Chapter Nineteen: At the Hop

Trixie liked sparkles. She really, really liked sparkles. Smurf rolled her eyes and sat on her bed, while Trixie finished shimmying into her glitter coated dress and applying body glitter and glittery lip gloss.

"You know, you look kind of like a disco ball," Smurf commented, as Trixie turned around to show off. The way the light caught her and gleamed off the layers of sparkles, it kind of was reminiscent of a disco ball.

She scowled. "At least I'm dressing up."

"Good for you."

"Oh, come on." Trixie flopped down on the bed next to Smurf. "You could dress up a little."

"I could. Why would I want to?"

"You have a date." Trixie grinned and poked her in the side, and Smurf smacked her hand away.

"And you owe me a favor, and I am not ever, ever going to dress up for that... Person. It's not like I'm trying to impress him or anything."

"But you could at least attempt to look nice."

"Ha!"

"Come on." Trixie pouted. "I'll do your hair."

"You mean put it in pigtails like yours?"

"Shut up." But Trixie was grinning. "I know you brought a skirt with you, come on. It'll be fun."

Smurf rolled her eyes and sighed. This was the start of what she was sure would be a very long night.

*

"Do I look okay?" Mush asked, regarding himself critically in the mirror.

"Yes, you look fine," Blink answered, not actually looking up from the ceiling, as he was lying on his back on his bunk.

"You didn't even look."

"You always look fine. And Trixie will love you anyway."

"And to think, yesterday you were so excited about this." Mush snorted a little bit. "You should dress up."

"Ha!" Blink answered, finally sitting up. "Why should I dress up for that harpy?"

"You asked her out, and you made me ask out Trixie. You should suffer."

"Bite me."

"This was all your idea." Mush turned around to face him, reached down and hauled him into a sitting position. "Come on, you're making me go. Let's get you all prettied up."

"I am not dressing up for Smurf!"

"Yes," Mush said firmly, "you really are."

Blink scowled, as Mush began poking through his dresser drawer.

*

"So," David asked Jack, as he finished cleaning up from dinner, "what does the rest of camp do while the juniors and seniors have their dance?"

"We all watch movies."

"What?"

"All of the other campers and counselors get together in the field, and they put out a big portable projection screen and we all watch Disney movies."

David finished wiping up the table. "Sounds fun. Better than the dance, anyway."

"The dance can be fun. You should actually try dancing."

"Jack, you saw what happened when I tried to play tennis. Trust me, dancing is out of the question."

"It's just for fun."

"I can't dance."

"Everyone says that."

"No, I really can't dance."

Jack gave him a bemused look, and as David dropped the rag into the bucket and turned around, Jack took his arm and stepped close to him. "Dancing isn't so hard," he promised, putting a hand on David's waist.

"Jack!" David yelped, as Jack began to move slowly. He felt his face turning bright red. "What are you doing?"

"Teaching you to dance, come on. This foot." Jack paused, then kicked one of David's legs lightly. "That foot, Davey, move with me."

David swallowed hard and moved his foot awkwardly, and tried to put his arms around Jack like they were dancing. But for all Jack seemed to know how to move, even without music, David just didn't get it. He stepped on Jack's foot. Then he stepped on his own foot and tripped. Jack caught him and they started again, with David on the wrong foot again, moving stiffly and awkwardly.

"Jack..." David groaned. "I can't dance."

"No, you can't," Jack agreed, stopping his movement. "But you should dance anyway. I know you're just going to stand by the wall and pretend you aren't there."

"Can you blame me?" David pulled away from Jack. "I don't know any of the girls except the ones in the theater, and they scare me."

"They scare everyone," Jack agreed. "Mush and Trixie... Wow."

"Blink and Smurf," David added.

"Insanity." Jack sounded amused. "You should go get ready."

"I wish I didn't have to go," David sighed. "I hate dances."

"Go on. You'll be fine."

David shrugged. "I've never had fun at a dance, ever."

"Well, maybe you will this time."

