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“What’s up with you two high school graduates?” Steve asks, smiling his usual toothy grin and stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Just chillin,” Janice says. “Want some Red Bull?” She holds up her can.

“Already had four,” he chuckles. “What up, Electra?”

“Hey, Steve.”

“I hate to bother you guys, but I was wondering…” Steve turns to Janice, “if maybe you wanted to ride the ferris wheel with me, Janice?”

She looks at me, “Oh, Electra and I were just going to the—”

I cut in with a grin, “It’s okay. You go.” I know Janice has been dying for Steve to make a move all year. “I’ll be fine. I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

“You sure?” Janice asks earnestly.

“Yeah. You know me. Tough as nails.”

Steve looks at me for approval.

“Go, you two!” I giggle and feel a tad bit jealous as I wave them off. I’m not going to stop Janice from having fun tonight. She deserves it. I’m used to doing things on my own anyway.

Steve grabs Janice’s hand and tugs her toward the ferris wheel. She looks back over her shoulder and smiles at me, her eyes wide. She silently mouths, “
O. M. Geeeeee!!
”

I laugh and continue toward the toilets. At the moment, no one is waiting in line, so I step into the first one and lock the door. Light seeps through the vents overhead.

It’s pretty dim in here.

And it stinks.

Hovering over the plastic bowl, I pee quickly. Portable toilets are the grossest things ever invented. Why don’t they put lights in these things? And why is the toilet paper always so thin it falls apart in your fingers? Finished, I stand and push my dress down and slide the lock, dying for fresh air. Unfortunately, the door is stuck. I jiggle the lock and push again. No luck.

Quiet laughter outside.

“Let me out!” I shout, pounding on the inside of the plastic door.

More brazen laughter.

“We’ll let you out if you promise to blow us!”

“Everybody knows AC/DC is a dyke. She won’t blow any of us.”

Snickering.

“Fuck you guys!” I scream as loud as I can, my voice echoing against the plastic walls. “Let me out, assholes!!!” I lean against the door with my full body weight, but it won’t move. I bang my hip into it, but it feels welded shut.

“No one can hear you, Skanklin! The carnival is too loud!”

They’re right. Between the sounds of animated conversation, the clanking of all the rides, and that stupid annoying crazy carnival calliope music that is whooping and wheezing loud enough to wake the dead, my voice is lost in the mix.

Damn, I swear the smell in here is getting worse.

The entire toilet suddenly lurches left, then right, accompanied by the gritty honk of plastic sliding across cement.

The contents in the toilet tank slosh wetly. A few droplets jump out of the toilet seat. I wince and slam the lid down. I don’t want it splashing on me. “What are you guys doing!”

Laughter. Everything lurches again.

“Stop it! You’re going to tip it over!”

One of them hollers, “Enjoy the ride, Vulvage!”

I recognize the voice. “I know that’s you, Benjamin Bates! If you guys tip me over, I’m reporting you all to the police for assault! I hope you like jail! Do you think you’ll get to play football at USC if they hear about this, Benjamin?!”

More callous laughter.

“Stop!” I scream. “I’m going to kill you guys when I get out of here!”

Crazy cackling as the entire structure starts to tip forward.

I kick at the door with my bowtie flats, but it still won’t open. So I brace my hands against the doorframe. “Stop, you guys! Please!” My weight shifts onto my hands as the toilet continues to tip. I brace my feet, ready for impact.

“Sink the bitch,” a girl’s voice seethes. It sounds like Chelsea Hawkins. “Make her swim in it.”

Does everybody in this school hate me?

Tipping…

Tipping…

Tipping…

This is not how grad night was supposed to end.

With mounting horror, I imagine the jolt of smashing into the ground, followed by the sudden soaking I will get when the foul contents of the tank spill all over my white dress.

My outfit will be ruined.

My night will be ruined.

I’ll probably get hantavirus
and
the swine flu.

And the very last moment of my high school career will be burned into my brain as the single worst moment in my entire life.

Forever.

“Fuck you all, assholes!!” I scream.

A new voice shouts outside. “What the fuck are you guys doing?!”

The toilet stalls in mid air.

I lean forward at a 45 degree angle, doing a push up against the front wall. Now would be a good time for gravity to show mercy.

