The room was elegantly decorated, with its crystal chandeliers and deep purple draperies. The lights were dim enough to create a relaxing atmosphere without affecting anyone's eyesight. Several long, white-clothed tables lined the wall in the back, on top of which sat a large variety of hors d'oeuvres and beverages.
Its occupants were equally elegant, dolled up in the blackest of tuxedos and the bluest of long, flowing dresses. Most of the attendees were adults, but there were plenty of young couples who had been dragged along by their parents. If anyone had been asked the occasion for which the ball was being held, there would not have been any certain reply. The invitations merely said Friday night, 8 P.M. at the Helsby residence.
So there they all were, 8 P.M. at the Helsby residence, fancily dressed and socializing with people they hardly knew. Mrs. Helsby and her eldest daughter Marina were greeting the arriving guests at the door. Mr. Helsby was somewhere on the floor, chatting up the guests and showing off the expensive chandeliers he had imported all the way from France. By his side was Mason, the eldest Helsby boy, Marina's twin brother, and a dear friend of Chris's. Well, Chris couldn't actually stand him, but as their families went back as far as anyone could remember, and the boys were the same age, they were practically forced to be friends.
Despite the girl hanging on Chris's arm, Marina lavishly greeted him with a wide smile and a wink. He nervously chuckled at her and bowed his head, which she seemed to think was the most wonderful thing ever. Chris brought his date, whose name was Emilia, over to one of the tables in the back, hoping that he could have as little interaction as possible with the other people in the room.
“This place sure is big,” Emilia said in her thick accent. She was originally from Italy, but her family had moved to England a few years earlier, and had established themselves as quite elite.
“Yeah,” Chris simply replied. He hated having to go out on all of these dates that his parents arranged. The girls they picked were never bad- Emilia was actually rather beautiful- but he felt that events like these were just a waste of time. He knew he wasn't going to like any of the girls his parents chose, no matter how nice they looked.
“I really like the chandeliers,” Emilia mused, and it seemed that Mr. Helsby had sonic hearing. Within a second he swooped in, and began to tell Emilia all about the crystal structures. Chris took this time to desperately wish that he were somewhere else. Anywhere else would do. He'd even rather be in school. At least there he'd be able to see Jonathan every now and then.
“Hi, Chris!” a squeaky little voice chirped. Chris looked down to see the youngest Helsby child, five-year-old Abigail, tugging gently at his sleeve. Chris smiled at her and bent down.
“Hey, Abby,” he said. “What's new?” Abigail smiled wide to show Chris a gap between her front teeth. Chris amused her, opening his mouth in mock shock. “Wow, you lost a tooth?”
“Uh huh,” Abigail beamed. Then she took her index finger and began to wiggle one of the teeth next to the gap. “An' look, thith one ith looth, too.”
“Oh, man, soon you're not gonna have any at all. Then you'll have to eat out of a straw or something.”
“No, they'll grow back!” Abigail explained, and Chris let out an exaggerated, “Oh.”
“Well, then I guess you're fine to eat solids,” Chris said. Abigail giggled, and Chris laughed back and ruffled her hair before she ran off and he stood up. Mr. Helsby was still droning on about the chandeliers, and Emilia, while acting totally engaged in the conversation, was actually wishing she'd kept her mouth shut.
“And one of them almost broke, because those clumsy construction men are just that. Terrifically clumsy,” Mr. Helsby said. “Luckily, it didn't and- Oh!” Mr. Helsby spotted someone who was apparently of more value than Emilia. “I'm sorry, my dear, but I must be off to greet Mrs. Aldenglass. She's a widow now, you know. Sad stuff. I promise I'll return later, and we can continue our talk.”
Emilia smiled in agreement and Mr. Helsby bustled off to a rather stout, stubby woman walking through the door. When she was sure he was out of earshot, she leaned over to Chris and whispered, “Can we make sure to leave before that point?”
“Definitely,” Chris replied. He sighed as a silence struck between them and stared at the ground, as he didn't have much else to do. Emilia took a long look at him, twisting her face in all sorts of pensive shapes.
“Chris, should we dance or something?” Emilia asked. Chris looked up at her. She really was a pretty girl.
“Um, I suppose we could,” he replied, and held out his arm to her. She gracefully grabbed his arm with both of hers, and they began to walk onto the dance floor. The music was unsurprisingly slow, and Chris dreaded the thought of having to slow dance with Emilia. He was never really much of a dancer.
Emilia gently placed her hands on Chris's shoulders, and in turn Chris placed his hands on her hips. It wasn't actually so bad, but Chris just didn't want to be there. He wanted to be at home.
“Your hair looks very nice, Emilia,” Chris said. Emilia kindly smiled and self-consciously touched a hand to her dark brown curls.
“Thank you,” she replied, and returned her hand back to Chris's shoulder. “It's actually a mess most of the time, but my mother helped me with it for tonight.”
“Well, she did a good job.” Emilia blushed a little, and Chris noticed the way her eyes sparkled in the dim light of the room.
