Free (You) Set Me on Fire by Mariko Tamaki Page A

An underwhelming St. Joseph’s legend sitting next to me.
    Big hairy deal.
    “Right.”
    “And you? Your name is?”
    “OH. Right. I’m Allison,” I blurted, scanning the room for the non-existent Shar.
    “Pretty interesting spectrum, wouldn’t you say?” Jonathon remarked, following my gaze around the room. “A little bit of nostalgia, a little bit of pop culture minutiae. Possibly a few too many boys dressed as serial killer–type creatures for anyone’s comfort. I believe there’s a Paris Hilton by the bar. And there’s about three fellows dressed as Harry Potter, no surprise.”
    “Sure, whatever.”
    “Feels eerily close to every high school dance you ever went to, though, does it not?” Jonathon tilted his pumpkin head up to peer into its empty triangle eyes. “Although of course every nerd here is praying it’s not … high school.”
    “Sure,” I said again. Who was this dude talking to, anyway? Me, a.k.a. the OTHER nerd in the room?
    A lumberjack ambled over and leaned in my general direction. “HEY! Are you a GIRL?”
    “Yes,” I grumbled.
    “Can I get you a beer?”
    “No.”
    I had a sudden urge to either close my eyes or cry.
    Leaning over, Jonathon sighed. “It’s not that bad is it?”
    “What?”
    “Oh. Nothing. Ah. Are you entirely opposed to the notion of a pint with a stranger? I thought perchance I might offer us up some libation.”
    “Uh. I gotta go.” The night was shitty enough without having to spend it listening to a pumpkin head rambling on in Middle English.
    I headed over to the bar and had another drink.
    Walked around the room, weaving in and out of groups of people standing and shouting at each other.
    My wig was itchy and sweat was starting to trickle down my neck into someone’s Bugs Bunny garbage pail.’ed me a bit, little rivers of salt running across the tender surface of past injuries.
    FUCK Halloween.
    More beer.
    My seventh round at the bar I spotted Shar/Cher on the dance floor. A bunch of guys dressed as cowboys pinged her back and forth between them like a pinball machine.
    Technically, I mumbled to myself, I could just leave. Shar was a big girl who could get home on her own. Cher, of course, had a long and fruitful career without Sonny.
    But then Shar/Cher returned as suddenly as she’d left. She crept up behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist. Leaned into me and put her chin on my good shoulder. “You’re watching me,” she blurted into my ear.
    “Um. NO,” I said, spinning around, “I’m not watching you. Where have you been?”
    Shar pressed forward, heavy lips curved up into a grin, eyes bent under the weight of plastic lashes.
    “You’re WATCHING ME. ALWAYS. Right? You like WATCHING me?”
    My body buzzed with alcohol. When I run, sometimes the feeling of having my feet move so fast when my head feels so still makes me dizzy.
    This sensation was not dissimilar.
    “I’m just here with you,” I said aloud.
    “What?”
    “I SAID, I’M JUST—”
    “Hey!” It was Carly in her little leather jacket and jeans, looking very much like a tiny Travolta and very much unlike herself.
    “What can we do for you, Superstar?” Shar slurred, gripping my arm even tighter.
    “I think we’re going to the other party!” Carly shouted at me, ignoring Shar.
    “WHAT?”
    “Are you guys COMING?”
    “NO!” Shar screamed, leaning forward, almost toppling Carly over. “We’re STAYING because THIS party is the BEST!”
    The B-52s came on and there was a rush. Shar pulledmy arm and backed into the crowd, all the while shouting at Carly, “BYE, SUPERSTAR!”
    Bodies pogoed around us. It was like being an egg in a pot of boiling water.
    “You want to dance with me, RIGHT? RIGHT Sonny?” Shar’s eyes were completely dilated. Hard dark circles that jittered with the music.
    “Okay!”
    Dropping her body weight onto me, Shar/Cher planted her face by my ear. “I have to tell you something.”
    “What?”
    Pulling back, she yanked me