Flashback 4: Published In Ink

From We Survived The Black Prom by Kirby Franco. Published in the August 2003 issue of The Reader's Digest as a 'Drama in Real Life' article:

It all happened so quickly that no one really knew what was happening. We were all standing and applauding. I was at the usher's table by the main doors. For extra credit I had told Ms. Keane that I would help collect tickets as the guests entered; I was never a very active person so, naturally, it was no surprise that I was failing gym. Other than my two friends who were with me, I really thought I was the only freshman at the prom. As the night went on, however, I learned that there were two other freshmen present: Bubbles Utonium and Boomer Jojo. I recognized Boomer from my Home Economics class and Bubbles… well I had no classes with her, but I guess I recognized her from all the times she'd walk by me in the hallways. I'd heard things about her. Someone told me once that she kissed a frog in the sixth grade and got Hepatitis C (which I knew was a load of bull) and Julie Johnson in Algebra class mentioned on several occasions that weird stuff was always happening around that girl for no reason. So, all in all, I knew Boomer very well, but not his date.

All at once there was a huge red splash in the air. Some of it hit the mural that was behind the them on the stage, and it ran in long drips. I knew right away, even before it hit the two of them, that it was blood. Dylan thought it was paint, but I had a premonition-or a feeling. You can call it whatever. But I just knew it was blood.

The music had come to a screeching halt. I heard gasps and shrieks from the people around me, one of them being Principal Eisenhower.

They were drenched. But Bubbles got it the worst. She looked exactly like she had been dipped in a bucket of red paint. She just stood there. She never moved. People in the front of the crowd who were near the stage got splattered, too, from what I can recall. The prom queen was on the stage in some sort of trance, in all her red glory, like something right out of a Stephen King novel. No taller than five foot three, a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet, she was finished; they would never let her live this down. She would be ruined for the rest of high school. I don't think she'd even knew what hit her until we saw her look down at her own hands in pure horror; she was trying to collect herself and comprehend what just happened.

When my mother was a little girl she had a Walt Disney storybook called Song of the South, and it had that Uncle Remus story about the tar baby in it. There was a picture of the tar baby sitting in the middle of the road, looking like one of those old-timey blackface things (really racist) with great big white eyes. When Bubbles opened her eyes-and they went really wide-it was like that. They were the only part of her that wasn't completely red. And the light had gotten in them and made them look glassy. God help me, she looked like the guy in Ripley's Believe It Or Not! that could make his eyes pop out of their sockets on command.

I said, without thinking: 'My God, that's blood!'

When I said that, Ruby screamed. It was very loud, and it rang out clearly in the gymnasium, bouncing off the walls in an echo.

I couldn't move. I was rooted to the spot. I narrowed my eyes to get a better view and there was a bucket dangling high over them, swinging and continuing to drip. Boomer, who was just as stunned as everyone else, looked up at the bucket. After a second he looked back at Bubbles, then into the crowd. With anger and shock, he shouted to all of us: "WHAT THE HELL?" If anyone knew Boomer Jojo, it was that he was never angry, so for him to have that tone… yeah, I don't think he had any part in it. He was innocent.

All of a sudden it fell, with a lot of loose string falling down as well. The bucket hit Boomer on the head. It made a very loud noise, like a gong. I wouldn't be surprised if it had cracked his skull.

That made someone a few feet away from us crack out a laugh. I don't know who it was, but it wasn't the way a person laughs when you something funny. It was raw and hysterical and awful.

At the same instant, Bubbles turned her head to look down at her fallen prom date. She fell to her knees and cradled him in her arms when she had realized what was wrong. She screamed. I'd never heard anything like it; it still rings through my ears to this day. I heard teachers struggling to get through the hoard of students to reach Boomer and get him help (and to, maybe, help Bubbles, too).

I admit, I confess...yes, that I wanted to laugh at Bubbles. God help me. It was so...weird. As pretty as she was you should've seen her in all that blood. More than anything, I was laughing on the inside.

She put her hands up to her face, cupping her cheeks, no longer cradling Boomer, and half-staggered to her feet to face the crowd once again.

That was what made me want to laugh out loud the most; hell, I had trouble containing myself at that point and I think a small chuckle might've escaped from my lips. From what the police later told me, Bubbles had been the scapegoat, the butt of every prank and joke for so very long, and we all felt that we were part of something special that night. It was as if we were watching a person rejoin the human race, to be sent back into reality and put back in their proper place. I myself I had never mistreated Bubbles or given her crap-like I said, I hardly even knew about her existence in that school! And so there was nothing else to do. It was either: laugh on the inside to save her some grief…. or cry, and who could bring themselves to cry over Bubbles Utonium after all those years of tricks?

She just stood there again, staring out at them, at us, and the laughter kept growing in me. Dylan was horrified and Ruby looked like she wanted to throw up. Then you have me: the girl who's trying not laugh at someone else's misfortune.

A cold chill ran over my body (you know, like one of those Oh my God, something bad is about to happen feelings). I gathered myself and looked at Dylan. I asked him if he felt what I did. He didn't say a word. He just pointed at Bubbles, who looked like she was hyperventilating. She stopped almost as soon as she started. She just went back to staring, eyes scanning the room as if she were a lost child looking for her parents in a crowded mall. I tugged on Dylan's sleeve and said we needed to go. It was another feeling I had. I started pushing my way through people to get to the door. Ruby said something and when I turned my head back for a second to respond, the gym doors all slammed shut at the exact same time and it startled us all. The sound was like hands clapping. Somebody in the back screamed, and that started the stampede. They ran for the doors in a rush. I just stood there, not believing it. From what I could make out, they wouldn't budge even an inch as people were putting all their weight on it. I thought, The doors are never supposed to be locked like that. It's a safety hazard. It's state law!

I grabbed both of my friends by their arms and pulled them through the stampede like some kind of war hero, dodging people left and right as if they were bullets. What happened after that was sort of a blur to me. There was a ringing in my ears, which started to slow me down, and so Dylan (bless his heart) ended up pulling us out through the fire escape near the stage. I was sweating so hard that my blouse was sticking to my back; Ruby looked like she was out of breath and about to faint; out of the corner of my eye I saw one guy get hit by a flying table like it was a locomotive train; Dylan yelled something incoherently; we made it outside before I could gather any of my other senses. We just kept running and running…

We made it to the parking lot and onto the street. By God we must have looked like maniacs! Eventually we stopped and collapsed on somebody's front lawn. Ruby had a nosebleed and Dylan was red as a tomato. My ears were still ringing and I kept gasping for air. 'What was that?' I asked in utter disbelief when I had finally calmed down.

'I don't know,' Dylan said, sitting on the dewy grass and gripping his hair as he panted. 'But I sure as hell don't wanna go back and find out.'

When we arrived at the police station an hour and a half later in sweaty, torn grass-stained clothes, they wouldn't believe any of us when we told them who was responsible. I mean, would you?

Hello my lovely readers. It's been a while. I own nothing. Review. My goal is 175 before I post the next chapter. You should be expecting a lot more of me this year. By the way, who saw the 2013 remake of "Carrie"? I thought it had its good moments and that was a sick prom scene they did. Once again, I own nothing and, as always, I was inspired by the talented mind of Stephen King.