The Best Laid Plans (21 page)

Jayne had gone with an expensive, tailored charcoal skirt, and a more casual dark royal blue satin halter-top. She looked classy, and expensive, and successful. She’d rejected the idea to roll up wearing her sexiest, slinkiest little black dress, or something skimpy to show her body off. She’d seen a few too many Geek to Chic episodes of Maury Povich where the geeky high school girl came out looking like a stripper to go that route.

Showing up looking trashy wouldn’t impress anyone. Showing up looking amazing, and being wildly successful, would. Having someone as amazing as Malcolm on her arm would have helped, and given her some badly needed support, but he wasn’t there and that was okay. If he’d been here she’d have focused too much on him, had him as a distraction. She’d ultimately decided not to bring Amber either. She needed to do this alone.

Alone through school, and alone now. But she was strong now. No one could look down on her anymore. She’d come a long way, determined to have a good time – even surrounded by people who once treated her horribly.

Welcome back Class of 2004!! Reach for the stars!

The message was written in big blue and white bubble letters on a large black sandwich board sign outside the school’s front door. The class’s grad colors and their theme. Jayne had hated that theme. But one of the cheerleaders had suggested it, and everyone had creamed their panties in agreement. Motion carried. It was so overdone. Three other classes in the past ten years had done it. The parents on the committee were glad – being able to reuse some of the old decorations meant one less bake sale for them to participate in.

Most high school reunions Jayne had heard of took place in nice relaxing hotels, away from the actual schools. The former students were given a group rate discount on rooms, and access to the bar. Jayne hadn’t been that lucky. Her reunion planners decided to take them all back to the scene of the crime, and pack them into the gymnasium like a school dance, plus ten years.

It would have been awful to go to a nice comfortable hotel, with a room right upstairs, and real bathrooms with real toilet paper, rather than the worthless junk they used in the school. And the chance to see each other in the original setting. Yup. Would be a real travesty to miss any of that. Jayne sighed.

A couple pulled the door open and hurried inside. Jayne gave them a minute and waited until the coast cleared, wanting to avoid small talk, at least until she was inside. She needed a minute to psych herself up for this. What had she been thinking? Why was she here? What the hell had possessed her into thinking that coming and chit chatting with these people was a good idea?

She pulled out her phone. One missed text from Malcolm.

‘Hey, Beautiful. I’m thinking about you. Miss you.’

She missed him too. But she’d see him tomorrow night when she got home, when all of this was over.

‘
Miss you too. See you tomorrow night. XX’
she replied.

She sucked it up, and left the safety of her car, shaky legs carrying her through the front door.

Other than looking a bit smaller, the hallways looked the same. Same ugly mauve lockers, and grey linoleum floors. Fucking fluorescent lights that probably made her look pasty as hell. Her stomach flipped a bit, but she squared her shoulders and walked more fiercely, letting the tapping of her heels be the rhythm of her battle cry. Louboutin war drums announcing that yes, she was here, she was amazing, and she was so over it.

She tapped through center court. The cafeteria. Schools and malls were creepy when they were empty like this. She waded through four years of eating alone, and came out the other side realizing those experiences had given her a confidence in solitude that others her age didn’t possess. She was happy with her own company, and that was priceless. The realization allowed her to relax a bit.

A table had been set up down the hall from the entrance of the gym. A long-haired hippy woman sat behind it, and another stood beside it, her short blue hair messy and spiked, manning the two dozen or so name tags sitting on the surface.

“Hey! Name?” The blue haired woman asked.

“Jayne Griffin.”

“Ho. Ly. Shit. You look unbelievable!”

“Thanks.” She was taken aback by the woman’s open admiration, and glanced at her name tag. “Claire?”

“Yeah! Here,” she stared at, then grabbed a name tag from those left. “Here you are. Most people are already inside.”

“Thanks.” Jayne peeled the back from the sticker, and plastered her name on the front of her shirt, glad it wasn’t a pin that would poke a hole in the top.

As if that was her biggest problem at the moment.

She wanted to laugh hysterically.

Better to keep moving lest one of The Girls ambush her. She really wanted to choose her entrance.

“I guess I’ll see you guys in there?”

Claire nodded. “See you later – remember to vote who you think was most successful!”

“Okay.”

Her nerves jangled together as she walked toward the gym. She could so do this. Steeling herself, she grabbed the handle of the gym door, and chickened out at the last second. Moving quickly before anyone could see her freak out, she veered off to the adjacent hallway, and ducked into the locker room. Not an ideal choice sentimentally speaking, but it was the nearest washroom. And it was empty.

She ducked into a stall, and had just sat down when the locker room door opened and closed. She held in her pee to listen for footsteps, letting go when hard heels clacked across the floor, the stall door next to her closed.

***

Malcolm entered through the side door, Claire having told him he could park closer to the gym so it was more convenient to unpack his guitar, and any equipment he might need for performing. The guitar was his only equipment, but he was glad for the more convenient parking. It was private, and away from the main doors. He wanted to choose the perfect moment to approach Jayne.

It would be best if she first saw him performing on stage. She could see him, possibly figure out that he was really Dylan and that he’d been an old classmate. He’d get to show up all the assholes who had ever fucked with him. She’d have time to get over her initial shock while he played, and by the time he finished, she might be calm enough to talk. And maybe listen. And if he really lucked out – forgive him.

The parking lot looked benign as he paused before removing his guitar from the back seat. He hadn’t known what to expect, but it had been such a terrifying place for him once. He stepped inside and followed the blue and white balloons and streamers toward the two women sitting at a table covered with white squares of paper.