"Doubt it."

"Now that's just a negative attitude talking."

"Your impression of my mother is amazing, Jack."

Jack laughed. "Well, they did send you here so you'd learn to get along with people, right? So go on to the dance and have fun."

"I don't have fun at dances."

"Not if you don't think you will. Just relax and... Look at it like this. At least you know you'll be having more fun that Mush or Blink."

David chuckled. "Yeah, but I could probably fall on my face and still have more fun than those two tonight."

"So if you're not having fun," Jack reasoned, "just make fun of them. I know you're good at making fun of people."

"Gee, thanks."

"Well, you are." Jack gave him a gentle shove towards the door. "You should go get dressed now."

David rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'm going. But I'm going to complain about this all day tomorrow!"

Jack laughed and shooed him away, then sighed.

He wanted David to have fun at the dance. He wanted David to dance and laugh and being the belle—well, beau—of the ball. He just wished he could be there too, dancing and laughing with him. But he was a counselor now, and anyway, it wasn't like David would want to dance with him.

*

The dance was set up in the theater, with all the benches moved to the sides of the room and the DJ on the stage. The DJ looked oddly familiar—it wasn't until Race went to talk to him that David realized he was probably one of Racetrack's many older brothers. He was clearly and amateur, but at least was playing decent music.

Mush was wearing all black, with nice slacks, and a tight sweater. He'd debated a dress shirt with a tie, but instead foisted the tie on Blink, and to Blink it felt like nothing so much as a noose. Mush had forced him into a pair of khakis, which were the nicest pants he'd brought with him, and a blue button up shirt, which he wasn't entirely sure how it had ended up in his suitcase, but he suspected his father had slipped in after reading that campers should have one set of formal clothes.

He was clearly unhappy about his outfit, though not nearly as unhappy as he was about his date.

The girls arrived at the theater only a few minutes after the boys. Trixie skipped over to Mush, her glitter almost blinding, and Smurf sullenly glared at Blink, who kind of raised an eyebrow. He'd never seen her wear a skirt before, but someone had clearly forced her to dress up, too. Her silver skirt was probably intended to be a mini, but she was short enough that it hung almost to her knees, and she was wearing a sleeveless t-shirt with the Beatles logo on the front, her hair pulled back in a clip so that only a few curls escaped.

She was positively scowling.

He rolled his eye. "Hey," he finally said.

"Hi."

"So—"

"So let's see how little we can actually talk to each other tonight."

"Agreed."

They stood side by side at the back of the room for a few minutes, neither one moving or talking. Blink watched as Trixie dragged Mush out on to the dance floor, and he turned and glared at the two in the back before plastering on a fake smile and dancing.

"He looks miserable," Smurf finally mused. "So much for liking her."

"Yeah. So much for that."

"I'm getting punch." Smurf wandered away, and Blink leaned against the wall, glad she was gone. The song ended and Mush managed to momentarily escape from his date and stalk to the back of the room.

"You. Have. A. Date." He pointed at Smurf, who was drinking punch and talking to two of the other girls.

"Yeah, yeah."

"Look. I'm putting myself through this because you made me. So here's what's going to happen: you are going to go over there and talk to her. You are going to be nice. You are going to tell her she looks pretty. And then you two will dance. Or I will hurt you."

"You're bitter."

"Yes, I am!" he snapped, and then saw Trixie was walking back towards him. He shoved Blink forward. "You go now."

"Fine!" Blink snapped, then paused. "You really think she looks pretty?"

"Just go! ...Hi, Trixie." Mush scowled after Blink, as Blink grudgingly trudged over to the punch and potato chips.

"Mush says I have to be nice to you," he greeted her.

"Poor baby." She finished her punch and dropped the cup in the trash. "You asked me, so don't blame me."

"Yeah, well you said yes."

"For Trixie's sake!" she snapped.

"Look," Blink tried, "we're here. We might as well make the best of it."

"Says you."

"You really want to be miserable all night?"

