Worlds Apart (39 page)

I had never seen so many girls doing their hair and make up. The dance started at four o’clock, and lasted until half past six. No one had the time to take the subway home, get dressed, and come back to school, unless you lived close by in Brooklyn. Svetlana said that she was going home to change, and that she would be back by five o’clock.

This struck me as odd because Svetlana seemed already dressed to go to the dance. I asked her why she needed to change.

“I feel underdressed compared to some of the other girls,” she said. Her face cast a genuine look of worry.

Compared to what the other guys were wearing, my Greek Night Club outfit would’ve been perfect. Something that isn’t appropriate at a party in Oyster Bay can be just fine at a party in Brooklyn. Lesson learned.

The dance was at the gym. Maurice was there wearing a white shirt with a skimpy leather tie and a fancy jeweled buckle. He wore leather pants.

“You look like a Jewish pop star,” I said.

“Neil Diamond is my hero,” said Maurice.

We drank Coke. There was plenty to go around since the world’s largest beverage company was sponsoring the dance.

There were fifty television monitors stacked on top of each other, showing music videos and ads for Coca Cola. Shiny disco balls hung from the ceilings, large speakers were stacked on top of each other, and multi colored balloons filled the gymnasium. Banners hung from the ceiling with advertisements. The gym looked very cool. I asked Maurice if he came with anyone and he said that he was meeting a girl named Rachel here later.

“What about you?” Maurice asked.

“I’m waiting for Svetlana,” I said.

“Svetlana Kalishnikov?” he asked.

“Her name is Ionakov” I said. Kalishnikov was her nickname, after the Russian assault rifle used in combat. The nickname meant that she was dangerous, because of her gorgeous physical appearance.

A smile lit up Maurice’s face. He held out his hand to shake mine. “I have to say, that is very good news my friend. She’s a beautiful girl, and I would’ve thought she was out of your league. But, I am very happy for you,” said Maurice.

I was pretty sure that was a back-handed compliment. But I knew what he meant.. Maurice’s shirt was unbuttoned revealing his chest hairs and gold necklace.

“Thank you, but we are just friends, nothing serious,” I said to Maurice.

“Nothing serious yet, but just wait my friend, God has big things in store for you,” said Maurice laughing, and using hand gestures, made a reference to Svetlana’s breasts.

The gym quickly filled up, and the music was loud. The deejay played a lot of British Rock and new wave music. There was pop and dance music thrown in as well. Mr. Mash stood behind the deejay, supervising the music play list. Sam was standing next to Carlos.

The dance brought out the hairstyles and the clothing iconic of the decade. Everyone had big hair, tons of hairspray, and wore things that we would now consider bizarre.

Delancey was in one corner of the gym, with some of her friends, as Sam approached. I couldn’t hear their conversation, but saw Delancey shake her head “no” twice. Sam walked away. Delancey waved to me, and I walked over.

“So are you going to ask me to dance or what?” she said.

There was no sign of Svetlana. “Sure, would you like to dance?”

“Love to,” she said as she grabbed my hand and we started dancing. I moved as best as I could. Sam was in the distance watching with a grimace.

Delancey was a pretty good dancer, and she looked stunning. Her hair was blown out, and she wore a blue denim skirt, with boots, and a white shirt. We danced a few songs, and I became more relaxed and comfortable on the dance floor.

“I had a good time at the fundraiser, and no regrets,” she remarked.

“I had a great time too, and have been thinking about you ever since.” She blushed and giggled.

Juan Perez was watching with envious eyes. The dance floor was now nearly full. Sam was still trying to find a girl to dance with. Acceptance to Harvard doesn’t mean social acceptance in high school.

I was having a lot of fun, and almost forgot about Svetlana. It was after five o’clock, and Delancey and I finally took a break. I went to fetch us two cans of Coke. Free soda was a big deal. I walked over to Sam. He didn’t say anything or look my way. Carlos said that I was quite the dancer. He had his backpack on, and I wondered if there was a gun in it.