“Put that thing back, motherfuckers!” The voice sounds vaguely familiar. It almost sounds like Connor Hughes. But that can’t be right. If there’s anyone I can imagine as a ring leader for such a stupid prank, it would be him.

Scuffling outside and more laughing and people running.

The Connor voice shouts, “Come back here, you pricks!”

For intolerable seconds, I hang in the balance.

“God damn it!” Grunting from who I think is Connor. “Fuck! Move it, you bitch!”

Is he talking to me? I have no idea what to do. I’m leaning half way over. I can’t move or do anything to help.

A long grunting roar from him and the toilet slowly starts to stand up. I feel my weight shift and suddenly
BAM!!
The toilet slams back to standing. The tank contents splorsh ominously, but they don’t explode out of the toilet seat like I fear.

Wow, that was
way
too close for comfort.

I push the door open and stare into the azure eyes of my savior.

Connor Hughes.

His brow is dotted with sweat from exertion. “Fuckers ran off and left you hangin. Thing almost fell on me. Good thing you weigh like ten pounds, otherwise it would’ve crushed me.” He winks and offers me his hand. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Without thinking I take it and he helps me step out of the toilet. Not that I need any assistance. But his gentlemanly behavior is somehow irresistible at the moment. “Thanks.”

I can’t believe I’m thanking
Connor Hughes
for anything.

But I just did.

I guess miracles really
can
happen.

<<<<<<<>>>>>>>

ELECTRA

The ferris wheel spins slowly round and round up and down. I sit next to Connor in one of the seats. We’re shoulder to shoulder. The carnival glitters beneath us in the night.

“Sorry about those assholes, Warmoth.”

“It’s okay,” I sigh, staring at my hands which are still shaky.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. But if you hadn’t shown up sooner, who knows.”

“Good thing I did.”

“Did you see who it was? I heard Ben Bates and Chelsea Hawkins, but I think other people were helping.”

“I’m not sure. They scattered quick. Want some cotton candy?” He bought it before we got on the ferris wheel.

“No thanks.”

“Me neither. I hate this shit.” He tosses it over his head.

“Connor!” I twist in the seat and watch the pink puff sail to the grass. Nobody notices.

He chuckles, “Did I kill anybody?”

I sit back down. “Yeah. Some kittens. It was horrible.”

“You’ve got a great imagination, Warmoth. You know that? You could be a great writer someday.”

“I want to be a journalist. Journalists don’t make things up. They report the truth.”

“Well,” he grins, “you’re good with words. You’ll be great at it.”

“Thanks, Connor.” There I go again. Thanking him. I’m somewhat stunned that Connor has been nothing but nice since saving me. This is a whole new side I never knew he had. To my surprise, I like it. I wish he hadn’t waited until the very last hours of our high school career to show it. He might’ve saved me years worth of misery if he had. But the toilet incident and the rest of my painful past are behind me. I don’t want to think about them. The future lies ahead, and that’s where I’m focused. The future holds promise. “So, what are
your
plans for after high school?”

“Plans?” He chuckles. “What plans?”

“I’m serious, Connor.”

“I don’t know. Get a job, I guess. Or maybe I’ll just be a gigolo.” He winks at me. “You’re supposed to do what you’re good at, right?”

“You’re more than that, Connor. You’re smart. You can do anything you want in life. I mean it.”

“Have you seen my grades? They had to start using the rest of the alphabet because I didn’t even get F’s. I got a Z in math all four years.”

I giggle. “That’s funny.” It’s weird that I’m sitting shoulder to shoulder in a ferris wheel with my sworn enemy. We should be at each other’s throats, not joking like friends. I blame graduating. It does weird things.

“Thanks.”

“Maybe you should be a comedian. You’re always coming up with funny ways to make fun of me.”

“Nobody pays people to be assholes,” he scowls.

“You do it for free,” I grin. I lean into him for a moment. It feels right. I can’t believe it, but it does. “But seriously, Connor. You’re clever. This is L.A. People make money writing jokes and stuff for TV shows. You could too.”

“Nah. The only way I’m funny is busting your balls.”

I wrinkle my nose, “I don’t have balls, Connor.”

“Are you kidding? You have brass ones, Warmoth. You always have.”

