“Hold it like that, Matt. Yeah, right there.”

Matt fiddles with the stick while I twist a few buttons. I’m up against a wall in the storage room, cursing and panting as we try to get the maudit thing to work for the hundredth time.

I swear this is not what it looks like.

“Okay, hold it...Hold it...And...Yes!”

The Pac-Man theme song starts echoing through the room.

Matt steps back and bursts out laughing. “Shit. I can’t believe you made this. It’s like, so fucking stupid, but so fucking good.”

I’m standing inside a big yellow wooden box held up by straps over my shoulders. The box is made to look like a Pac-Man arcade game, complete with a controller, a playing screen, and a slot for putting coins in. The real coup de grace? The screen is really my laptop, housed inside the box and attached to the controller, so you can actually play the Pac-Man game.

After I finished building the box part, I burnt a bunch of holes in it and filled them with fake flames made from pieces of Nylon, plus some hidden LEDs and mini fans, so they glow and wave around like they’re actually burning.

It’s a fire.

At an arcade.

I’m Arcade Fire.

I know, I know. I’m a genius.

“You ready to make your grand entrance?” Matt asks me. “Should I do some kind of announcement?”

“Just get them to play ‘Rebellion,’” I order.

He goes back to the party, and a minute later I hear the start of the band’s hit song. The whole room either claps, cheers, or groans when I walk out, Pac-Man music blasting just loud enough to be heard over the speakers. A space is cleared for me in the middle of the dance floor, and I do a little line dancing shuffle—it’s the only move I can do in a giant wooden box—before Matt rushes up, pops a quarter in, and shows the crowd that the game actually works.

Everyone goes back to dancing or chatting once the song switches. I keep shuffling around on the dance floor, fist-bumping people and letting them have a go at the game. You don’t actually need to put a quarter in to play, but I keep that to myself. I could end this night a rich man.

“This is hilarious!”

Molly appears in front of me, beaming. She’s got makeup on—lipstick and some other stuff that makes her eyes look all smoky and sexy. I spot her nametag and figure the costume out right away.

“I love Wheatus!” I shout over the noise. “We have to make them play that soon, okay?”

She nods, and I take in the rest of her outfit: ripped up t-shirt, skin tight pants, and those socks with the stripes on top that girls are always wearing in porn for some reason. She’s holding a beer in one hand, and in the other she’s clutching Paul’s.

Fucking Paul. He’s not even paying attention to our conversation. His head’s rolling around to the beat of the music, and he’s smiling at nothing while he stares around the room. The dude is tanked.

Molly’s reaching for her wallet to pull a quarter out when he seems to come back from the Land of the Drunken and tugs on her hand.

“Let’s dance! I love this song!”

She giggles. “You say that about every song.”

“I really love this song! Please? We have to dance.”

Molly gives me a helpless look, and he leads her away until I can’t see them through the crowd anymore. I don’t really feel like dancing after that.

I find Cole lurking in a corner of the room, as usual. He’s got one foot propped against the wall, a bottle of Rickard’s in hand. I line myself up next to him. He gives my costume a glance, and I see his lip twitch. In Cole’s world, that counts as a smile.

“Having fun?” I ask.

He nods. Very talkative, this one.

I can see Molly now, swaying in time to the music while Paul holds her waist with both hands. There’s still room for Jesus between them, but I hate how close they are anyway. He leans forward to shout something into her ear. She swats his chest and blushes.

“Hey, Cole?”

He grunts.

“You see that mec with the man-bun?”

Another grunt.

“My bun is bigger than his, right?”

I look over and find he has his signature ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ expression on.

“I’m just saying—like, if you had to pick which one is bigger, it’s clearly mine, right?”

He drains his Rickard’s and then adjusts the strap of his ‘double bass.’ “Did you come over here for advice?”

My whole costume lifts up and down when I shrug.

“That guy looks like a drunk asshole, and that girl looks like she could do better. I take it you’re hoping ‘better’ is you?”

“Ben, I wouldn’t say no to it being me...”

His stares me down over the top of his glasses, silently telling me to cut the shit.

“Okay, I like her. I hate seeing her with that guy, and I don’t know how much longer I can take it.”

He sets his empty bottle down on a desk beside him. “Look, man. It’s Halloween, and we’re at a party. Tonight’s not the night to get all dramatic and shit. As much as it sucks, I think you should just play it cool. Trust her to make her own decisions, and trust that if she wants to be with you, in the end, she will.”

