I dropped my cell in my purse and realized I`d lost my sense of direction. Was the Dungeon dance floor to the right or the left? I had a fifty-fifty chance of making the correct choice. Naked bulbs lit the way through the stone tunnel, and a few more catacombs splintered off. I`d been so focused on my conversation with Aunt Libby that I hadn`t made any mental directional notes. I needed a trail of bread crumbs.
I noticed some skulls lining the tunnel like a kitchen border. I didn`t remember seeing them when I was talking on the phone, but then again, I wasn`t looking.
The tunnel was dimly lit and confining. The stone walls leaned as if caving in on me as I paced in indecision.
I heard some voices and laughter coming from one end, so I followed them. Cautiously I crept through the catacombs, trying not to trip on the uneven terrain. The winding tunnel dumped into a small room. THE COVE. A dozen or so clubsters, their backs to me, were listening to what I thought might have been a stand-up comic. I was curious why they chose to listen instead of jamming on the dance floor.
But this was no ordinary blue-jean-wearing comedian. He wore a dark hoodie, pulled over his head, obscuring his deathly pale face, and he wasn`t making the crowd laugh.
The Dungeon should take a new direction. Why hide in obscurity when there is so much more we can do? he challenged. Catching the glare of a single stagelight was a gold skeleton key dangling from a black lanyard around his neck like a backstage pass to a rock concert. I agree. Why deny who we are? a girl asked, a snake wrapped around her neck like a mink stole.
That`s why this club is so important, so we can be ourselves, another began.
But the Dungeon is a secret and safe place we can call our own.
Isn`t it time we make ourselves known? the snake whisperer argued, caressing the reptile. Many of us are becoming frustrated remaining hidden.
But many others feel safer among ourselves, one clubster admitted.
We don`t get along with outsiders, another said.
Maybe it`s time that we try, a girl in the front row said.
So we can be like them and lose our identity? another asked.
The tension grew from both sides. The speaker held his hands up. Calm down. We must all be united.
A guy hanging next to me asked, What do you think?
All at once the group was staring straight at me. The snake, still coiled around his owner, hissed.
I think it`s time for me to get back to the dance floor!
I stole my way back into the once deadly tunnel. My eyes didn`t have a chance to adjust to the darkness and I bumped into a pair of girls. I stiffened but was too tired for a barroom brawl.
Excuse me, I said. Do you know the way back to the dance floor?
The girls, unlike the Pradabees at Dullsville High, weren`t confrontational. Instead I felt a warmth and friendliness emanating from them.
The two girls appeared to be my age. One wore an indigo blue corset dress, while the other sported a baby doll dress and thigh-high silver-laced boots. Their purple-hued vampy makeup dramatically accentuated their Draculine features. One had long red curly hair and the other`s jet black hair was straight as a blade.
Follow me, the girl in the corset dress directed, linking our arms. I`m Onyx, and this is Scarlet. What`s your name? She flashed a gorgeous smile, revealing a tiny black onyx jewel embedded on one of her fangs.
Wow--where did you get those? I began. They look so real.
She flashed her fangs again. It is. We can totally get yours done, too.
I was taken aback. Onyx was referring to the jewel, while I was referring to her fangs.
How do you find your way around the club? I asked.
It took us an eternity, Scarlet replied.
Before I knew it, I`d made it safely to the center of the club, two new friends in tow.
Thank you so much, I said. Now I`ll be on my way--
Their bright expressions turned sallow. Don`t you want to dance?