“So, Chris, are your parents here tonight?”
“Uh, they should be around here somewhere,” Chris said, scanning the crowd of people. “I'm not sure where, though. Are yours?”
“Unfortunately, they could not make it. My father has, like, the flu or something.”
“Oh, that's awful,” Chris said, slightly wincing. “I had the flu once, I think I was in bed for a week.”
“I've never had the flu before, I have been very lucky. It does look awful, though.” Emilia's eyes sparkled at Chris, and her thin lips curved into a little smile. “Your eyes are so blue.”
“People tell me that all the time,” Chris nodded. “They're always saying how blue they are, and how they wished they had eyes as nice as mine.”
“If I had blue eyes, I would want them to be like yours, for certain,” Emilia simpered. With no imminent reply from Chris, Emilia looked down and scrunched her nose. When she looked back up at Chris, her eyes were filled with despair. “I don't think this dancing thing is working out very well, I'm not a good dancer.”
“You're a thousand times better than I am, at least,” Chris laughed, “but if you want, we can stop.”
“I like talking to you, though,” Emilia continued. “Perhaps the dance floor just isn't the place.” Emilia took her hands off of Chris, and she waited for him to lead the way to the side of the room. For some reason, Chris was both relieved and disappointed as he walked away from the other dancers. “So, tell me, Chris, do you have a lot of girls throwing themselves at you?” Emilia asked as they stopped by the wall.
“I... maybe? Well, my parents seem to set me up with a lot of girls,” Chris replied, and he started getting nervous. Why was he getting nervous? There was this weird sinking feeling in his stomach, too. “They do seem to like me a lot.”
“I can understand that,” Emilia said, and she placed her hand on Chris's arm. “You're a very nice boy. And you're pretty cute, too.”
“Yeah,” Chris affirmed. His mouth was getting dry, and he desperately needed a drink. Something kept him glued to his spot, though. Emilia was looking at him with the biggest brown eyes he'd ever seen, and it seemed like there was some affection shining through them. She hesitated for only a moment, then slowly she leaned closer and closer. Chris knew what was coming, of course, and he allowed it to happen not because he wanted to kiss her, he needed to kiss her.
But when their lips finally met, there was no more connection between them. It was all right, both parties agreed, but there wasn't any spark like they'd hoped. Chris wasn't all too surprised, but he could tell that Emilia was a little disappointed. She tried to act like she'd felt something, though, so she continued to flirt with Chris until they were interrupted by a tall, fair-haired boy.
“Chris, could I speak with you for a moment?” Mason asked, a glass of champagne resting expertly in between his fingers. Chris held in his disgust and agreed, following Mason about ten steps away from where he was previously standing.
“Listen, that girl you're with,” Mason began, “uh... what's her name?”
“Emilia.”
“Emilia, lovely,” Mason mused, and he stole a glance at Emilia. “Listen, I've been watching you two, and you seem to be having a great time,” he added with a hint of sarcasm, “but I was thinking that maybe you'd be better off with someone else? Someone like, say, Marina?”
“Did she ask you to come over here?” Chris dozily asked. Mason looked at Chris and scoffed.
“No, of course not. Actually, if you must know, I came over here to steal your date. No offense, she doesn't look like she's having that great a time.”
“And she'd like you better?” Chris asked, and Mason smugly smiled. “Of course. So, you want me to go entertain your sister while you go do... whatever with Emilia?”
“Oh, Chris, entertain sounds so harsh.” Mason sophisticatedly took a tiny sip of his champagne. “No, I think you'd really like her, if you got to know her. She's always had a thing for you, you know.”
“Yes, Mason, I know,” Chris replied. “That doesn't mean I have a thing for her.”
“But you could! And if you never try,” Mason lifted a finger to Chris and shoved it in his face, “you never know.”
“Fine,” Chris sighed. “But only because... I think you're right about Emilia. She doesn't really seem that interested.”
Mason smiled and took another sip of his drink. “Excellent. Marina's over there,” he nodded in some vague direction. “She should be glad to be in your company.” Before either of them could say another word, Mason bolted off to where Emilia was waiting. Chris watched for a few minutes, laughing at how ridiculous Mason looked while he was trying to charm Emilia, then went off himself to find Marina.
“No, Mrs. Aldenglass, that wasn't me,” Marina said. Mrs. Aldenglass was standing beside her, though she was so short that at first Chris didn't see her.
“You're absolutely certain?” Mrs. Aldenglass asked. “I could have sworn-”
“I'm pretty sure, Mrs. Aldenglass.” Mrs. Aldenglass paused for a moment, thinking hard. Now that he was closer, Chris realized that Mrs. Aldenglass must have been at least seventy years old.
“Oh, maybe I dreamed it,” Mrs. Aldenglass reflected. Chris couldn't help laughing at the poor old woman, which caused Marina to look up.
“Oh! Hi, Chris,” she smiled. “What are you doing over here?”
