Birds In Flight

I headed for the bathroom, unsure whether I was going to cry, hurl, or both.

* * * * *

The night dragged on for another miserable hour as I watched happy couples swaying back and forth on the dance floor to the music provided by the DJ who was probably getting complaints about some of the song lyrics from the more uppity members of the staff. I saw Mrs. Stemnock talking his ear off more than once, but if he cared about her opinions, his musical selections sure didn't show it.

Something caught the attention of the wallflowers at the next table, and I looked over to see what was going on. All of them were looking at the doors, which had opened, letting in light that had previously been confined to the lobby. Standing in the doorway was some wiry kid with short-cropped hair dressed in a tuxedo that seemed a size too large for his frame. I didn't know who it was, but it hardly mattered as I had never seen any of the student body of West Orchard in fancy dress before. I didn't even recognize half of my friends until they got within speaking distance which, with the speaker setup our DJ had, was roughly three millimeters from your ear.

The guy, whoever he was, walked over to the refreshment table and got a cup of punch, then started mingling across the dance floor, occasionally stopping and chatting with another student before moving away like he was searching for someone. Probably a dork who couldn't make it on time and was trying to figure out if his date had split without him. I didn't care, it didn't involve me, and I turned my attention back to my own punch, wallowing in self-pity and spinach ravioli.

"Pardon me, is this seat taken?"

It took me a moment, but I realized the late arrival was talking to me. I looked up, but in the dim light I could barely make out the guy's features. Besides, who in my class talked with a British accent like that? Everybody in the school (at least who I knew) was Midwestern, through and through. Must be a guy from another school that one of the girls invited, I decided.

"No, it's free," I shouted back.

"Ah," he replied in a curiously soft sort of yell. "May I?"

"Sure. Make yourself at home." I forked another mouthful of ravioli off my plate and chewed. Inviting as a welcome mat reading "FUCK OFF!", that was me.

He did anyway.

At first I figured I could ignore him and he'd bother someone else, but he wasn't having any of it. The cologne he'd dabbed behind his ears and the mouthwash he'd gargled earlier mixed with the smell of cherry punch on his breath.

"Forgive me," he said, moving closer so he didn't have to shout so loudly, "I couldn't help but notice you've been sitting here alone most of the evening. Are you feeling well?"

"I'm fine," I said.

"I see. Am I intruding? Were you waiting for someone in particular?"

"No, I came by myself. I'm just waiting for midnight so I can get out of here. My parents are chaperons and I can't leave until they do."

"If I may be so bold, why would you come to a party like this only to sit by yourself?"

I turned around, but in the dark I doubt he could see my scowl. "Who the hell are you? I don't even know you. There are plenty of other girls here to bother, why pick me?"

"I do beg your pardon," he said. "I'm James. I merely thought you'd prefer some company to being alone, that's all."

Before I could reply, another guy walked up to the table: Travis, I saw, with Melanie in tow just like I knew she would be. "Hey, James, I wanted to let you know, I saw--" He stopped and looked at me. "Oh, good, you found her! Never mind. Have fun, man!"

"Thank you," James said, holding up his hand.

"See if you can get her to dance," Travis called over his shoulder as Melanie dragged him back to the snack bar. "She's been like that all night."

"Alright, that does it!" I stood up, while James remained seated. "Who the hell are you? My personal British creep? How the hell do you know me? Why have you been asking people where I am? You get one chance, so make it a really good story, and then I'm calling my parents and having you thrown out of here on your boutonniere."

"You silly, silly girl," James said, standing up and stepping closer to me before I could move away. He leaned in close, and in a voice completely devoid of the British accent, a voice I hadn't heard over my telephone or after school or in the hallway between classes in weeks, said quietly, "I'm the one who told you love would find a way."

My jaw dropped. My legs didn't want to work. Twenty billion thoughts scrambled through my head and collided with one another in the most epic train-wreck of lucidity-shattering bullshit since James Joyce penned Ulysses. The tux, the hair, the build, how had I not...?

"I... Jamie...?"

"I'm terribly sorry, my dear Hannah." The British accent was back in full force, perfected to a pitch by years of consuming Shakespearean drama. "Jamie couldn't come as your date tonight, rules being what they are and all. She sent me in her stead, however."

James paused to listen to what the DJ had to say, then turned back to me. "Now, unless I'm frightfully mistaken, this will be the last song of the night before we close up shop. And unless you want me to transform into a pumpkin come midnight, I shall have to ask you to dance, that we may snatch this wretched evening from the jaws of loneliness."

I held out my hand coyly. "Lead on, good sir," I said in my best attempt at an English accent.

"Hmmm," James said. "I detect a hint of Dick van Dyke from Mary Poppins. Ah well, 'tis a start, I suppose." Arm in arm, we made our way to the center of the dance floor. As the song reached its final notes, James held me tightly. My eyes closed, and the kiss we shared lasted long after the music had faded away.

"Well..." I said, after finally catching my breath. "That was... I mean..."

Mom and Dad to the rescue. "So, you two lovebirds going to stand here while they sweep up the place, or you want to head back over to the school for post-prom?"

"Uh...well, I don't know if-"

"We'd be delighted to attend the after-party festivities," James said, coming instantly to my defense and completely captivating my mother with the British accent thing. "If you don't mind, I would be honored for your daughter to accompany me. My limousine is parked outside."

"Uh, if it's OK with you that is," I managed to squeak.

Dad laughed, said it was fine, and he and Mom waved as they walked out the door. The lights came up as the custodial staff descended en masse to try and make sense of the disaster area which had previously been their ballroom.

We also turned to leave when a stern "ahem" reached into our ears and brought me crashing firmly to the earth once more. I turned and the blood drained from my face. Mrs. Stemnock stood in front of us, arms folded. "What exactly is going on here?"

"Mrs. Stemnock...I, uh, I can explain," I stammered.

"You," she said, ignoring me and looking at my partner, eyes narrowed. "I know you."

"I highly doubt you do, my dear."

She frowned, squinting. "Jamie? Is that you?"

"My aunt Thelma calls me 'Jamie'. My name is James."

She shook a finger in a vaguely accusatory fashion. "I don't recognize your voice, but I'm sure you're one of my students. If I had my glasses... You best remember the rules were very specific: Male/female couples only."

James affected a sweeping bow. "Of course, my dear. Why, anything else would be the very height of impropriety, wouldn't you say?" With that, she took off the wig, shook down her long, blonde hair, turned to me, and gave me a swift kiss.

Mrs. Stemnock stood, features frozen in that place that resembles terror mixed with deer-in-headlights as Jamie turned me around and walked towards the door. "Now, if you don't mind," she called over her shoulder, "we'll be off to Vegas Night." She looked at me. "Because, I don't know about you..."

She held out her hand, thumb extended to the right, fingers pointing off to the left. I grabbed it with my opposite hand, making our special little bird.

"...but I feel lucky tonight."

The tears welled up again. "Oh, Jamie...I don't even...what I said to you before, I..."

"Shhhhh," she soothed. "Birds in flight?"

It took me a moment to compose myself. "Birds in flight," I whispered as we climbed into the limousine.

* * * * *

Jamie and I have decided what transpired once we arrived back at her house following Vegas Night isn't for anyone else to know, but I'm allowed to tell you this much: it was a very lucky night.

And all these years later? We still fly together.