Ask the Passengers

I look around at the other passengers. Biker lady is here. She is a leather-clad flight attendant. She brings me a bottle of water and says, “I know that’s the kind you like.” She takes Dee to the dance floor and dances with her during an old disco classic. Dee is probably more beautiful than I’ve ever seen her. It’s not just her clothes or how she’s put her hair back. It’s the cabin pressure in here. It’s making us worry-free. Timeless. Funny. Grown up.

The pilot puts on some more disco and says, “We’re playing your favorites until midnight! Drop by the cockpit and give me a request!”

It’s all so good, I don’t have time to feel guilty.

Dee and I drink lemonades and find a place in the back corner of the dance floor. Atlantis is particularly crowded tonight. There’s a line for the ladies’ room that stretches to the bar doorway.

When the techno comes on at midnight, more people crowd onto the dance floor, and Dee and I start to kiss again in the corner while our h*ps are pressing into each other and our hands are touching places that should not be touched in a public place.

We are right by an amplifier, so she has to yell. “You want to go back to the car? Maybe you could find that word you’re looking for.”

I really want to say yes, but I’m afraid of leaving now and what Kristina would say. “I do, but I… I don’t want to do it in the car,” I say. I don’t like quite how that came out, but she nods.

“Maybe you can remember the word tomorrow? I’ve got a free house.”

We pull away from each other and lock eyes. She nods. I nod.

We dance until we’re twice as damp as we were when we arrived.

I see Kristina and Donna over by the bar. Kristina waves at me and smiles. I wave back. After a brief rest, Dee grabs me for a slow dance, and we dance so close I think I’m losing circulation in my torso. Nothing ever felt more perfect. I think about telling Mom and Dad again. I think that it would be easy to tell them if they understood that I’m happy. All parents want their kids to be happy, right?

Right when I think this is when everything changes.

First, a loud voice. Then the music goes off. Then the lights come on.

26

OHSHITOHSHITOHSHIT.

THOSE OF US IN the middle—halfway between the street entrance and the back parking-garage entrance—start a surge toward the back door. But then we’re pushed back toward the bar by those who were in the back room, because there are cops coming in that way, too.

“Oh, shit,” Dee says.

I don’t know what to say.

“Can they arrest us?” I ask.

Justin and Chad whisper a few things to each other.

“They’re checking IDs,” Dee says.

“I don’t have an ID,” Kristina says. “Except my school ID.”

Donna says, “Babe, I don’t think that’s what you want to say when they get to us.”

I reach to my back pocket. I have my driver’s license and a ten-dollar bill.

Dee puts her head in her hands. I can see the color drain from her face. This might kill her hockey scholarship chances. Or maybe all of our everything chances.

The cop goes to Chad first. Chad reaches into his wallet and pulls out his license.

“Looks like a long drive for your folks tonight, all the way from Allentown!”

“Am I going to jail?” Chad asks.

The cop smiles and shakes his head. “Just a trip to the district justice with your parents. Go give them a call.” He points to the phone on the bar.

Chad nods. What a mixed-bag answer. No jail, yes district justice. What the hell does that even mean?

As the cop moves on to Donna, who has, unbeknownst to all of us, a fake ID, it begins to dawn on me that I am completely up Claire Creek without a paddle.

And then Kristina starts laughing. Like a crazy person. Just laughing and laughing. Donna tries to shake her out of it, but she can’t. The cops look disturbed. One of them asks if Kristina is on drugs. Instead of this making her stop laughing, it makes her laugh more. She even snorts a few times. Tears are pouring out of her eyes.

“Did she have a lot to drink?” the cop asks.

None of us answer because we can’t figure out what’s happening to Kristina.

It’s Justin who snaps her out of it. He makes her sit down on the bar step. “Kris, stop it. You’re freaking out. Breathe with me.”

They breathe together. She has to giggle in between. Then she gathers herself and stands back up, no longer laughing.

“Are you okay?” a cop asks.

She laughs again—through her nose—and says, “Yes, sir.” Another giggle. “I’m fine.”

She’s smiling so big you’d never know she was getting busted along with the rest of us.

27

OHSHITOHSHITOHSHIT PART TWO.

“HELLO?” Oh, thank God it’s Dad.

“Dad? I’m really sorry about this,” I say. I give him a minute to wake up. It’s now two thirty AM.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes. Everyone is fine, and nothing bad has happened. Buuuut. Uh. I’m gonna need you to come pick me up.”

There’s silence.

“Dad?”

“Did that jerk just leave you there?”

“No. No. Nothing like that. Except, well,” I stammer. “He is a jerk.” I realize that Dad is so asleep/stoned/out of the loop that he thinks I’m out with Jeff tonight.

“Okay, which theater are you at? I’ll come get you.”

I hear him get out of bed and breathe heavily as he puts on his pants. He says, “You know, I’m really proud of you for calling. I’m glad you took us seriously when we told you that you could call if you ever needed help or if anyone was drunk or any of that.” He pauses. I can hear him zip his pants. “He didn’t drive drunk, did he?”

“No, Dad.”

“Good. You’re so smart. Thank God for that,” he says. “So are you at the mall or over at the Multiplex?”

I sigh and look at Dee. Kristina is still standing next to me.

“I’m actually in the city,” I say. “On Chestnut Street.”

I hear him put on his coat. “Chestnut Street? Is that where they put that new IMAX? I thought that was farther downtown. Huh.”

“No. Uh, Dad, I’m at a bar. The cops just busted it, and I’m not allowed to leave unless you pick me up.”

Silence.

“Dad?”

“A bar?”

“Yeah.”