‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘Let’s get going.’
They started out to walk around the block. In the long dress she still felt very ritzy. ‘Look yonder at Mick Kelly!’ one of the kids in the dark hollered. ‘Look at her!’ She just walked on like she hadn’t heard, but it was that Spare-ribs, and some day soon she would catch him. She and Harry walked fast along the dark sidewalk, and when they came to the end of the street they turned down another block.
‘How old are you now, Mick--thirteen?’
‘Going on fourteen.’
She knew what he was thinking. It used to worry her all the time. Five feet six inches tall and a hundred and three pounds, and she was only thirteen. Every kid at the party was a runt beside her, except Harry, who was only a couple of inches shorter. No boy wanted to prom with a girl so much taller than him. But maybe cigarettes would help stunt the rest of her growth.
‘I grew three and a fourth inches just in last year,’ she said.
‘Once I saw a lady at the fair who was eight and a half feet tall. But you probably won’t grow that big.’
Harry stopped beside a dark crepe myrtle bush. Nobody was in sight. He took something out of his pocket and started fooling with whatever it was. She leaned over to see--it was his pair of specs and he was wiping them with his handkerchief.
‘Pardon me,’ he said. Then he put on his glasses and she could hear him breathe deep.
‘You ought to wear your specs all the time.’
‘Yeah.’
‘How come you go around without them?’
The night was very quiet and dark. Harry held her elbow when they crossed the street.
‘There’s a certain young lady back at the party that thinks it’s sissy for a fellow to wear glasses. This certain person--oh well, maybe I am a--’ He didn’t finish. Suddenly he tightened up and ran a few steps and sprang for a leaf about four feet above his head. She just could see that high leaf in the dark. He had a good spring to his jumping and he got it the first time. Then he put the leaf in his mouth and shadow-boxed for a few punches in the dark. She caught up with him. As usual a song was in her mind. She was humming to herself. ‘What’s that you’re singing? ‘ .It’s a piece by a fellow named Mozart’ Harry felt pretty good. He was sidestepping with his feet like a fast boxer. ‘That sounds like a sort of German name.’
‘I reckon so.’
‘Fascist?’ he asked. ‘What?’
‘I say is that Mozart a Fascist or a Nazi? ‘ Mick thought a minute. ‘No. They’re new, and this fellow’s been dead some time.’
‘It’s a good thing.’ He began punching in the dark again. He wanted her to ask why. ‘I say it’s a good thing,’ he said again. ‘Why? ‘ ‘Because I hate Fascists. If I met one walking on the street I’d kill him.’ She looked at Harry. The leaves against the street light made quick, freckly shadows on his face. He was excited. ‘How come?’ she asked. ‘Gosh! Don’t you ever read the paper? You see, it’s this way--‘ They had come back around the block. A commotion was going on at her house. People were yelling and running on the sidewalk. A heavy sickness came in her belly. There’s not time to explain unless we prom around the block again. I don’t mind telling you why I hate Fascists. I’d like to tell about it.’ This was probably the first chance he had got to spiel these ideas out to somebody. But she didn’t have time to listen.
She was busy looking at what she saw in the front of her house. ‘O.K. I’ll see you later.’ The prom was over now, so she could look and put her mind on the mess she saw.
What had happened while she was gone? When she left the people were standing around in the fine clothes and it was a real party. Now--after just five minutes--the place looked more like a crazy house. While she was gone those kids had come out of the dark and right into the party itself. The nerve they had! There was old Pete Wells banging out of the front door with a cup of punch hi his hand. They bellowed and ran and mixed with the invited people--in their old loose-legged knickers and everyday clothes.
Baby Wilson messed around on the front porch--and Baby wasn’t more than four years old. Anybody could see she ought to be home in bed by now, same as Bubber. She walked down the steps one at a time, holding the punch high up over her head. There was no reason for her to be here at all. Mister Brannon was her uncle and she could get free candy and drinks at his place any time she wanted to. As soon as she was on the sidewalk Mick caught her by the arm. ‘You go right home, Baby Wilson. Go on, now.’ Mick looked around to see what else she could do to straighten things out again like they ought to be. She went up to Sucker Wells. He stood farther down the sidewalk, where it was dark, holding his paper cup and looking at everybody in a dreamy way. Sucker was seven years old and he had on shorts. His chest and feet were naked. He wasn’t causing any of the commotion, but she was mad I as hell at what had happened.
She grabbed Sucker by the shoulders and began to shake him.
At first he held his jaws tight, but after a minute his teeth began to rattle. ‘You go home, Sucker Wells. You quit hanging around where you’re not invited.’ When she let him go, Sucker tucked his tail and walked slowly down the street.
But he didn’t go all the way home. After he got to the corner she saw him sit down on the curb and watch the party where he thought she couldn’t see him.
For a minute she felt good about shaking the spit out of Sucker. And then right afterward she had a bad worry feeling in her and she started to let him come back. The big kids were the ones who messed up everything. Real brats they were, and with the worst nerve she had ever seen.
Drinking up the refreshments and ruining the real party into all this commotion. They slammed through the front door and hollered and bumped into each other. She went up to Pete Wells because he was the worst of all. He wore his football helmet and butted into people. Pete was every bit of fourteen, yet he was still stuck in the seventh grade. She went up to him, but he was too big to shake like Sucker. When she told him to go home he shimmied and made a nose dive at her.
‘I been in six different states. Florida, Alabama--. Made out of silver cloth with a sash. The party was all messed up. Everybody was talking at once.
The invited people from Vocational were mixed with the neighborhood gang. The boys and the girls still stood in separate bunches, though---and nobody prommed. In the house the lemonade was just about gone. There was only a little puddle of water with floating lemon peels at the bottom of the bowl. Her Dad always acted too nice with kids. He had served out the punch to anybody who stuck a cup at him.
Portia was serving the sandwiches when she went into the dining-room. In five minutes they were all gone. She only got one--a jelly kind with pink sops come through the bread.
Portia stayed in the dining-room to watch the party. ‘I having too good a time to leave,’ she said. ‘I done sent word to Highboy and Willie to go on with the Saturday Night without me. Everbody so excited here I going to wait and see the end of this party.’
Excitement--that was the word. She could feel it all through the room and on the porch and the sidewalk. She felt excited, too. It wasn’t just her dress and the beautiful way her face looked when she passed by the hat rack mirror and saw the red paint on her cheeks and the rhinestone tiara in her hair. Maybe it was the decoration and all these Vocational people and kids being jammed together.
‘Watch her run!’
‘Ouch! Cut it out--’
‘Act your age!’
A bunch of girls were running down the street, holding up their dresses and with the hair flying out behind them. Some boys had cut off the long, sharp spears of a Spanish bayonet bush and they were chasing the girls with them.
Freshmen in Vocational all dressed up for a real prom party and acting just like kids. It was half playlike and half not playlike at all. A boy came up to her with a sticker and she started running too.
The idea of the party was over entirely now. This was just a regular playing-out. But it was the wildest night she had ever seen. The kids had caused it. They were like a catching sickness, and their coming to the party made all the other people forget about High School and being almost grown. It was like just before you take a bath in the afternoon when you might wallow around in the back yard and get plenty dirty just for the good feel of it before getting into the tub. Everybody was a wild kid playing out on Saturday night--and she felt like the very wildest of all.