"No, but—"

"Truce," Blink interrupted. "For just tonight."

"What?"

"For just tonight I'll stop being meant to you, and you stop being psychotic."

"I am not psychotic!" she yelled, stomping her foot.

He raised an eyebrow. She scowled.

"Truce?" he finally said again.

"Fine."

"Lovely." He rolled his eye, then took a deep breath. "So... You look—"

"Shut up," she interrupted.

"You look nice, I was going to say!"

"Oh." She paused. "Yeah, well... So do you, I guess."

"Thanks a lot."

"Bite me." She paused, then grinned. "You really think I look nice?"

"Yeah, sure." He shrugged. "You don't usually wear skirts."

"I'm at camp."

"So what, you wear them all the time at home?"

"Well..." She paused. "No, but that's not the point."

"I knew it." He smirked. "I've never seen you dressed like a girl before."

"It's not like I dress like a boy. I dress... Androgynously."

"What?"

"This is 2003, Blink. Shorts and a t-shirt is not a male-only outfit."

"Yeah, but it's not not a boy outfit."

"Well, it's not not not a boy outfit."

"It... What did that last one mean?"

"Honestly, I don't even know."

He laughed a little. "Well, you don't look like a boy, either way."

"You saying I usually do?" she asked defensively.

"No, you, uh, wear a bikini sometimes at the beach. That's not boy like."

"I—"

"Not that I look, or anything," he added quickly. "I just happen to remember that."

"Whatever." She paused. "You have a nice tan."

"From sailing all the time," he agreed. "You..."

"I'm pasty. I never tan." She made a face. "I just freckle."

He squinted down at her. "Hey, you do," he agreed. "I never noticed before... You're too short, I couldn't even see."

"Shut up," she answered.

He did so for a minute, then reached for a handful of potato chips. "So..."

"Yeah."

He coughed. "This is weird."

"Yeah."

"Talking to you, I mean."

"I know what you meant, dorkface."

"Dorkface. See, that's better. That I'm used to."

"Please. Usually my insults are much better than that, I'm just being nice because we have a truce on."

"Yeah, yeah. If insulting me is how you're nice, a guy can't win with you."

"Oh, deal with it. Dorkface."

"Dweeb," he answered. "Short dweeb."

"I'm not short, I'm..." She paused. "Tiny and adorable. So there."

"Tiny is right. Bite sized."

"Shut up!" she pouted. "I'm not that short."

He didn't say anything.

She pouted more, over dramatically crossing her arms over her chest and stomping her foot again.

And he smiled. He wasn't sure why that was. "Tiny and adorable," he repeated indulgently. "Anyway."

"You mean dance?"

"I guess I mean that." Blink shrugged.

She gave him a strange look. "I'm not sure that's a good idea," she finally answered.

"Why's that?" He could think of lots of reasons, chief among them the fact that they hated each other, but what she answered never even occurred to him.

"Uh, Blink... How tall are you?"

"I dunno." He shrugged. "Maybe five ten?"

"And how tall am I?"

He laughed. "Not very."

She mock-scowled, but that had been her point. "Don't you think we'd look a little ridiculous?"

"The thought of us dancing at all is a little ridiculous," he answered. "And anyway, I could step on you and never even see."

"Oh—"

"Bite me?" he interrupted, and she scowled for real this time.

"Yes, that."

But they were saved from arguing about it by the DJ, who put on a slow song and announced in the universal voice that all DJs seemed to have, "Well, now, why don't we get this party started? Not many of you are dancing, so why doesn't the couple that's out there kick off a snow ball dance? I'm sure you all know the rules—I stop the music and they both chose a new partner, and when I stop it again, everyone dancing chooses someone new, until we've got everyone on the dance floor! Okay, let's go."