“You know, I think that the jeweled gun is the same gun that Delancey’s father had given to her for her birthday.” I had to shout into Carlos’s ear because the music was so loud.

“I have it on me, in the backpack. It still doesn’t have bullets. It’s no good to me.”

Sam overheard our conversation and grabbed Carlos’s backpack. Sam said that he was going to sell the gun to get some money back.

John was not at the dance; he had to work. Carlos said that he meets with Brass everyday for work. It was amazing that Carlos referred to drug dealing as work. Carlos’s outfit was very sharp, dress pants, dress shoes, and a silk shirt. Working for Brass was paying well.

I figured Svetlana must be running late because of the train. Yulee was dancing with Penny. Jacob and Sandra were dancing together. Sandra looked beautiful as always, and Jacob kept looking around the room at all the other girls. Jacob motioned for me to come over.

“Are you here with anybody?” he asked.

“Svetlana,” I replied. “But she’s not here yet.”

“I saw you dancing with Delancey. Be nice to her,” Jacob said.

“We’re just friends.”

“I think she really likes you,” remarked Sandra.

“Why do you think that?” I asked, blushing.

“She talks about you constantly. She turned down all the guys that asked her to the dance so that she can dance with you as much as she could,” Sandra replied.

Wow! I was speechless. I regretted agreeing to take Svetlana to the dance. She wasn’t even there.

Carlos said that Sam’s mother came to get him and she was right outside the gym doors. This was not going to be good, I thought to myself.

I went over to say hello to Sam’s mother, and saw that they were yelling at each other. She saw me and said, “This is your fault. Sam is not allowed to go to the dance. Why did you bring him here?”

“I didn’t bring him here…,” I said. They continued to yell in Farsi.

Sam’s mother demanded that he leave the dance and go home. Sam insisted he was staying. Several other students gathered to watch their display of family love. I wasn’t sure if Sam was aware that Delancey was watching.

Sam’s mother grabbed him by the hand, and he pulled away. She grabbed him by the shirt and he pulled away again. Sam yelled expletives at her. I knew because he had taught us the vulgar words in Farsi. To most, it would appear that Sam then spit at his own mother, but Carlos and I knew that in fact Sam spat on the floor as an insult to her. She then slapped him across the left cheek, and threw her shoes at his head. Sam was red faced embarrassed. The public humiliation was too much and he started crying. Sam noticed everyone was watching, and he glanced at Delancey. His mother grabbed him by the ear and then dragged him out of school.

This was typical of Sam and his mother. We had seen similar exchanges at his house over the years, but now, everyone at school saw their relationship.

A tall, elegant woman with dark curly hair had entered the gym. She was wearing an off the shoulder white dress and looked like a goddess. She recognized me and said hello. It was Mrs. Zoose’s wife, Juliana.

“Have you seen my husband?” she asked.

“I’m sure he’s around; there are a lot of people here. I’ll go take a look,” I said.

I asked several if people if they had seen Mr. Zoose. No one had. Svetlana was also still missing in action.

A sick feeling started settling in my midsection. It was nearly six o’clock. There was no sign of Svetlana and no sign of Mr. Zoose. I was a good math student and had no problem adding up this simple equation. I quickly ran out of the gym. Down the dimly lit deserted hallway, Juliana was waiting for the elevator. I quickly ran up several flights of stairs, and headed for Mr. Zoose’s classroom as fast as I could.

The door was locked, but I could see Mr. Zoose and Svetlana alone in the back of the classroom. I banged on the door and yelled, “Your wife is almost here!” I still felt obligated to him.

“It’s almost six o’clock!” he yelled. He opened the door. Svetlana would not look at me. The sound of high heels was coming down the hall.