I notice he’s not staring at the dance floor anymore, and I follow his gaze to where Roxanne is talking to Kay by the beer pile.

Of fucking course. Dude can’t go two minutes without thinking about Roxy.

Still, Cole rarely speaks more than two sentences in a row, so when he does, you know you should pay attention to that shit.

“Play it cool,” I repeat. “Got it. Ice cold. Thanks, man. I’m gonna go get a beer.”

I thump him on the shoulder and take off towards the pile. I joke around with Kay and Roxanne as I sip what I realize is my first beer of the night. We all end up dancing together, and for awhile I just get lost in the flow of the party, shouting along to the blaring music as I take turns spinning the girls around.

Then I see Paul let himself into the storage room. Alone.

Leave it, I tell myself. Play it cool.

I can’t, though. If he’s going to have his jazz hands all over Molly tonight, I need to know he’s not in there sniffing bath salts or popping roofies into her drink.

I line dance my way off the floor and walk up to the storage room. The door didn’t close properly, and everyone else is too busy to pay attention as I shuffle closer and nudge it open a few more inches with my foot.

At first I can’t figure out where Paul went. I look harder and finally spot his legs slung over the edge of a box, the rest of him hidden behind a shelving unit. I can hear him saying something and decide he must be on the phone, but I can’t make the words out.

I check the party again. Everyone is still keeping busy. If I open the door wide enough for my costume, Paul will know someone’s here, but I manage to stick my head past the door and pick up on most of what he’s saying.

“I’m calling because I’m too drunk to fucking text, man, and you won’t leave me the fuck alone. I’m not coming back to the party, okay? I’m with Molly.” He pauses. “Actually yeah, I will be getting my dick wet tonight. You should see her outfit. It’s super slutty. She’s practically begging me for it.” Another pause. “Well if she’s still a virgin like I think she is, it will be worth the wait. You’ve never even popped one before, and I’ll have done it three times. Even if she’s not, she’s still got an ass like—”

The storage room door slams so hard into the wall I’m pretty sure the handle leaves a dent.

“Dis ҫa encore.”

I take a few steps forward until I can see all of Paul, slumped against the wall behind the box he’s sitting on, his stupid lightning bolt just a smudge on his face now, like a big ugly bruise. His mouth hangs open as he slowly pulls his phone away from his ear.

“Say that again,” I hiss in English. “Talk about her like that in front of me again. Go on. Do it.”

I lunge forwards to grab the collar of his shirt. My arm can’t reach far enough around the Pac-Man game. There’s a beat of silence as I flail like an awkward T-Rex before I let out a very manly, enraged grunt and turn sideways so I can get at him.

“Fucking say it again!” I shout. “I dare you, ésti d’épais de merde!”

He knocks my hand away. “Fuck off, man.”

I can feel every muscle in my body straining for a fight. “You stay the hell away from her!”

The asshole actually starts chuckling.

“That’s not really up to you to decide,” he slurs. “Jealous I’m getting a piece of that ass tonight?”

“I’m never going to let you touch her again.”

“Once more”—he pushes himself up onto his feet and sways—“not really up to you to decide.”

He tries to move past me, but I block the path to the door. Blocking paths is easy when you’re wearing a giant box; Paul stops where he is.

“Don’t make me hurt you.” He sighs.

Now I’m the one chuckling. “Or what?” I lift my hands up and wiggle them. “You’ll come at me with your jazz hands?”

His punch hits me square in the face.

I stumble backwards, clutching my nose. I can’t see. Everything feels like it’s burning. Somehow, I can still hear Paul’s voice through the haze.

“I told you not to make me hurt you.”

The second punch clips me on the ear. The noise of the party fades, taken over by a ringing sound. I stagger back even farther and trip over my own feet. The weight of my costume throws off my balance, and I know I’m going down even before I start to fall. I hit the ground hard, landing on my back out in the main room.

There’s a sharp crack as my costume splinters. Someone screams.

“What the fuck?” a guy’s voice roars. I’m pretty sure it’s Matt.

There are still spots in front of my eyes as I stare up at the fake cobweb-covered ceiling, and something warm is dripping between my fingers where they’re pressed to my face. The music cuts off. There’s more screaming. Ace’s face appears, hovering over mine.

“Dude, you okay?”