He started the music up again and Trixie resumed dancing enthusiastically; now with everyone's eyes on him, Mush perked up a little, because as much as he disliked Trixie he liked being the center of attention. But they only had danced for half a minute when the music stopped. Trixie sulked a little, clearly not wanting to change partners, but Mush gratefully turned to the crowd and grabbed the nearest girl, Dreamer, who looked kind of startled and then broke into a grin. Trixie pulled Swifty in and they began to dance, then stop, and everyone changed partners again. Smurf was eventually forced into dancing by Itey, and Blink by Glitz, and so the dance continued.

David hung back awkwardly, hoping no one would see him and make him join the group of dancers, but had no luck; eventually a very apologetic looking Grammar grabbed his hand. "I hate dancing," she mumbled.

"Me too. I apologize in advance for stepping on your foot."

"What?" she asked, then, "Ow! Oh."

"Sorry," he said again.

She laughed a little. "It's okay. The song is ending."

And sure enough, the DJ forced everyone into a round of applause for each other, told them all to keep up the good work, and as soon as the forced dance was over, everyone retreated back away from the dance floor. David found himself sitting on one of the benches at the side of the room, still next to Grammar. "So..." he said, wishing he had the ability to small talk at all.

"This whole thing is pretty dumb," she answered.

"Uh... Yeah." He nodded. "I don't even know any girls. Your name is... Grammar, right?"

"Yeah." She gave him a critical look. "Your hair is messed up and your shoe is coming untied."

"Oh. Um." He ran a hand through his hair, though that really just skewed his curls worse, and leaned down to fix his shoelace. "Better?" he asked.

"Not the hair."

"Sorry."

She shrugged.

He didn't groan, but he wanted to; he didn't try and run away, but he wanted to. It wasn't that Grammar didn't seem nice—if a little bizarre—but mostly he just didn't know how to talk to strangers. Why can't everyone be as easy to talk to as Jack? he wondered, and glanced around the room.

Grammar glanced around the room as well, sighed, and commented, "There's not enough light in here to read."

"No kidding."

She dug into her purse and pulled out a thick volume that David immediately recognized as one of the Tolkein novels, as she slid down the bench to try and catch a little light coming in from outside, and flipped to a bookmark. He hesitated, then cleared his throat. "I... I, uh, never could get into that series."

"Why not?"

"It... Just, too much Elvish poetry and pages of people walking."

"That's a rather shallow analysis."

"Right." He shrugged. "But that's why."

"How old were you when you tried reading it?"

"I dunno... Eleven or twelve."

"Well, maybe that's why. You should try again." She shoved the book at him.

"What, now?"

She shrugged. He laughed and handed it back. "Maybe some time when there's more reading light," he said.

"Suit yourself." She opened the book and began to read again. David leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. Well, he'd danced, sort of; and he'd actually tried talking to someone. The first hadn't been by choice and the second hadn't worked out very well, but at least he'd tried.

He felt like with his mission accomplished, he should be allowed to just ditch the whole thing. But he'd never ditched anything in his entire life, so instead he just waited on the bench for the thing to end, and wondered if Jack was having a better time watching movies with the little kids.

The dance wore on.

It was quite awhile before Mush managed to convince Trixie to take a break from dancing and sit on one of the benches, and by that point he looked like he was torn between killing himself or killing someone else. Trixie was still hanging on his arm, quite literally; the other girls from the theater were glaring at her jealously. And Mush had been attempting to be polite all night, but really this was just getting more and more aggravating.

He'd never been Trixie's biggest fan. She was a decent enough actress, and he figured if she hadn't stalked him they might have gotten along. She was a tad bit too bubbly and cheerful for his taste, but if he didn't have to spent too much time with her, that would have been fine. But he was never given that option, so instead of being a friendly aquaintence, he was coming to regard her more as a mortal enemy. Glaring around the room, he turned to pick out Blink, to ensure that Blink was as miserable as he was. That was the deal, after all.

But Blink was standing next to Smurf, poking her in the side, and she was giggling and trying rather ineffectively to swat his hand away. They were both smiling, though, and from the way it looked across the room, the poking was some kind of flirting.

Mush shook his head. That was utterly unacceptable.