Name tags, he realized when he got closer. One of the women paced back and forth, agitating her hands. Her bright blue hair was pointy like an edgy hedgehog, and she wore stompy black boots, and a corset over a long skirt. Sort of a steampunk thing going on, and it really suited her. She turned full on to him as he approached the table, and he got a proper look at her face. Holy shit, it was Claire!

“Claire?”

“Dylan?”

“I go by Malcolm now, actually.” How the hell had she recognized him?

“It’s in the eyes.” She answered his unspoken question. “I could see you were wondering. Plus, I am not of the straight persuasion.” She gestured at the pretty, hippy looking woman with long wavy hair and an open smile. “My partner Theresa.”

“Nice to meet you, Theresa.”

“Likewise.” She handed him a name tag from the table. There weren’t that many left, meaning he was one of the stragglers. He tried to peek to see if Jayne’s had gone, but didn’t want to look like a creeper. Plus they were upside down from where he stood, making them harder to decipher at a glance.  “Oh. Should we make you a new one with ‘Malcolm’ on it?”

He took the one she proffered. “This is fine. None of them would know me by Malcolm anyways.” He peeled the adhesive backing from the back and stuck the sticker-name tag on his shirt, then turned back to Claire. “But what does your being with Theresa have to do with how you recognized me?”

She grinned. “You do look a lot different, but the eyes are the same. I’m sure my hetero peers would be too busy drooling over your appearance to connect the dots and recognize you.”

“Fair enough.”

“Thanks for performing for us. We thought if maybe you played now for a while when everyone settled in, then we’ll break for a couple speeches. We have a DJ coming for the dance in about half an hour. And then we’ll do the slideshow and standard updates of alum and the old most improved, most successful votes then too. So make sure you vote!”

“That works for me.”

“Unless you’re wanting to mingle too, in which case we can work something else out and you can just play before the dance.”

“Nope, I can reacquaint myself with everyone at the dance itself. I’m fine to play right away.”

“Great! I’ll show you to the stage.”

“Have they moved it?” He joked, picking up his guitar.

“What?”

“Former band geek, remember? I can show myself there if you have things to do.”

She flashed a grateful expression at him. “Would you mind? The school got a pretty sweet set up from a grant for the sound system – of course that was years after our time. But everything is all set up on stage, all you have to do is plug in and let ’er rip!”

“That would have been nice to have when we went here.”

“I know. You sure you don’t mind? I do have some more things to organize, but if you’d like an escort … ”

“Not at all. I’ll see you inside.” He waved to Theresa, and walked down the hall toward the gymnasium. The gym sat on the far east side of the school, two hallways on the east and west side led to its indoor entrances. Had the halls always been this small? He felt like a giant, though compared to his high school self, he supposed he was.

The doors were closed. A set of stairs just before the door led backstage when the curtains were drawn, leading onstage when the partition was open.

The sounds of laughing and talking buzzed from the backstage door. The partition separating the stage from the gym was open. It wasn’t until he stepped onto the stage and walked across it to the amps, that he realized he wasn’t nervous. He’d forgotten to be, so wrapped up in how he was going to win Jayne over that everything else had been blotted from his mind. Heads turned his way, but he moved with a quiet confidence, knowing that he had to focus on Jayne.

Though the appreciative looks he got made him feel a bit smug.

His heart began to beat a little faster. Was she in the crowd now? He snuck a glance at the audience while taking his guitar from the case, but the stage lights were too bright and blocked out anyone who wasn’t standing within ten feet of the edge of the stage. Had she noticed him yet, recognized him yet? Would she think this was the gig he’d mentioned, or would she put two and two together when she saw his name tag, or heard someone speak his name?

He grabbed his phone to see if she’d called. No new messages. Damn. He texted that he missed her, and then put the phone away. If she watched him text, and then got a call, maybe … he didn’t even know what ‘maybe’ would happen. This was so crazy.

What would happen? He’d been turning it over in his mind for weeks, but still had no idea what to say to her. If she walked out on him … but he couldn’t think about that. He had to be with her because he needed her. He wanted her. He
loved
her. And going back to being without her would be worse than anything that had ever happened to him in his life.

Alone on stage, just him and his guitar. It fit that he had no band to back him up. Time to stand on his own.

He plugged in his guitar, took a seat, adjusted the mic, and started to play.

“Shit.” The woman in the stall next to Jayne’s cursed.

Out of toilet paper?
Reflexively, Jayne checked her own. She had plenty.

“Excuse me. This is really awkward and I hate when people talk to me while I’m going to the bathroom, but do you by any chance have a spare tampon?” She sighed. “God this is embarrassing.”

“Wow, that sucks,” Jayne commiserated to make her feel better. “Let me check my purse.” She dug around and found one. “Here.” She held it under the stall’s partition. A French-manicured hand took it.

“Thank you so much. I’m normally better prepared, but the stress of this thing has screwed with my hormones.”

Maybe TMI, but Jayne
so
knew how she felt. Her knees had only just stopped shaking. Besides, stress was a bitch: Universal Truth. The woman rambled, but she was clearly a kindred soul, so Jayne responded politely,

“You mean the reunion?”

“Yeah. I’m definitely not looking forward to seeing certain people.”

“I hear that!” Jayne flushed, and then left the stall.

“High school sucked. I try to forget it ever happened for the most part, but some things just don’t go away. And here we are, at the scene of the crime.”

Goddamn. Where had she been in high school? They could have been best friends and been invisible together. “Yeah. We carry a lot of things with us.” Jayne spoke softly, but it carried.