Fourth excerpt from "Before the Flood," my new novel (2023)
The winter dorm dance came a week later, a fraught affair at best. The girls from a neighboring boarding school, in this case from Vermont, would arrive by bus, dressed to the nines and reeking of too much perfume, and be paired off with the boys, reeking of too much cologne, by age, which led to some extremely awkward matchups. After dinner, where you and your "date" were supposedly getting to know each other, it became a free-for-all. The more mature and good-looking boys would move in on the most desirable girls, some subtly, some with no regard for their less sophisticated classmates, and there would be crestfallen faces. The less attractive girls would be in similar straits, their dates having abandoned them with hardly a concern.
To appreciate the pure cruelty of the situation, there was a "Pig Prize" voted on by the boys before the bus arrived, at a buck apiece, and the homeliest girl would earn her date the winnings. Few of us ever thought about how mean this was, and the laughs and groans from the clique and their ilk as we watched the girls step off the bus were callous, to say the least. I'd like to think that my generation was the last to behave in this way, but the practice is alive and well today, especially in Greek life.
I entered the dorm late that afternoon from a shopping errand and found the dorm a beehive of nervous activity. Students were going from room to room, talking loudly as everyone dressed in anticipation of the night's dance. During a lull when the hall was empty, Charlie Wise crept up to Dick's closed door holding a brown paper bag. Just as he did, Childress burst out of his room, already dressed for the dance.
"Hey Perce, can I borrow—what's that smell?... Charlie, what're you—?"
Down the hall Schill motioned frantically for him to shut up. Pat finally got the message and nodded, his eyes lighting up mischievously. Other heads popped out of their rooms to investigate.
Wise lit a match and held it to the bag; when it caught fire he quickly knocked on Dick's door and scurried back to join Schill. When the bag was fully ablaze, Dick opened his door, looked at it without expression and calmly shut the door again. Not exactly the desired response, but most everyone cracked up anyway.
Inside his room, Dick sat at his desk listening to the groans and laughter of his dormmates, despair rushing in as his anger ebbed.
By then I had reached the top of the stairs. The bag had burned away, leaving a smoking pile of dog shit in front of Dick's door. The odor hit me as I walked down the hall.
"What's going on?" I asked the boys watching in the hall.
"I think Hopeless is hoping to attract any dogs that get off the bus," offered Perce. More laughter. Charlie had returned to Dick's door, rapped lightly on it.
"Uh, Dick? You left some shit out here in the hall. Want me to slide it under the door for you?"
Inside his room, Dick closed his eyes and grimaced, clenching his fists and putting them to his ears to shut out their derision.
Still playing to his audience, Charlie knocked again and was about to speak when I grabbed him from behind and whirled him around.
"Pick it up."
Charlie was taken aback, but tried to laugh it off.
"Lighten up, Reed. I was just trying to help your buddy Hopeless—"
"I said pick it up, asshole."
I had started to force him to his knees directly over the excrement. Charlie flailed wildly to get free.
"Cut it out, dammit!"
Finally he broke away, stumbling backwards to keep his balance. The hall fell silent as Schill walked up to me menacingly. Just then Granville Lord and Mac Kennedy appeared at the top of the stairs, having just come in from outside themselves.
"You're going to eat that, Reed," said Schill with a sadistic smile.
"Oh yeah? Make me." I had finally found my nerve, even if it had come a little too late.
Granny darkened and started down the hall when Kennedy grabbed him, restraining him. Adolphus appeared at my side and tried to take my elbow. Just then Papadop emerged from the bathroom dripping wet, a towel around his waist. He quickly sized things up.
"What the hell is this? Who brought this in here?"
His question was met by silence. Then, in disgust:
"Never mind. Just get out of here."
No one moved. "Well? You guys haven't got anything better to do than stand around and watch a pile of shit? When are you going to grow up?!"
Papadop was furious; not even Schill dared cross him. A couple of boys stifled laughter but most looked serious, even a bit ashamed as they shuffled back inside their rooms. Dop stormed into the bathroom.
"You're lucky this time, Reed," said Schill.
I stared back defiantly, first at Schill, then beyond him to the rest of the clique. Papadop stormed back out of the bathroom with a wad of paper towels.
Inside his room, Dick sobbed softly in his chair, tears streaming down his face. At this moment, "Hopeless" was a pretty apt nickname.
****
The dining hall had been transformed by tablecloths and candlelight into something almost romantic. I looked around as neatly scrubbed Peabody boys sat with their comically mismatched dates. Mine, a debutante type with the inbred look of old wealth, was chatting away, but I was just going through the motions. I nodded politely, but my attention had wandered to the clique's table on the other side of the room. Granny said something and the boys convulsed with laughter. From the girls' uncomfortable smiles—none of them was very pretty—it was clear they weren't in on the joke.
Perce, on the other hand, had struck it rich. A stunning, worldly-looking blonde was laughing at his schtick. But even as she did so James Burlingame, known to us all as the dorm stud, caught her eye and smiled from a nearby table. He was physically so far advanced and handsome that no girls could resist him. And we boys were in jealous awe.
Meanwhile, I was enduring the conversation with my date.
"I always kind of wanted to visit Mexico," I said.
"Oh no, don't make that mistake. It's so dirty, and the beggars are everywhere. It's almost as bad as Turkey. Really, Europe is the only place to go..."
I looked down and absently swirled my spoon in my soup. I didn't want to be there, but I had to play it out until I could make a polite getaway.
The art gallery was where the dance took place. The Kingsmen's "Louie Louie" was playing as my date danced with sensual abandon but no sense of rhythm. She smiled sexily at me. I smiled wanly back and closed my eyes to escape.
Vance and I were getting drinks for our dates when Vance spied Perce sitting dejectedly on the sideline.
"Ooo. Perce takes gas."
I looked around, saw Perce. On the dance floor, his knockout date was laughing at something Burlingame had said.
"Look at Burlingame," marveled Vance. "That guy is such a snowman, I don't know how he does it."
I nodded, but I knew. Then something occurred to me.
"Vance, do me a favor. Ask Perce to cut in on me next dance."
Vance looked surprised.
"She's a nice girl, they have a lot in common. I'm just not feeling too good."
Vance didn't really understand my behavior of late, but chose not to pry. He shrugged, said, "Okay."
The next dance was Steve Lawrence's "Go Away Little Girl," a slow one. My date leaned her head on my shoulder. I was getting desperate when I finally spotted Perce making his way through the other dancers toward us.
"May I cut in?"
My date looked at Perce, then at me. I shrugged and turned her loose. Perce took over and I headed for the chairs. They really did have a lot in common, both Upper East Side New Yorkers with snobbish attitudes. A moment later I cut back, careful to avoid my date's line of sight, and made my way to the door.
Once outside, I trotted down the gallery stairs, anxious to get away. I heard a rustle nearby and turned to see Burlingame and the Knockout embraced in a deep, passionate kiss. I was reminded of a hungry lion savaging a gazelle by the neck.
I walked away quickly, braced against the night air, relieved but also ashamed of what I'd done.