Prom Night in Purgatory(21)

“Maggie?” Johnny’s voice was filled with question as his hands settled on her shoulders.

Maggie cried out and stumbled back, her legs tangling beneath her. Johnny’s arms slid around her, and her eyes shot to his. He steadied her, his body firm and solid against her chest. Maggie’s eyes dropped to his shoulders encased in black cotton. No white sports coat, no perky pink carnation.

“Maggie?” He said her name again, and his eyebrows were drawn low over his sky blue gaze. “Are you all right?”

Maggie pulled free of his arms, looking around the empty gymnasium, where every trace of glimmering stars and glittering people had dissolved into the quiet present. She stood beneath the basketball hoop where she had seen the ghostly boy diligently practicing his shot. Her iPod made a new selection, a Katy Perry song with an addictive hook -- definitely not 1958.

“Maggie!” Johnny shook her a little, and his voice rose in concern.

“What are you doing here?” she blurted out and pulled away again, but she felt her legs wobble beneath her. She slid ungracefully to the floor and pulled her knees to her chest, breathing deeply and trying to gain her bearings.

He didn’t answer her immediately but squatted down beside her, reaching out to tilt her chin toward him.

“Your pupils are so big your eyes look black,” he scolded, as if she had any control of what her pupils did.

“I’m fine,” Maggie protested, pulling her chin from his grasp. “Just give me a minute to catch my breath.”

“You’re definitely not fine,” Johnny argued. Jillian had oh-so-innocently told him that Maggie danced before school started every day. Johnny knew Jillian thought he owed Maggie an apology, although she had never said as much. Jillian just kept dropping little bits of information, bringing Maggie’s name into the conversation, mentioning her dance team’s victory at their recent competition, telling him what a “lovely girl” she was.

Then last night Johnny had dreamed about Maggie again. They had been dancing on a beach, the moon lighting the sand and shimmering off the water. Music had drifted down around them and he had felt almost weightless, suspended in the sweetness of her smile, the feel of her arms around him, the slide of the silk bodice of her dress against his open palm. Johnny woke with Maggie’s name on his lips and such an aching yearning to see her that he had showered and come to the school, planning to watch her from a distance without revealing his presence. He had told himself once he saw her the feeling would abate.

Johnny had heard music from the hallway and he had hesitated, worried that he would give himself away when he opened the old gym door. Luck had been on his side because the door was propped wide and he slipped inside, the early morning shadows and the poor lighting of the ancient gymnasium providing sufficient cover. Maggie had been facing the opposite direction, moving to a song he had never heard before. He leaned against the metal bleachers and drank her in -- a lithe form in clothing designed to move but not to entice, though he found it did both. She took his breath away. The realization was met with swift resistance. He didn’t want to like her. He didn’t want to need her.

Then the music changed, and Maggie stopped, turning as if she didn’t like the selection. It was a song Johnny had liked from the moment he heard it: the Skyliners singing “Since I Don’t Have You.” It was a brand new song his senior year in high school. He had probably danced to that song in this very gym, surrounded by his friends. Maggie spun, and for a minute Johnny was sure she had spotted him. She threw herself into the song, long limbs and sweet curves calling him to dance with her. He had found himself moving towards her, wanting to join her, wanting to close his eyes and move to the memory encased in the song. And then she had stopped, as if she’d forgotten the steps.

He’d stopped too, suddenly awkward and afraid, not knowing how to explain himself. But she had looked right through him. Johnny froze, watching her as she seemed to be lost in thought, her eyes shifting here and there like she was taking in the details of the empty room. A small smile had played around her lips, and he had thought maybe she was playing with him. He moved toward her again, and this time Maggie’s eyes had locked on his. She had looked down at her clothes and then behind her, as if she couldn’t believe he was looking at her. He had said her name but she didn’t respond. She’d rubbed her eyes, almost as if she couldn’t believe he was there and he had said her name again, reaching for her as she swayed and staggered dizzily.

Now Maggie was looking at him as if she was losing her mind. Maybe she was... although he wouldn’t swear by his own sanity.

“I’m fine,” she said it again, this time with more conviction. “You just startled me.” She got to her feet defiantly and walked to her blinking music player. She pushed a button and silence filled the space where the music had been. Johnny didn’t comment but let her retreat, wishing he’d stayed in the shadows.

“Why are you here?” she asked again, and her voice was small, as if she didn’t really want to know.

“I came with Jillian.” Okay that was a lie, but he wasn’t about to tell her he had dreamed about her and couldn’t stay away. “I just wanted to see the old place.” Another lie; he didn’t care if he ever saw the old place - which had gotten significantly older since he’d last walked the halls. “She told me you might be here.” At last the truth, but where did he go from here?