leaves us.”
         “You don’t have to act like it’s a hardship,” she said, rising.
         He grinned, and rose to meet her. The song was… well, it hardly mattered. It was slow, but not enough to justify slow dancing. Which didn’t stop several couples. Jasmine put her hands on either side of his neck, and Joseph put his at her waist. They stepped around the floor, Joseph leading with what he thought was an actual step, Jasmine following, confidently. Her eyes were big and green, and suddenly made him think of the Green Man, the dead and risen god of ancient European mythology. He shook his head.
         “What?” she said.
         “Just wondering what I did to deserve you.”
         She laughed. “It’s not like we’re getting married.”
         “I know,” he said. “Forgive a foolish young man his overtired nonsense.”
         Soon, all too soon, the song trickled to a halt. The seniors were thanked for attending prom. There was scattered applause, hugs, kisses, a few tears. Jasmine held his hand as they threaded their way back to the table. They stood around it, the nine of them. The girls were arranging purses and handbags and throws. Lars was swaying a little. Vic stood with his hands in his pockets, staring at nothing. “Well,” he said after a minute. “Where’s the after-party?”
         “Stonefield,” said Joseph. “Down the road. We’re walking.”
         They joined the exodus. Cars, small groups, couples threaded their way along the road toward… someone’s house. Joseph couldn’t remember her name. They straggled through the open door, a feeling of tiredness sweeping across the group. A girl (Joseph still couldn’t remember her name) greeted them.
         “Got anywhere we can put this?” asked Owen, jerking his head at Lars, who lolled half-conciously on his shoulder. The girl smiled and blushed a little, and led the way into the living room.
         Jake and Lily went downstairs, and Joseph and Vic followed them. Jake saw some guys he had known, and went to talk to them, Lily with him, her head lolling on and off his shoulder. Joseph and Vic began talking to some guy who was vaguely familiar, and they were soon in heated debate about which of the female teachers was hottest. Joseph looked up a few minutes later, and Jake was chest-to-chest with one of his “friends,” and the others were tensed. Jake had to tilt his head up, but he didn’t look intimidated. The two were exchanging terse words. Joseph moved to Jake’s flank, slightly behind him. Vic mirrored his position
         Without looking back, Jake twitched his head slightly. Joseph understood, took Lily’s wrist, directing her behind them. She growled, but didn’t resist.
         Jake took the first hit, but Joseph reacted immediately and Vic even faster. Joseph slammed his fist into one of them, dodged a series of fists that whipped past his face like gunshots, taking a couple body blows. He delivered hard punches and follow-throughs and fought with his back to the other two. The tall boy leveled Jake, and Joseph threw himself at him. The boy punched him in the gut and then in the face, and Joseph went down. He fell to the floor at an odd angle to Jake, and found himself facing something shiny. The flask lay there, having fallen from Jake’s pocket. A single drop hit his tongue when he tried to drink from it.
         Meanwhile, Joseph saw peripherally, Vic had tackled the tall boy and was hitting him. He didn’t seem about to stop. Finally the tall boy put his hands over his face and stopped struggling. Vic stood. The others—whoever they had been—seemed subdued.
         There was a crash on the landing, and a middle-aged woman (presumably someone’s mother) came hurtling into the room. She was small and wiry, red hair swirling around her head, eyes flashing.
         “Okay, who did this and whose fault is it? Somebody better fess up or I’ll call the cops on all of you!”
         Jake rose, turned to help Joseph up, then turned back to her. “It’s my fault, ma’am. We started it. We’ll leave.”
         She narrowed her eyes. “You drunk?”
         Jake shook his head.
         She nodded. “Fine then. Get out.”
         Owen met Joseph and Jake and Lily and Vic at the foor of the stairs. “What’d I miss?”
         Joseph handed him the flask. “Bloody empty.”
         Moments later they were all gathered on the street, teasing the story out of Jake. It ended up being typical Jake. The fight hadn’t been about anything said, really, but about whom the two sides—Jake and the tall boy—were. It was about things said and done, not said and not done, who was the moron and who the ultimate victor.
         Of course, Jake said none of this. He simply gave a blow-by-blow account of the discussion, the argument, and a quick summary of the fight.
         “So who was right?” Joseph asked.
         “He was,” Jake said with a shrug. When no one else was listening he looked Joseph in the eye and said, “Thanks.”
         They decided to head for the Johnsons’ hotel room, since Lily had a key in her purse. Joseph dropped onto one of the beds, facedown. He let the dizziness wash over him at last. The room spun below him. His whole head throbbed like a giant bruise.
         Cool hands rolled him over, and a cloth with ice cubes in it pressed against his cheek. He felt the back of his head gingerly, and another was pressed there. He opened his eyes and smiled. Lily looked down at him with concern, which turned to annoyance when she saw him looking.
