Cindy and the Prom King by Carol Culver Page A

we’re juniors, high school’s half over and how many more of these deals are left for us? My brother said I have to get out more. Meet people. You know any girls who’ll be there?”
    Toby shot a glance at Richard. So that’s what this was about. Richard’s family had made him come tonight. They’d always leaned on him to be more social. They’d pushed him to be friends with Toby since they were in grade school. Or maybe Rich had a crush on some girl and was hoping to hook up with her tonight. Or maybe it was both. Toby felt a pain in his chest that was probably just heartburn from the can of chili he’d eaten at home by himself. Or maybe it was a rush of nostalgia. It couldn’t be envy, could it?
    He used to have parents who cared what he did. He used to like girls. A long time ago when he was young—sixteen. No more. Maybe he’d be back in the game next year, but not now. Then why was he here? What was the choice? Where was he supposed to be on a Saturday night? At home alone?
    “Will they know if we’ve been drinking? Is it true they’re gonna be checking at the door?” Richard asked, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles. “Don’t forget about the new headmaster. He sounds strict.”
    “Strict? He sounds like a dictator, not a headmaster,” Toby said, knowing full well it was parents like Richard’s who’d helped get the last laissez-faire headmaster fired. “But Jesus, Richard, you don’t have to drink if you don’t want to. If you’re that worried …”
    “I know. I want to, I just…”
    Just then Steve Heller and Jared pulled up in Steve’s rebuilt Mustang, looking as cool as if they’d just stepped out of
That
’
70s Show.
Maybe Toby’s dad would cough up a muscle car like that for his birthday now that money wasn’t so tight. It would be easy to pick up girls in a car like that. Not that Toby wanted to pick up girls until he recovered from that last disaster, but if he did someday …
    Steve, the school’s basketball star, got out of the Mustang and waved a six-pack of Miller Lite in the air.
    “You got Miller Lite?” Richard got out of the car, clearly disgusted with the choice of beverage.
    That’s right, diss Steve’s taste in beer,
Toby thought. Good way to make friends, which Rich could stand to do. Toby joined the newcomers outside between the two cars. Maybe Steve was trying to make a statement with the Miller Lite. Maybe he was sick of those fancy dark imports. Who cared as long as it was alcohol?
    Jared stood up and threw up his hands in mock disgust. “He wanted to get forties of Olde English. I had to twist his arm to get this.”
    Steve, who brimmed with confidence on and off the court, laughed. “Sometimes I just like to go slumming. We started with the good stuff an hour ago.”
    “Where should we go to drink it?” Richard asked, twisting his head around at a pair of headlights just entering the parking lot.
    “Behind Archer Hall,” Steve and Jared said in unison. The Hall was named for the Archer family, who’d erected the building in gratitude after several of their IQ-challenged progeny finally squeaked through and graduated from Manderley.
    Archer Hall was the best place to hide out, day or night, with the smallest chance of sabotage by teachers or security guards. At least it was last year. Toby had a funny feeling tonight. Like things weren’t the same. It wasn’t just the new headmaster. It was something else. A weird knot in his stomach he couldn’t shake. His head was pounding and he felt queasy. Maybe he shouldn’t drink any more tonight. But then how could he possibly have a good time?
    Archer Hall had become famous after it was voted the best place to have sex on campus in a poll taken for the underground student newspaper last year. Second place went to the girls’ locker room at the swimming pool. On those hard narrow benches? Toby tried to picture it, but couldn’t. There had to be a better place.
    The guys settled on the dark