Mr. Zoose told Svetlana to hide under a large cowhide-print fabric that was in the corner labeled “Materials for School Play.” I darted around the corner into an empty corridor. I knelt down on the floor and remained still. My heart was pounding and my panting was loud. Juliana was talking to her husband, my favorite English teacher, and Svetlana’s lover. Their conversation went on for a few minutes. They stepped outside the classroom, and she said, “Aren’t you going to lock the door?”

“There’s no need, the janitors have to mop the room,” said Mr. Zoose.

“I like that cow fabric; maybe after the play I could use it to reupholster the chairs in the basement,” Juliana said.

“Juno, sure, that’s fine. I have a ton of it donated by one of the parents.”

“You mind if take a closer look at it?” she said, her tone was curious, maybe even suspicious.

“Now? We are so late, Juno,” he said.

I ran over to them. “Oh, there you are, Mr. Zoose, I ran up here to tell you that your wife is looking for you. But I see that she has already found you.”

“Yes, I found him, but thank you anyway,” said Juliana.

“Are you guys going to the dance? It’s almost over,” I said.

“Let’s go to the dance, Juno, right away. I wouldn’t want to miss it.” Having said this, Mr. Zoose took her by the arm and down the stairs.

Svetlana emerged from the cow fabric. She was wearing the same clothes that she had arrived to school with that day. She had never intended to go home to change.

I recalled Bruce’s advice about finding someone that had as much experience as I did.

“Svetlana, I do not want to be friends anymore.” I walked away angry and more emotional that I wanted to appear.

“It’s not what you think. I’m pregnant,” she blurted.

I stopped in my tracks and did an about-face. “Does he know?” I asked.

“I told him, and he said that it wasn’t his. But it’s his. He’s the only one.” She started to cry, but I had seen these tears before, and they lacked the impact they originally had on me.

“So what are you going to do?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I’m more worried about what my father is going to do. He’s a little crazy and short tempered.”

“I think you have a lot of decisions to make.” I headed back to the dance disgusted with Svetlana and her lies, and also with Mr. Zoose.

This was their problem, their relationship, and they were not part of the plan I had for my life. I planned on graduating, leaving home, and never looking back. I felt like a fool for helping Mr. Zoose with his wife.

Mr. Mash was in the hallway outside the gym. He was waving goodbye to Mr. Zoose. “Are they leaving?” I asked.

“Yes. He’s a fine teacher and will likely be promoted to Assistant Principal,” said Mr. Mash proudly.

I was disappointed to hear this, but held my tongue.

“And Sam, of course, we are so proud of your friend despite the incident today. He revealed that students were cheating the day of the SATs.”

My heart almost stopped when he said this. If anyone cheated it had been orchestrated by Sam. That is why he was so curious about whether I had seen anything in the bathrooms the day of the SATs.

“Sam is a fine student, the best of the best, and has made us all proud. You should be very proud of your friend,” said Mr. Mash.

“Mr. Mash, there is so much that you do not know, I would hate to be the one to tell you.”

“If there is something of evidence, something concrete, something that you need to say, come forward with it,” said Mr. Mash.

“I will think about that, Sir.”

“David. I wanted to talk to you about graduation,” he said.

“Graduation, sir?”

“Yes. This year we would like to do something different. You know spice it up a little. The students are always complaining that graduation is too boring. Imagine how I feel; I have to sit there every year. I would like you to do a performance – guitar, vocals, whatever, with the school’s band and chorus. You are musically the most talented in the senior class. The song choice is yours.” He seemed eager.

“Any song!” I beamed.

“Yes.”

“Then I would like to do Separate Ways by Journey!” After all, it was Delancey’s favorite song.

“Well, fine. I will let the music teacher know. Keep this a secret. We want to surprise them at graduation.”

Delancey was on her way to Manhattan. She said that her dad was taking her out to a new restaurant called the Osiris Steakhouse.

“I can walk you home,” I said.

“I’d like that; it’s not safe, especially for women.” She was referring to the attack on the woman in Central Park. It wasn’t safe for men or boys either.