Right Moves

There was no time to come up with a plan. The plan had to come up with itself.

Contest Prompt

Write a story or poem about planning a party that looks like it will go horribly wrong, but gets saved at the last minute.

The ceiling falling in had ruined everything. Jen looked at the mess around her. She'd planned so well. Her tears fell hard, like the rain outside. “We’re finished. No school graduation party.” It was a special add-on after the senior dance.

Classmates would be introduced to local businessmen, talent scouts for colleges, and to volunteer organizations. The latter would be good references for those needing a break from work and school.

She’d been put in charge of planning, buying supplies and setting up. It was the night before the event. “If we had time, we'd have to start all over.” The storm still raged outside. Pools of water lay half hidden in the wreckage.

Jen pushed wet hair out of her face and sighed. “Take me home.”

Her boyfriend, Art Galloway wanted to enfold her in his arms to comfort her, but Jen stood rock hard, a rigid statue in the school gym. He kicked at a muddy congratulation banner instead. “We’ll need to call the principal and let him know.”

Jen and Art had stopped at the school to admire their work. “I can hardly wait,” Jen sobbed. “You do it.”

Art took out his cellphone. Instead of the principal, he dialed David Anthony, his friend whose dad ran the local Habitat For Humanity. He spoke in hushed whispers as Jen walked around examining the damage.

“It’s bad, real bad. We need tarps and duct tape to cover the damaged part of the roof.” Art nodded, a tentative smile replacing his frown. “Yeah? Good idea. Get the word out. I gotta take care of Jen.”

“What did he say?” Jen asked when Art approached her.

“He didn’t say anything. I didn’t call him.”

Jen felt the weight of a mountain slip onto her shoulders. “You’re making me call him at this time of night?” Her hand searched for her purse that held her phone. Both were back in Art’s car. No way was she going to ask him for his. Without a word, she pushed him away and marched out into the storm.

“Wait.” Art cried out. “I can explain.”

Jen didn’t look back. She was furious. Even more so when she got to Art’s car. “The doors are locked. Of course. Nothing good is happening tonight.” She heard Art calling out to her. Jen did not want to, could not talk to him in the mood she was in.

“Don’t say a word.” She wiped rain from her face as Art unlocked her side door and let her in.

“Of course,” Jen mumbled as she found she’d been too busy lately to charge her cell phone. It was dead. So was she.

Art’s phone began ringing. He kept saying yes and nodding his head. “Sounds like a plan.”

“I don’t want to hear about it.” Jen stared out her side window all the way home. The lights were out. No power. She got out, leaving Art behind.

“I’ll call the principal,” he said as she slammed her front door behind her.

That was Jen’s Friday night. She told her parents about her ruined life the next morning. “We really were looking forward to seeing you graduate, honey. We’re so sorry. Art called and left a message. He said he’d take care of everything. Do you want to call him back?”

It hurt too much, his not being there for her when she needed him. “I’m breaking up with him.”

Jen stayed in bed as long as she could. Her mother called her out of her bedroom. “The principal is on the phone. He wants to talk to you.”

“Why aren’t you here?”

“Uh. Miscommunication. Art said he’d talk with you.”

“Not good enough. Get your butt down here. You’re late.”

Jen had never had a worse two days in her life. She rode her bike through rain puddles splashing her all the way to the school.

“What?” The school looked like a carnival show. Colorful tents were strewn around the football field with one side open in the same direction. Loudspeakers blared friendly greetings and instructions. Families were lining up for seats.

There was Art, holding a hammer, standing next to a group of Habitat For Humanity workers she half recognized. “Hey, babe. Been trying to reach you.”

The loudspeakers began calling her name. “You’re on, Jen. May I escort you?”

She was in a daze. “What’s going on? What did you do?”

“It was you. You don’t remember saying we’d have to start all over again? I just took your advice and one thing led to another. It almost happened all by itself. You’re that popular. All I had to do was mention your name.”

Moments later she was on the makeshift stage shaking hands with the mayor, a prominent business owner who said she could work for him in any position she wanted, anytime. Not to be outdone, A local recruiter passed her an application from the college she wanted to attend with a note saying all expenses would be paid.

The mayor handed her a mic when applause died down. “It wasn’t me. It was my team, especially Art Galloway,” she began, trying to explain.

“Just like her. So humble,” Jen’s parents accepted pats on the back and handshakes from local celebrities as they joined her.

“I guess we get a graduation, dance, and party after all,” Jen smiled for the first time since the storm hit.

The look Art got from Jen said he’d scored a touchdown.