         “I know how to punch too,” she said.
         Joseph grinned. “I know. But Jake didn’t want you fighting, because he knows you’re too efficient. You go straight for the throat. He wanted to punish them, not destroy them.”
         Lily laughed, but the wounded look in her eyes remained.
         They sat in the room a while, nursing wounds, talking and laughing in low voices—teasing out more details about the fight, and reminiscing about old times, old fights. It was good to just be exhausted, and talk and laugh with people who knew what you were talking about and why you were laughing. A hollow in everyone’s chest was filled, if only briefly.
         Sandy looked at the clock. “Guys, it’s four-thirty.”
         Everyone sighed. “We usually get up in two hours,” said Christy.
         “That’s unnatural,” said Jake, still holding ice over one of his eyes.
         It only took them another fifteen minutes to gather themselves and set out for Joseph’s house. Their parents might be worried by now. Lily and Jake stayed in the room when the others were out, and Christy went back and got them.
         Joseph had a sudden thought. “Where’s Lars?” he said to Owen.
         Owen shrugged. “Still on that girl’s couch, probably. He’ll find his way home when he’s ready. He always does.”
         They arrived at Joseph’s house and tramped in the door, loosening ties. There were four men, the fathers, around the dining room table, dealing yet another hand of poker. Of the mothers, three were in the living room and leapt up to greet them. The other two were out of sight, presumably asleep. The younger siblings were also nowhere to be seen.
         “How was it?” asked Mrs. Colby, with enthusiasm that seemed unnatural, given the hour.
         Joseph and Vic shrugged. Vic mumbled, “It was all right.”
         Mr. Johnson had an arm around each of his girl’s shoulders. “I think I’ll gather up my wife and head for the hotel. Thanks,” he said to Joseph’s father.
         Christy left with them. Jake followed Joseph to his room, and changed as Joseph prepared the top bunk. He could hear the others getting into their tents in the back yard. Vic’s dad was saying something about his daughter and a shotgun.
         “What’s up tomorrow?” Jake said as Joseph lay down.
         “I guess we’re all having breakfast together. The Johnsons and Colbys both want to get on the road. Early. The drive, you know.”
         “Yeah. So we’ll be able to say good-bye then.”
         “Yeah,” Joseph said, then couldn’t say more because emotion choked off his voice.
         “I hate saying good-bye, you know?”
         “Yeah. I’m horrible at it. I always try to make it last too long or not long enough.”
         “There’s no good length. It’s just how long you have or how long you can stand it.”
         “Yeah.” He reflected a moment. “Some Indian tribes I know of don’t have a word for good-bye. Their parting words mean, ‘We will meet again.”
         Jake was silent a moment. “I like that.”
         “Me too.” He paused. “A year ago you would have called me a nerd for knowing that.”
         Jake laughed softly. “You’re still a nerd, kid. But you’ve got good fists.”
         “I gotta tell you, that was fun.”
         Soon, Jake was asleep. But Joseph wasn’t. He stared at the bunk above him, unwillingly, as the gray of false dawn prepared to become real light. And he knew he wouldn’t sleep tonight.
         He got out of bed and stepped lightly down the hall, walking from memory. He opened the back door quietly, praying it wouldn’t squeal. The grass crumpled, brittle, under his feet as he padded between tents. The dew was cold and wet on his bare feet. There was an old maple tree in the side yard, whose trunk had split in three, leaving a pair of seats. Joseph looked up at the tree, rivulets of bark spackling its grand trunk, leaves and branches reaching up as if to pull down heaven. Then he looked east, and the sun was bravely pushing its way into the sky. Joseph wedged himself in one of the hollows.
         Owen was there suddenly, standing below him. He grinned at Joseph. “Don’t know why I can’t sleep, all that alcohol in me.”
         Vic was there too, and his face wasn’t too far below Joseph’s, even with the latter in a tree and the former on the ground. Joseph looked up the street then, and grinned, and pointed. A skinny boy with a mop of dark hair came stumbling along, grogginess written over his face. He came and stood in front of them.
         “I’m afraid I left a trail,” he said. Vic took a moment to figure it out, then his face wrinkled in disgust.
         “Poor kid,” said Owen.
         “What are we looking at?” said Lars. Then he stopped, as the arch of the sun swelled over the horizon, blazing gold.
         Jasmine was there, at his feet, and Joseph found himself dropping to the ground and putting his arm around her. She shivered a little, in the cold of early morning.
         Lars began singing, soft and scratchy. He sang a ridiculous old song, of utopia and undying friendship. And, as the sun blazed into the sky and turned the full glory of its face on them, they all joined in.

And our friends are all aboard,
Many more of them live next door,
And the band begins to play.

We all live in a yellow submarine
Yellow submarine, yellow submarine
We all live in a yellow submarine
Yellow submarine, yellow submarine