She grabs Farrah Akers’s hand and drags her out into the middle of the gym. Leslie Fairstein has clearly been looking for an excuse to storm the dance floor. “That’s what got the mixer going again.”Ī cloud shoots across the floor of the gym, and the crowd lining the walls lets out an “Ooo!” Sure enough, fog starts to spew from the front nozzle. The only switch seems to be the one she was fiddling with. Meghan steps away from the fog machine, and I inspect it. And the other day, when the industrial blender was on the fritz, I managed to get it going again.
I’m the only person in our house who can work the old-fashioned alarm clock. “Let me see.” I don’t mean to brag, but I’ve got a gift for mechanical things. I can’t figure out how to turn this thing on.” Meghan flips a switch. And we’ll get the dancing started! There’s only one problem. “People won’t be able to see one another?” So I figure that if we pump a little haze into the gym …” “Look, everyone’s too embarrassed to be the first one out on the floor. “No, I mean, so what does the fog machine have to do with anything?” “So - I’m the seventh-grade class rep! I can’t let the dance go down in flames.” “I took it out of the drama department’s prop closet.”
“You brought a fog machine to the Winter Dance?” She looks like a crazy tropical bird doing a peculiar mating dance. She’s wearing a pink dress with white polka dots and turquoise tights, and her bangs are a matching shade of pink. “Guess what this is!” Meghan says, pointing to a black metal box-like thing. “I usually am,” I tell him, but I go over to join Meghan, anyway. “You’ll be sorry,” Marco says as he aims his video cam at Meghan. She’s standing halfway underneath the bleachers. “Hayley! C’mere!” In a corner, I see Meghan pointing with one hand and waving at me with the other. “How did you come up with this flavor, Hayley?”
“Pistachio-rosewater cupcakes by Hayley Hicks,” he narrates, then swings the camera to face me. Then he pulls a small video camera from his pocket and trains it on the cupcake. “What flavor is this?” Marco asks, taking another bite of cupcake. “The music here is better than at most executions, though.” The refreshments table and decorations are the only clues that we’re not here for a game of dodgeball. “Tell me about it.” The boys are lined up against one wall of the gym the girls are lined up against the other. “You know, this dance would be totally great,” Marco says as he takes a cupcake from the platter I brought, “if it weren’t so much like an execution.” Confession: I’m a Little Surprised that Chloe’s Worried about DadĬonfession: Nobody Really Knows that Artie Is Funny … But She IsĬonfession: Omar and Jamil Used to Be NiceĬonfession: I Don’t Want Marco to Have a Girlfriend
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