“Your brother stole my date,” Chris replied, casually shoving his hands in his pockets. “So I came to talk to you instead.”
“Oh,” Marina swooned. “Well, that was very kind of you. And not so kind of him.”
“Well, Mason will be Mason,” Chris shrugged. Marina laughed, and then she turned to Mrs. Aldenglass.
“Listen, Mrs. Aldenglass, it was nice to see you again, but I've got to go speak with some of the other guests.” Marina glanced back at Chris and gave him a knowing look.
“Oh, all right, sweetie,” Mrs. Aldenglass said, reaching her hand to Marina's arm, because that was about as far as she could reach. “It was nice to see you.”
“It was nice to see you, too, Mrs. Aldenglass,” Marina graciously replied, before turning to Chris and whispering, “Let's get out of here.” Chris laughed and nodded, and before he knew it they were outside on the balcony. It was cool outside, but not too cool. Of course, Chris was wearing a suit, so he had plenty of layers on. It was dark out, obviously, and that night there was a full moon.
Marina and Chris were silent for a while, both lost in their thoughts. Marina was trying to contain her urge to jump on Chris, and Chris was trying to contain his urge to jump off the balcony. Eventually, after what seemed like the longest passing of time, Chris spoke.
“I wonder what would happen if my parents found out that I traded Emilia for you,” Chris pondered. Marina smiled a little at the thought of Chris willingly coming to see her.
“They might not be so pleased,” Marina said, “but at least you were with one of the hosts of the party.”
“That's true,” Chris agreed, looking over at Marina. Like her brother, she was also fair-haired, and with a rather pale complexion. In the darkness, even with the shine of the moon, she looked even more colorless. It gave her a strange sort of glow, though.
“Chris, you know that I like you, don't you?” Marina asked, not daring to catch Chris's gaze.
“Yeah,” he simply replied. Marina looked around for an easier way to say what she wanted, but came up shorthanded in the end.
“Do you like me?” Marina turned to Chris, a worried expression covering her pale face.
“Listen, Marina, you're a nice girl, but...” Chris tried to break it to her as gently as he could, but the look on her face showed that she already knew what the answer was, so he just said, “No.”
“I figured as much,” she said. “Do you think you could ever like me?”
“Maybe.” Chris couldn't figure out why he was lying to himself and to Marina. There was just something inside of him that needed to think he could one day like her. She really was a nice girl, and she was pretty easy on the eyes. Suddenly, the thing inside of him decided to take control, mostly over his vocal chords. “Kiss me.”
“What?” Marina was looking at him with big eyes and confusion. Chris didn't really know what he was doing, but his body pushed him closer to Marina.
“Kiss me,” he repeated. Then, quite suddenly, Marina's face was less than an inch away from his, and just before their lips touched, Jonathan flashed before Chris's eyes, but he couldn't stop. He couldn't stop Marina, and he couldn't stop himself. But his mind kept going back to Jonathan, kept comparing, and Marina was falling sadly short.
As he pulled away, he felt a bitter stab pierce through him. He always knew what the answer was, but he didn't want to face it. Marina was such a lovely girl. Chris silently groaned as he prepared himself to reject her, but he was surprised to find that Marina already had that in mind.
“Uh, I have to go,” Marina said, looking rather uncomfortable and, oddly enough, a bit sick. She quickly walked back into the room with all of the partygoers, leaving Chris to stare blankly in the dark. He was confused, to say the least; Marina had liked him for as long as he could remember, why would she act like this? Then again, he had never liked her, but that hadn't stopped him from acting differently.
He tried to shake it off and went back inside, but a run-in with his father did nothing to help his racing mind.
“Chris, where's Emilia?” his father asked. Chris looked up at him, a bit distorted, and tried to come up with a clever answer.
“She, uh... she... uh...” Chris's brain completely failed him; his mind was too clouded by the preceding events and their all too burdening result. The room was starting to get much darker, even though the lights hadn't been dimmed any further, and Chris's breath grew thick and messy. “Can we go home?”
“Yeah, Chris, are you feeling OK?” His father looked him in the eye and placed a hand on his shoulder, so Chris could only guess that he was swaying a bit. “It's not anything with your...” he made a gesture circling his abdomen while he searched for the word, “uh, spleen, is it?”
“No, no,” Chris replied. “I think I'm just a little... tired, or something. Maybe I didn't get enough sleep.”
“All right, well, you don't look too good. I suppose it's not really a good idea for us to keep you out if you're not feeling well. I'll go find your mother, just wait here.” Chris nodded, and his father quickly went off to find his mother. He did so within a matter of minutes, and Chris's mother worriedly put her arm around her son as they walked out of the Helsby mansion.
Once Chris was sitting in the car, he felt a little better. At least he could rest his head against the window, so that if he did pass out, it wouldn't be that big of a deal. He didn't pass out, though; it was as if his brain was intent on keeping him conscious, keeping him agonizing over this night. He knew what he did, and he knew he shouldn't have done it. He shouldn't have done it, because in the end, he always knew the answer.
