Who: Adam Kim and Myer Grayson What: Winter Ball Where: North Harbor High When: November 28, 1998 Rating: PG-13 Status: Incomplete
Delilah Westbrook is a whore.
This isn't Adam's opinion, but the sharpie scrawl decorates the boys' bathroom all the same. It upsets him enough than he returns to the dance with a set frown and an acrid taste in his mouth, like the kind that lingers after drinking a Coke. He finds his date chatting it up with her friends, a low buzzing sound whenever their mouths open and a warm, sweaty palm grasping his as he is reeled in. The music is loud and the gowns look shiny like candy wrappers, but Delilah Westbrook is a whore and that kind of ruins Adam's night.
He's not in the mood to dance, which earns him a glare from his date and insistent pleading from the other girls, so he says later, maybe, and goes in search of the punch bowl that's probably been spiked twice over by now. The Backstreet Boys are going strong on the dance floor, much to the horror of boys for whom dancing is already a chore. Adam allows himself a moment to take it all in--energized teenagers grinding and jumping about like basketballs, Coach and Ms Cross, both meant to be chaperoning the dance, both reading magazines or staring blankly into the void--and then it's Adam's turn at the punch bowl and he stops looking altogether.
The murky amber liquid doesn't inspire much confidence, but he has attended every bake sale with as faithful a frequency as any sugar-addict and he's sure he's had worse. Better, he figures, the devil that you know than whatever is in the flask he saw his date sip from moments after they arrived. No doubt that's played a part in the sudden attack of grouchiness, even as he doubts he's such a terrible date that alcohol is required to make a girl like him.
Besides, Maryann is the one who asked him to the dance, not the other way around. She should learn to bear the full weight of her choices. Or whatever it is grownups say when they want to be right. Adam doesn't want to admit it, but he's beating the wrong dead horse. The real problem is this: Delilah Westbrook may be a whore, but tonight's the night when Josh was supposed to rub it in everyone's faces that, look, the quarterback is finally dating the prima chereleaderina. Delilah, whore or not, prettiest girl in school or not, is nowhere to be seen.
Dejected, Adam props himself against the drinks table and tries to make himself pay attention to whatever Katie is telling him. He remembers her dating Myer once upon a time. Maybe even last semester. He can't quite remember why they broke up but imagines it had to do with the speed of her tongue.