"Trixie," he finally said, prying his arm free from her grasp (only to have her throw her arms around his waist) "is there something wrong with that picture?"

She looked around to see where he was pointing, then giggled. "They like each other!" she squealed. "Just like us, isn't that great!"

He bit back his groan. "Uh... Yeah. But doesn't that strike you as... you know, weird?"

She shrugged. "Well, it's not that weird. I told her she should dress up. She said she didn't want to but she secretly loves it."

"Yeah, but those two..."

"It probably won't last past the race tomorrow," Trixie pointed out. "And anyway, whatever Blink has planned, I bet this is part of it."

That caught Mush slightly off guard. "Planned?" he asked.

"He didn't tell you? He's got some prank up his sleeve, he's been planning it for a few days. He wanted me to help him, and I said only if he'd get you to ask me out." She squeezed his waist tighter. "And he did! I didn't think he could do it!"

"He..." Mush's facial expression darkened considerably, as he watched his best friend laugh at something Smurf said, and she half-grinned back at him. He was setting up for some prank and in the process he was having fun and had unwittingly made Mush miserable. "Excuse me," Mush said after a minute of staring across the room at the unlikely couple. "I need to have a word with my friend."

"Hurry back!" Trixie cooed as Mush disentangled himself again, and strode purposefully across the room.

"—I like blue!" Smurf was saying.

"I don't dislike blue, I just wouldn't dye my hair—"

"Hiya, Blink," Mush interrupted. Blink looked up at him abruptly, coughed a little, and composed himself.

"Hey," he said. "What's up?"

"I'm going to kill you. That's all."

"Well, that's nothing new." He poked Smurf in the side again. "See, supportive best friends."

"Oh, shut up," she laughed, and Mush could only assume this was a reference to some conversation they'd had. They'd been having conversations. And enjoying it.

"Yeah," Mush said. "Death. And pain."

"You okay?" Blink asked, and Mush glowered.

"She's shedding sparkles on me."

"I told her not to use so many," Smurf noted. "She never listens, though."

Mush ignored her. "So, Blink... How about that race tomorrow, hmmm?"

Blink blinked. "That's tomorrow?"

"Mmmhmmm. Ian's your partner, right? Have you practiced with him?" Mush smiled devilishly. "Enough to beat your date?"

"Of course," he scoffed.

"I don't think so!" Smurf snapped.

"Oh, come on." Blink smirked down at her. "I won twice last summer—"

"And that's got nothing to do with tomorrow!"

"Well, we'll settle that tomorrow, won't we?" he challenged.

"When I wipe that smirk off your face and leave you standing in the sand while I'm kicking your ass? Yes. We Will."

"Ha!" he scoffed.

"Ha?" she'll repeated. "We'll see who has the last laugh tomorrow."

"Bring it on, tiny."

"Oh that is it!" she yelled, and they were attracting looks now. "The truce is off and I hope you choke."

"The feeling is totally mutual."

Mush smiled contentedly. His work was done. He'd save the personal revenge on Blink for later, and made his way back to Trixie, who looked a little started.

"That wasn't very nice," she pointed out.

"But so worthwhile." He discovered his mood had improved vastly, and the yelling from the other side of the room hadn't quieted any. "Want to dance?" he asked generously. She squealed and threw her arms around him, and though he regretted asking, all he needed to do was listen for the dulcet tones of Smurf shrieking and then he didn't mind so much.

Meanwhile, up on the stage, Racetrack was leaning on the table where the DJ equipment was set up, talking to his brother, who was listening with one ear while keeping the other tuned into his turntables. "Mark..." Race mused. "Did Mom let you play in the camper-counselor tournaments when you were a camper?"

"Yeah, sure," Mark answered, hitting play on one CD and ejecting another. He ignored Race for a few seconds, listening to the music in his headphones, fast forwarding to the track he wanted and cuing it up, then turned to Race.

"What about the sailing races?"

"Yeah... What's up?"

Race frowned slightly. "She won't let me. She says me being her son gives me some sort of advantage because of the judges..."