“Tabarnak,” I groan. “I feel fresh as a fucking daisy, Ace.”

After deciding that I’m all right to stand, he and Cole pull me to me feet. I sway a little as they pull what’s left of my costume off me. The wood is fractured in a few places, but luckily the laptop didn’t get smashed. I look down at my hands and realize the warm stuff dripping over my fingers is blood.

A big guy who works for Metro has his hand clamped down on Paul’s shoulder. I can’t believe someone that trashed could hit that hard.

Shayla storms through the crowd, sounding very unlike Wayne Campbell, but very much like herself. “Anyone want to tell me what the hell is going on here?”

“He attacked me!” Paul shouts, before I can say anything. “It was self-defence.”

Shayla swivels her head between the two of us, eyes narrowed to slits. “You’re not the one with blood on your face now, Paul, and JP was just wearing a giant box he could hardly move in. You want me to believe he attacked you?”

“He grabbed me!” Paul insists. “He fucking grabbed me.”

“And why would he grab you?” Shayla demands.

Paul lets out a drunken laugh and knocks the hand off his shoulder. “Because he wants a piece of Molly’s ass. Come on, you’ve all seen it. He was jealous, and he was going to hit me for it. Don’t be a bitch, Shayla.”

There are a few gasps from the crowd, followed by some murmuring.

Shayla doesn’t miss a beat. “Get out. Don’t come back. You’re fired, Paul.”

“The fuck?” He stumbles forwards a few steps. “You can’t do that. You can’t! It’s...illegal!”

“You’re still on your three month probationary period. I can fire you whenever I want, and I want to fire you now. Get out.”

“You’re a bitch!” Paul nearly screams. “You’ve always been such a bitch to me. I worked fucking hard at this job, you know!”

Shayla just stands there with her arms crossed.

“You know what? Fine. I quit. This place is a...a shithole anyway.”

Everyone edges away from him like he’s carrying a disease as he lurches through the crowd. He stops suddenly and turns to face someone. I can’t see who it is from where I’m standing, but when he starts to speak loud enough for the whole room to hear, it isn’t hard to guess.

“You’re a bitch like her, you know? You pretend you’re this, like...sweet little thing, being all shy and cute and stuff, but it’s bullshit. You’re just playing the fucking field. You were using me, and I didn’t even get anything out of it. Frigid bitch.”

Cole’s hand digs into my bicep just as I’m about to charge.

“Cool it,” he grumbles.

The rest of the room is silent for a moment until I see Stéphanie step forwards, getting right up in Paul’s face. He has enough sense to move back a few inches.

“The only bitch I see here is you,” she says loudly. “Va t’en, asshole.”

Somebody whoops, and that’s all it takes for the whole room to turn into an angry mob, shouting Paul out of the building. The music starts blaring again—an appropriately raging track—and the party atmosphere kicks up several notches higher than it’s been all night.

I don’t feel it, though. I spot Stéphanie leading Molly away from the dance floor with her arm around her shoulders, and all I want to do is run to her, but Shayla and Cole block my way.

“We’re getting you cleaned up,” Shayla orders. “If he broke your nose, we’re suing. Just tell me you didn’t hit him first.”

“No, but I wish I did,” I grumble.

It turns out my nose isn’t broken. The blood all came from a cut on the inside of my lip, which is now swelling up enough that I really do look like a goldfish. Shayla throws out all the bloody paper towels and hands me a bag of ice before announcing that I’m okay. Matt finds me after that and asks if I want to leave, but I only have one question for him.

“Where is she?”

He doesn’t need to ask who I’m talking about.

“Stéphanie and Kay were just with her outside. She said she didn’t want to leave—just needed some breathing room. She’s out in front of the building.”

I nod and stalk past him, heading right for the front door. I don’t stop to wonder if this is the best move or not; I have to see for myself if she’s okay.

Out on the street, the noise of the party is just a dull throb. The streetlights make everything glow orange. Molly’s dark hair is like copper in the light where she leans against the bricks of the building, staring at the empty cafe across the road.

“Hey,” I say softly.

She turns her head, and her hand flies to her mouth as her eyes travel over me.

“Your face...” she whispers.

I move the ice bag away so she can take in the damage. “Not so bad. I’m still gonna be pretty.”

She looks horrified. “I’m so sorry, JP. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Sorry?” My voice comes out harsher than I meant. I take a deep breath in and join her against the wall. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Molly. I’m sorry that happened to you.”

