Prom Night in Purgatory(20)

That morning she docked her iPod in her portable player and warmed up to a random selection, moving with whatever came out of the speakers. When one of Johnny’s old favorites filled the room, she moved to turn it off, hating the rush of emotion the music caused, hating that the song was ruined for her.

But she hesitated a breath too long, and the melody wrapped itself around her, almost begging for a second chance, and she found herself swaying in surrender. Up on her toes and down on her knees, stretching her limbs in silky supplication, she moved over the old wooden floors where many had danced before her. Her eyes were closed, allowing her to concentrate on the movement, and she didn’t see the room around her shift and slide into some place new, but she heard the music swell and change as the song came alive in living color.

Suddenly figures were swirling around her, faces smiling, skirts billowing, couples spinning and twirling to the music she had lost herself in. She stood under a huge fishing net filled with balloons and dripping with silver and gold stars. A band in matching sport coats sang to her left, but the sound she heard was not in sync with the moving lips of the lead singer or the flying sticks of the cheerful drummer, as if the soundtrack of time was disconnected with the picture playing out in front of her. It made her slightly dizzy, and she turned from the band, looking out across the floor that was now filled with ghostly dancers. A banner hung on the back wall proclaiming the theme of the occasion. “Under the Sea – Prom 1958.”

Maggie gasped and began searching the faces around her. He would have been here. The figures dimmed, and Maggie feared the vision would suddenly cease. Desperate, she pulled her glasses from her eyes, clutching them in her hand. Sure enough, the figures sharpened again, their faces as clear and their clothing as vibrant as if they were truly present. Was that Irene? A girl in fluffy peach sat by herself at a table with a huge shell centerpiece. She looked like she wished she wasn’t there. Maggie’s breath caught, seeing her aunt as a young girl. Her hair curled around her shoulders, and jewels sparkled at her ears and wrists. She was lovely. She fiddled with the drink in front of her and stared out at the dance floor longingly. A couple joined her at the table, and Irene’s eyes lit up and her face and hand motions became animated as she spoke to her friends. Then several couples danced between where Maggie stood and Irene sat, blocking her view. Maggie commenced searching for Johnny once more.

There! Against the back wall, standing beneath the banner. Something about the figure was familiar. Maggie leaned this way and that, searching for the boy beyond the milling apparitions. All the boys were dressed in white jackets and black pants, making it difficult to distinguish one from the other. There he was again. It was Johnny! Maggie angled for a better look. A blonde girl with a truly magnificent cleavage was standing close to him, holding onto his lapel and smiling up at him flirtatiously. Maggie’s heart twisted painfully in her chest, and she wished she hadn’t been so eager to identify the familiar face. She gripped her glasses tightly. Johnny may not want her anymore, but she didn’t think she could watch him with another girl, even if it had all been long ago.

A tall, sandy-haired boy with an easy smile and the requisite white jacket appeared beside Johnny and whisked the buxom blonde from Johnny’s arms and out onto the dance floor. The boy laughed back at Johnny as if he’d scored the winning shot. Johnny just smiled and shrugged as he watched the couple twirl away. Suddenly he froze, and he seemed to be looking right at her. Maggie turned, trying to determine what held him transfixed. She couldn’t see beyond the couples surrounding her, and she turned toward him again.

He seemed to be looking at her, but he wasn’t the only one staring. Irene’s eyes were trained on her as well, a slight furrow between her slim eyebrows. Roger Carlton stood behind Irene with his hands braced on her chair, and he straightened, his eyes narrowing in recognition, as if he had just noticed her too. Surely they weren’t looking at her!

Maggie looked down at the clothes she was wearing and then back up again, almost dizzy with the illusion she was witnessing. She was still wearing snug black dance shorts and a bright pink sports bra, with a thin white tank over the top. Her feet were bare and her hair was bound back in a long ponytail, and if she were actually visible, the whole room would be gawking. But the couples dancing around her seemed completely unaware of her presence -- as was always the case in her visions. One couple danced so close she should have been able to feel the swish of the girl’s skirt and the brush of their bodies moving past. She felt no such thing. Yet Johnny was transfixed, staring at her as if he couldn’t look away. He’d started making his way toward her, moving between the tables that lined the dance floor.

Maggie turned again, scanning the room for what could have so captured his attention. A flash of red caught her eye, and she strained on tiptoe to see beyond the dancing crowd. A girl in red stood in the entrance to the gym. Maggie sidestepped another couple attempting the jive and strained to get a better view. Johnny continued to move toward her, and had Maggie not seen the girl in red, she would have sworn he was looking at her. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she rubbed her hands anxiously on her dance shorts.

He was ten feet away. Gus’s fear-filled eyes rose up in her memory, his warning sounding like a clanging bell in her head. “Be careful, Miss Margaret. My grandma wasn’t just an observer of the past; she was a full-fledged participant.” Maggie closed her eyes, shutting out Johnny’s approaching figure, pressing her hands to her face, willing herself away from the dizzying promenade taking place around her.