“Brass
balls
? I don’t think so.”

“So you have brass labia.”

I grimace, “That sounds weird.”

“So call them lady balls.”

“
Lady
balls? Did you just make that up?”

“Yeah.”

I grimace, “I don’t think that’s any better.”

He chuckles. “Just watch. By 2010, people will be saying lady balls all the time.”

“If you say so,” I snicker. “But if people do, it’s further proof you should go be a stand up comic or whatever.”

He grins but says nothing.

We’re quiet for a while, enjoying the view as the ferris wheel circles up and down. Between my off-the-shoulder dress and the dewy night air, I start to shiver.

“You cold?” he asks.

“A little.”

He puts his arm around me.

“What are you doing, Connor?”

“Keeping you warm?” He’s not sure of himself, but his arm stays.

“Why are you being so nice, Connor? It’s not like you.”

“I don’t know. It’s the last day of high school, I guess. You deserve at least
one
day off from me harassing you, right?”

I wouldn’t be sitting here snuggling against Connor Hughes’ side if he hadn’t ran off the jerky jocks who tried to tip over the portable toilet. But he did, so here I am.

He flashes his innocent blue eyes at me.

I think he wants to kiss me.

This night can’t possibly get any weirder.

<<<<<<<>>>>>>>

ELECTRA

His lips are soft, his tongue polite.

But his kiss is
definitely
doing something to me.

I’ve never been kissed before. I feel hot all over. I
think
I like it, but I keep wondering why I’m kissing Connor Hughes. I shouldn’t be kissing him
or
liking it. But I am. Yes, he’s gorgeous. Everyone knows that, even me. But he’s my arch-nemesis. I should
not
be doing this.

This is way too confusing and it’s making me nervous.

Luckily, the ferris wheel creaks to a stop, ending our kiss. It’s our turn to get off the ride. I smile to myself. This will be the only
getting off
Connor gets from me tonight. Like a gentleman, he holds my hand as we step out of the cart onto the damp grass. We exit together through the railing that circles the ride. I’m startled by the face of Ryan Hansen, who stands just outside the fence. Ryan is a good friend of Connor’s. I see them together all the time.

Ryan looks furious, his eyes pinned on Connor. “We need to talk. Now.”

“Can’t it wait?” Connor says to him.

“No.”

“Fuck, man. Can’t you see me and Electra are kickin it?”

This suddenly feels very strange. Connor has never called me Electra before. It’s always War Mouth or worse. And Ryan’s agitation feels somehow…
wrong
.

Ryan smiles crazily and waves his arms in the air. “Fuck. Fine. I don’t care. We can talk right here if you want, Hughes. Bates told me what you did.”

Is he talking about
Benjamin
Bates? One of the toilet knockers? And what does he mean by what
Connor
did? Connor saved me. Is that bad?

“All right, all right,” Connor says nervously. He turns to me. “I’ll be right back.” He throws his arm around Hansen’s shoulders and hurries him off into the shadows behind the Ring The Bell game where a bunch of football players are trying to impress their girlfriends by taking turns swinging the big wooden mallet.

Something’s up with Connor and Ryan. I can smell it. Fueled by my natural curiosity as a budding journalist and my feminine intuition, I follow them.

Another football player smacks the mallet against the lever and the metal puck shoots up and hits the bell.
DING!
The crowd of seniors surrounding the guy cheers loudly as I pass by and peer around the back of the booth.

Connor and Ryan stand chest to chest in the shadows like they’re going to fight. Should I try and stop them? The investigative reporter in me says that I need to know what they’re talking about before I interfere. I try to catch what they’re saying, but I can’t make out anything over the rowdy football players on the other side of the booth wall. I creep closer, straining to hear. It doesn’t help. I take another step, increasingly afraid I’ll interrupt Connor and Ryan and not get the inside story.

There’s a lull in the action for the Ring The Bell game. Words drift to me. I hold my breath in anticipation.

“Tell her, Connor,” Ryan hisses. He looks super pissed off. He’s grabbing Connor by the lapels of his leather jacket. “If you don’t, so help me I’ll tell her myself.”

Connor shoves Ryan away with both hands. “Fuck you, man! I’m not telling her shit!”

My intuition says this is the part where I step in. “Tell me what?” I smirk.