She shakes her head, still whispering. “I feel so stupid.”

She’s killing me right now. I want to take off into the night and find that little punk so I can beat him into giving her an apology. It’s not even what he said that makes me angry; it’s how it made her feel.

“I didn’t even really like him that much, to be honest. I just thought he was...Well, it doesn’t matter. I guess he really was out of my league after all.”

I almost drop my ice bag.

“What?” I can’t stop myself from sounding harsh now. “What the hell are you talking about, Molly?”

She stares down at her feet. “It’s just...I know it sounds dumb, but I feel like we all have people we’re supposed to date, who are on our same level, you know? And when we go above that, things blow up. Just like they did tonight.”

“How can you...How...?” What she’s saying is so fucked up I can’t even finish my sentence.

She still won’t look at me. The toe of her sneaker nudges at a little rock on the sidewalk.

“You think I’m crazy, but it’s true. Like...like in high school, I tutored this really popular guy. You know, the super hot one who’s on every sports team and in every girl’s dreams. It was so cliché—the awkward, nerdy girl with a crush on the jock—but I thought I was the one who understood him. We got pretty close through all the studying. His parents went through a bad divorce too, and he told me things he said he’d never told anyone else. Sometimes we texted until three in the morning. Sometimes he’d leave little notes in my locker at school. I was so sure he felt the same way I did. He could have taken any girl to prom, but two weeks before graduation, he still didn’t have a date. I thought he was holding out for me, so I planned this big, huge prom-posal to ask him out. The whole school saw it happen.”

She takes a shuddering breath in and shifts so her hair falls over her face. I know what’s coming next.

“Of course he said no. He told me he was sorry for me. Turns out he had a girlfriend from another school the whole time, and almost everyone knew except me. He said...he said he thought it was clear where we stood, considering who I was and who he was. Those were his actual words. In front of everyone. I don’t know what I was thinking. You see? That’s what happens when you aim too high. Cosmic payback for thinking you’re hotter shit than you are. It was mortifying...just like tonight.”

Her fists are balled at her sides. I swallow, trying to work out how to make all the feelings inside me into words, and how to make those words into English ones. Usually the whole process happens without me having to think about it, but I feel like a computer on overload right now.

“Prom...prom-posal?” is all I can manage to choke out.

Her laugh is watery. “Yeah. You know, when you make some big gesture to ask someone to prom?”

“I don’t think we have this word in French.”

Another laugh that sounds like she’s drowning.

“Molly.” I wait until she finally shakes her hair back and lifts her eyes to mine. “Molly, I’m going to say something, and I hope it rocks your world. Listen, okay? Those guys…They weren’t out of your league. I think you’re looking at the whole thing wrong. All those bad things happened because you were out of their league.”

She doesn’t look like her world has been rocked.

“That’s nice of you to say, JP.”

I know what I want to do now. I want to take her face in my hands and kiss her hard until she believes me, until she tastes the truth on my tongue. If words aren’t going to get through to her, I want to show her with everything I’ve got—with my eyes and my hands and my lips on her skin, I want to point out everything that makes her amazing.

That’s not what she needs right now, though. She’s trying to be strong, but I can see that she’s hurting. I can see that she’s barely keeping it together out here. If I touch her now, it will just confuse her. It will hurt her even more.

Tonight, Molly doesn’t need kisses. Tonight, she needs a friend.

So I put my hand on her shoulder instead of her cheek, and I wait until she’s ready to go back to the party. I lead her onto the dance floor, and I bust out the most ridiculous moves I’ve got until she’s laughing again. I grab us beers and get all our friends around us, and we make toasts to every stupid thing we can think of. I set what’s left of my costume up on a desk and I let her beat me at Pac-Man.

The only time I leave her side all night is to walk up to the guy manning the sound system and make a request.

When ‘Teenage Dirtbag’ comes on, I nod for Matt to follow my lead. We sneak up behind Molly and lift her onto our shoulders. She squeals and screams, but she’s also laughing like crazy by the time we get her to the middle of the room. The whole party roars along to the song and claps Molly on as she acts out all the parts about Noelle. We take her for a victory lap around the office, everyone reaching up to give her high-fives. When we finally set her back down on her feet, I know that she sees it, if only for a second.

She finally sees herself for what she’s worth.