"Yeah, they work for her. So? She always let the rest of us."

"That's what I thought. I was supposed to be Blink's partner, but she told me I couldn't participate."

"That sucks," Mark agreed.

"Yeah..." Race trailed off. "What was your curfew in high school?"

"What?"

"Your—"

"Mom treats me different than everyone else," Race finally said, shrugging a little. "She breathes down my neck about everything, all the time. I'm not allowed out past ten."

"Ten's not so bad for a weeknight—"

"On weekends."

"That's insane."

"That's what I said. Not that she cared what I said."

"Hmmm." Mark shrugged. "Honestly, Tony, it's just 'cause you're the baby."

"Excuse me?"

"Well, it's true. You're sixteen, and you're the last kid she's going to have, so of course she's a little... Over protective."

"But that's not fair. I'm way more responsible than you were. Or Chris, or Paul, or—"

"I know, you're the best kid ever," Mark agreed. "That's Mom for you."

Race sighed. "I guess it is."

"You tried talking to her about it?" he suggested.

"Uh... No."

"Maybe you should."

"Did you ever try talking to Mom when you had a problem with her?" Race asked.

"Well, no," Mark admitted. "But when I was sixteen, she wouldn't have listened to me."

"So what makes you think she will listen to me?"

"I don't, really, it just seemed like a brotherly thing to suggest. Shouldn't you be dancing with some girl to set a good example for the rest of camp?"

"Drop dead," Race answered.

"I'll make them snowball again, and I'll make you start it."

"I hate you."

"Awwwww, what kind of thing is that to say to your brother?"

Race rolled his eyes and walked away, jumping off the stage, glancing over at the table that held the remnants of snacks and punch. Smurf and Blink had been staked out there all night, and he'd been as shocked as everyone else that they seemed to be enjoying themselves, but while he'd been talking with his brother they'd started yelling at each other, which he probably should have seen coming.

He thought about attempting to break that up, but decided that definitely wasn't worthwhile. Instead, he wandered over to where David was sitting, bored. "Well, you look like you're having the time of your life."

"Oh, I am. Can't you tell?"

Race laughed. "You're having a better time than some people," he pointed out.

"Yeah, yeah. This sucks."

"Too anti-social?"

"And I can't dance on top of that."

"Have you ever tried?"

David glared at him. "Yes," he finally said. "And it didn't work out."

"Okay, just asking," Race said quickly. "So..."

David hesitated. "Race, would anyone notice if I... Disappeared?"

"Probably not," Race said, glancing around.

David bit his lip, then stood up. "In that case, I'm out of here."

"Have fun, Dave."

David glanced around, slightly paranoid, then slipped out of the theater. Race watched him go and then sat down, but had to get up immediately. True to his word, Race's older brother was forcing another snowball dance on the group, and forcing Race to kick it off, and just grinned at the pissed off look from his younger brother.

*

It was much cooler out than it had been in the crowded theater, and David was glad he'd brought a sweater with him. He pulled it on and hesitantly walked out towards the athletic fields, where a crowd of campers and counselors were watching Aladdin, somewhere near the beginning. David stood at the back, hoping no one would turn around and notice him, until he saw Jack a few rows of people from the back. Most had brought out blankets or sleeping bags and were lounging on them, and Jack had a large blanket which he was sharing with a few of the campers from his bunk.

Quietly, David picked his way forward and tapped Jack's shoulder. Jack looked up, startled, then grinned at seeing David. "Did you dance?" Jack asked.

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Well, a little bit."

"Did you—"

"Jack, come on. I hate dances."

Jack paused for a second, then patted the blanket next to where he was sitting. "Come on, then," Jack said, smiling.

David smiled back and sat down, leaned against Jack for a little added warmth. Jack put a friendly arm around his shoulder and they settled in to watch the movie. David didn't remember when he'd felt so content.

[End Chapter Nineteen]
Chapter Twenty: Hook, Line and Sinker